#BUR WHEN I THINK OF IT MY FINGERS TURN TO FISTS!

[beatrizkellymuse]

you fondle my trigger then you blame my gun - fiona apple, limp

#fiona apple #female rage #anger quotes #BUR WHEN I THINK OF IT MY FINGERS TURN TO FISTS!

[hope-to-hell]

A fairytale in silver and glass: part seven

Mercy. Adhemar x Reader. At last, the penultimate chapter. What is hope, anyway?

—-

I thought I could imprison my failings in a cage of glass, to be examined as relics of a distant time. You see, there was a moment once– long ago– when the world as I knew it turned upside down. I swore to do better, to be better– and yet. He sits and you sit with him; there is blood beneath his nails and crusted in the grooves along his palms. He throws heat like a furnace; it's always surprising, somehow, to find that he has human warmth.

You're hurt. It's absurd: your mind is still fumbling around the afterimage left by whatever writhes inside him, still faintly rimed with ozone and black tar. This is an echo of a moment, spiraling in upon itself to be spun out anew. And in the endless sea of how and why and what will be you fetch up against him, new land rising steam-shrouded from the water, all naked cliffs and stone and

(This is how the world was made)

when you open his hand, his palm is limned with silver scars. All his years are written there in long-healed cuts and torn calluses, overlaid by livid crescents in the shape of a clenched fist. Do you regret it? For him to say either yes or no would be a lie;

It is a complicated question.

(Do you withdraw?)

the only answer he can give is in the briefest closing of his fingers over yours.

We burned the forest to drive them out, but though a hundred men were hidden there, fewer than a dozen emerged. We kept one for information and another for a messenger; the rest met a swift and bitter end.

Mercy?

We had none. It was a matter of practicality; we had no further need of them.

And the one you kept?

He became a vessel for our anger and our grief. And I was…unkind. His words brush against the edges of some bloody evening long ago, over some poor soul whose last glimpse of light was the spark and howl of flames tearing through the trees. I left the cloth over his eyes, even when it didn’t matter anymore.

There’s the fire in him again, his voice burred and raw, but among the smoke and ashes lies the scent of violets and moss, of petrichor, of leather; and though his hand is burning hot, when you cease the mending of his wounds to close both your hands over his, he reaches equilibrium and he is warm.

(What do you think happens when the setting sun touches the earth in winter? Is it spiteful? Does it seek to scorch the land?

I think— I think, perhaps, it gives itself away to warm the far dark corners of the world.)

You have been cruel.

I have.

You have been terrible.

Yes. He waits, and in him is the weariness of years. A man is a man is a man, and for all his power he cannot plumb your thoughts.

And will you not let me leave?

You can leave only once. And you cannot return. Such is the way of things: the tangle of want and need, the smell of rain on wool, the patter of bare feet on stone and concrete, a locked door and an ending that’s the same as always. The cycle is reflected in the lines on his face and in the gnawing writhing told you so, you were and are and will be nothing more than this that eats at him.

A gift is not a gift unless it’s given with an open hand.

(He could be kind)

I think— I think the measure of a man is in his actions. You have been cruel, and yet—

Hope is a breath, a whisper; it is the first drops of rain on parched earth. There are no guarantees, no happy ending promised to those who tear themselves open on the edge of what might be. Everything in him screams to close himself up tight, to stoke his fire until he bursts in gouts of blood and tar, but

(What is the measure of a man?)

Hope is a smooth stone reflecting morning light; it is the richness of turned earth and the spark of silver in his hand. Hope is a weakness, yes, but what else can he do but let it stab into his breast? And so he holds himself open and shudders through an exhale, through fire and ash and gnashing teeth, through years and miles, through endless frightened faces, through rain and moss and and and—

—and yet you could be kind.

#rufus sewell #adhemar #adhemar fic #adhemar x reader #adhemar x you #a knights tale #a knights tale fic #my fic #a fairytale in silver and glass

[starks-hero]

Touch Starved

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Summary: It's taken you a while to realise. But Sherlock Holmes is a very touch starved man.

Word Count: 800

Warnings: none, just fluff and soft Sherlock

a/n: It's been a while since I've written for Sherlock and I think it’s about time I go back to my roots :)

You hadn't noticed it before now.

You hadn’t noticed when his fingers would drag across your palm when you released his hand, almost as if he were hesitant to let you go. You hadn’t noticed when his hold on you tightened and your shirt bunched in his fists each time he had his arms around you. You hadn’t noticed when his eyes softened and slid shut when your hand fondly made its way through his hair.

But now, as you lay together in the quaint living room of 221B it was clear as day. You suddenly couldn't believe you hadn't noticed it before. Sherlock Holmes was touch starved.

You had been casually lounging on the sofa when Sherlock decided to join you. Or rather, he collapsed with boredom and elected to ignore your half-hearted protests when he landed on you.

After a little adjustment and a whine of disapproval from Sherlock, you both lay side by side, pressed into the fine leather. There isn't much room but it works. And as you settle in, accepting the fact that you won't be moving until Sherlock decides to let you, your eyes become drawn to the man beside you.

He's calm and his features are relaxed, an unusual sight. You drink in every inch of him. The way his dark curls sit around his head, the rhythmic movement of his broad chest against your side, the flexing of his neck when he readjusts his head against the cushion. For a moment, you simply watch in adoration.

Your hand softly falls against his chest and slowly ventures towards his shoulder. Sherlock tenses when your careful fingers ghost over his neck. But only for a moment. Then he calms, sighing as your hand finds its way to his nape. He blinks slowly and glances down at you. He raises an inquisitive brow but the moment your fingers work their way into his hair he gives in. He leans into the touch and visibly relaxes, a quiet, almost inaudible whimper leaving his parted lips.

You spend a considerable amount of time combing your hand through his hair and watching gleefully as Sherlock unwinds beside you. When your wrist begins to ache and you pull your hand from his knotted curls, he whines. You move your hand to his cheek and gently trace it with your fingertips. A barely noticeable pink tints his pale skin and it makes you oddly proud. Slowly, you run your hand down his cheek until your fingers fall away at the sharp line of his jaw. 

“Don't stop,” Sherlock says. “Please.”

So you don't. You continue to map out and explore, tracing every detail with timid fingers. Your hand once again eventually finds its way back into Sherlock's mop of hair and he sighs when you brush the dark curls away from his forehead.

“I like this,” he notes. “I like you.”

You breathe a quiet laugh and smile, your hand ghosting over Sherlock's jaw.

“I'm glad. We are dating after all so I was kind of hoping you liked me.”

“No,” SherIock says quietly, almost pouting. “What I meant is I like being here with you.” He turns his head ever so slightly to the side and his lips find your palm. He hums contently as he presses a gentle, barely-there kiss to your hand. “It's quiet, peaceful.”

Your hand brushes against the base of his neck and your grin widens when you notice the upper buttons of his shirt are undone. Just enough to put his collarbone on display. Slowly, timidly, you lean forward and leave a lazy kiss against his shoulder blade. Sherlock mewls and rests his head back against the cushion, giving you access to his neck. Though the gesture is simple it means more to you than it should. It's a sign of trust, of vulnerability.

Your lips softly ghost his neck before you begin to press soft kisses to his jaw. He leans into you and when you pull away he chases your touch, moving further down the sofa so he can bury his head into the crook of your neck. His curls tickle the end of your nose. With the advantage of the new position, you softly kiss Sherlock's temple and he melts into your side.

Minutes pass and a comfortable silence settles over you both. You can tell SherIock isn't asleep, despite the slow rise and fall of his chest. He's still awake, his hand tracing patterns against your shoulder and his nose nuzzling against your throat. You close your eyes and soak in the moment. This was Sherlock's way of displaying affection and adoration, his idea of intimacy. It was gentle, quiet, soft. It was allowing himself to be vulnerable with you. 

It was simply being.

tag list: @miraclesoflove​ @fanfictionsilove​ @quentawewe​ @mylovelysnowflake​ @bakerstreethound​ @andreasworlsboring101​ @doozywoozy​ @leftperfectionmoon​ @xxinvisiblexx​ @the-worst-critic​ @the-queer-dungeoneer​ @jellyfishbeansontoast​ @starrykitn​ @simp-for-scamanders​ @allieberries @Xhz17x @kealohilani-tepise

#I decided to try writing a fic using a different tense #what do you guys think? #sherlock x reader #bbc sherlock x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes imagine #bbc sherlock imagine #sherlock imagine #bbc sherlock fic #bbc Sherlock fic #1k #2k

[jarofstyles]

Could you please do a blurb where Harry and Y/n are just friends and he comforts her because it’s raining and she’s scared of rain? And maybe they kiss at the end.

I have ombrophobia which is the phobia of rain and it’s really bad. Love your writing. You guys are so sweet.

Aw yes 🥺 it’s raining here lol. A good old friend pining thing… cliffhanger hehehehe

If you like this, check out our Patreon!

———-

Harry knew days like this were hard for her.

The sky was a dark grey with clouds covering the horizon. It was much darker than he would have thought for the time of day and he knew that she was probably rolling with nerves in her bedroom. He had finished his shift at the guitar store and drove home quickly, fingers tapping on the steering wheel as he turned into their neighborhood.

Parking in his own driveway, he was quick to jump out. Throwing his hoodie over his arm, the drink tray in his hand and the paper bag of food he had grabbed for them both in one hand, he crossed their yard and let himself into her house. Being neighbors had its perks, including Harry knowing the garage passcode and that her parents wouldn’t be home from their shifts until tomorrow.

The house has the lights on, and he had no doubt Y/N had scurried abojt and turned on every single one as soon as she heard the first rumble of thunder in the distance. He sighed, kicking his shoes off at the entrance and greeting her cat that rubbed up against his legs.

“ ‘Lo, Poppy. Where’s y’mumma at?” He smiled, asking the cat in a low whisper . Of course he knew where she was. She always managed to be the same place every single time. If he had looked at the forecast earlier he would have left quicker but at least it hasn’t truly started yet.

He climbed the stairs two at a time, the paper bag crinkling with each bound up the steps until he got to the second floor. Usually he would shout for her a cheesy ‘honey, I’m home!’ But he knew that wasn’t the mood this time.

Entering her room, his heart squeezed when he saw a Y/N shaped lump under the blankets. Her candles were going, a few more than necessary. He knew that it was in case the power went out. She didn’t do well with that.

“Hey, petal.” He cooed, placing their food on her nightstand. His hoodie was deposited on the end of the bed, climbing on the bed and yanking the cover off of his best friend. She was awake, he could tell by her little sniffle. “C’mon now. Isn’t nice to ignore me when I’ve got you some food on m’way home from work.” His fingers reached for her, pulling her to turn over and face him. It took a bit of effort, but he finally did it.

She was messy. Her hair messy, her face a bit paler than normal. Her eyes teary and her body shaking just a little bit as she turned to him. His heart broke every time he saw her like this, desperate to get his best friend to not feel so terrified. “There she is.” He smiled softly, pulling her body into his own. Y/N allowed it. She wasn’t about to throw away a cuddle from Harry. He smelled like cinnamon gum and a bit of mint up close and she loved how he would play with her hair.

Some would argue that this definitely wasn’t normal best friend behavior. It wasn’t like Y/N didn’t agree.. because she knew it was odd. But it was them.

“How’s my best girl, hm?” His voice dropped lower, in his comforting tone while his fingers tangled in her hair and gently began to unknot some of it. “Know s’scary for you. But you’re okay. M’here now, and I’ve got nowhere to be but here.” He felt her fingers flex in his shirt, stomach warming when he felt her warm nose brush against the skin of his neck while she cuddled him.

“I’m okay.” She said in a small voice. “Just… I hate it.” Her voice broke as she fisted his tee shirt. “I hate it. It’s so scary. I hate that I’m afraid of it… it’s silly, just rain, but it’s so…” she whimpered into his chest. His arm tightens around her, pulling her into him further and wiggling his leg in between hers to anchor her. This technique did seem to work.

“I know. It’s not silly. I completely understand, sweet girl.” He whispered, lips pressing to the top of her head. It wasn’t something he did as often as he’d like to.. but this was a good time to do it. It made her shiver, making him smile and repeat the peck to her bare skin. “Rushed home from work. Well… I got us food but I looked at the radar and it said it wouldn’t start for a few minutes so, went through the drive through. Got your fries and the sauce you love.” He quipped. That got a giggle from her, making him relax a bit.

“Thanks.” She wrapped her own arm around his waist, snuggling further into him. “You’re the best. I know… I don’t know how I managed to get someone like you. You always find me when it rains and make it not as bad.” She stroked her fingers over his back this time, nearly making him melt. Harry was a bit touch starved but Y/N fueled him completely. “Don’t know how to thank you.”

Harry chuckled and she could feel the vibration against her body. Being this close made her feel so loved and safe. It made her feel a lot of things thar best friends probably shouldn’t. “You don’t have t’thank me, Y/N. I want to be here. I get to help you not be afraid… and I get a cuddle.” He teased, not being able to help himself from being generous with his forehead kisses and giving her another one.

She grinned to herself at the feeling, wishing she could have those all over her face. His pretty lips she spent far too much time thinking about than she should, trailing over her brows and nose and cheeks, meeting her lips. That’s what she wanted.

“I like the cuddles.” She admitted back to him. “It’s gonna start soon… already closed the windows and the curtains so I can’t see. But can we put on the TV and watch something? Or have it for noise?” She pulled her head back from his chest to rest it on a pillow, wanting to see his face.

Their faces were a bit too close bur she found she liked the feeling in her stomach being this close to him. He never moved away, instead opting to caress her cheek with his fingertips under the guise of moving hair from her face.

“Mhm. Y’need a distraction?” He asked quietly, watching her eyes close in relaxation at his fingers running over her face. His stomach turned in nerves when he decided to go for it. “We can turn on the tv. But if Y’want to distract yourself…. D’ya want to…” he paused, rolling his lips into his mouth for a moment. “D’ya want to kiss or somethin’ for a bit?”

#writing #harry styles one shot #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #BFF #best friends to lovers #pining #blurbs #blurb #best friend Harry #BFF Harry styles #harry styles imagine #rain imagine #fluff #fluff blurbs #Harry styles fluff #Harry fluff

[thesunicarusfellfor]

Your so great at writing omg- so could you do a part two of the yandere techno and philza?

And other idea for a different request!

Maybe ghostbur? 👀 With florist reader? And someone burned down there shop so they are very upset so ghostbur comforts them and helps build then a new one?

Again please take as long as you need.

- Your beloved Moosh ( platonically! :3)

Moosh, darling! Hello! How are you doing today? Part two of the yandere Tech and Phil chapter is up! Thank you for your requests, your ideas are just chefs kiss!

This is a tad bit short. I really really have to get out of the habit of writing 10k+ stories, because then I have no energy to write the other requests that have been waiting for a while <3

Also. This turned out to be angstier than I had hoped...

TW: Depression, emotion repression, large mentions of past Wilbur x Reader

Dead Blue Flowers (C!Ghostbur x GN!Depressed!Reader)

How...? How did this happen?

You tried so hard to remain neutral in this war, even going as far as to avoid telling people your opinions on things. Wasn't raising your tax weekly back when Schlatt was in control enough?

You just gave people flowers, for god's sake! Why did they have to burn the shop to nothing but cinders?!

Standing in front of the charred frame of your shop that had once been your prized possession. Every dollar you had raised, every smile that appeared on the faces of people you gave flowers to... You remembered the genuine smile on Wilbur's face when he gave you this plot of land to build whatever store you wanted...

Now it was all ashes that slipped through the cracks between your fingers...

"(Y/n)?" An echoing and airy voice echoed through your ears and you glanced up slightly to see a pair of shoes levitating a few inches off the ground, "What happened to your shop- Oh, you're crying, here. Take some blue. Calm yourself."

Crying?

While the levitating figure dug around, trying to find this so-called blue, you rose your hands up and touched your cheeks to find them slightly damp. When you pulled your hands away, a small cold pouch of blue dye was carefully placed in your hands, causing a small shiver to crawl down your spine, "Thanks, Bur..." You whispered softly, trying to smile to calm him down, but you just found your eyes welling up with more tears, so you put your head down in an attempt to hide them from your ghost friend.

"Did it not work? Perhaps that blue was broken..." Ghostbur reached into his small bag with his dye-stained fingers, digging around for a pouch of dye that wasn't 'broken'. You could feel a faint bit of panic in his voice as he mumbled about how blue always worked for him, so he didn't know why it wasn't working for you.

"No, Bur... It's just... I don't know what to do. My shop is gone. It was my pride and joy. Now I don't have anything left..." You murmured, holding the, now two, dye-filled packages in your cupped hands, "Even the cornflower seeds I used to make the blue flowers I gave you... They're nothing now... His mem- I'm nothing now..."

Ghostbur was panicking and the blue clutched in his hands was evident of that, "No, no! Don't say things like that! Come, come-" He gave a few coughs, his negative emotions seeming to affect him physically as well as emotionally.

You slowly pushed yourself up into a standing position, rubbing your eyes with your sleeves as your fingertips were tainted with dye. While you didn't feel much happier, despite Ghostbur's best efforts, you knew that emotionally he couldn't handle your sadness, "Thanks, Bur. I do feel much happier thanks to your blue. I'm gonna head home now." You gave him your best smile, watching as the sweater-wearing spirit studied your eyes to see if you were lying.

"Oh, okay!" The ghost perked up slightly, but his smile looked a tad bit hollow in your eyes. Guess you were in no place to judge, you did just give your best friend a smile to get him to stop panicking... Was this emotion suppression? Probably. Yeah. Ah well... As long as he's happy now. "I'm gonna go see Phil now, maybe you should come to visit sometime soon. He makes really good tea and biscuits."

"Yeah... I'll hop by his place sometime soon." You gave him the empty promise, knowing very well you didn't want anything to do with social interactions for quite a while until you found something else to put your time towards.

Over the next few days, Ghostbur would wait outside your house for you to come out and walk with you to your flower shop, but he then began to realize that you had nothing to walk to. Hell, you didn't have a reason to leave your house anymore... There was no point in coming outside. After standing under the awning above your front door for a few moments, he got an idea in his head, so he set off towards the house of Alivebur's father.

"Phiiiiiil?" He called softly, opening the front door to see the injured avian sitting in his chair in front of the fireplace, "Ah, Philza! Just the man I wanted to see!"

"Hey mate," The blond greeted softly, setting his cup of tea down on the table before getting up to properly interact with the ghost of his son, "What do ya' need from me?"

For a few seconds, hesitance filled Ghostbur's veins. He hadn't completely thought through this idea and didn't even know how you or Phil would react to it, "My ange- best friend, (Y/n)... Well, they were very very important to Alivebur, and I still have many happy memories of them... But they aren't happy now because someone burnt down their flower shop... They haven't left their house in a few days, and I'm getting a really bad feeling, Phil!" Despite the fact that a pouch of blue was tightly grasped in his hands, the ghost didn't seem to be feeling any calmer, ultimately chalking it up to the flowers he had made the dye out of must've been from a bad place.

Philza grabbed onto the ghost of his son, giving a faint hiss of pain at the icy buzz that attacked his palms, but ignored it and kept his hands on his son's shoulders. Or what was left of the son he killed, "Wil- Ghostbur. Calm down. I want you to go visit them and make sure they're still okay-"

"But I think they'll only be okay if their shop is built! I want to rebuild it for them!" Ghostbur whined softly, not exactly understanding why he felt so strongly towards you, "Alivebur really really cared about them, which means I care about them. And they're sad, even with the blue I gave them..."

Phil pursed his lips together, trying to keep quiet about exactly why Wilbur cared about you so much, "Okay, okay... I want you to go visit them and find the blueprints of their shop... If-If you can't, then I'm sure we can build something similar... Just please, make sure they're alive, eating and taking care of themselves..."

"Alive? Of course they're alive- right? right, Phil?" Ghostbur hiccuped slightly, bringing up his dye-stained fingers to his mouth in shock when the avian hesitated, "Phil?"

"Just, go check on them Wil... Please."

Without another word, the ghost hurried out the door and looked up at the rapidly darkening sky, as he floated towards the person his alive self adored so greatly. "(Y/n)... Why did Alivebur care for you so much? Why did he want you in his life so bad?" When the transparent male arrived at your door, he hurriedly pounded his fists on the door before pressing himself against it to hide under the awning as rain began to sprinkle down from the sky, "(Y/n)! Please, it's raining!" He cried, not wanting to melt.

There was a few seconds of silence before there was a rushing sound of footsteps coming from the inside of the house. Before the ghost could react, the door flew open, causing him to tumble onto the floor inside the house, "Bur! You should've checked the weather!"

He looked up at his saviour... And gave the softest smile he's ever worn. Even it had only been a few days, he began to realize just how much you meant to him as well, not just Alivebur. You were a guardian angel... A saviour from reality...

"Y-yeah, I know..." You murmured, trying to flatten down your unbrushed hair before shrinking away from your friend's gaze and into your oversized sweater that had once been Wilbur's, "I haven't really bothered to... Uhm... manage my appearance..."

"No worries, angel..." He blurted out, causing you to flinch as you stared at him. He didn't even know why he called you that to be completely honest, but he pushed himself off of your floor and dusted himself free of invisible dust, "Why haven't you been coming outside? I've been waiting outside for you every day... Phil was also worried about you losing a life in here alone!"

Pursing your lips together, you couldn't help but avoid the gaze of the ghost as you shut the door, "Sorry Bur, I've just been really tired..." You gave him a tired smile, but this time it didn't work on the poor ghost.

