#I have a terrible head cold today so I apologize for any errors

[starrylothcat]

hello friend!

could i request something angsty with comfort with Echo during TCW? maybe it's a citadel fix it where he went dark with no warning, and the two of you finally meet again when you're just about to leave to start new again.

Promise Kept

Echo x Reader One-Shot

Summary: You’re about to move on, leaving Coruscant and memories of Echo behind. A knock on your door changes everything.

Warnings: Post-Skako Minor Echo. Angst, sadness, insecurities. Comfort. Kissing. Happy/Bittersweet ending. 2,000ish words.

Author’s Note: Ahhh Echo…my sweet Echo! Thank you for this prompt @toomanybandstocare I’ve been wanting to write something about Echo for awhile. He deserves the world. ❤️ I hope you like it and thanks for reading!

Your apartment was almost empty. Moving containers were neatly stacked at the front door, with only a few personal items left to pack before your flight off-world two days from now.

It was time to move on.

Your apartment, this city, this planet, they all held too many ghosts.

Every morning when your eyes opened, there was hope he was still alive, that he was in bed next to you, ready to kiss your tears away.

Reality wasn’t far behind, always crashing over you when that split-second hope was ripped away, realizing you were alone and that he was gone. Dead.

You knew it was cowardly to run away, but your heart was heavy, your mind distracted by loss. You knew if you stayed on Coruscant any longer, you’d fade away, caught up in the past and what could have been.

A few weeks ago you requested a job transfer to a remote Republic outpost on a planet composed of small farming villages. The Separatists had recently razed the planet for natural resources, and they were desperate for help. You were assigned to a team dedicated to rebuilding and getting the community back on its feet.

Your job was how you met Echo, his squad assigned to you near the beginning of the war. You had supported The Republic with humanitarian aid, facilitating the setting up of refugee camps on the front lines. Your paths continued to cross, whether it was on the battlefield or on Coruscant, becoming closer each time. You were drawn to one another’s dedication to fighting for what was just, and helping those who couldn’t help themselves.

Eventually, you found yourself in his arms, his soft lips pressing to yours in an unsure first kiss, not knowing where this would lead the two of you. You continued to find one another though, your relationship and love growing stronger each time you could be together.

You lifted the last box of your belongings, setting it by the door as a lump grew in your throat. Tears clouded your vision as you remembered the last time you saw Echo, a memory that replayed in your mind every waking moment. It was what you thought of as you opened your eyes each morning, and the last thought you had before falling into a restless sleep, tears wetting your pillow.

Echo lay with you in your bed, holding you against him. The sun just coming up, light peeking through the curtains of your bedroom. Neither of you got much sleep the previous night, not wanting to waste one moment together.

Echo whispered sweet nothings in your ear as his warm hands roamed your body, his lips moving to leave featherlight kisses on your cheeks and forehead.

“I love you, mesh’la. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

You buried your face into his neck, hearing his gentle words, feeling his heartbeat against yours. You traced your hands over his taught muscle, having already memorized every dip and curve on his body.

“I love you, too.” You kissed him deeply, wishing you had more time. Echo had to leave soon, off to join General Kenobi and Skywalker to rescue a kidnapped Jedi.

“I’ll hold you to that promise, soldier.” You murmured, pulling your lips away from his always soft ones.

Echo nudged his nose against yours, closing his eyes. “I never break my promises.”

Echo let himself relax, getting lost in you. He wondered how he was so lucky to have you. Out of all the men in the Galaxy, out of all the men that shared his exact genetic makeup, you chose him.

At first, he didn’t know why.

You worked alongside ritzy Coruscant politicians and senators that could offer you stability and a real future. He was just another soldier, born to serve and fight, not knowing if his next mission will be his last. But he found you in his arms over and over again, and every time it was harder for him to let you go.

The regulations he had come to know by heart never prepared him for this.

You understood him, saw him for more than just a soldier, another face in millions. You made him think of a future where you could be together, where you could rest. It inspired him to fight harder.

“You’re pouting.” You chuckled, noticing Echo was lost in his thoughts.

He glanced at you, his pout turning into a small smile. “I never pout.”

You hummed as you brought him in for another long, loving kiss. “I’ll be waiting for you, always. You know that, right?” You whispered, staring into his honeyed as they tenderly gazed back at you.

“And I’ll come back to you, always.”

You took in a shaking breath, wiping tears from your face. You couldn’t wait to get off this planet to start anew, hoping with time, these memories would fade and you could heal, just a little bit.

You sat down on a small chair, one of the last remaining pieces of furniture in your apartment. You looked out the window, watching speeders and ships fly by, the sun beginning to set over the endless city.

A faint tap interrupted your thoughts, coming from your front door.

At first, you thought it was something outside, or someone knocking on a door down the hall. You turned your head toward the sound as a louder knock solidified the fact it was indeed coming from the other side.

You stood up, slowly striding over as another knock sounded.

“Hello?” You called. You weren’t expecting anyone.

There was a moment of silence.

“Hello?” You called again, wondering if it was just your imagination.

A voice, muffled and uncertain, uttered your name from behind the door.

The voice was familiar, a gentle cadence that could only belong to one person.

One person who was supposed to be dead.

Someone who shouldn’t be standing on the other side of your door.

You felt like the air was sucked right out of your lungs, immediately recognizing the voice.

You were trying to breathe, your voice barely a whisper, your chest feeling like it was about to collapse in on itself.

“E-Echo?”

You felt nauseous, wondering if this was a sick joke. Was this a nightmare, did you fall asleep in the chair? Will you open the door, and no one will be there?

Your stomach churned as you heard your name again, faint and insecure.

Bile rose in your throat, and blood rushed in your ears.

“Open the door, mesh’la. It’s me.”

Your hand shook as it hovered over the button, not knowing if you wanted to open the door or not.

You bit down on the side of your cheek, tasting blood as you tried to discern what was reality, seeing if you were indeed trapped in a nightmare.

You leaned against the door to steady yourself, inhaling ragged breaths. A million thoughts raced through your head, a million emotions bubbling to the surface as your hand slammed the button to open the door. You gripped the side of the doorframe to stop yourself from falling to the ground.

Whoever stood there, whether it was a delusion, a trick, or a hallucination, was wearing his armor, his helmet.

You couldn’t speak, your throat feeling like it was closing up.

Echo was standing there in front of you. Your legs shook as you stumbled backward, still not believing what you were seeing.

“E-Echo?” His name was a choked sob as he gingerly stepped into your apartment. You continued to stumble backward, your head spinning as you backed into a wall.

“It’s me…” His voice was trembling through his helmet. “I…I wasn’t sure if I should message you or…I figured coming in person was best