"I- I uhm... I know I'm forgetful, I know I'm an amnesiac, but I still feel this... I still feel things, and I try my best to make sure no one else feels it... But it's not working for helping you." He nervously grabbed onto a pouch of blue in his messenger bag, gritting his teeth together for a moment, "I figured out why that shop means so much to you... It's because it was a gift from Alivebur... Your lover... And now you feel like you have nothing left to hold his memory."

He watched as your eyes went wide and beginning to fill with tears before he went to his bag, going to grab some blue for you, but he paused upon seeing something else. A cornflower, one that never got turned into a dye, but it was withered and dead from being in the bag for so long, "Wil-Gho... Bur..." You hiccuped, trying to form words to create an apology, but your throat felt like it was tied in knots.

"That's also why you call me Bur... Because you don't want to accept that Aliv-... Wilbur... Is now a ghost..." He walked closer to you and put his hand on your arms, thankfully you were wearing a sweater to prevent frostbite from attacking your skin, "And that's okay! It's okay, (Y/n), you loved him... And he loved you, which means I love you... but I know you need time to cope with Al- Wilbur's... Death..." He carefully reached up and took your wrist, bringing your hand up into view so he could press the dead cold cornflower into your palm, "Until then, I'll stay by your side as your best friend..."

You slowly reached up and put your hand against his cheek, even though the contact burned your fingertips and he hardly felt solid... He was there... "Thank you... Ghostbur." You lowered your hand and smiled down at the dead flower in your palm.

"Now, come on, let's get you cleaned up! Me and Phil will help you rebuild your flower shop... When the rain lets up of course!"

#dream smp #ghostbur #ghostbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #wilbur dream smp #dsmp wilbur #mcyt x reader #c!wilbur #dsmp ghostbur #ghostbur dream smp #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt imagine #mcyt oneshots #dream smp x reader #wilbur x reader

[angelltheninth]

Kindness of a Sinful Soul

Pairing: Charlie x Vaggie

Tags: smut, nsfw, gentle sex, rough sex, making out, fingering, strap-on, blowjobs, mentions of past abusive relationships

Word count: 4.7k

Sorry I haven't been answering as many requests lately. I've been working on this very self indulgent fic and it took longer than I expected.

A lot of people would think that Charlie is a very innocent, pure person when looking at her. And to an extent they would be right. Charlie is a kind person, everyone knows that and because of that people underestimate her. However Charlie is far from helpless when it comes to fighting. Nevertheless Vaggie can’t help but feel protective of her. Really Vaggie thinks she’s very lucky to be with someone like Charlie. Sweet, genuine, loving Charlie. Charlie who’s currently naked, on her knees and elbows, calling Vaggie’s name in between moans and sighs of pleasure.

Charlie clenched the sheets tightly, her his rocking back into Vaggie’s hand with every movement of Vaggie fingers inside her, “Fuck.” Charlie breathed out, barely getting the word out without it being cut short by another moan.

“Did I ever tell you how hot it is when you curse in bed?” Vaggie husked into Charlie’s ear from behind, running her hand across Charlie’s back the the Princess arched into her touch, “The way you ache for my touch, you’re beautiful sweetheart. So beautiful.” Vaggie kisses the spot behind Charlie’s ear, one that was a well known weak spot to the moth demon.

“Vaggie.” Charlie could her orgasm approaching. Vaggie could feel it too judging by the way Charlie was clenching and unclenching around her fingers.

“I love how you feel. You take me so fucking well. I wanna feel you more. Come for me.” Vaggie practically growled into Charlie’s ear, her fingers moving faster and deeper. Just a little bit more. Vaggie could feel herself getting wet too, she closed her eyes, relishing in the sounds of Charlie’s moans and the warm, wet walls of Charlie’s pussy quivering around her fingers. Her free hand travels into Charlie’s hair. Vaggie grabbed a fistful of it and tugged.

In that moment Charlie’s eyes snapped open. Suddenly it wasn’t Vaggie who was with her. It was Seviathan. Growling into her ear as he thrust inside her over and over, pulling her hair and exposing her pale neck, burring his teeth into her skin, making Charlie yelp and cry in pain.

“Stop. Stop. Stop. Please.” Charlie’s voice broke as she turned to hide her face into the sheets.

Vaggie stopped immediately, eyes widening in fear, “Charlie?” Vaggie quickly let go of her blonde hair, gently running her hand down her back. Her movement halted, gently easing her fingers out. As she did so Charlie wrapped her arms around her shoulders, lying on her side, not looking at her girlfriend. But Vaggie could still hear her sobs and see the tears streaming down her face, “Oh my god. Charlie. Sweetheart what is it? I... did I hurt you?”

Charlie shook her head, “No. I just remembered something. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...” Charlie looked so small, so venerable.

“Sweetheart, don’t apologize. I’m the one who should be sorry. I shouldn’t have pulled your hair like that. I got caught in the moment. I should have asked. Can I... do you want a hug?” Vaggie asked in a low voice, not wanting to scare Charlie more, she was clearly very upset and scared by... something.

Charlie merely nodded. Vaggie slowly eased herself next to her girlfriend, bringing the covers with her. Slowly and gently she brought Charlie into a hug.

“Fuck Charlie. You’re shaking love.” Vaggie rubbed soothing circles on Charlie’s back, the princess’s head tucked below her chin, “Its ok. What ever it is I promise you can tell me. I’m here.”

Charlie was silent. She just seemed to relish in Vaggie’s gentle touch. Her shaking stopped eventually and she exhaled, “He... got rough sometimes. Really rough.”

“He? Your ex?” Charlie only nodded. She didn’t like bringing up Seviathan much. She honestly didn’t think she would ever need to tell Vaggie about this.

“It was towards the end of our relationship. When things started to fall apart. He would get really aggressive when we could... do it. But I didn’t want him to leave. I thought that maybe he just... needed to get it of his system or something, and then things would go back to the way there were. But it didn’t get any better. He never forced himself on me or anything like that but he... it hurt and he left bruises sometimes. I didn’t say anything to him at the time. I know there are people who are into that but I just... it was too much.” Charlie’s voice was barely above a whisper now.

“Holy shit Charlie. Why... why didn’t you tell me? I would have never done that. Fuck. I should have asked. I knew your relationship with him had gone bad and he became abusive and I... I shouldn't have pulled your hair like that without asking. I’m so, so sorry I made you relive that sweetie.” Vaggie kissed Charlie’s forehead gently, “I won’t do it again. Promise. Ok?”

“I... I didn’t dislike it. You didn’t pull that hard. Its just... it made me think of him and... but... but you’re not like him. I know that. And you stopped the moment I told you to. I don’t want to restrict you... sexually. You seemed to like it when you pulled my hair.” Charlie kissed Vaggie’s neck, it was a chaste, feather like kiss.

Vaggie chuckles. “That tickles. Don’t distract me Charlie. This is serious. Look, we won’t do anything you don’t want to. Period. Don’t feel like you have to do anything for me. Just being with you, seeing you like that, moaning my name. Fuck I could come just from that.” Honestly it was a little embarrassing for Vaggie to admit that but it was true. Her girlfriend was incredibly sexy and deserved to know the effect she was having on the moth demon.

“Really?” Charlie pulled back to look at her girlfriend in the eye. Vaggie nodded a little bashfully, “Oh. Um... thank you.” They were both red at this point. Charlie decided to take the initiate and kiss Vaggie. It was short and sweet, but it neither really wanted to go back to having sex right now, “I love you Vaggie.”

“I love you too Charlie. So, so much. Don’t ever feel like you can’t talk to me ok? And I’ll do the same with you.” Vaggie kissed her again, just as gently as Charlie did her.

“Ok. I know neither of us really got to finish but could we maybe pick things up another time? I’m kind of drained right now. And you’re a really good cuddler.” Vaggie felt Charlie cuddle close to her again and could feel the the princess smiling against her neck.

“Sleep then.” Vaggie kissed Charlie on the top of her head, “We got a lot to do tomorrow anyways.”

Charlie hummed, “Sweet dreams Vaggie.”

“They always are with you in them. Sweet dreams to you too darling.” Vaggie waited until she heard Charlie’s breathing even out completely to fall asleep herself. The next week passed by in a blur. The two could barely get any time to themselves safe for when they went to sleep. They did manage to sneak in little kisses and a few make out sessions but neither pushed for more.

Then one morning Vaggie woke up from a rather pleasant dream to Charlie kissing her neck, “Morning.” The moth demon’s voice was a bit raspy as she blinked away the drowsiness from her eyes.

“Morning.” Charlie said between kisses. Her fingertips sneaking just a little under Vaggie’s gown to feel bare skin.

The touch made Vaggie shudder, “Charlie. Not that this isn’t a nice way to wake up but... we don’t have time.”

“Actually...” Charlie leaned up to kiss her girlfriend, “We have the whole day. I told everyone to take the day off. I know it might seem a little selfish but I miss you and I wanted to spend the day with you.”

“Oh... well... that’s really nice of you actually. I’d love to.” Charlie beamed at her girlfriend. She took her by the hand and led her to the bathroom where they took a quick shower, well it was supposed to be quick but they got derailed by a hot and steamy make out session that only stopped once the water turned cold. They they took a few minutes to freshen up, get dressed in cozy, fluffy robes and get ready for... well Vaggie actually didn’t know what yet.

Charlie led Vaggie back to the bed, the moth demon sitting on the edge and looking up at her girlfriend, the two smiling at each other. Charlie cupped Vaggie’s cheek in her hand, the gray demon closing her eyes and leaning into the touch, enjoying the warmth that always made her chest tighten and fill with even more affection for her lovely girlfriend.

Charlie took Vaggie’s hand with her other hand and brought it to her chest. Vaggie’s eyes snapped open, looking at her hand on Charlie’s breast and then at Charlie’s face before a smirk spread across her face, “Oh. That’s why you wanted a day off.”

“We didn’t really get any alone time this week. And I wanted to... Continue where we left off that night.” Charlie’s eyes were half lid as she slowly sat in Vaggie’s lap, hand leaving Vaggie’s to pull on the sash holding Vaggie’s robe together.

When the robe slipped open both Charlie’s hands went to Vaggie’s breasts. Vaggie hummed in approval, beginning to trail kisses down Charlie’s neck as she slowly tugged on the robe, revealing Charlie’s bare shoulder along with the top of her right breast, the little peak just barely hidden. Vaggie grinned, her eyes meeting Charlie’s for a moment before her lips wrapped around the nipple, sucking gently.

Charlie let out a low moan. She wanted to lose herself in the feeling of Vaggie’s lips on her breast but she also wanted Vaggie to feel as good as she felt. With her thumbs she brushed each of Vaggie’s own nipples, slowly circling the over the peak, careful not to press too hard. Vaggie sighed, muffled by her mouth still on busy with Charlie’s breast.

Vaggie’s free hand ran across Charlie’s thigh, barely underneath the robe when she stopped. She glanced up at Charlie who nodded quickly, seeming very eager judging by the way she spread her legs further, planting her knees on the bed and towering slightly over Vaggie. The movement caused the nipple to slip out of Vaggie’s mouth but she immediately craned her head to latch onto the other one, giving it the same treatment.

When Vaggie’s fingers came into contact with Charlie’s wetness neither could suppress a groan. Vaggie’s fingers easily found Charlie’s clit, rubbing it in small circles.

Charlie couldn’t help but move his hips along with Vaggie’s hand. They moved slow and gentle, “You’re teasing.” Charlie huffed.

“Not at all.” Vaggie whispered as her tongue circled Charlie’s nipple, “I’m just showing my appreciation. But if you’re that eager I can just...” Charlie gasped when Vaggie slid her finger inside, “Just get down to business.” Vaggie made a point of licking her lips slowly, enjoying how Charlie’s eyes followed her tongue.

“Fuck I’d love you to, but...” Charlie stopped moving along with Vaggie’s hand, glancing to the side.

“But?” Vaggie still moved the fingers, enjoying how Charlie bit her lip in an effort to stop her moans. When Charlie’s eyes shut tight Vaggie stopped, “Everything ok babe?” Vaggie was about to pull her fingers out when Charlie caught her wrist.

“Yes. Please don’t stop. I’m just... um...” Charlie’s cheeks turned slightly pink, her eyes darting around the room. Vaggie on the other hand listened to Charlie’s request and resumed her movements, “Its... its a bit embarrassing actually. I want... oh fuck!” A loud gasp fell from Charlie’s lips.

Vaggie smirked when she saw how Charlie’s eyes fluttered shut as she added another finger, “Yeah sweetie? What is it? I’ll give you anything you want.”

Charlie leaned in close so that her lips ghosted over Vaggie’s ear, “I want you to fuck me... hard.” Charlie practically purred out the last word.

“What?” Vaggie stopped, blinked and pushed herself away just a bit so she could look at Charlie’s face “But... but I thought you didn’t like that?”

“I didn’t say that. I don’t mind how it feels, you know physically. Its just that...” Charlie looked anywhere but Vaggie, “Since Seviathan I haven’t been able to enjoy it. But I want to. With you. I trust you. And I think it might feel good with you. If you want.”

“Well... I mean... I’ve thought about it before. I won’t lie and say I haven’t. But I don’t want to do something that might make you uncomfortable. You don’t have to do this for me Charlie.” The last thing Vaggie wanted was for Charlie to force herself to do something she didn’t want to do, or to feel like she forced her into doing it.

“No.” Charlie shook her head, “Not for you. For me. I want to do this for me. I want you to give me good memories of it. It might sound a selfish and maybe even stupid but, I want to enjoy everything you have to give me. Even the rougher parts. I... I’m sorry I have to sound pretty dumb right now huh?”

Vaggie reached up with her free hand and pulled Charlie into a sweet kiss, “Never. If that’s what you really want who am I to object. Like I said I wanted to do this with you before. But I know you like it gentle. And after what you told me about Seviathan and how he treated you. I don’t want to be like him. I would never hurt you Charlie.”

“Unless I ask right?” The two chuckled. Charlie nuzzled her nose against Vaggie’s, “That why I’m trusting you with this. With me. I want you to be able to let go and fuck me how you want to. And I want you to enjoy every second of it, just like I will.” For a moment Charlie’s eyes flashed red, “In fact I bought something special just for the occasion.”

“Oh yeah?” Vaggie’s smirk came back on her face, Charlie returning it immediately.

Before Vaggie could pull her into another kiss Charlie pushed away from her and walked to the closet, swaying her hips as she went. In the meantime Vaggie tossed her robe at the foot of the bed. She watched as Charlie took out a box and brought it back to Vaggie, sitting next to her on the bed. Vaggie was excited for whatever Charlie had planned so she eagerly took the box and opened it. She looked at the content and titled her head in confusion, which was also very evident on her face.

“You... you bought a strap-on?” Vaggie looked at it again. It was a deep dark gray color, a a bit darker than her own skin. It looked very realistic as well. The harness looked very comfortable too, almost like black briefs.

“Yes. We haven’t used one in a while. Don’t get me wrong love I really love everything you do with your hands and tongue, but this one is... kind of special. Its a new one as well so they’re pretty expensive. But it sounded interesting so I really wanted to try it, or for you to try it out.” Charlie seemed pretty excited about this. Vaggie though was still confused. Still she was willing to try it for Charlie.

“Special how?” She was a bit curious she had to admit.

“I could tell you but... I think it’d be better if I showed you. So why don’t you go put it on?” The way Charlie looked at her, with her eyes full of lust and half-lid, Vaggie didn’t have to be told twice. She scrambled out of bed with the strap and harness, running straight into the bathroom. She was quick to put on the harness. As soon as she put the strap in place though she felt a little jolt trough her body. It wasn’t painful, actually it felt rather nice. She still didn’t know what it was though.

She was also quite nervous about the whole thing. How far could she go? Should they have a safe word? Or some kind of signal? How long did Charlie want to try this? Vaggie shook her head. The only way she would get answers was to discuss it with her girlfriend. With a deep breath she went back to the bedroom.

“Before we start I’d wanna ask-” Vaggie’s words died in her throat. Charlie was on the bed, wearing black and red lace lingerie. If the strap was a real dick it would definitely be just as hard as it was now, “Holy fuck. That... um... wow.”

Charlie chuckled. She enjoyed that she was able to make Vaggie speechless like this. She sat back on the bed, beckoning Vaggie to join here. Vaggie was by her side in a second, pulling her into a needy kiss.

“Allow me to demonstrate.” Charlie whispered against Vaggie’s lips. Her hand sneaked to the front of Vaggie’s open robe and wrapped around the strap-on. And Vaggie felt it. She could actually feel Charlie’s hand.

“Oh my god.” Vaggie’s hips jolted into Charlie’s hand, “What’s...”

“What do you think? You can actually feel me now. Do you like it?” Charlie moved her hand up and down slowly.

“Fuck yes.” Vaggie moaned, “I can’t believe you bought this.”

“Well I said I wanted you to fuck me rough. And I wanted you to be able to feel everything while you do.” Charlie’s breath was hot against Vaggie’s ear. She could be so effortlessly seductive, it was unbelievable.

“Wait... I wanted to... um... safe word.” Vaggie managed to say between moans.

“Safe word?” Charlie stopped her hand movement and Vaggie was both disappointed and thankful.

“Yeah. Or anything really. I just want to know if it gets to be too much for you.”

“Oh Vaggie. You’re so sweet.” Charlie hugged her with her free hand, “I promise I’ll let you know. But I really do want you to just... let loose. If it becomes too much for me I’ll stop you. You trust me right?”

“With my whole being.” Vaggie kissed Charlie on the cheek.

“Good.” Charlie returned the kiss, “Anything else?”

Vaggie shook her head, placed her hand on Charlie’s cheek and eased her into a kiss. It was sweet but chaste. At least until Charlie’s hand moved again. Vaggie moaned, offering Charlie the opportunity to push her tongue into Vaggie’s mouth. Vaggie was a little overwhelmed with the new sensation at first, but it felt so good.

Then all of a sudden it stopped and Vaggie groaned at the loss of Charlie’s hand. But as the hand moved away Charlie broke the kiss and started kissing downwards, across Vaggie jaw, her neck, across her breasts and her stomach. Vaggie gulped, knowing full well what Charlie was about to do. She wasn’t sure how quickly she could push Charlie and she wasn’t sure what the sensation of Charlie’s mouth on her would be like so for now she simply placed a hand on Charlie’s head, gently pushing her toward the tip.

Charlie started with kisses. Teasing kisses from the base of the shaft, stopping just under the head. Vaggie shut her eyes tight for a moment, trying to regain some of her self control. When she looked at Charlie again the Princess looked back with a tiny smirk and hooded eyes. Then her tongue darted out and slowly circled the tip of the cock, “Holy fu-” Vaggie words were cut off by Charlie suddenly taking the cock in her mouth, “Shit!” Charlie’s mouth was always amazing, but this was a completely new sensation for Vaggie. And it was so sudden that the moth demon couldn’t help but tighten her hold on Charlie’s head, tugging her hair a bit before smoothing over the spot. The little jolt of pain made Charlie groan but then it was immediately followed by gentleness which put her at ease. She started moving her head up and down at a slow pace.

“Fuck.” Vaggie moaned at the feeling of Charlie’s mouth around her. If her mouth felt so good what would her pussy feel like? The thought made her even hornier, her dick twitching. The movement made Charlie hum, which in turn made Vaggie thrust upwards.

Charlie moved away, enjoying how Vaggie thrust upwards once more, chasing the feeling from before. Instead of her mouth she wrapped her hand around the cock, moving it up and down as she kissed the underside of of the shaft, “Enjoying yourself?”

“More then.” Vaggie couldn’t help the blissful smile that creeped across her face.

“Good. I’m glad you like my gift.” Charlie was so happy she barely even registered Vaggie’s other hand intertwining in her hair until her mouth was being guided back to the tip. Her eyes widened ash she looked up at Vaggie.

Her eyes was darker, hungrier than before, but behind that they were still Vaggie’s eyes, not anyone else, “I do. But I think I liked it more when it... when my cock was in your mouth.” Charlie moaned at the tone and for a moment Vaggie thought that maybe she changed her mind, but that worry went away as soon as Charlie’s lips closed around the tip again and she started sucking enthusiastically.

Charlie’s moans only made the feeling better. Vaggie’s head fell back, she closed her eyes and let herself fully enjoy the feeling of Charlie’s mouth.

“You have a very talented mouth sweetheart.” The response to the praise was immediate as Charlie’s tongue swirled around the cockhead every time she bobbed her head. It was too much, too good, Vaggie couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled Charlie back by her hair, a whimper falling from Charlie’s lips, “Aww did that hurt or do you want my cock that badly?”

“Both.” Charlie tried to lean back down but Vaggie’s grip was firm.

“I didn’t say you could have it.” Vaggie’s hand traveled town to Charlie’s arms and pulled her towards the moth demon, one hand still holding her blonde hair. As soon as Charlie was on top of her she started grinding her hips against Vaggie, every roll of the hips sending pleasant jolts trough both of them, “Fuck you’re so wet, I can feel you even trough the panties. Is all that for me?”

Charlie nodded her head, “Just you. Only you.”

As good as this was Vaggie felt like she was going to explode soon if she wasn’t inside Charlie. Now with both hands on her hips Vaggie flipped them over.

“You know this is some really nice lingerie. I really like it. But right now, I think I’d like them even more on the floor. Don’t you think so?” Vaggie rubbed the cock over the panties.

“Yes. Please.” Charlie hissed trough her teeth, raising her hips only to have Vaggie pin her back to the bed.

“You’re so pretty when you ask for it.” Vaggie’s hands traveled upwards slowly, then to Charlie’s back where she undid the bra clasp and pulling off Charlie, gently running her hands over her shoulders and breasts as she did so. Next were her panties, and as much as Vaggie wanted to tear them off with her teeth, they were very nice and she wanted to see Charlie in them more, “Maybe next time you can wear these when we’re working. I could bend you over the desk, move these aside and fuck you until you can’t stand anymore. Would you like that Charlie?” Vaggie kept looking into Charlie’s eyes as she slid the panties off.

“Please Vaggie.” Vaggie moved her hand up and down as she discarded the panties, it didn’t feel as good as Charlie’s hand though. She lined herself up with Charlie’s entrance. This was far from the first time they used a strap on but this would be the first time Vaggie would be able to feel Charlie.

As soon as the tip slid in a broken moan fell from Vaggie’s lips, “ I-I’ll go slow ok? It’s been a while after all.” But really the feeling was slightly overwhelming for Vaggie as well. With each inch she sank in she felt like she was going deeper and deeper into a new kind of bliss. She felt Charlie around her fingers countless times, so now that she could feel her around another body part she wanted to savor it. And it seemed like Charlie did too. Every time Vaggie slid in a bit more Charlie would let out a low moan.

When their hips were finally flush against each other both of them needed some time to adjust. Charlie to the fullness and Vaggie to the new, different feeling of Charlie’s pussy wrapping around her.

“Fuck I think I’m in heaven.” The statement made Charlie chuckle. She leaned up to kiss Vaggie on the cheek as she wiggled her hips, signaling that it was ok to move now. And Vaggie did, slowly at first. She hissed as she pulled out then slowly bottomed out again. Charlie breathed out when ever she did that. Vaggie picked up a bit of speed with her next thrust, “But you know, I’m the only one who gets to enjoy this kind of heaven.” Her tone had just a hint of possessiveness, the kind that Charlie loved hearing while they fucked.

“Harder. Please harder.” Charlie tried moving her hips only to have Vaggie stop her again.

“I wonder if everyone knows how the Princess of Hell begs a sinner to fuck her into submission like this. I’ve heard them talk you know, how they think could fuck you better. But they can’t can they? I’m the only one who can make you into a moaning mess like this. They don’t deserve to know how good you’re getting it.” Vaggie’s hips moved faster, the slick sound of her cock sliding in and out of Charlie’s wet pussy and the sound of Charlie’s moans was music to Vaggie’s ears, “You sound so pretty when you’re getting fucked sweetheart. Let me hear more.” Vaggie’s hips started moving at a almost animalistic, primal pace.

Charlie’s arms wrapped around her shoulders pulling her in for a deep kiss, “God... Fuck you feel amazing, you’re amazing.” Charlie moaned as she kissed Vaggie over and over.

“You’re the amazing one. Taking me so well, your walls squeezing me so tight. You’re doing so good Charlie.” Vaggie pressed kisses all over Charlie’s neck, leaving red marks on the pale skin. Charlie’s walls started fluttering around Vaggie’s cock, “Are you close love? I am too. Let’s do it together.” Charlie nodded against Vaggie’s shoulder as the thrusts started to get more and more uneven until their bodies started shaking with pleasure, moaning each other’s names, “Fuck you’re squeezing around me to much.” Vaggie breathed out.

They hugged each other tight until the pleasure subsided. As Vaggie started to pull out Charlie’s breath hitched. When Vaggie pulled out completely Charlie exhaled deeply.

“Are you ok hon?” Vaggie’s hands rested on Charlie’s cheeks, gently circling her thumbs in a soothing manner, “Did I go to hard?”

Charlie shook her head, her hand coming to rest over one of Vaggie’s, “No. You were wonderful. This was wonderful. Thank you. I feel a bit sore but, its the good kind.” Charlie’s eyes met Vaggie’s.

“Oh. Well... good.” Vaggie could feel herself blush, “I’m glad.”

Charlie laughed which earned her a questioning look, “You just fucked me and now you’re bashful, you’re so cute darling.” Charlie’s words only made Vaggie blush more. Charlie was the only person who could call her cute and not get a blade thrown at their head.

“I’m uh... just gonna go take this off. Then cuddles?” Charlie responded with a little kiss on Vaggie’s nose. Vaggie couldn’t help the goofy smile that spread across her face as she walked to the bathroom. They would definitely use this strap one sometime in the future. But right now she had a princess to cuddle with.

Charlie was already in bed and covered up with a sheet when Vaggie came back into the bedroom. She was humming.

“You have such a pretty voice.” Vaggie whispered, not wanting to disturb whatever song Charlie was humming. She slipped into bed next to her and pulled Charlie close to her chest, wrapping her arms around her.

Charlie stopped humming only when she would plant little kisses on Vaggie’s neck and jaw. Screw going to Heaven, Vaggie was already there.

#hazbin hotel #chaggie #charlie magne #vaggie #charlie x vaggie #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel fic #hazbin hotel fanfiction

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

not to be dramatic but i would SOB if you made a part 2 for the bisexual mess fic you did!! hcs or a fic idc it was just incredible i need more😩

Sob, you say? Prepare to do so

A Bisexual Mess {pt.2}

Make a request!

Master list

Warnings: SMUT, anal (male receiving), oral, threesome, Denki in a skirt, first time sex, and I think that’s it

Words: 3770

Pairing(s): Sero Hanta x Kaminari Denki x FEM!reader

Summary: Denki is overjoyed to have his first times taken by his partners

Part One

Denki was giddy with excitement; he was about to do something he's only ever dreamed of. He admired himself with his bathroom mirror, fixing his eyeliner and the blonde mop on his head. He blushed deeply when he looked at the black gem that peaked between his asscheeks, spreading himself out to get a better view of the plug. He knocked on it with his knuckle a few times and groaned at the sensation, eager for his new partners to see what was under his skirt.

Denki had forgotten that driving would be a difficult task due to his new accessory, and he jumped when he turned on the engine. He rubbed his thighs together at the vibration, trying to focus on looking out for traffic. The ride was slow to say the least, even if it only took 15 minutes to get to yours and Hanta's apartment. The fabric of his boxers felt tight because of how hard he was, the tip of his cock rubbing against the cotton, causing a wet spot to appear on his underwear.

The blonde let out a relieved huff when he turned off his car in your parking lot, quickly sending the group chat that he had arrived. Denki grabbed his bag and stepped out of his car, anxiously looking around for scary straight men, and cautiously walked to the entrance of the building, kicking small rocks with his worn out Converse. He hopped into the elevator after he had been buzzed in and pressed a few buttons, praying that no one else would stop the elevator to get on.

Denki rapped a light tune on your door with his knuckles, and the door swung open only a second later by you. His cheeks reddened, still not used to the fact that he was dating you. He squeaked out a nervous, "hi!"! And shuffled inside. He politely removed his dirty shoes and slid on his pair of yellow slippers he had left there.

"Hey Denks," you greeted, giving him a kiss on the cheek. Hanta popped his head around the corner just in time for his boyfriend's face to turn a shade darker. The blonde almost short-circuited when Sero pressed his lips against his opposite cheek, and a shy grin lit his face.

"Hey sweet cheeks," Hanta smiled teasingly, slapping a hand down on Denki's ass. His face flushed a light pink when he heard Denki's quiet moan, and watched as his boyfriend covered his face with one of his sleeves.

"You're so cute, Denks," you whispered into his ear, hugging onto his side. "I love your skirt."

"T-thanks," he stuttered, pulling down the hem to make sure his erection wasn't visible. "I love your b-boobs."

The three of you burst into laughter, and you had to wipe the tears from Hanta's eyes. You winked at the ravenette and turned towards your other boyfriend, giving him a gentle kiss on the lips. He moaned in surprise at the sudden feeling and wrapped his arms around your waist, not realizing how much he craved to be loved. Denki snuggled into your warmth, burring his face in the crook of your neck. He felt Hanta press against his backside as he joined the hug, and the blonde heard the sweet sound of a kiss being exchanged. Denki mumbled into your shoulder as Hanta nipped at his neck, lightly sucking on his skin.

"Fuck," Denki mumbled so quietly that you barely caught what he said. "You guys make me feel so loved."

"Aw, Denki," Hanta cooed at his boyfriend, stroking the blonde's hair. "Let's get to the bed, yeah?"

Denki mumbled a yes, reluctantly letting go of your waist to follow Hanta down the hall. The room had several strands of fairy lights, filling it with a warm glow. He gulped as he looked over to the side table with condoms and lube, blushing fiercely remembering when he tried one on, with you by his side, guiding him through a handjob. Denki walked over to the bed and sat down, wiggling slightly as he sat due to the plug he was wearing. He clasped his hands together in his lap to hide his erection, shyly smiling at his partners.

"C'mon, pretty boy," Hanta whispered gravelly into the blonde's ear, "sit against the headboard for us."

A shiver ran through Kaminari, and he scooted backwards until his back pressed against the wooden board. He moaned as his plug dragged against the bed. Hanta sat himself beside Denki and ran a hand on his inner thigh, teasing at the boxer band around his thigh. Kaminari felt his dick twitch and he swallowed nervously, whimpering when Sero grazed his teeth along the side of his neck, giving slow and sloppy kisses once in awhile.

"Fuck, guys," you bit your lip, crawling across the bed to your boyfriends. "You're both so hot."

Hanta smiled against Denki's neck, and chuckled softly before sucking a hickey near his boyfriend's Adam's apple. He guided his hand down to Denki's cock, only ghosting a finger across the head to make Denki whine.

"Hanta, take off Denki's boxers for me please," you said, readjusting your hair. "I want him to keep his skirt on."

Denki let out a heavy breath as Hanta slowly dragged the garment off his body, letting Kaminari's cock bob up once the waistband was pulled down enough. Denki moaned at the feeling of his skirt, the new texture exciting his dick. Both of Denki's hands grasped the sheets beside him, curling the fabric in his fists anxiously. His breathing got heavier when you crawled almost on top of him and kissed his lips, lifting his skirt a little to pump him gently.

The soft skin of your palm made Denki shiver pleasantly against Hanta, and he weakly thrusted into your fist. The blonde watched your fingertips trail up his shaft to the head of his cock and whined quietly when your nails teased his glans. Hanta looked mesmerized as his eyes calculated every little thing you were doing to his boyfriend.

"Let me lie down, baby," you whispered as you took your hand off of Denki's cock. He complied excitedly, immediately crawling on top of you when you got comfortable.

Hanta helped him pull off his sweater and kissed down his neck, rubbing his boyfriend's nipples. You begrudgingly unzipped Denki's skirt, cursing the damn thing for being in the way. Denki moaned as he pulled the skirt off, making his dick bob up to slap his stomach before going straight out. The blonde watched in awe as you stripped yourself of your shirt and bra, and he leaned down to suck on your nipples. Hanta groaned gratefully at the sight before him, and he went behind Kaminari to trail a hand down his spine. Denki shivered and arched his back, exposing the gem between his cheeks. Sero chuckled and tapped on it a few times, smiling cheekily when his boyfriend gasped in surprise.

"Get my damn pants off, Buzzy," you grumbled, trying to shimmy them off yourself. Denki excitedly peeled them off of you and threw them on the floor before playing with the hem of your panties.

"Can I take these off?" Denki whispered, chest rising and falling heavily. "Please?"

"Go ahead," you smiled reassuringly at your boyfriend, and hummed when your pussy was exposed to the cool air.

"Fuckfuckfuckfuck," he mumbled, holding your underwear with one hand and examining the wet spot on the fabric. He couldn't resist the temptation, and pulled it to his nose to get a whiff.

"Pervert," Hanta teased from a few feet away on a chair, lazily jerking his hard cock.

"Says you," Denki quirked a brow. He threw your panties over to the ravenette, and grinned when Hanta shoved his nose into the fabric. "Pervert"

A gasp left the blonde's lips when you grazed your fingers across his inner thigh, causing him to look back at you with wide, dark eyes. You trailed your fingers from his thigh down to your flower, and spread your petals to show Denki your precious bundle of nerves. You heard a low sigh from Hanta as you gently toyed with yourself, making a show of how wet you were.

"C'mon, pretty boy, prep my pussy for your pretty cock," you purred, keeping eye contact with the boy above you.

His eyes popped open even wider, and he leaned down so he was face-to-face with your heat. Denki felt dizzy as your scent consumed him, and his cock twitched against his stomach again. He anxiously used his fingers to swirl your clit, trying to find a good rhythm for you. His breath shook when you grabbed his hand and ground into it, manhandling him for your pleasure. With your other hand, you clutched the back of his head, pulling him closer to kiss him. Denki moaned against your lips, focusing on the slick that covered his fingers and how that slick was going to be on his cock soon.

"Finger her already, dude," Sero said from the corner, leisurely stroking his dick.

"O-okay," Denki gulped, and your hand let go of his wrist. He trailed his middle finger down to your slit and shivered at the feeling. He traced through your folds before finding your entrance, and slowly inched his finger inside.

The way you clamped his one finger made his whole body shiver in excitement, and he awkwardly leaned over you to grab the lube. Denki lubed up a second finger, and pushed it in with the other one. He audibly groaned when your pussy squelched, and listened to your soft moans as he fingered you a bit faster.

"Is this good? Am I doing okay?" Denki whispered. He bit his lip when you smiled lazily at him.

"Mhm, keep going. I'll tell you when I'm ready for your pretty cock," you grinned.

Denki's dick noticeably twitched at your words and he quickly got back to work on your pussy. His mouth watered when a mix of your slick and the lube dripped down his fingers and he tried shoving it back in, "holy fuck that's wet," the blonde whispered quietly.

"Need your cock now, Denks," you chimed, dancing your toes from nerves.

Denki literally lurched forward involuntarily in response and he barely caught himself with his left hand on the mattress. He mumbled an apology and scooted back. He watched in awe as he pulled his fingers out of you, groaning when your pussy clenched and pushed slick out. Denki looked up to see you holding a condom and carefully unwrapping it, glancing at him to give another comforting grin. Denki wiped his sticky fingers on his thigh and sat up straight.

"Ready, pretty boy?" You quirked a brow as you lent forward a little.

"Y-yes," Denki managed to choke out, "hell yes."

Kaminari felt his cheeks get hotter when you gently rolled the condom over his drooling cock, careful to leave room at the top for when Denki will inevitably bust a fat load. He swallowed harshly when you tapped his glans a few times, and for a second he thought that he was going to cum before even going inside of you.

You helped Denki guide his cock slowly into your pussy, watching him gasp and hiccup when he bottomed out. He sat still for a moment, taking deep breaths to regulate his body to the foreign feeling. He didn't want to cum first, even though he definitely would, because his ravenette boyfriend in the corner would beat his ass if he didn't make you cum first.

"Move, Denks," you reached out a hand and held his cheek, encouraging him to open his eyes.

"C-can't," Denki squeaked, hiccuping again when your walls clenched around him, "'ll come. Want you to come too."

"Oh pretty boy, it's ok. It's your first time, remember? No matter how early you cum I'll still love you," you cooed, rubbing your thumb on his bright pink cheek.

Of course he remembered this was his first time. It was with you, which made it all the more nerve wracking and exciting, "gah- oh fuck," Denki whined again. "I'm gonna— holy shit I-I'm—."

"Don't you dare, Denki," Hanta ordered from the corner, a lazy hand still stroking his cock. "Not until y/n cums."

"Hanta," you scolded, glaring at your raven haired boyfriend. "Don't worry, Denki, baby. Go on and cum for me, pretty boy."

The blonde just whimpered and leaned forward to bury his face in the crook of your neck, his legs shook, and he hadn't even fucked into you yet. His cock was sat buried into your hot pussy, twitching to the beat of his heart.

"C'mon, lovely," you comforted, kissing Denki's head. "Fuck me nice and good now, okay? You can cum whenever you want, don't worry, pretty."

"Gahg~," Denki gasped when he pulled out halfway, sheathing himself back into you with a long groan. He started rutting into you sloppily without much rhythm and a sob left his lips, causing his cheeks to flush harder in embarrassment.

"Good boy, you're doing such a good job, Denks," you purred, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Denki choked on air for a second at how kind you were being to him, and how your heels that were digging into his back were forcing him into a rhythm.

"Coming! Oh my god y/n, fuck— you feel so good— you're so- good— holy shit, coming," Denki blabbered with tears in his eyes. He pounded into your cunt rapidly, repeating praise after praise through the curses he chanted.

Denki fell forward onto your chest and he held your shoulders tightly. He panted against your neck, giving occasional kisses to your skin. His legs shook, and he thought that he might fall over if he tried to get up. He sighed happily when you stroked his blonde locks, cooing soft praise into his ear.

"You did such a good job, Denks," you said, pressing your lips to his cheek. "Let's take the condom off."

Denki rolled over onto his back and pulled off the cum-filled condom, tying it shut and throwing it into the garage can. He squeaked when you hopped onto him, tracing your hands up his chest and making him shiver. You lent down to kiss his plump lips and squeezed one of his nipples to make him squirm.

"How are you feeling, pretty?" You asked softly.

"So fucking good. 'M getting hard again," Denki muttered. His cock twitched to clarify, causing you to giggle and tap on his glans.

"You wanna lay ass-up?" You purred, nibbling where his ear met his jaw. "Hanta's been waiting."

You got off of Denki to let him roll over onto his belly, and teasingly ran a finger down his spine to make his back arch. Denki fixed his knees so his ass was presented in the air, showcasing the pretty gem, and rested his head on a pillow. He moaned when you toyed with the sparkly black plug, twisting and tugging on the metal. Denki felt the bed dip and he eagerly wagged his ass, Hanta's hands cupping both of his cheeks. You moved in front of the blonde and situated yourself with your legs open, pussy now on display for him to toy with.

"Ready, Denki?" Hanta grinned as he squirted a glob of lube on his fingers. "God your ass is so cute."

Denki whined a soft, "please yes," to the ravenette above him, and awkwardly positioned his neck to glance up.

"Tsk," Hanta tutted, giving Denki's ass a gentle slap. "Eyes on the prize, pal. You're just gonna ignore y/n like that? After you left her hanging?"

"Sorry," Denki said breathlessly, turning his head back. His golden eyes stared into your e/c ones and he shyly looked away, focusing now on your pussy. The blonde groaned when he felt the plug inside of him slowly pull out, fanning his hot breath on your flower. You edged closer and spread your lips for him.

"Fuck," Hanta hissed as he slipped his finger into Denki. "So tight."

Denki helplessly moaned and gave in, leaning in to lick a stripe up your folds. His legs shook slightly as Hanta pumped in a second finger, curling them trying to reach Denki's prostate. A grouse sob slipped through his lips as he continued to be finger fucked, trying to focus at least a little bit on your pleasure too. He struggled to wrap his lips around your swollen clit, but managed to latch on and suck intently. Denki's stomach fluttered when you moaned gratefully, sifting a hand through his hair to grip onto the roots.

Hanta sped up his pace, scissoring and curling his fingers, making his boyfriend squirm beneath him. The ravenette felt his cock twitch at the promise of sinking into Denki's ass, and he decided that he was ready.

"Gonna fuck you real good, kay?" Hanta grumbled, easing out his fingers. Denki whined impatiently and wiggled his ass in the air. He yelped against your pussy once Hanta slapped a hand firmly on one of his cheeks. The blonde moaned when his boyfriend did it again, this time on his other cheek.

"Please," Denki mewled, "please, Han-chan."

Sero squeezed out some more lube and fisted his cock a few times before placing a hand on Denki's hip and easing himself him. The two boys groaned in unison as Hanta slowly but surely bottomed out, the head of his cock just barely grazing Denki's prostate. Hanta slowly started to piston his hips, groaning at every move. Denki's walls were so tight that he struggled to push back in.

"Harder," Denki demanded, whining against your clit. Your hand still sat in his hair, gripping his blonde locks so he wouldn't pull away from your heat.

Hanta hissed as he rutted faster into his boyfriend, slowing slightly so he could put more power into his thrusts. Denki let Hanta grip his hips tightly, allowing the ravenette more control.

"I c-can't," Denki stuttered out as Hanta pounded into him.

"You can't what, baby?" You asked, letting go of his hair.

"I can't, I- I wanna make you cum," Denki cried. "But I c-can't. N-not with Hanta f—".

The blond got cut off when Sero pounded harder into the boy's ass, stealing away his words as his breath was forced out in a loud moan. He felt you gently take his hand and put something in it. Denki's eyes widened when he looked at the toy in his hand. He struggled to insert one part into you, and shakily placed the other over your clit so the bright pink toy could send vibrations inside of you, and also suck on your clit. He fumbled to press the button, and squeaked when you suddenly groaned and arched your back.

Hanta watched in awe as your face contorted into pleasure in front of him, and he repositioned his grip onto Denki's thighs. His eyes were locked on you and the way your hands gripped and trailed up your body in need, and your half-lidded eyes peered at his wide ones. Your mouth opened in a silent scream, displaying strings of saliva in your mouth; your eyes rolled back and Hanta could see your legs shake on either side of Denki's head.

"Fffuuuck!~" you gasped, gripping Denki's hair to keep him nibbling and kissing your thighs. "Oh holy shit, that feels so gooood.~"

Hanta growled out a holler and slammed his hips ruthlessly against Denki's ass, so close to the edge that he could taste it on his tongue. His fingers squeezed at Denki's hips, desperately chasing his high.

Denki swore that he died and went to heaven; all he could see was white and all he could hear were the lewdest moans he'd ever heard. Was that Hanta? Or maybe you? No, he thought, that was him.

Denki gabbled and cried and whined as he was forced onto Hanta's cock over and over again, not even processing when you got up from in front of him. A choked sob left his throat and he felt himself drool all over the pillow. Your soft hand wrapped around his leaking cock and pumped in time with Hanta's hurried thrusts, causing Denki's mouth to open and gasp as he tried to cry out, but nothing sounded. He suddenly sucked in a lungful of air and hiccuped loudly when he felt Hanta's cum fill his hole. Denki pleaded for him to keep going, not sure if Hanta could even understand him. A few more thrusts later from Sero, and a few more pumps from you, and he came with a gurgled cry.

Hanta slowly pulled out his softening cock, panting harshly at the aftermath of Denki, who had collapsed and was now moaning out 'thank you's. He watched as you, with shaky limbs, stroked Denki's back. You ushered the blonde to the bathroom, trusting that Sero would get some water for everyone.

Denki was still heavily panting as you helped him onto the toilet, cooing sweet nothings into his ear that he couldn't comprehend.

"Get all the cum out, Denks," you encouraged softly. "We don't want that staying in there for too long."

"I do," Denki mumbled. "Want it to stay forever."

He watched lazily as you filled up the bath, admiring your after glow and your still naked body. Hanta popped into the bathroom with three water bottles, and set them down on the counter.

"Denki, you ok?" Hanta asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "I went a little too rough for your first time..."

"'M okay," Denki grinned. "Felt so good."

Hanta leaned down to give his blonde boyfriend a kiss on the cheek, and made his way behind you. "Hey babe," he mumbled into your shoulder, "how are you doing?"

"Amazing," you hummed. "Just filling the tub for Denks."

"So when are we doing that again?" Denki asked eagerly after chugging half his water.

"Denki how are you not exhausted right now?" Hanta asked worriedly.

Denki shrugged in response, "I think I'm still kickin' on adrenaline. I'll probably crash within the next ten minutes."

Denki leaned on his fist and smiled stupidly, a blush coating his cheeks as he thought about how lucky he was to be sandwiched between the two of you and Hanta. He definitely couldn't wait until the next time.

#anime #bnha #mha #bnha fanfiction #denki kaminari #mha fanfiction #kaminari denki #kaminari denki x reader #denki kaminari x reader #denki kaminari x reader x sero hanta #denki kaminari x sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #hanta sero x reader #hanta sero #sero hanta #bnha smut

[farfromharry]

The one with the much needed bandaid | Peter’s Girl

Summary: You and Peter finally talk about what you saw the night of Liz’s party, and you become sort of his go to nurse

Word count - 2375

Warnings - mentions of injury, language? i can’t remember

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Peter had spent the entire weekend practically pulling his hair out over the whole thing with Y/N. He couldn’t believe he was so reckless that in the space of the same night he’d managed to one, accidentally reveal his identity to one of his best friends, two, scare away the bad guys by underestimating just how dangerous they were, and three, summon Mr Stark- well his suit and some kind of phone call, to save him from a lake after being dropped in by some weird bird man.

So you could say Peter’s last few days hadn’t been very enjoyable or realistic at all and it was driving him insane.

He was trying to fix things one by one, and he’d begun with apologising to Mr Stark for any inconvenience he caused. His mentor was quick to brush it off, telling him not to get too worked up about it, but warning him to leave the dangerous men to him and the people who were specially trained to deal with these kinds of things, not just some kid from Queens.

He didn’t know how much of that he would stick to, determined to catch these guys as quickly as possible if the avengers weren’t going to jump in, but he’d try and keep that quiet and unknown to Tony of course.

The next part of his plan was to find you on Monday morning, to at least try and explain what he was doing in Spiderman’s suit outside of Liz’s party, maybe tell a few white lies to get himself out of the web he’s caught himself in.

And his plan for the bad guys… well that was still in the works, but he was smart so he’d figure it out in his own time.

»»——⍟——««

You had received numerous texts and calls from Peter since the moment you woke up that morning, all of which had been ignored. You’d gathered he’d want to talk to you but you weren’t returning the sentiment, and you weren’t even sure why. Were you mad he didn’t tell you? Mad that he’d put himself in all that danger?

You didn’t know, but you did know that you were planning on avoiding him so you didn’t have to find out.

Peter had met up with Ned that morning like he did every morning. He was rambling on about some new star wars theory that the brunette would normally love to hear and give his opinion on, so the fact that Peter was ignoring him was strange.

“Are you okay? You seem a little on edge,” Ned pointed out. Peter turned to look at him with a small, unconvincing look.

“I just need to talk to Y/N.”

Ned rolled his eyes. He didn’t know what happened that night other than Peter had left him looking stupid at the party, prompting Flash to call the boy some names while he wasn’t there.

Seeing as Mj had stopped defending him and Ned wouldn’t get involved, the male was free to ridicule Peter for as long as he wished, making for a lot of weird stares in the school halls.

But back to the present, his best friend didn’t seem too happy that he was so obviously keeping things from him, because Peter Parker was a horrible liar.

When your eyes met Peter’s figure resting against your locker you quickly spun around and started heading in the opposite direction, even if you had no idea where you were planning on going. Your hair whipping around was what caught Peter’s attention from his peripheral vision.

“Gotta go,” he announced to Ned, heading off the way you left with a quick jog in his step. You could hear Peter calling your name louder the closer he got, prompting you to speed up.

You cursed quietly when you came to the end of the hallway, having to decide on the spot whether to go left to a crowd of rowdy students, or right to a dead end. People must have thought you both looked crazy, even though that was the only other conclusion you could come to about yourself after you saw Peter on the rooftop.

“Y/N!” Peter yelled, grabbing your wrist in a gentle but firm grip. You stared at him wide eyed, almost like you were afraid of him, and it was a look that Peter never wanted to see again.

He quickly looked around before tugging you through an open door that led you to an empty classroom.

He closed the door behind him, leaving you standing there watching him blankly. He took a few minutes to try and prepare what he was going to say, granted something he should’ve probably done before he pulled you into a room with him.

“I want to explain the other night,” he stated, meeting your eyes for the first time that day. Your expression stayed stoic, pursing your lips.

“You want to lie your way out of admitting you’re Spiderman?” you sassed. The male was slightly taken back at your bluntness.

“Yeah, I guess,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood slightly. You didn’t look impressed at all, and he sputtered out a few apologies.

“Okay yes, I am Spiderman-“ you interrupted him with a scoff, running your hands through your hair in frustration. “Please just hear me out, y/n/n.”

You huffed, folding your arms over your chest. Peter had to admit that without your usual happy mood, you were intimidating and he never knew you were even capable of that.

“Fine, go ahead.”

He took a deep breath. “You aren’t meant to know because- it-it’s dangerous Y/N.” Your heart fluttered slightly. “I didn’t tell anyone because I wanted you all to be safe, I don’t know what I’d do if I was the reason you got hurt.”

Your features noticeably softened. He stepped closer to you, taking your hands in his and running his thumb over the back of your skin.

“You can’t tell anyone, please.” His soft eyes met yours in a pleading look.

“Who else knows?” you asked.

“Ned,” he mumbled. “And Mr Stark, but that’s it.”

You perked up slightly, and Peter noticed.

“So, Mj doesn’t know?” He shook his head, murmuring something about how it probably wouldn’t take her long to figure out though. Sensing your happiness about his words, the boy assumed you were happy that you knew something that she didn’t, and he didn’t really understand why. But that wasn’t the case, you were just glad that it meant she was safe, what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her, right?

“Will you keep my secret?” he asked, staring at you with eyes that resembled those of a scared puppy. You sighed, flashing him a smile and nodding your head.

“Of course I will.” The tone of your voice suggested to Peter that you weren’t done and there was going to be some kind of condition here.

“But?” he prompted.

“But please be careful, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

He grinned, pulling you into a tight hug. You tucked your head under his chin, inhaling his scent and being calmed by his presence.

Peter couldn’t wipe the smirk off of his face thinking about how you weren’t aware of his abilities, something he’d have to explain to you sometime. “You have so much to learn about me.”

»»——⍟——««

A soft tapping on your window was the last thing you expected to hear at almost midnight on a weekday. You raised your head from your pillow, squinting your eyes to try and make out what was on the other side of the glass.

You eventually had to turn on your light, startling when you noticed the shape of a person, more specifically a superhero.

You swung your legs over the side of your bed, hissing when your feet made contact with the cold floor, but you pushed that aside to go and open your window to invite Peter in.

He hastily pulled off his mask, revealing his ruffled hair and bloody face to you.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, taking note of the streaks of red on the side of his face. He looked at you with tears in his eyes, stepping forward without a word to engulf you in a hug.

You were careful wrapping your arms around him, making sure you didn’t cause him anymore pain with your hand placement.

“What happened?”

He raised his head, pressing the spider symbol in the middle of his chest. His suit grew loose, making it easy for him to take off and leave on your bedroom floor.

Your eyes widened, staring at Peter’s body in shock. You knew when he explained the whole situation with the spider that he would have some muscle, but you were definitely not expecting that.

“Um,” you were more or less speechless, forgetting how to even form words while this gorgeous boy was standing in your room in nothing but underwear.

Peter obviously hadn’t thought it completely through, his eyes widening when he realised you were indeed staring at him half naked.

“Sorry, I-I-“ You shook your head, ignoring the definite blush on your cheeks as you guided him to your bathroom. You got the boy to sit down on the side of the tub, where he nervously played with his fingers.

“So, what happened?” you asked, setting your emergency first aid kit on the side. He blankly looked up to you, finally looking at you properly. Only now did he notice that you must have been trying to go to sleep.

You were in an old shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, your hair tied up in a messy ponytail without any makeup. Peter always thought you were pretty, and it seemed as though he was only now realising just how pretty you were.

“Pete?” you whispered, snapping him out of his daydream.

He apologised. “What did you say?”

“I asked if you could turn your head to the light.” He nodded, doing as you asked and bearing his wounded cheekbone to you. His fists clenched when he felt you touch the alcohol to his cheek, hearing a small apology after you heard his pained hiss.

He thought back to a couple minutes ago when you’d ask how this happened, mentally debating whether he should tell you or not. He came to the conclusion that if you were going to generously patch him up then the least he could do was tell you how he got himself in this state in the first place.

“There was some guys following this girl, trying to back her into an alley.” You paused your hand movements, looking into his soft honey eyes with a sympathetic smile. He took that as a sign to continue. “I couldn’t just let it happen, I thought about if that was you or Mj and ai just-“

Your heart almost burst with love for the boy, pressing a friendly kiss to the top of his head that had him blushing a deep scarlet in seconds.

“You did the right thing, even if you got a little hurt.”

He nodded, glad he was able to get your approval, especially after your one condition of not telling anyone was that he was as careful as he could be.

“Where else does it hurt?”

You helped clean Peter up as best as you could, the boy telling you that his quick healing should deal with the parts that you couldn’t, such as the bruised ribs.

“Let me just put a bandaid on and you’re good to go.” He rolled his eyes, trying to tell you that he didn’t need it. It was only a small cut on his bicep but you were insisting on covering it up. Peter watched as your eyes widened when you pulled the bandaids from the first aid kit.

“What is it?” he asked.

You nervously held them up, watching as his face twisted into one of amusement. He let out a loud laugh, quickly being scolded by you as you warned him that your parents were sleeping.

“Really, Y/N?” You blushed, looking down at the bandaid in your hand with a flood of embarrassment. The face of Iron Man stared back at you while Peter continued to giggle. You rolled your eyes, holding out his arm and sticking the bandaid over his cut anyway.

“I hope Mr Stark sees,” you teased, sticking your tongue out at him like a child. “You’re all done.”

He thanked you quietly, heading back into your room while you tidied away the mess you’d made on the counter.

Only when you were done you headed back, planning on getting straight back into your bed as soon as Peter had left.

“Thank you for helping me.” You nodded your head, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom as you watched him slip his suit back on.

“Peter,” you whispered, catching his attention just before he left. He hummed quietly. “You know you can come here anytime you need help, right?”

You were being completely genuine, and Peter could see that in your eyes. He was incredibly grateful for you. He held out his hand to you so you’d come over, intertwining your fingers with his when you were close enough to reach.

On an instinct he dipped his head so he was able to kiss your cheek, refusing to meet your eyes as a cute blush spread across his face, the tips of his ears also tinting pink. If he’d have looked at you, you were sure he would’ve noticed he made you equally as hot and bothered, your heart racing so fast you were surprised he couldn’t hear it.

But he could, and it only made him more nervous that he’d just messed things up.

“I know.” He sent you a smile before shooting one of his webs towards a building in the close distance, slipping his mask on over his face and giving you a wave as a final farewell for the night. Thus began the routine of Spiderman showing up at your window every time he was injured and in need of a bandaid, or in some cases a little more than a bandaid.

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peter’s girl taglist → @sunsetholland @captainamirica @tomsirishgirlx @givebuckyhisplumsnow @lou-la-lou @slutforsr @tayyx @gog0juice @minejungwoo @creatorofthegalaxy @annathesillyfriend @paninipress @bvttercupbby @peterswebshooters @whoeveniskendall @itsallyscorner @hoodpankow

#peter’s girl #peter parker series #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker #tom holland

[lailisgrace]

Don't move

Tw pseudo-necrophilia (Will Graham x Hannibal Lecter)

Read on AO3

Will was laying on the bed he had been sharing with Hannibal for the past few months. They had been switching places for a while trying to keep the FBI away, but now they had found a place where maybe they could stay for longer.

It was quite late and he was tired. His brain didn’t agree though it kept overthinking about every step they had taken, their lives before and after, who Hannibal was, and what he had done.

Hannibal then entered the room, supposedly to get into bed with Will, but he saw his expression through the darkness.

“What are you thinking about?” He asked in a soft voice.

“Nothing. You, mostly”

Hannibal took a deep breath, “if you’re having doubts, Will-”

“That’s not what I was thinking about,” he said in an angry tone as if the mention of not being completely devoted to the man had offended him. “You just- you wanted to kill me at some point and I can’t get it out of my mind”

“Yeah, I guess I did. What are you getting at?”

Will looked directly at him, an awkward smile escaping his mouth. “I guess I was just wondering what you would’ve done. How you would’ve killed me and what I would’ve become”

Hannibal wasn’t sure what to say. He had thought of that, obviously, but he had never landed on a definitive answer. Will deserved everything and Hannibal wasn’t sure he could give him that, at least not to mundane standards.

“I would make your death the most meaningful and wonderful this world has ever seen” Hannibal got on the bed and sat right next to Will. He placed a soft hand on his face, looking at his eyes, his lips, his nose.

Will grabbed Hannibal’s hand and observed it for a minute. Hannibal could only look back at the man in confusion and tenderness. Will guided his fingers into a fist position as if Hannibal was holding the knife that would’ve killed him.

Their eyes met and Will tried to make him understand what he was doing.

He continued to move Hannibal’s hand with his, now to his stomach. Hannibal then understood what he was doing. Will was acting out his murder and he was definitely getting off on it.

As if he was truly burring a knife in Will’s stomach, Hannibal pushed him down slowly with his closed fist.

When Will reached the pillow, he took a deep breath, taking it all in. He was looking at Hannibal’s face who was concentrated on the position of his hand and Will’s growing erection.

Will was about to reach to the back of the other man’s neck to pull him closer when he got interrupted.

“Don’t move” he commanded.

Will stopped everything he was thinking about doing and let his body be guided by its weight. He knew what he was pretending this was and he would be ashamed to admit he was into it, so he just closed his eyes. Hannibal had become aroused by the idea of having killed him, or at least, he was aroused by the idea of Will’s body lying completely still as if he were dead.

Hannibal then moved his hand across his chest and made his way to his face. He touched his lips with his thumb and then moved forward.

“We don’t have to do this if you aren’t into it” Hannibal’s voice was soft.

Will could feel his presence all around him. The smell of the shampoo they use, his faint aftershave which just made him want to kiss him hard and passionately like they usually did but he resisted.

Invaded by lust, he was careful to stay still as to give Hannibal his consent.

His lips almost touching Will’s, he let out a small breath filled with lust.

Hannibal placed a kiss on his jaw, then made a trail down his neck, chest, all the way until he reached Will’s pants. He took them off carefully, Will not making any move.

He observed the scene from his new position, standing in front of Will’s laying body. He was flushed, his dick hard and all Hannibal wanted to do was to get his mouth all over him.

Would Hannibal do this if he were to actually kill Will? Would he use the opportunity of his warm dead body before turning him in a piece of art?

Will wondered if he would be okay with that or not.

He placed his hands on Will’s thighs and kissed his inner thigh, leaving small marks where he stayed for more than a couple of seconds.

Will’s breath quickened but he tried to keep it in control, after all, dead bodies don’t breathe. His dick was growing impatient, though.

Finally, Hannibal grabbed his hard dick and licked the tip, making circles with his tongue around it. Will was about to burst with only that, which was a bit shameful to admit, but the inability to move any parts of his body enhanced every touch and every change of pressure.

Hannibal took the entire thing in his mouth and started sucking on it. He was also aroused to the point of precum leaking from his untouched erection.

Will’s toes curled involuntarily when Hannibal started to pick up a rhythm that made his dick throb in excitement every time he came back down. He was moaning around his dick, most likely to see what would be Will’s reaction but truly, he was enjoying the scene to the fullest.

His body started to feel as if he was no longer his own for a second. He didn’t move though, that would’ve ruined everything. He was so close it was unbelievable. Shivers were going through his entire body, he can hear Hannibal’s muffled moans which do nothing but bring him closer.

He feels it build up at the bottom of his stomach and before he knows it, he comes inside Hannibal’s mouth. He fights every instinct he had ever had not to moan to the freeing sensation and push his hips up. He knows Hannibal is swallowing his cum. Had he had the stamina to come a second time he would’ve just from that image on his head.

Will slowly opened his eyes and everything is quiet other than Hannibal breathing hard, satisfied.

Their eyes met and Will knows Hannibal is feeling conflicted about the situation.

Will sat up, still panting a little, and kissed him.

“You taste like cum” he complained making a face that earned him a small grin from the other man.

“I wouldn’t kill you” Hannibal tried to keep a calm tone but the sensations of what had happened still lingered ”Maybe before I would’ve but I wouldn’t be able, not without a reason”

Will knew that. He would need a good reason to get rid of Will and even then if one goes, the other does too.

#hanigram #hanigram fic #hannibal lecter #will graham #kinktober 2021 #kinktober #kink prompts #my writing #smut #ao3 fic #fanfic #fanfiction #hannibal x will

[wisteriashouse]

comfort.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, comfort

word count: 2243

You’re pacing the grounds of the Rengoku family home, absentmindedly adjusting your haori and ears on the alert for anything that could indicate a need for your intervention. Kyoujurou’s little brother, Senjuro, sits next to you with a nervous expression on his face as he fiddles with his fingers. You feel awful seeing him look like that, so you take a seat next to him without warning and rest a hand on his head. 

He glances up at you in surprise with those eyes that look so much like Kyoujurou’s.

“It’ll be okay.” You try to be as positive as possible, petting Senjuro’s hair reassuringly. “Your brother is a strong man. He won’t be too affected by whatever your father says. No matter what, as long as you’re proud of him, I think Kyoujurou would be happy.”

“Of course I’m proud of him! I really am!” Senjuro hesitates for a moment before continuing his sentence. “But... do you think Father will be pleased?”

You pause, weighing your replies. On one hand, you do want to cheer Senjuro up and give him hope, but on the other hand, you really don’t think Rengoku Shinjuro will have much excitement over Kyoujurou’s inauguration as the Flame Pillar.

After all, he’s the one who gave up that position willingly.

Before you’re forced to give a suitable answer, there’s the sound of the washi panel sliding open behind you. Both you and Senjuro whirl around with wide eyes, questions already forming on your lips, only to see Kyoujurou standing there with a slightly forlorn smile.

He’s holding the flame emblazoned haori in his hand, but although he’s wearing his usual cheery expression, he doesn’t look particularly joyful.

His eyes meet yours, and he shakes his head without a word.

You falter, and your words you had been about to say stay trapped in your throat. Senjuro, clearly picking up that it did not go as hoped, pipes up quietly with a crestfallen expression on his face. “Was Father... unhappy about it? If I become a Pillar too, do you think Father will feel better?”

Kyoujurou smiles at his younger brother, kneeling before him so that they can meet each others’ gazes at the same level, a gentle hand resting on his shoulder. He doesn’t look upset, but you can feel the anger welling up inside you at the unfairness of it all. Kyoujurou trained so hard, fought so many demons, all to get to this point - and yet he won’t even get to hear a word of congratulations from his own father. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Your fist itches for a Shinjuro shaped punching bag.

“I’ll be honest.” You hear Kyoujurou say as you remain quiet, staring at edges of your frost patterned haori to give the two of them some privacy. “Father isn’t happy at all. In fact, he said it was pointless.”

Senjuro sniffles up at him with shiny eyes, looking crushed. You wonder if Kyoujurou will hold you back if you decide to beat up his dad. He probably would, but you can let yourself indulge in some fantasies once in a while.

“But you worked so hard!” Senjuro wipes at his eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling and failing miserably. Each tear he brushes away are replaced by two more, and by the time he manages to get out the rest of his sentence, Kyoujurou is already patting his cheeks dry with his sleeves. “Your ears got so badly damaged, you always get injured, and you put in so much effort! Why won’t Father just see that?”

Exactly, you want to say aloud. Kyoujurou deserves so much more than this, he deserves people who will congratulate and celebrate with him, not that sorry excuse of a father who won’t get off his damn bed to wish his son good luck before he heads off on a mission.

“It’s alright!”

Both you and Senjuro blink at the sudden energetic shout from him, only to see him smiling brightly as the sun itself. He grins as he claps his brother on the shoulder encouragingly. “My passion will not die because of Father’s words! The flames in my heart will never disappear! I will never be disheartened!”

His smile is confident, but you wonder whether he’s saying all of this to convince Senjuro - or himself.

“And besides, you’re different from me, Senjuro!” Kyoujurou continues cheerfully. “You have an older brother, who believes in his younger brother! No matter the path you take, I am sure that you will be a wonderful person! With a burning passion in your hear that will not be extinguished!”

At his words, Senjuro begins to cry in earnest, big fat tears falling down his cheeks. Upon seeing his younger brother tearing up, Kyoujurou wraps his arms tightly around him, crushing the younger boy in a bear hug. “All you need to do is your best. Your big brother will always be supporting you!”

You turn away from this intimate moment that the two brothers are sharing, feeling vaguely uncomfortable at being privy to this, and look down at your hands quietly. 

Right now, you really wish you could give Kyoujurou a hug as well.

A few hours later, after you and Kyoujurou have left the Rengoku household, the two of you find yourselves at a small, pleasant restaurant with a private dining room for the two of you. Although Kyoujurou tries to pay, you insist on treating him to celebrate his inauguration as the Flame Pillar.

Throughout the entirety of the meal, Kyoujurou smiles, chatters and talks to you as he usually does between his shouts of umai, asking you about topics such as Pillar meetings and patrols, as if today’s incident with his father didn’t happen. But in the brief moments where silence interrupts, you see the lost, pained expression on Kyoujurou’s face, one he probably does not even know he’s making, mind clearly wandering somewhere other than here.

He still hasn’t put on the haori. It sits next to him on the floor, clean and neatly folded. You’re actually mildly surprised that Shinjuro didn’t raze it to ashes.

When the last piece of tempura disappears into the endless void that is Kyoujurou’s mouth, you take a moment to muster your courage to speak. The man opposite you doesn’t seem to notice your internal struggle, instead picking up crumbs of fried tempura batter with his chopsticks and tossing them into his mouth. Your hands fidget under the table, and you count down slowly from ten.

“Kyoujurou, I-”

“I would like to ask you a favour.” Kyoujurou says out of the blue, just as you’re about to speak up. He picks up the haori from the tatami mats, and holds it out with both hands reverently. Kyoujurou had told you once that it was an heirloom of the Rengoku family, passed down generations of Flame Pillars to eventually reach his father, and now him. You blink at him in surprise. 

“What do you need me to do?” You ask. Kyoujurou’s smile softens ever so slightly.

“This haori,” he looks down at it, fingertips gently brushing the flame patterns dancing across the fabric before his golden eyes meet yours once more. “Since my father will not put it on for me, will you do it in his stead?”

What?

Your jaw drops open at his request as you stare wide eyed at him, completely shocked. You, put on his haori for him? Seeing your panicked expression, Kyoujurou only laughs disarmingly, shaking his head. “No need to force yourself! I can always put it on on my own.” He begins to retract the haori, but before he can pull it away, you’re already by his side in the blink of the eye, gripping his hands tight.

“No, no! I want to put it on for you!” You say breathlessly, kneeling before him, his hands warm in yours. You can feel the callouses on his palms from years of unparalleled effort, and your throat feels thick. Kyoujurou looks up at you with gentle eyes, patient and understanding. You swallow heavily. “Of course I would want to put it on for you but...” You pause, hesitant. “Are you sure someone like me should be doing something as important as this? I mean-”

“The Rengoku family tradition is to have the Flame Pillar’s parents put the haori on for them in front of the rest of the family.” Kyoujurou informs you with a smile on his face, and you look down at the stiff white fabric between the two of you. “My mother is no longer around, and my father will not do it. I could think of no other person but you.”

Right, his mother and father both... You want to smack yourself over the head internally. Be a little more sensitive!

“It would be an honor to do this for you.” You say quietly, unfolding the haori in your lap. Kyoujurou sits up a little straighter, those pure golden eyes following every action your hands make. In place of a grand, lively ceremony, it’s just the two of you in this silent, empty room. Reaching around him, you set the white fabric around his shoulders, before your hands falter ever so slightly.

Kyoujurou blinks once and looks up at you, clearly confused about why you’ve stopped. “Is something the matter?”

“Kyo...” You say, unable to find the right words to convey your thoughts. “Kyoujurou... are you really... alright?”

 He smiles, because he’s Rengoku Kyoujurou, and Kyoujurou always smiles. He’s always been more of a parent to Senjuro than his father ever had, and now that he’s a Pillar, one of the foundations of the entire Demon Slayer Corps, he cannot afford to waver. 

“Of course I am alright!” His hand reaches up to clasp yours reassuringly, but doing that only makes you want to cry even more. “I said today that I would not let my Father’s words dampen my spirit, and I meant it! I-”

“I wasn’t asking about your resolve, Kyo.” Your hands fist into the fabric of his haori, and he stiffens when he feels your face press into the curve of his shoulder. “I was asking about you. You’re always a pillar of strength for someone else, but who do you have to rest against when you’re sad or weary? It’s so unfair.” The word tastes like salt on your tongue. “I’m angry because you deserve so much better.”

There’s a moment of silence, and Kyoujurou doesn’t reply. You almost worry that you’ve overstepped your boundaries, but before you can pull away and apologise, Kyoujurou sags beneath you, burying his face in your hair. You can feel his steady breaths against your skin.

“No.” His voice is small, fragile, fingers weaving with yours and gripping them tight. “I’m not alright. I want my father to acknowledge me. I want him to know that it matters, that if I can save just one life from a demon, all this training would have been worth it. I want him to treat Senjuro with kindness because he deserves it. I want my mother to put the haori on me.” There’s a shuddering intake of breath, and your heart aches for him. “But all those are things that I cannot change.”

You wrap your arms around him tightly, running a hand up and down his back as he collects himself. You don’t look at him, allowing him to pour out his own grief in silence, offering only comfort in the knowledge that you’re there for him. After a few moments, his breathing calms and he pulls away from your embrace to smile at you, a real smile this time.

“Instead,” he grips your hands tightly with his as he looks up at you. Your eyes are fixed on him, as if you’re trapped in the burning amber of his gaze. “I’ve decided to focus on the things that I do have now. So, no, I’m not alright now,” Kyoujurou grins. “But as long as I have you and Senjuro, I will be.”

You stare at him for a moment with tears in your eyes before you sniffle and hit him in the chest. He doesn’t flinch in the least. “How did it end up with me crying, you stupid man?”

Kyoujurou laughs and reaches up to wipe your tears gently with the pad of his thumb. “My apologies.” He says, not sounding very sorry at all. “Now, will you finish putting on the haori for me?”

Nodding, you lean forward to do the clasp, missing the way Kyoujurou looks so tenderly at you as you adjust the haori carefully around his shoulders. “There. The finest Flame Pillar since the feudal era.” 

“Surely you jest. I haven’t done anything as the Flame Pillar yet.”

You laugh. “You don’t need to, I already know.” You shift back to admire your work and the flickering candlelight dances across the flames patterned on his haori, making the man before you look as if he’s bathed in fire. His back is straight, and his eyes are proud and determined. “Kyoujurou.”

“Mmm?” He looks at you curiously, and you smile at your friend.

“Remember, no matter what your father says...” You grip his hands tight, trying to channel all your well wishes and hopes to him. “I believe in you.”

Kyoujurou’s smile is dazzling enough to light up the entire room.

“That’s enough for me.”

#rengoku #rengoku fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu no yaiba fanfic #demon slayer #demon slayer fanfic #kyojuro #rengoku kyojuro x reader

[hope-to-hell]

A Fairytale in Silver and Glass, part 7: mercy

—

I thought I could imprison my failings in a cage of glass, to be examined as relics of a distant time. You see, there was a moment once– long ago– when the world as I knew it turned upside down. I swore to do better, to be better– and yet. He sits and you sit with him; there is blood beneath his nails and crusted in the grooves along his palms. He throws heat like a furnace; it's always surprising, somehow, to find that he has human warmth.

You're hurt. It's absurd: your mind is still fumbling around the afterimage left by whatever writhes inside him, still faintly rimed with ozone and black tar. This is an echo of a moment, spiraling in upon itself to be spun out anew. And in the endless sea of how and why and what will be you fetch up against him, new land rising steam-shrouded from the water, all naked cliffs and stone and

(This is how the world was made)

when you open his hand, his palm is limned with silver scars. All his years are written there in long-healed cuts and torn calluses, overlaid by livid crescents in the shape of a clenched fist. Do you regret it? For him to say either yes or no would be a lie;

It is a complicated question.

(Do you withdraw?)

the only answer he can give is in the briefest closing of his fingers over yours.

We burned the forest to drive them out, but though a hundred men were hidden there, fewer than a dozen emerged. We kept one for information and another for a messenger; the rest met a swift and bitter end.

Mercy?

We had none. It was a matter of practicality; we had no further need of them.

And the one you kept?

He became a vessel for our anger and our grief. And I was…unkind. His words brush against the edges of some bloody evening long ago, over some poor soul whose last glimpse of light was the spark and howl of flames tearing through the trees. I left the cloth over his eyes, even when it didn’t matter anymore.

There’s the fire in him again, his voice burred and raw, but among the smoke and ashes lies the scent of violets and moss, of petrichor, of leather; and though his hand is burning hot, when you cease the mending of his wounds to close both your hands over his, he reaches equilibrium and he is warm.

(What do you think happens when the setting sun touches the earth in winter? Is it spiteful? Does it seek to scorch the land?

I think— I think, perhaps, it gives itself away to warm the far dark corners of the world.)

You have been cruel.

I have.

You have been terrible.

Yes. He waits, and in him is the weariness of years. A man is a man is a man, and for all his power he cannot plumb your thoughts.

And will you not let me leave?

You can leave only once. And you cannot return. Such is the way of things: the tangle of want and need, the smell of rain on wool, the patter of bare feet on stone and concrete, a locked door and an ending that’s the same as always. The cycle is reflected in the lines on his face and in the gnawing writhing told you so, you were and are and will be nothing more than this that eats at him.

A gift is not a gift unless it’s given with an open hand.

(He could be kind)

I think— I think the measure of a man is in his actions. You have been cruel, and yet—

Hope is a breath, a whisper; it is the first drops of rain on parched earth. There are no guarantees, no happy ending promised to those who tear themselves open on the edge of what might be. Everything in him screams to close himself up tight, to stoke his fire until he bursts in gouts of blood and tar, but

(What is the measure of a man?)

Hope is a smooth stone reflecting morning light; it is the richness of turned earth and the spark of silver in his hand. Hope is a weakness, yes, but what else can he do but let it stab into his breast? And so he holds himself open and shudders through an exhale, through fire and ash and gnashing teeth, through years and miles, through endless frightened faces, through rain and moss and and and—

—and yet you could be kind.

#rufus sewell #adhemar #adhemar fic #adhemar x you #adhemar x reader #a knights tale #a knights tale fic #my fic #a fairytale in silver and glass

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

The Revived - Chapter 18: Exceeding

This is chapter 18 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur, Sapnap, George

Word count: 3,121

Cw:  Violence, getting shot, spiraling, pain, crying, tension between characters, brief discussions of lying

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Sapnap stood in the entryway of Tommy’s house, expecting an answer.

Wilbur smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. His voice remained passively cheery with something reserved behind it, “We were just having a talk. A private one.”

Sapnap took another step into the home, “I’m not leaving you here with him. You're looking super… off right now." Something was held back in Sapnap’s words. 

Wilbur took a second to reflect on the moment. The moment wasn’t that abnormal by itself. He pulled a fun harmless prank with George and the two were simply chatting inside a vacant home. It wasn’t necessarily his fault George had too many attachments to his Dream and refused to tell him anything as a result. Wilbur growled out, "It's nothing that concerns you. Leave." 

Sapnap kept his eyes centered on Wilbur. "George, come over here." Wilbur flickered his eyes back for a moment, seeing George try to side-step out of his way. His mind momentarily switched him with Tubbo as their actions mirrored each other. He wasn’t letting another person leave him. He wasn’t letting more information slip through his hands. He couldn’t afford it.

Wilbur harshly exhaled, “We just need to finish this up, then both of you can go do whatever." He really despised how difficult people could be. Simply blinded by a lack of understanding- one Wilbur shared- that was destructive if not properly taken care of.

And how Sapnap was a destructive fool. So easily swayed by his emotions. He pulled out a loaded crossbow, aiming it at Wilbur. His finger rested gently over the trigger, twitching occasionally. “Step the fuck away from him. Hands where I can see them.”

Annoyance filled Wilbur’s eyes. “Sapnap, don’t do anything rash. We can talk this out.” Wilbur gestured to the man in front of him, “I haven’t done a single thing wrong, isn’t that right, George?”

He looked back towards George, who immediately refused to meet Wilbur’s gaze. George was painting him as a villain. The one that cornered him until the heroic Sapnap came to save the day. The one that needed to be taken care of. The one that died to his own flaws. Heroes never died to their flaws. Heroes loaded a crossbow to protect the ‘innocent.’ 

Wasn’t Wilbur just as innocent himself? All he needed was answers to fix the mind of his. The one that insisted to be nicer and embrace the little parts of life. The child in his brain who could be removed if he simply knew a little more. Just a few more minutes of conversation and he would have all he ever needed. But with Sapnap present? He had to turn those minutes into quick moments that would pass before the man holding the crossbow even blinked. 

He placed his hand firmly on George’s shoulder, slightly pushing him back into the wall. He didn’t even intend to. He didn’t apply much pressure. “George-” He was sharply cut off by the stabbing pain in his leg. He jumped onto the other leg to avoid the painful pressure as he was tackled down by someone he couldn’t see.

A punch hit him square in the jaw, landing on top of a bruise he received from Niki not too long ago. He hissed out in pain and tried to throw the person off of him. When he caught a second to look, it was Sapnap on him, but the moment it took to realize that, he whipped his head to the side after getting punched again. 

He wiggled his arms from underneath him and weakly punched him back, unable to move his body into the motion. After more hits that made Wilbur almost dizzy, he knew he couldn’t play fair. He took his fingers and poked them into Sapnap’s eyes, making the man on top of him stop for a moment. Wilbur took the opportunity and punched him as hard as he could, flipping their position and making him on top. 

He prepared to hit Sapnap again, not even thinking about why. All he knew was he was getting attacked, and he wasn’t going to be on the losing side of history. Just as he was going to hit the man under him, a blue blur pushed him off, Wilbur’s curled up fist connecting with George’s arm with half the force he aimed for Sapnap. 

Still, he made a grunt from the impact and muttered something Wilbur couldn’t hear. George seemed to take a small, hesitant step away, but Sapnap didn’t follow suit as he rolled over and grabbed the collar of Wilbur's shirt. Sapnap must’ve pushed on the pulsing pain in his leg as he groaned from the dizzying sensation. Sapnap took it as his chance to hit Wilbur again. It didn’t just happen once, but Wilbur lost track. He just felt his head jerk back and forth and he closed his eyes from the pain. 

When the punches stopped, he opened his eyes slightly. He saw George telling Sapnap something, holding his shoulders firmly. He felt like he could see Sapnap pulling against George’s pull with an anger in his eyes. 

“He’s not worth it,” He heard George mumble. 

Despite being on the floor and writhing in pain, he hissed out at George, “Fuck you.” He felt pain connect with his face once more. He laughed bitterly. The day was saved. The hero put the villain in his spot. He wouldn't do anything bad now. The innocent people could finally live in peace.

The peace that thrived off of the villain being put to a permanent retirement. The stories he heard from a young age painted it so simply. If only he could have a permanent rest. A permanent rest from this routine he lived in. Besides, everyone else needed a break from him anyway. Just a couple of days alive, and they already needed a break.

Sapnap got off of him. Kicking the place where the pain lay in his leg as Wilbur curled up. “Shit,” he whispered, barely able to acknowledge the people still in the room as the pain throbbed once more. He whimpered quietly to himself as he heard footsteps slowly grow fainter and fainter. There was a distinct sound of voices but he didn’t bother paying attention as he closed his eyes.

“-bur! Wilbur?! Please, please respond, Wil.” Panicked whispers filled his mind. “Oh no, oh no, he’s dead. What happens if he’s dead? Do I die and get put into limbo two: electric boogaloo? Does he get put in limbo? Oh no this is bad.” 

A moment of silence was followed by a slightly calmer tone, “No trains coming. That’s good.” Ghostbur cried out in pain, “Wilbur, what did you do this time?” The question wasn’t meant directly to Wilbur, despite him being the subject of it.

Wilbur only managed a groan in response as Ghostbur excitedly gasped, “Wilbur! Can you hear me?”

Wilbur pushed himself up to where he was sitting up. His head spinned as he mumbled, “Yeah, I can hear you.”

“That’s great, because I’d like an explanation of everything that just happened. I thought you said George was your friend! And George didn’t even try to stop all of that. While I don’t think I’ve personally met him, he sounds a little rude.” 

Wilbur tried to stand up but he cried out in pain along with Ghostbur at the sensation in his leg. He muttered, “Oh shit.”

“Language,” Ghostbur bitterly mentioned.

“I got shot with Sapnap’s crossbow.” He frankly should have connected the dots earlier, but he just assumed he got kicked really hard. The blood trickled down his leg, slightly staining his pants along the way.

“Oh! Okay… how- how do we fix this?”

“Prime, Ghostbur, I have no fucking clue.” Wilbur sighed quietly to himself, “I’m not cursing at you or anything. I’m just upset that all of it happened.”

“The feeling is mutual.” 

The comment took Wilbur off-guard, “What did you say?”

“I said the feeling is mutual. Do you not know what that means? It means when-”

Wilbur cut him off, “I know what it means. I just- I really didn’t expect that out of you.” A light astonishment slipped into Wilbur’s voice.

Ghostbur sighed, “That doesn’t really matter right now. We need to focus on your- well I suppose it would be our- leg.”

Wilbur nodded vaguely. “Right. Okay step one…” Wilbur’s voice died as he tried to think of a vague-ish rule that would apply to any injury. “Get out of immediate danger.”

Ghostbur asked, “Is anyone with you?”

Wilbur shook his head, “It’s just you and me. And me and you. We got the whole place to ourselves.” Wilbur chuckled at the familiar jingle. 

Ghostbur didn’t laugh though. His voice stayed firm in a way that frightened Wilbur more than Sapnap did. “What’s step two?”

Wilbur let out a shaky breath, “Um… assess the damage taken.” Wilbur thought for a moment, “There’s gonna be swelling in the face and eventual bruises. There’s also the arrow in my right calf. The injury is on the exterior, about the middle of the leg.” He slightly moved his leg closer, making him wince in pain in company to Ghostbur’s hiss. “It doesn’t seem too deep.”

“You’re doing good so far,” The praise sounded dull, as if it was just supposed to keep Wilbur busy as his mind ran. “Now step three.”

“I’m guessing that would be taking inventory on your medical aid and equipment. As far as medical aid, I-” It was quite pathetic to say that he didn’t have anyone, so he settled on an alternative, “I don’t think anyone is nearby to help.”

“We could go to someone and get help?”

Wilbur quickly feigned an excuse, “I don’t want Sapnap or George seeing me again.”

Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgement, “Good point.” He thought for a moment. “We can’t go to Tubbo or Ranboo either?”

“George or Sapnap might see me and I don’t want to risk going into the nether.”

Ghostbur frustratedly sighed, “So no one wants to help us.” It was stated so matter of factly that Wilbur almost agreed. Instead, he slid himself up one of Tommy’s walls, standing mostly on the leg that wasn’t injured.

Wilbur tried to sugar coat the situation the best he could, “I’m sure people want to. They’re just…” Only helping him out of pity. “Unavailable.” 

“Sure. Alright, what supplies do you have?”

“I doubt I’d find much, most of the useful stuff Tommy had was transferred to Pogtopia.” Before Ghostbur could speak again, he added on, “Ghostie, are you alright?”

“It’s-” Ghostbur took a shaky breath, “You need medical attention. Focus on that first.”

“You’re just as important as I am,” Wilbur reassured.

Wilbur hated the silent response more than the arrow in his leg.

He restated, “You are just as important as me.”

The quiet voice filled his mind once more. It was hesitant and small compared to the pain that persisted in Wilbur’s head. He could hardly focus on the words themselves. "I'm not. I'm really not.”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, "Woah, where is this coming from?"

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I just don't feel happy right now." The voice lingered in a dull disappointment that stabbed Wilbur in the heart.

Wilbur pulled a cheery voice, "Uh, you can think about Friend?"

He expected a happy rant about the shade of his wool, or the time of day the little sheep ate. He couldn’t expect anything else out of the happy little ghost. He couldn’t expect Ghostbur’s actual answer. "But then I think about things I shouldn't."

"Like what?"

"I…” Ghostbur took a shaky breath, “I feel like you lied again. No- I know you did. I just don't like to think about it too much."

“I didn’t li-” Wilbur cut himself off at the realization that he promised Ghostbur they were going to see Friend. The talk was still fresh in his mind, remembering the exact part of the cobblestone bridge he was on along with how he shifted in his clothes uncomfortably. “Oh shi- shoot. Ghostie, I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you that I didn't see Friend. I tried looking for him, but he wasn't at L'Manberg like last time."

Ghostbur bitterly laughed, "Do you really think that's all you've lied about?" Wilbur thought for a moment before Ghostbur continued, "I know I have memory problems from time to time. But I've been remembering things really clearly ever since you got revived. And nothing makes sense anymore. You said we would go to Tubbo, but now we can't. You- you said Tommy was coming back, but he never did. And- And you rarely tell me things anymore!" Ghostbur’s voice wavered with a saddened anger. It teetered in a way that made him sound like he was crying, "I thought you were my friend." Wilbur’s vision seemed to messily blur at the final words.

Somehow the ghost that loved everyone he met and named a sheep ‘Friend’ was against him. 

One could easily look at Wilbur and see him in those history books. Slightly tint the photos of him a dark gray color or a crimson red if it was recent. State so loudly that no one could stand him. Source all the lives he ruined, and explain how Ghostbur should be in the overworld instead. Let the innocent person run free as the villain rots, cold and alone. Stuck in a train station. That was where Wilbur belonged.

While part of him thought he wasn’t the villain, he was just on the wrong side of history, he knew he was lying to himself, because the two were much the same. It was a habit he developed years ago. He had to believe the best would happen and it would come. So he tried to believe the best, his tone coming off as sarcastic and uncaring, "Oh, we totally are friends! Best friends forever, y'know?" 

Ghostbur’s voice shook with such confidence and resentment, "A best friend would tell me things and stop the pain from constantly hurting." A melancholic gray filled his vision for a moment, before flickering away.

Wilbur shifted on his uninjured leg and hobbled towards the entrance of Tommy’s house. Ghostbur wanted to be told the perspective of the world. Simple. There was the wretched villain looking out of an abandoned home, squinting into sun, attempting to help a ghost trapped in his mind. Wilbur spoke in a hushed tone, “I can tell you things. There's an apple on the ground. It’s bright red-"

Ghostbur cut him off, his words rushed and eager to escape him, "Tell me the important things! The details about clouds and trees mean nothing if I'm in pain!"

Wilbur hummed in acknowledgement, “You’re right.” He hopped once more out of Tommy’s house, using the exterior of the wall to act as a support as he limped towards a familiar direction. The world was closing in on him, when he realized who he was once more. Wilbur Soot. Creator and destroyer of L’Manberg. The villain who had been slayed yet again. A repressed genius, who had been holding back for far too long. He let out a breath as he felt his entire being soaring towards the sky, out of the pain, and into the sky that belonged to him as much as his sunrise. “We’re- I’m going to Pogtopia.”

He heard sniffles echo through his mind accompanied by hisses of pains and quick apologies. It turned into white noise as he centered his mind on his throbbing leg, well- as he tried to center the pain there. His mind still ran, telling him about all the things he grinned at. 

It felt nice to be above it all. He was simply a mastermind, a work of art that no one else understood. The walk was moderately quick, but peaceful. The adrenaline must have been kicking in as his limp lessened. 

He coughed once, as he supported himself on the walls of Pogtopia. His hand ran over the buttons, and while he didn’t press them, he could hear them clicking faintly. They weren’t mocking him anymore, he thought. They were shaking underneath his grasp, and it sent a laugh through his body. “I’m here,” he said out loud.

“Great,” Ghostbur said sharply, though it was clear he had a hard time saying it.

He threw back his head a little, as if he was bored. “I’m not sure where they put the medical equipment.” He thought about his last trip to this place. “Ah, perhaps Tubbo brought it to that little bunker of his.” The name seemed to sting his tongue, but everything else stung him more, so it was hardly relevant.

“We…” Ghostbur tried with a shaky voice, “We’re not allowed to go in there without him. H- he said-”

“You were the one who said medical attention was the first priority,” Wilbur reminded the ghost, continuing to walk ahead. He received no response.

Whatever.

He remembered where the bunker was, fortunately. He soon found himself in there, and while it felt forbidden just before he walked inside, Wilbur never cared much about what he was supposed to do. The world wasn’t going to keep him down. He had been staying at the train station, with little to no light, and hours, days, years ticking ahead. He had let the comfort of tolerance, and connection that would be broken at the slightest misstep, overwhelm him. He had forgotten everything he had learned last time he was in Pogtopia. A silly little shell, who was far too easy to keep down. But Wilbur wasn’t anyone’s shell anymore.

He looked at the books and the little farms for food. One could stay there for months or longer, and remain perfectly intact. “Huh, I could do some reading while I’m down here,” he said.

“Please- please take…” Ghostbur’s voice wavered, though the next part came out harshly, “Please take care of the wounds.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I will.”

Ghostbur responded to that with a hiss of pain, but Wilbur barely noticed as he walked to the nearest chest to pick up some bandages. There was thankfully a potion of regeneration, and something that would disinfect the wound. He wished it was an instant health instead, or even just having more potions in general. 

Regardless, he sat down on a chair, feeling the pain slightly more as his leg changed position. He looked at the arrow. “I’m going to remove the arrow now. Brace yourself I guess.”

Ghostbur held his breath, and Wilbur ripped it out with as much quick force as he could, knowing full well that it would be less painful to get it done quickly. “There we go.” His smile wavered for a moment, though he settled on the most confident expression he could muster. He’d done this countless times before. Ghostbur sobbed, and Wilbur huffed. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Ghostbur didn’t respond though. Instead, Wilbur heard the sound of muffled cries and whimpers echoing through his mind.

#the revived #c!wilbur #c!wilbur soot #wilbur angst #revivebur #ghostbur #c!sapnap #c!georgenotfound #c!george #ghostbur angst #dream smp #dsmp #dream smp fic #dmsp fic #dream smp fanfic #dsmp fanfic #i can't think of any more buzzwords so i think that's good

[cryingoverafictionalcharacter]

Sunrise

Prompt: Y/N has chronic nightmares, and one night after having a particularly bad one, Bucky comes to comfort them, leading to the realization that they have a lot more in common than they thought.

A/N: Am I writing this because I genuinely had the worst nightmare of my life, and wanted this to happen instead of staring at the door for two hours, too afraid to move until the sun came up? That's a secret I’ll never tell ;)

Warnings: Swearing, scared reader, sad Bucky, cute fluffy shit

Feel free to send me any requests you may have, I’m on a writing frenzy because homework makes me sad haha.

The hallway seemed to go on forever, taking much longer to get to the kitchen than usual. I had heard a sound down the hall, and went to investigate. The lights above my head flickered, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand up, but I kept walking. As I walked I called out to FRIDAY.

“FRIDAY is there anyone awake in the tower?” I asked, but there wasn’t a reply, only the sound of the lights of my heads buzzing on and off as they failed to work correctly.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I entered the kitchen. It was dark, the only light coming from the city lights outside, allowing me to see a silhouette of a person. It was Bucky, his back facing towards me. At first I was relived to see I wasn’t the only one awake, but something about him was off. He was completely stiff, like he was frozen in place.

“Bucky?” I asked, making my way around him to look at his face. I finally reached his left, able to see the side of his face clearly, and as soon as I did my stomach dropped. 

His eyes were wide with fear, his face pale, he was looking out the window, like he was looking at something. I had been on dozens of missions with Bucky before and I had never seen him so scared in my life. I opened my mouth to say his name again, but he spoke before I could.

“They’re here” He whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear.

“Whos here?” I asked. Bucky didn’t answer, just pointed out the window. I followed his finger, looking out the compound to see nothing. Were were a few stories up, and we could see the rest of the city below us.

“There's nothing there-” I started turning back to face him to be met with someone else completely. A dark figure, like a shadow standing in the place Bucky just stood. Before I could make a sound, the figure pulled back its arm, burring a knife in my chest.

I jolted awake, sitting upright and grabbing the knife that I kept on my nightstand, holding it out as I looked around room, my eyes adjusting to the dark. I could seethe chair sitting on the other side of the room, my dresser, and the door to the bathroom, just slightly ajar.

“There's nothing there” I whispered to myself, trying to shake myself out of my panicked state, but I couldn’t look away from the door. I focused my breath, trying to slow it, all the while listening as hard as I could, waiting for something, anything. The room was completely silent, and I was just about to lay back down when I heard a sound from the door, causing me to scream and jump out of bed, running to the opposite side of the room, my knife pointed at the sound, now coming from my front door.

“Y/N?” I heard on the other side of the door, before it suddenly swung open, revealing Bucky on the other side. He quickly flicked the light switch on the wall, revealing me standing opposite of him, drenched in a cold sweat, and pointing a knife at him.

“Oh, hi Bucky” I sighed as the light came on, being able to clearly see Bucky's face in the light. My heart was still beating a million miles a minute, but I was finally able to drop my knife to my side and focus on trying my breath.

“Is everything ok? I heard you scream” Bucky said, still on the defensive with his fists raised as he looked around the room.

“Yeah um... yeah sorry, I just had a... I thought you were something else” I said, hesitating on whether or not to tell him the truth about my dream. I decided against it, not wanting him to think I was childish, being afraid of monsters in the closet, or bathroom in this case.

Bucky looked at me for a while, taking in my still panicked state, before dropping his hands to his sides. 

“Want to talk about it?” He asked softly, like a was an animal that might spook if he was too loud. I looked at him, his hair was a little messy, and he was still in a T-shirt and shorts, but he didn’t look too tired, like he had been awake for a while.

I don’t know why, but I didn’t want him to leave, so I nodded, allowing him to walk in to the room fully, closing the door behind him. I walked to the far side of the bed, sitting and patting the space next to me, which he took. There was a few beats of silence, before he finally spoke.

“I heard you from across the hall” Bucky started as I stared down at the floor. “It sounded like you were tossing around, like you were having a nightmare” 

“It was” I said, still not meeting his eyes, but I could feel his on me, watching for a reaction.

“Want to talk about it?” He asked, causing me to shake my head.

“Its stupid” I said, before suddenly feeling a hand under my chin, gently making me look into Bucky's eyes. There was no judgement, just worry.

“If it scared you enough to act like this, I promise it’s not stupid” He said gently.

I contemplated whether or not to tell him. Bucky and I weren’t exactly best friends, but we were close. We had some missions together, and the occasional movie night. Some back and forth flirting but nothing ever happened.

I was too scared to let anything happen.

“I was going out into the kitchen to get something” I started, before jumping straight into my dream, how real it all felt, how scared he looked. The whole time he just listened quietly , nodding to let me know he was actively listening without interrupting. He listened all the way to the end, when I was stabbed by the shadow like creature. 

There was a beat of silence, before he spoke up.

“Did you think it was here?” He asked, referring to earlier when I was pointing a knife at him with crazy eyes.

“I don’t know” I said honestly. I knew he wasn’t going to make fun of me, so I didn’t feel scared to tell him the truth.

“When I woke up... the bathroom door was open. And I kept thinking to myself that I knew there wasn’t anything on the other side. But still. I wasn’t sure.” I finished, looking to see Bucky nodding in understanding.

“I have nightmares a lot” Bucky started, making me look up at him “Its always the same. I’m still the winter soldier, and I’m re living everything I had done. Everyone I hurt. Over and over again, with no control of my body...” He trailed off. It was his turn to refuse to meet my gaze, staring at the floor. 

I gently put both of my hands on the sides of his face, making him look at me this time.

“You didn’t do those things” I started “The winter soldier did. And you aren’t him” He nodded, covering one of my hands with his own.

“I know, it just feels so real sometimes” He said, causing me to nod in understanding. Its crazy how easy it is for your brain to trick you into thinking that the things you’re most afraid of are real.

“So” Bucky said, brining my hands off his face so he could hold them in his own. “You were dreaming about me?” A small smile spreading across his face.

“Oh shut it” I laughed, smacking him on the shoulder, the weight of the panic I was feeling earlier finally leaving my body. 

“You know, I have an idea that might help to make you feel better, if you want” Bucky said, waiting for a reaction.

I looked over at my clock. It was six in the morning. It didn’t really make sense to go back to sleep at this point, so I nodded, making Bucky to smile, before taking my hand and leading me out of my room.

We got into the elevator and took it all the way to the top of the tower. I had never been to the very top, assuming it was just the roof of the building, which it was, but I wasn’t expecting what was up there.

When we got off the elevator, and opened the door to the outside, I took in the sight in front of me. There was a single couch, facing the east, with a pergola adorned with fairy lights overhead, which happened to be on.  

“Its not much” Bucky started, walking over to the couch, me following behind. “Tony was planning on making a social area up here, but it never got finished because he didn’t really need it, but he let me keep this stuff up here.” 

We made our way to the couch and sat side by side. The sun was just starting to come up, and the entire city was beginning to turn a light yellow.

“This is amazing Bucky”  I said, looking aver the city as it slowly came awake. “Thank you... for everything” I turned to face him to see he was already looking at me, a gentle smile on his face.

Bucky and I had known each other for years, and I had liked him for most of that time. He was sweet, and funny, and kind. He knew when to joke around and when to be more serious. And he has always had my back. Now, all those years of passive flirting, and movie nights, and missions almost gone bad had lead to this exact moment, and I was able to realize just how head over heels I was for him. 

Bucky had put his arm around me, and was absentmindedly playing with my hair. Without thinking, I finally closed the distance between us and kissed him. 

It didn’t take him any time to respond. The hand in my hair moved to cup the side of my face, the other moving to my waist, and I moved to wrap my arms around his neck, bringing him even closer.

He pulled away for a second, causing me to frown. Had I taken things to far to fast? Was he second guessing himself about this? I looked in his face and was met with nothing but love in his eyes.

“I’ve been waiting a while to do that” He said smiling.

“Well technically I kissed you so...” I said jokingly, causing him to roll his eyes before reconnecting out lips again. This kiss was quicker, but it still gave me butterflies.

“As nice as this is” Bucky started, breaking the kiss to look at me “I brought you up here to see the sunrise” He said, causing me to smile.

“That's true” I said, moving so I could lean my head on his shoulder and look out on the sky line, the sun already much higher than it was before, painting the city in a dark orange. “But were defiantly starting where we left off” I joked, causing a goofy smile to cross his face.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way” He said, resting his head on top of mine.

_________________________________________________________

AHHHHHH I suck at finishing these but I hope it was ok! Not as much fluff as I would have liked but I just went with what felt natural (I’m still new at writing so yeah lol). Also this story was entirely written for me bc nightmares are ass and I want Bucky to hold me! Either way I hope you enjoyed, and hopefully my grammar isn't to bad. :)

#bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky fluff #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fluff #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away,  so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal.  If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 5,895

Chapter Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, choking, attempted murder, manipulation, and references to past abuse

Chapter Summary: Wilbur and Tommy speak to Dream. It doesn’t go fantastically (though Wilbur does beat him up, so there’s that).

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Six: hide your soul out of his reach (ii)

Most people never think to guess that he is Technoblade’s brother.

There is a reason for that, of course; they are both adopted, for one thing, and they look nothing alike, which is why he used to like to say that they were twins. It was always funny, to watch Techno roll his eyes and get all exasperated and try once again to explain to him that that’s not how twins work, Wilbur, and it would always make him feel warm inside, because no matter his irritation, Techno never quite got around to saying that they’re not.

But whether by blood or no, he is Technoblade’s brother, and he has something of the Blade in him, something of his simmering rage, something of his inclination toward violence, the urge for blood howling in his soul, screaming at him to protect what is his.

And so.

“Hi, Tommy,” Dream says. “It’s good to see you,” and Wilbur is moving without having given himself permission to do so, a wordless snarl curling in the back of his throat. For a moment, he forgets where he is, forgets what he’s here for, forgets who he has at his side. His attention is focused on one thing and one thing only, and he launches himself forward, and the sudden sting in his knuckles as they impact porcelain is nothing in the face of the grunt that Dream lets out, surprised and pained. A crack rings through the room, and he withdraws his hand to see a new break in Dream’s mask, a new fracture, and nothing is so satisfying as the knowledge that he put it there.

Dream is staggering back, seeking to regain his balance. Wilbur regards him for a moment, his head strangely clear, and then decides not to let him.

They go down in a heap, Dream’s head bouncing off the hard obsidian floor with a gratifying thunk. Wilbur lands squarely on top of him, and his fist flies once, twice, three times. Into his mask, over and over, and the cracks widen, and the mask is breaking, and he wants to see it shattered, wants to see it come to pieces—

There is someone saying something, someone shouting. He’s not paying attention. They can wait.

Because then, Dream starts to laugh.

And the thing about it is, it doesn’t sound like what Wilbur knows his laugh is, that wheezing tea kettle noise that everyone always made fun of him for.

(gentle teasing, back in the old days, back when they were all friends, when this server was a safe place, a good community, back before it all went wrong, and perhaps he should wonder what happened to make that Dream into the monster that he is now, but he hurt Tommy and he doesn’t care)

Instead, it’s quiet and low and steady, and there is a smugness to it, a superiority even under the breathlessness, as if this is where he wants to be, as if everything is going according to plan, some plan of his, going right even though Wilbur is sitting on his chest and doing his level best to beat his face in, and—

How dare he have the nerve

(how dare he have the nerve)

to laugh

(to laugh when he’s just destroyed everything around him)

after all that he’s done

(and leveled the very thing that he fought so hard to reclaim but if he cannot have it nobody can and he laughs for the joy of it, the terrible, terrible joy)

to everyone, to the server, to Tommy?

He made a list, when he woke up. He made a list. And he’s accomplished the first goal. He’s found Tommy. And his mind is separating, splitting in half, and one half has control of his body and one is watching from the outside, and the one with his body takes his hands and puts them to Dream’s throat. He can feel his pulse, rabbit-quick. His skin is warm to the touch.

He presses down, and Dream stops laughing.

The half of him that is watching begins to scream with a voice that sounds like his father’s. Begins to shout, asks him,

(can you kill a man in cold blood?)

and the answer is

(yes)

because he knows what monsters are, knows that he has one pinned beneath him, and he knows that he is one too, and only a monster can kill another monster. He will suffocate the life from him, and the world will be better for it. He will suffocate the life from him, and Tommy will be safe.

It’s one of the easiest decisions he’s ever made.

But someone is still shouting, shouting words that enter one ear and rattle around in his skull and fade away without making any kind of sense, and he ignores them. Except then, he can’t, because there are hands on his shoulders, hands trying to pull him back and away, and he resists them, doubles down, places more pressure on his stranglehold, because he wants Dream gone and he wants Dream dead and he’s not going to stop until he’s paid in full—

“—bur, please!”

But Tommy sounds scared.

Like a rubber band released, he comes back together again. His grip goes slack. He allows Tommy to pull him off.

“You can’t—” Tommy is saying, is babbling, and he has tears in his eyes, and it doesn’t make sense for him to be crying, because Dream was the one who hurt him, so he should want Dream gone, right? “Wil, you can’t, you can’t kill him, we need him, we need to talk to him, and he doesn’t, he doesn’t deserve to die, Wil, he doesn’t, so you can’t—”

“Doesn’t he?” he asks, and is surprised by the hollowness of his own voice.

Tommy falls completely silent. For a long minute, the only sound in the cell is Dream wheezing, coughing, struggling for air.

“I don’t know,” Tommy says, and he sounds so miserable that Wilbur regrets asking the question. “Maybe. I mean, I think about stabbing him every time I see him. But I—I don’t want him dead, alright? He’s in prison, and he can’t hurt anyone anymore. So I don’t want him to die.”

He hurt you, Wilbur doesn’t say. He’s still hurting you.

Because Tommy is pale and trembling, his hands shaking where they’re still gripping Wilbur’s shoulders. Because there is a waver in his voice that is wrong, that doesn’t belong, that Wilbur has heard only a handful of times before. Because sometimes, Wilbur will look at him, and his eyes will be far too old, older than any sixteen-year-old’s should be, and part of that is on him, he knows, he knows, but Dream is responsible for so much of the rest.

“I don’t want him to die,” Tommy repeats, and Wilbur realizes that he’s been silent for too long, that Tommy must have taken it as disagreement. “And I don’t want you to kill him, okay? Not like—not like this.”

He’s not entirely sure what that’s supposed to mean.

He opens his mouth, and no sound comes out. So he clears his throat and tries again, and he’s not sure why he’s so hoarse, since he wasn’t the one being strangled, but his voice is a croak.

“Fine,” he says. “But you can’t—if he so much as looks at you wrong, I’m not about to fucking hold back. You get that, right? I’m not letting him—I wasn’t there when it counted. So I’m gonna make it count now. I’m doing my damnedest to make it count now. So if he does anything, I’m not letting it go. I’m not letting him do shit.”

Tommy’s hands tighten. For a second, Wilbur thinks he sees tears in his eyes, but then he blinks, and they’re gone, so perhaps it was his imagination. He has to think it was his imagination, because otherwise he’s going to lose his mind. Because Tommy doesn’t cry. Almost never cries. And if he cries now, it’s either because Wilbur’s fucked up massively, which is bad, or it’s because Wilbur has done something right but it’s overwhelming him because he’s not used to things going right, which would be worse. So much worse.

“Okay,” Tommy says. “Yeah. I—thanks, Wilbur.”

“Not to interrupt,” Schlatt says, and Wilbur flinches with his entire body. He’d forgotten that Schlatt was here, and now Tommy’s looking at him in confusion, and now is not the time for this. Now is definitely not the time for this. Schlatt is over by the entrance, he thinks, but he doesn’t dare turn to look. That’s too obvious. “Because this is very touching and I’m real happy for you, but he’s up again.”

He draws in a breath. And looks past Tommy. Dream is on his feet.

He exhales.

“I won’t kill you,” he says, and his voice is far cooler, far steadier than he feels, “because Tommy doesn’t want me to. That’s it. That’s what’s keeping you alive right now.” And he stands, and Tommy stands with him, shifting to be at his side rather than in front of him.

Dream inclines his head. “I get it,” he says, and Wilbur feels a vicious spark of delight at how terrible he sounds. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“Oh, shut up,” Tommy snaps. “I’m not doing it for your sake. You great green bastard.”

“It’s been pretty boring since the last time you visited,” Dream continues, as if he hadn’t spoken, and if Wilbur couldn’t hear the evidence in his voice, he would assume that the last few minutes hadn’t happened, either. Since when was Dream this unflappable? That’s not the Dream that he remembers.

(he remembers more than one Dream. he remembers the Dream who invited them to his server, who offered them a home and friends, who played war games with Tommy and Tubbo but was always so very gentle with them, who was considerate and funny and someone Wilbur was glad to call a friend. he remembers the Dream who fought against the independence of L’Manberg, cunning and bitter and angry and loud about it. he remembers the Dream who sided with Pogtopia, who always sounded as though he was smiling, laughing at all of them, like they were all a great joke whose punchline had yet to be told. he remembers the Dream who gave him the TNT, who told him to blow them all sky high, and the way his blood sang in anticipation in return and Dream knew, then, he knew what Wilbur was planning, he could tell by that damn smile)

(Ghostbur remembers the Dream of Tommy’s exile. but Ghostbur didn’t know any better than to like him, and he can’t trust memories that are colored by that)

“Tough shit,” Tommy says, more confident now, and if he thinks he has the lead on this, Wilbur’s content to let him take it. “We’ve got questions and you’re going to answer them.”

“What makes you think I have answers?” Dream asks, and—

Is he always this purposefully obtuse?

He glances at Tommy’s face, takes in the frustration written there, the resignation. Apparently so.

“If you don’t think you can help us, then we’ll just leave,” Tommy says, and it’s an odd statement, but apparently, Tommy knows what he’s doing, because Dream takes a step forward. Just one, though, and Wilbur would like to think that he knows better than to get any closer.

“I can help,” he says. “I’m glad you came to me. What’s the question?”

Silence falls for a moment. Tommy’s eyebrows go up, and Wilbur chances a glance back at Schlatt. He’s still hovering near the entrance, by the lava, and its glow permeates through his figure, a bit, rendering him translucent. His eyes are narrow, fixed on Dream.

At least he’s taking it seriously.

“Right,” Tommy says. “You’re going to make me spell it out, then. You said you could bring back Wilbur. That’s pretty much the whole reason why we left you with your third life. But, and I don’t know if you noticed this, but here he is, see? So how the fuck did you do something from in here, or if it wasn’t you, who the hell was it?”

“I did notice, actually,” Dream says, more than a bit wryly. “Hi, Wilbur, by the way. Nice to see you again.”

“I think that you should drown yourself in your sink,” Wilbur replies with an easy smile.

“So, that’s the question?” Dream says, ignoring him once again. “You want to know how I did it?”

“And why,” Tommy puts in. “Why would be good to know too, since I didn’t ask you to. You know.”

“I do know,” Dream agrees. “I have to say, I was kind of surprised at that. I thought you wanted your brother back?”

Tommy sputters. “Wha—of course I do! Did,” he tacks on, with a sidelong glance at Wilbur. “Uh, ‘cause I don’t have to anymore, because he’s here. Look, could we stay on track?”

“Sure, sure,” Dream says. “I mean, I’m not sure exactly how much I can tell you. Resurrection's a tricky business, you know. Lots of moving parts. And you get it if I don’t want to give away all my secrets. Do you want anything to eat? I can’t give you much in the way of variety, but I thought I’d offer.”

There’s something about this that Wilbur doesn’t like.

“No, we don’t want your fucking—your fucking raw potatoes,” Tommy says. “That’s disgusting, and you are a sad, pathetic man because that’s all you have to eat. Wilbur, isn’t he a sad, pathetic man?”

He nods absently. He should be chiming in. He shouldn’t be making Tommy do all the work, shouldn’t be making Tommy confront Dream himself. But there is something creeping over his mind, a nameless dread, stealing his words. And under that, a realization, one that makes no sense at all but that he is increasingly certain is right.

“You’re saying that like I have a choice,” Dream protests, sounding so mild, so even-keel, and it’s wrong, there’s something wrong with this picture. “Potatoes is all I’m given. Maybe if you talked to Sam and got him to give me something else, but unless you do that, it’s potatoes all the way.”

“I’m not getting you things,” Tommy says. “We’re not friends. You need to stop talking like we’re friends. We’re not friends, I don’t like you, I don’t like who I am around you, and I’m not talking to Sam about your fucking potatoes, Jesus Christ.”

“I mean, okay, but you can’t complain about the food when I try to give you some—”

They keep bickering. Wilbur’s only paying half of his attention to the conversation, only enough to make sure Dream doesn’t try to pull anything too terrible. The rest of him is frantically working, thinking, trying to puzzle out why this is pinging as so very off.

“I’m a good businessman, Wilbur,” Schlatt mutters, and Wilbur jumps, because he is right by his ear, the fucking stealthy ghost bastard. “I know stall tactics when I see them.”

“He’s stalling?” he asks, and only realizes his mistake when both Tommy and Dream look at him. But Schlatt is right; Dream is stalling, has been going out of his way to change the subject and goad Tommy into an argument, and that means— “You’re stalling. You’ve got no fucking clue what’s going on, do you?”

Dream laughs. “Oh, come on now,” he starts, but Wilbur’s got his number now, and he’s not going to allow him space to breathe or to spin a lie.

“No,” he presses, “none of that. No potatoes, no fucking with Tommy’s head, no games. I’m not playing games. You would’ve been so quick to gloat, if you had been the one to do this. So quick to hold it over our heads. And even if you hadn’t, but you knew who did, you would’ve dangled that information in front of us like a, a fucking carrot on a stick. Instead you’re rambling about your food and trying to pick a fight. You didn’t know I was alive until I stepped foot in this cell, did you?”

Dream is silent. His mouth is thin. There is a stream of blood slowly trickling out from under his mask.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says. “Holy shit. You bastard.”

“Well then,” Wilbur says, “I think we’re done here. Tommy, do you think we’re done here?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, shaking his head. “Yeah, I think we are.”

He turns to call out to Sam, to tell him that they’re ready to leave, but there are footsteps, and he wheels around again to see that Dream has moved closer, far too close for his liking and far too close to Tommy.

(there is something)

“Okay, maybe I don’t know why Wilbur’s back,” he says, “but don’t you think that’s concerning? It could’ve been anything, with any goals. I could help you figure it out.”

Tommy winces, and Wilbur once again feels the urge to drive his fist into Dream’s face, to put his hands around his neck and squeeze. He refrains, if only because of the look that it put on Tommy’s face the last time, the fear it put in his voice.

(there is something very wrong)

“We don’t need your help,” Wilbur jumps in before Tommy can answer.

“Right, yeah, we don’t—Sam! Sam, we’re ready to go!” Tommy calls.

“You say that now,” Dream says scornfully. For a second, Wilbur fears that he’s going to try to come forward more, to make an attempt to get out when Sam comes for them. But instead, he stands where he is, crossing his arms. “I know things about this server that no one else does. You need me.”

“We need you like we need a heart attack,” Tommy snaps. Beside him, Schlatt mutters something inaudible.

“Maybe you do,” Dream says, and then, inexplicably, his tone lightens. “I hope you visit again. I like seeing you. And this is the first time I’ve had so many visitors at once, so this was fun. We should do it another time.”

“I think that you should shut up and stop talking now,” Wilbur says, eyeing the lava as it continues to flow over the entrance. Is it taking too long? How many seconds has it been? Sam is there, isn’t he?

“Well, you three are always welcome to come back,” Dream says. “I’ll be here. Unless I’m not.”

Wilbur’s blood runs cold.

(can you see it?)

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tommy demands. “You’ve got nowhere else to go. You’re going to be staying in here for the rest of your sorry fucking existence, and I’ll come back here to tell you all about all the fun things you’re missing out on because you decided to be a fucking dickhead toward all of the people that used to care about. How’s that, then?”

“As long as you visit,” Dream says mildly. He’s smiling. There is blood on his lips.

“He’s looking at me,” Schlatt whispers. “He’s looking at me, Wilbur, oh god oh fuck he is looking right at me, how the fuck is he—”

Dream tilts his head. Schlatt cuts off, making a choked sound.

“I’m still the admin of this server,” Dream says. “Putting me in a box doesn’t change that. So if you’ve got more questions, I’m happy to answer them whenever.” His smile broadens. “Not just about this, too. If the Egg ever starts being a problem, feel free to come to me. Not like I’ve got anything else to do.”

Finally, finally, the lava curtain drops. Sam is standing on the other side, entirely too far away, and the platform is approaching, entirely too slowly. Wilbur feels locked in place, mind ringing out with three, three, three. He shouldn’t know that. He should have no way to know that, admin or not. He shouldn’t—so how does he—?

(look closer look closer do you see it do you see it do you see there’s something wrong with)

“The Egg?” Tommy asks, and the platform is here. Tommy hesitates, clearly torn between staying and following this new line of questioning, and going. But then, he shakes his head vigorously. “No. No, we’re not doing this. Goodbye, Dream.” He strides out onto the platform.

Wilbur lingers a moment. Schlatt has disappeared.

Dream is staring at him. He can’t see his eyes, but he knows, deep in his soul, that they are boring into his.

So he turns on his heel and joins Tommy on the platform. It begins to move, and he can’t help the glance back over his shoulder. Dream is still there. Unmoving. And if he does make a motion, he doesn’t do it until they are across, until the lava has dropped back down, masking him from sight.

..........

The pressure in his chest lifts as they step outside. He sucks in a deep breath, relishing the fresh air in his lungs, air that is bright and clean and smells of grass rather than hard stone and the bitter heat of lava. The sun is bright in the sky, and he has to blink a few times to readjust to the light.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted,” Sam says.

“He’s a dickhead,” Tommy says, oddly quiet. “Didn’t really expect much.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if he says anything to me,” Sam says, and then winces. “Anything relevant, anyway. He talks a lot.”

Tommy snorts, looking away. “Tell me about it,” he says, and his demeanor is definitely strange, subdued. He seems better, less fidgety than when they were inside, but still not at ease. “Or don’t, actually. I don’t want to hear about what that sick, sick man tells you.”

“Probably for the best,” Sam agrees, and then turns to him. “It was nice seeing you, Wilbur. Welcome back to life, I guess.”

There are a multitude of ways he could respond to that. Thank you would be easiest, would be what’s expected. Part of him wants to answer with something snarky, something sarcastic, something that reveals just how much he appreciates being here, but he won’t do that, not with Tommy standing right there. He’s trying to be positive. Trying to be better, trying to at least pretend to be happy. For him. He needs to keep to that, especially now, after whatever the fuck that was in there. So, thank you it is, then, and he opens his mouth to say it, except what actually comes out is, “He can’t get out of there, can he?”

Sam is silent for a long moment. His face does something that Wilbur can’t quite interpret, not with the mask covering half of it, but his eyes go a little wider, his brows a little more furrowed. It’s almost like understanding, or perhaps pity, and Wilbur doesn’t like either option. He doesn’t want to be understood, not really, doesn’t want people to think they understand him before he expressly allows them to, and he has no use for pity.

(villains are not meant for pity, and he still has Dream’s blood on his knuckles)

“No,” Sam says. “As long as I live, he will never set foot outside this prison.”

He says it with such conviction that Wilbur has to believe him. But somehow, it doesn’t set him much at ease. He can’t stop thinking about it, what Dream said, what he implied that he saw, the way he stared, motionless and intent and predatory, in a way, even though he was weaponless and armorless and subsisting off of raw potatoes. He should hold no power, be no threat, and yet, Wilbur can’t make himself relax.

“Alright. Thank you, Sam,” he says. Sam nods.

“Of course,” he says. And then, he’s stepping away, heading back into those dark walls, to that swirling portal that opens for none but who the warden wishes. And then, he is gone.

“Right then,” Tommy says, after a beat of silence. “Home?”

“Yeah,” he says, and feels exhaustion settle in, that constant companion.

So they do. They go home. They run into no one on the way, once again, and Tommy notices his confusion about it this time and tells him that no one truly lives in the area anymore, not since L’Manberg’s third and final destruction, and Tommy says it in such an offhand way that he doesn’t have a good response to it. Doesn’t have a good response to the way he seems to accept its loss, as if it was inevitable, only natural that everyone should have up and left the area, and it’s true that Wilbur wanted the nation gone but he never wanted Tommy to suffer for it, not really.

(though he didn’t care who suffered in the end, in that room covered in buttons, his anthem, that glorious song scraped into the walls, the music crescendoing with the explosion and then the ringing, blissful silence)

(no, he didn’t care who suffered, by the end)

He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say much, not until they’re back at Tommy’s house, the hole he dug out in the side of the hill and has made his own. He doesn’t know what to say, all of his old charisma failing him, so he watches Tommy for a little while as he knocks about his chests and goes to harvest a few carrots and rants about things that have been happening on the server lately, little things, minor things, things that conspicuously don’t involve Dream at all.

“Tommy,” he finally manages, “are you alright?”

Tommy stops where he is. “Course I am,” he says. “Wilbur, I’m a very big man, you know. It’s going to take more than one green bastard to unsettle TommyInnit.”

“It’s alright if he unsettles you,” he says. “Prime knows he unsettled the hell out of me.”

Tommy stares at him, and then looks away and into the chest he’s got open.

“Yeah,” he says, quieter this time, “I know.”

Wilbur waits.

“It’s just that—” Tommy says, “It’s just that I hate him, so much, and I hate what he does to me. He gets in my head so easily, even when I know to expect it. He’s so good at fucking with me, and I can’t stop him. And I tell myself, each time I go, that this’ll be the last time, this’ll be the time I put it all behind me, but then it’s a couple of weeks later and I go back again, because I think part of me misses him. How fucked up is that? I know exactly what he is, and part of me still wants to think he’s my friend.”

He says it all vehemently, but so very softly, like he’s trying not to hear it himself.

“It is fucked up,” he agrees, matching Tommy’s tone. “But that’s not your fault. It’s his.” He hesitates. “I’m sorry I made you go with me. I shouldn’t have.”

Tommy wheels on him, eyes suddenly blazing, and he slams the chest lid closed.

“You didn’t make me do shit,” he snaps. “Nobody makes me do shit. I do what I want. And I wouldn’t have felt any better if I knew that you were in there with him alone. Think that would’ve been worse, actually, so shut the fuck up about it.”

“I—” he starts, and then stops. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He needs to be better about this. Needs to be better about remembering that Tommy is more than capable of making his own decisions. He is a child still, and ought to be protected, but he doesn’t need coddling, doesn’t need babying. There is a fine line between those things, and it is a difficult one to walk.

“Of course I’m right,” Tommy says. “I’m always incredibly correct. You should stop apologizing so much, though, it’s weird. Or wait, actually, do it some more, tell me all about how I am very right and you, Wilbur Soot, are very wrong and dumb.”

It’s an obvious ploy to lighten the mood. He can’t bring himself to go along with it.

“Why did you stop me?” he asks. “Actually, though. Not because he didn’t deserve it or some shit. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Tommy scowls, his shoulders tensing.

“And what if I do?” he says. “Maybe he does deserve it. Doesn’t mean it should happen. I told you, I want to stab him really bad, but that doesn’t mean I do it. It wouldn’t be fair. Or very satisfying.” He crosses his arms, and for a moment, the image of him in the present is juxtaposed over a younger Tommy, in the exact same pose, arguing with Techno or Phil or him over some stupid, childish thing. Wilbur blinks, and the image is gone. “Besides, we did need him. To talk, that is, even if he turned out to be fucking useless.”

Alright, he can believe that.

(but he sounded so very scared, and)

“Did I scare you?” he blurts out. He regrets the words instantly, but he can’t take them back. “With what I did?”

He’s expecting Tommy to answer with a resounding denial, no matter what the truth actually is. He’s not expecting him to flinch.

(they are in that dark ravine and Tommy is conspiring with traitors and he’s screaming at him, half angry and half desperate to make him understand, to keep him on his side, to get him to see that they have each other and no one else, that no one else can be trusted, he’s screaming and he takes another step forward and he’s not expecting him to flinch)

“You didn’t see the look on your face,” Tommy says. “It reminded me—”

He cuts off, but Wilbur is capable of reading between the lines.

“I’m sorry,” he says, somewhat helplessly.

“You are better, right?” Tommy says. “I mean, really, you don’t—you don’t feel like you did back then, right?”

He’s trying to keep it casual, like it’s not a big deal, like he’s not desperately searching for the answer as to whether or not Wilbur is still insane.

Wilbur’s heart is doing something strange. Something that hurts. Or perhaps that’s just guilt.

“I am,” he says, “I am, I swear. I just—I saw him, and I couldn’t hold back. I know that how I was—how I was then, I don’t understand how you don’t hate me for it, but I look back, and I know now. I do. I’m sor—”

“I don’t need you to apologize again,” Tommy cuts him off. “I—I am actually very fucking sick of apologies, I’ll have you know. But I never hated you, Wilbur. I was really angry, after you—after you went and did that, but I didn’t hate you, and then I was sad, and I just wanted you back. The real you. And I was upset and angry because I knew I could never have that. Except I do now, right?”

“You do,” Wilbur says, because there is no other way he could possibly respond to that. “I swear, you do.” And he opens his arms, and after a second of hesitation, Tommy comes over and sits on the bed next to him, and slumps into his embrace, and Wilbur holds him against his chest because it’s all he can do.

(all he can do to hold him like this and hide from him that the darkness is not gone, that there is something in him that still calls for the destruction of everything and everyone for no reason other than why not, something in him that wants to pour oil over the world and light the match and take himself along with it, something in him that has broken once and will do so again, at the slightest provocation, something as fragile as a sheet of glass already cracked or a bird’s wing once fractured from the fall and never healed right)

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wish I had been,” he says, ignoring Tommy’s request for no more apologies, ignoring the fact that wishes and could-have-beens and what-ifs are useful to exactly nobody. “Ghostbur wasn’t exactly a great help, I know—”

“Oi,” Tommy says, pulling away to look him in the face, “don’t insult Ghostbur. He was doing the best he could. Maybe he didn’t really understand a lot, but he was there. Even when nobody else really was. He was—he was better than nothing, you know? He tried to make people happy. So don’t make fun of him.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” he says, and for some reason, thinks about the flowers he still has. He’s not sure why he kept them, why he bothered to retrieve them from the locker at all. But he did, and he has them, and they’re the only thing in his inventory at all. Cornflowers. Blue.

(he tried to make people happy but he failed, didn’t he, so how much could he possibly have mattered? he failed in a different way from Wilbur-when-living, but he failed all the same, and that is another thing they have in common, loathe though he is to admit it)

Tommy seems content with this, and he leans forward again with a sigh.

“We’re gonna have to go check out that Egg, aren’t we?” he mutters into Wilbur’s shirt.

“What makes you say that?”

“Dream mentioned it,” Tommy says. “I hate letting him yank me around. But he could be involved with it, maybe. Could be trying to—to hatch something, or something like that. I wouldn’t put it past him. So we’ve got to go see what the thing is all about.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that you have to do anything,” Wilbur says. “You deserve a break. You don’t have to play hero.”

“I’m not playing hero,” Tommy murmurs. “I am a big damn hero. Never really got a choice in that, did I?” He pulls back again, letting Wilbur get a good look at the way his eyes have begun to droop. It’s no wonder; it’s been an exhausting day, even if it’s only late afternoon. It’s a good thing, really, because that means he doesn’t quite notice the twisted expression that Wilbur is sure is on his face. “No, but there are people I want to protect. My friends. Like Tubbo. And Sam. So we should go see the Egg and make sure it’s not gonna hurt them.”

Wilbur looks at him, at this child who has gone through more than any child should and has come out the other side still standing, still determined to help his friends, still loyal to a fault, and he wonders how he could ever have suspected him of turning against him. How he ever could have managed to fuck up with him so badly.

“Okay,” he says softly. “We can go see the Egg.”

Never again, he thinks. I swear to you, I’m not fucking up again. And ignores the dread that’s pooling in his heart.

They’ll go visit the Egg. Assuage their curiosity. And then, finally, perhaps, some peace.

#mcyt #dsmp #dream smp #dsmp fic #wilbur soot #tommyinnit #dreamwastaken #awesamdude #jschlatt #alivebur #glatt #/rp #cat writes fic #long post #canon says one thing about their dynamic and i say no <3

[codyfernmorelikedaddyfern]

KILLER QUEEN - DUNCAN X ROYAL FEM!READER // PART EIGHT - END

Read it all here.

Description: A short visit to DC brings Duncan to getting a little revenge on his uncle Bill and the way he spoke about (Y/N). But isn’t it a little too late to erase the app?

Warning: You look beautiful

Word Count: 2322

Gif by @codyfernsource​

“She comes in here with her royal attitude, she expects us to kneel and kiss her boot and you don’t see a problem with it, Annie?!” the loud voice of Bill Shepherd rang through his hotel suite. The older woman only rolled her eyes at her brother, watching him lose more and more of his temper. “I thought you said Duncan was only meant to publicly appear with her?! Not bring her home to meet Claire Fucking Underwood!” he continued, slamming his first against the table before raising it, an accusatory finger pointed towards his nephew.

Luckily, (Y/N) had not been present for this outburst and Duncan was somewhat thankful for it. He was used to Bill’s degrading vocabulary towards him but hearing the older man speak the way he did about his Brit caused something sour to pile on the back of his tongue. “I can’t believe you managed to find him someone dumber than him, Annie! I can’t believe she went!” the Shepherd patriarch stomped around, arms flaying up and down. His nephew opened his mouth to speak but was quickly shot down by the other man. “And what exactly did they discuss?! Were you even there or did you blank out and stare at the wall at the idea of what you’ll have for your next meal?!”

With a loud shout from Annette, the tension broke off instantly. “Bill, I will not tolerate this any longer. (Y/N) has been nothing but accommodating and, according to Duncan, she is now a very valuable ally” like a proud lioness, she spoke while standing in front of her cub. With a swift movement, she motioned for her son to leave, eyes still trained on Bill. Quickly glancing over her shoulder and noticing the absence of Duncan, she inched closer to her brother to whisper. “I know you know nothing about love, Bill. But I’m not sure Duncan will allow you to speak the way you just did about the girl he cares a great deal about any longer” his brows furrowed at his sister’s words, his head twitching to the side with surprise. “You are as much of a coward as you are blind to not see that this is much more than us getting the Windsor in our pocket, this is now about Duncan and her” Annette spat before storming out, meeting her son in the hallway and then stepping in the elevator with him.

“I was ready to punch him square in the face” they young man admitted through gritted teeth, fist still clenched. The reassuring touch of Annette  as she rested her hand on his tensed shoulder brought Duncan's anger to a still. “Is she staying with you at your apartment?” she softly asked before earning a nod from him. A small smile pinched up his lips whilst he scratched the stubble of his cheek as they made their way down to the parking lot. “I think you should go back to her and relax before your interview later on” her face turned into a gentle smile before he could nod one more, walking towards the large SUV to carry them back to his apartment.

Still tangled in the white bedsheets, (Y/N)’s body gently warmed up to the embrace of the sun grazing her skin. The smell of polished furniture, fresh linen and waxed hardwood floor gently tickled her nose as she stirred in Duncan’s large bed. Then the sound of the front door and a few exchange of words came to her ears and she slowly sat up to look at the alarm clock. It had been years since she had slept past 7:30 and her sleeping in was definitely blamed on the jet lag. Slowly, she heard the door creak open, the sight of Duncan igniting the smile blossoming on her tired face. In the heartbeat it took for him to notice her looking back at him, awake, his somewhat frown matched her expression and that same heartbeat seemed to falter slightly. Strolling across the room to seat right at the edge of the bed, his smile only grew brighter as she silently rested her head on his lap, wrapping her tired arms around his waist.

Shoes kicked off and the covers thrown over his taller frame, the American settled next to (Y/N) below the covers, arms looped around the small of her waist. And a quick cuddling session turned into hours of simply laying there, pressed against one another in comfortable silence. A hand carding through the (Y/H/C) locks of the duchess and the quiet sound of breathing filled in the room whilst they basked in the feeling of nuzzling against their lover. Duncan cleared his throat, reluctantly breaking the comfort of the moment.

“I'm scheduled for an interview at the Shepherd Hall in a little over an hour” the brunette groaned before pressing his face deep against the crook of his girl's neck. A low whine fell from the woman's lips before she looked over at him with a frown. “Thought we were meant to spend today together?” her voice mumbled, pulling the covers up against her exposed breasts. A quiet snicker passed Duncan's throat at the sight of the expression on his girlfriend's features. “I promise, after it's over, I'll be right here, making sure that Her Majesty has her fill of DC for a few months” the man whispered, intent on fulfilling his promise.

And just like that, he was out the door, black high neck loosely tucked in a pair of his black slacks, jacket ever so slightly flowing behind him. Thought clouded his mind. He didn't have a lot of time to make it right. 11:42 was when he stepped into the office. 11:47 was when he entered his password in the computer he had spent days, weeks, months working on, clammy and shaking hands caused by the stammering of his heart hitting the keys.

If Bill was being such a prick, so would Duncan. And especially when it came to the the woman he loved. Love? Duncan thought. “I guess it is love, then” he whispered in the next heartbeat. The annoyance of getting rid of such a large amount of work was upsetting but fucking his uncle over was much more tempting than anything else right now.

11:52 was when the coding in progress popped up on his screen.  “Control, shift, home” were the words he breathed, pressing the keys from his keyboard. And then Delete was pressed. No more code, no more app. No more app, meant a sweet revenge on Duncan's part. He watched the pages of data get swept away with a satisfied smirk dancing along his lips. A loud knock pulled him out of his trance, Seth opening the door. “They're here” he announced.

The Shepherd's bachelor stood from his seat, watching the last of the page erase before he could shut down the computer. “I'll be with them in a second. Tell my mother I'll be down in a couple of minutes, will you?” he looked at his colleague who's only response was an anxious looking nod.

(Y/N)'s phone buzzed with a similar notification. “Get on WVDC, the interview is beginning now and be on shortly after we record it”. But the quiet and gentle snoring convinced her other wise. It's only when she heard the loud ringing of her phone that the Duchess woke up. 6 missed calls, one from an unknown number, 5 from Annette. Her blood ran cold as she watched her screen light up once more with the name of the Shepherd's mother. Picking up the call, the shaky voice of the older woman brought tear to the (Y/H/C). “They took Duncan away, (Y/N)”

The slow clicking of her heels reverberated through the long halls. Just like her first meeting with Duncan, she was late. Mainly due to the long conversations that has just happened between herself, her father and the cause of the problem: Clair Underwood, the president of the United States of America. Hushed conversations rang to her ears as she was striding towards the door. “Let me handle this” (Y/N) gently asked Annette whilst making her way to the guard about to press the door open.

The mop of brown curls turned to look at the Princess, cheeks flushed and tears dried on the stubble of his cheeks. Duncan thought about standing up. He allso thought about running to her. He thought about burring his face in the crook of her neck in shame, perhaps to cry once more. But he just sat there. And it broke her already aching heart as the door banged closed behind her petite frame.

A sigh pushed past the man's chest. The woman looked at him, standing as tall as she could above his seated form. His blue gaze danced across her. He was afraid. Afraid of what looked like to be the anger she carried. Afraid of what she was going to do or say to him. Afraid for his own heart to break. Afraid of her. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of hurting him, however, because he spoke first.

“I'll ask my mother to book you the first flight to London. Luckily, you've not unpacked anything yet so you're pretty much ready to go” his head bobbed with a nod, eyebrows knitting together. Duncan swallowed the tightening lump in his throat, regret already flooding through his bloodstream. “We can't have Her Majesty publicly seeing a convicted felon so I guess it's time for us to break the contract. It was a pleas-”

The stinging of the loud slap she delivered to his cheek interrupted the speech pouring out of the man but luckily, it brought some clarity to his thoughts. A couple of seconds passed and (Y/N) looked at him. “Are you done talking shit now?” she simply asked. To think she was angry before clearly was an understatement on the brunette's part because the horrified expression on his girl's face spoke for itself now. A heavy sigh fell in the room. “Why are you here, (Y/N)?” were the words he whispered, his heart heavy.

Arms crossed over her trembling chest, the Duchess took in a deep breath. “I spoke to my father. And I spoke to Claire. Either you carry on your sentence, this is over before it has really begun and you serve your time in jail.” The blue of her boyfriend's gaze reached the (Y/E/C) of hers whilst she settled in the chair in front of him, legs crossing one over the other. “Or you come with me now. We go back to London as prison time, exiled from the States”

A snicker shook the man, quickly replaced by a laugh. “And why exactly are you trying to help me?” a shit eating grin on his lips, clasping his manacled hands on his laps. The petite frame of the Brit leaned closer across to him, lips parting as she spoke. “Because I'm in love with you, Duncan” were the words she whispered. And he watched them roll off of her tongue, his eyes transfixed on her mouth. “So I'm going to repeat it. Either you come with me, the charges are dropped and we work things out or you stay here and get comfortable in your cell”.

His only response was to close the distance between them, his lips chasing hers. Duncan felt (Y/N)'s mouth curling up against his. “Luckily, I didn't unpack anything either” his voice murmured before diving in for another kiss only for a small hand to press him away. “So you're really not going to say it back, you dickhead?” a smirk painted her lips.

And just like that, she woke up enveloped in the arms of the American every morning for the next three years. The alarm rang later on that morning of August, a sense of excitement building up in their stomach as they got ready for their day, meeting with her brothers and her father in Kew Garden. After spending a week together on a romantic trip in Bali, speculations rose in the tabloids. And it was dressed in an elegant deep green jumpsuit matching Duncan's impeccable suit jacket, that the Royal put the rumours to rest.

“You highness, this way please? Bring your left hand forward?” the man holding the camera asked. Duncan's hand draped on the waist of his girl. The park was empty for the occasion, the lovebirds obliging the photographer's demands as he snapped pictures upon pictures. No, the Duchess was not pregnant. At least, not yet. It's with a simple letter that everything was laid to rest, accompanied by some of the many pictures of the pretty ring she now wore.

"His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales is delighted to announce the engagement of Princess (Y/N) to Mr Duncan Shepherd.

The wedding will take place in Summer 2021. Further details about the wedding day will be announced in due course.

Her Royal Highness and Mr Shepherd became engaged in London earlier this month. Princess (Y/N) has informed Her Majesty The Queen and other close members of her family. Mr Shepherd has also sought and received the blessing of myself for their union.

The couple will live in Nottingham Cottage at Kensington Palace."

That's how, the next morning, the front page of a magazine wrote about the news. Duncan was halfway through his cup of coffee when he looked up and watched (Y/N) read the same newspaper he just had filed through. He looked at her with a cock of his head, her gaze meeting his with an amused chuckle. “What?” the Brit chuckled. “I guess I love you” the brunette responded, rolling his eyes and faking annoyance. And with another soft smile, Duncan crowned the princess with a kiss on her forehead. “No, I'm sure I do, Mrs. Shepherd” the American finished before walking past his girl.

______________________________________________________________

Killer Queen squad :  @welcometothelioncage​ @nathidfc​, @dark-mei-rose​, @littledemondani, @fckinsupreme, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @leatherduncan, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @with-dandelions-in-her-hands @nickiechao11, @miss-diamonds, @radioactivegirlsworld @idespac, @psychobitchtess, @hplotrfan, @tea-party-at-wonderland, @langdxn, @wroteclassicaly, @hecohansen31 & @blakewaterxx​

#Duncan Shepherd #Duncan shepherd X reader #killer queen

[r0zyp0zy0zy]

Hi!! I’m new to the Haikyuu fandom but Kageyama is my favorite so far!! Can you do numbers 20 and 24 with him please? Thank you in advance! 🧡🖤

Haikyuu!! Prompt list trial

HQ!! Prompt list

Thanks for requesting! I’m also fairly new to the Haikyuu fandom <3

The other requests are in the works, they might just take a bit longer bc I’m swamped with school stuff! Happy reading :D

Words: 2400+

Warnings: possible weight trigger?, Kags calls you heavy 😔

Pairing: Kageyama Tobio x FEM!reader

Prompt(s): 20- "I didn't mean it like that, I was trying to... tease you. That's what you do, right? When you have feelings?" & 24- "don't leave me here with her/them!"

The mind of Kageyama was mostly a mystery; his skull hollow with a few volleyballs bouncing around. He wasn't the smartest to say the least— Have you seen his report card?

So, when his heart pumped 10x faster than when he was on the court when he was around you, he only thought he wasn't feeling well that day. Next was his voice; constantly stuttering for no apparent reason when he was chatting with you. Kageyama had not a clue what was going on with him until Tanaka spoke up for him, asking how long Kageyama was going to wait before asking you out. The boy in question just wrinkled his nose and went to toss another ball to an energetic redhead.

Nishinoya and Tanaka cornered the unsuspecting setter in the club room, trapping him with their looming auras. Kageyama only stared at them quizzically for a moment before a phone was shoved in his face.

"Look, dude, check out this article!" Tanaka grinned, raising his eyebrows.

"Is it about volleyball?" Kageyama asked as he threw on his uniform.

"No—"

"—don't wanna look at it then," Kageyama interrupted his upperclassmen, grabbing his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.

"C'mon bro!" Argued Nishinoya, blocking the door with pure physics, clinging to the frame, "we just wanna help you get with y/n! This Wiki article will save you from your lack of social awareness around her."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kageyama mumbled, glancing at the phone pointed at him. It was titled: 'How to Flirt with Girls'. Now, he wasn't necessarily considering reading it, but it was tempting. "Why d'you want me to flirt with y/n? She's my friend."

"She's your crush is what she is. Are you really too dense to realize your feelings?" Tanaka said. "Actually- yeah. You are. Here, I'll text you the link."

Later that night when Kageyama was trying to sleep, his mind wandered in circles thinking about his feelings towards you. He didn't think he had time to develop a crush, but here he was pulling up his phone to check the link his upperclassman sent him. He squinted at the bright WikiHow screen, and scrolled down to read the captions. He glanced at the first three options, not really reading (or caring) about 'don't forget to smile!' and 'don't cross your arms'.

The only title that caught his eye was 'Tease Her'. Kageyama knew how to do that; it was easy. He did it with Hinata all the time! He blushed just thinking about making you flustered, a wish that he didn't know he had until tonight. He didn't bother with reading the rest of the article, feeling confident in himself that he knew what to do. He threw his phone back onto his nightstand and cuddled into his bedsheets, grinning wildly.

Tobio didn't know what he was getting into when he asked Tanaka and Nishinoya about the skill of teasing. He had only wanted a few pointers from the 'pros', and some advice on what to do after you were charmed by him.

"Oh ho ho!" Tanaka said excitedly, waving his hands around as he ranted. "Make sure to insult her playfully, but always tell her how beautiful she is afterwards! Oh, and don't forget about the lingering touches! Girls love that stuff, trust me."

Kageyama nodded along, turning to Nishinoya, "don't forget to smile! Girls love sweet smiles~."

The raven haired boy was practically buzzing with anticipation as he waited at the table he usually ate at with you, desperate to try out his new flirting techniques. He smiled at you, something he usually did but he tried making it brighter. He felt his chest bubble when you raised your eyebrows at him, giving a cute smile in return.

You were wondering what the hell was up with Kageyama. You knew he wasn't the best at smiling, but when he flashed his teeth it was just downright creepy. You tried not to laugh as you sat beside him, pulling out your lunch to sit on the table in front of you. A huff left your lips as Tobio snatched away your bento, raising it above his head with a playful smirk.

"Kageyama-kun," you raised a brow playfully. "You want me to starve or something?"

"Just watching your weight," he replied, grin still plastered on his face.

You deadpanned at him, giving him a scowl, "don't say stuff like that, it makes me feel like shit."

"You're still p-pr-er, P-p-pretty in my eyes," your friend stammered, his stance wavering. You lazily tried to grab your lunch back, but Tobio's long arms kept it out of your reach.

You sighed, giving him a teasing grin before reaching out and tickling his armpit. He choked out a laugh and your bento fell out of his hand, and you caught it. Kageyama gave you a frustrated pout and watched as you ate your food.

"Serves you right for calling me fat," you said through a mouthful, cringing at your manners, "that wasn't very nice."

"You're only heavy because of your muscle," Kageyama said, propping a fist on his cheek, "you'd be good at serving." You looked at him quizzically, trying to figure out what was up with him today.

"Y-your clothes look cool today," Tobio offered, trying to keep up with his 'flirtatious' act.

"... dude I literally wear the same thing every day. Y'know, my uniform," now you were really confused. Was he messing with you? Or was he just being his usual weird self?

A blush creeped onto his face and he looked away, burring his face in his own lunch. You ate in an odd silence, occasionally catching Kageyama taking glances at you.

"Y-you're, erm, very..." Tobio trailed off, refusing to look at you. His face was red with embarrassment and he stared at his empty lunchbox, tapping his fingers on the table rhythmically.

"Go on~," you pressed, glaring holes in his head.

Kageyama perked up suddenly, putting an arm around your shoulders, "you look heavy, let me hold it for you. Wait—."

"Ok, dude. What's up with you?!" You were getting pissed now, and you quickly packed up your bento. "I'm going to my class early."

Before he could stop you, you peeled his arm from your body and sped walked away into a bathroom. Kageyama blushed in frustration, cursing at his stupid twisted tongue. He couldn't believe he messed up the simplest pick up line, the one that Nishinoya had taught him. Maybe Tsukishima was right, he was going to scare you off before he could make a proper move. He groaned angrily into his hands and shoved his lunch container into his bag, huffing down the hall to get to his class.

You sunk down into your seat, trying not to let the interaction with Kageyama rule your mind. Was was up with him today? You thought. He was usually odd, but not this odd. You laid out your things in front of you and organized them to distract yourself. You slightly jumped at the sound of the first bell, and you heard the hallway outside start to get louder with footsteps and laughing chatter.

"Hi y/n-san!" Yamaguchi said, and you looked up at him.

"Hey," you mumbled.

"What's got you all grouchy?" Tsukishima chuckled as he sat by his desk beside yours.

"I'm sorry," you sighed, "Kageyama-kun was just being a dick during lunch."

"What'd he do?" Yamaguchi asked, sitting in his seat behind you. He gathered his notebook and pencil case.

"He was being really weird. Er, weirder than normal," you started. "He tried holding me back from my lunch and he basically called me fat. But then he said I was heavy because I had so much muscle? Which doesn't even make sense, and then he said I'd be good at setting which is— I mean ok?"

Tsukishima snickered from beside you as he opened his binder, and Yamaguchi blushed a little at his teammate's actions.

"And then he told me that my clothes looked nice. My uniform clothes, that I wear every day," you puzzled almost to yourself, forgetting that your friends were listening to your rant. "Oh, he also said like, I dunno, a pickup line or something? He said that 'I looked heavy and he wanted to hold 'it'' whatever the hell he was supposed to mean by that."

Tsukki had to shove a hand over his mouth to keep himself from combusting into boisterous laughter, Yamaguchi doing the same. You frowned and rolled your eyes, turning to look at the board as the second bell rang.

"The idiot's got a crush on you," Tsukishima spilled, chest shaking from the aftershocks of his laughter.

"W-wha—," you started.

"—Tsukki!" Yamaguchi interrupted. "You told me that you weren't gonna mess with Kageyama-kun's relationships!"

Tsukishima just shrugged before turning to the board, your eyes bulging at him. "He fucking what—."

"I know!" Tsukishima smirked, "I didn't think he had any emotion for anything but volleyball."

You opened your mouth to reply, but got cut off by your teacher. You frowned as you set up your notes, messily writing your name and the date. Kageyama's actions now made sense to you, knowing how awkward he is in expressing his feelings.

After class as you walked down the hall, Tsukishima sported a sly grin. You eyed him quizzically, not trusting the look in his eyes. He smirked harder at your glance and chuckled.

"I have a plan," the blonde said, pushing up his glasses. "I'm gonna shove Kageyama in the equipment room with you."

"And so I get a say in this at all?" You pressed, glaring playfully at him.

"Well, what do you say?" He asked.

"I say yes," you said, Yamaguchi facepalming at your response.

You followed the two boys down to the gym where they practiced, and waited by the door until Yamaguchi gave you the clear that no one was there yet except for the third years. Tsukishima led you to the double doors of the equipment room and you took a step inside the dark room, turning on your flashlight.

"If you hear an even three knocks, open the door immediately," you ordered, shaking slightly. "Incase he does something... weird," you faltered slightly, and Yamaguchi nodded quickly.

"Whatever," the tall blonde in front of you said, "just get in before he comes in the gym— oh, he's here."

The door was closed suddenly, and you were left alone with only your phone flashlight to protect you. You took a deep breath as you heard voices outside the heavy doors, trying to regulate your heartbeat. What were you doing? What was your plan after he gets trapped inside? The doors opened and filled the room with light for a brief moment before the space was consumed in darkness once again.

"Hey!" You heard Kageyama yell beside you, pounding on the door, "what the hell?!"

You laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and he whipped around to slap you away, faltering when he realized it was you. His eyes widened and he was glad you couldn't see the blush that flourished on his face. Kageyama was silent for a few moments before hammering at the door again.

"Guys! Don't leave me here with her!" He panicked when you pulled his hands away from the doors, and he went quiet.

"Calm down, Kageyama-kun," you stifled a giggle. "You're only here so you can apologize to me."

"W-what?" He stuttered, body going stiff.

"Just say sorry for offending me," you shrugged. His eyes were glued to the floor, hands still trapped by your grip.

"I- I thought... I didn't mean it like that, I was trying to... tease you. That's what you do, right? When you have feelings?" Kageyama's blush crawled across his whole face all the way to the tips of his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut, terrified of what your next words were going to be.

"So you do have a crush on me," you pondered, loosening your hold on his wrists. The boy in front of you snapped his hands to his sides and anxiously squeezed his fists.

"How...?" Kageyama held his breath, as if afraid of your answer.

"Hmm, a little birdie told me~," you teased, running a finger down his chest. His breath hitched in his throat and a shiver ran down his spine when he felt your hot breath whisper onto his ear, "I'm still waiting for your apology."

"I'm s-sor-sorry for what I s-said at lunch today..." Kageyama stammered, rubbing his arm awkwardly.

"I accept your apology!" You smiled and went in for a hug, crushing his arms to his sides. "Meet me after practice near the vending machines~," you murmured playfully.

"—what are you guys doing?!" Daichi's muffled yell came through the door. "You can't just trap people in there!"

Kageyama tensed and he tried to pull away, but you held him closer. The bright light from the gym poured into the small room, illuminating all of the equipment and yourselves.

"Are you oka— oh," Daichi cut himself off, eyes widening at the sight of a girl hugging his underclassman. You peaked at him over Kageyama's shoulder and gave a shy smile, pulling away slowly.

"Bye, Tobio-chan," you adjusted your bag and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "See you after your practice."

The group of boys watched in silence as you skipped your way out the gym door, too shocked to say anything. Kageyama's face grew hotter and he reached up to touch where you kissed him. He felt like he was going to pass out.

"Kageyamaaaaa!!" Hinata yelled, shaking his friend viciously, "was that your girlfriend?! Why didn't you tell us you had one?! She's so pretty! Why does she even like you?!"

"Chill out Hinata-kun," Daichi said sternly, pulling the redhead away by the back of his shirt. "Kageyama-kun, be ready for practice in five."

Tobio nodded slowly, his hand still on his cheek in bewilderment. He was too excited to tell Hinata off, completely blocking out his friend. He couldn't wait for practice to end.

#anime #haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #hq anime #hq x reader #kageyama tobio #Kageyama Tobio x reader #Tobio Kageyama #Tobio Kageyama x reader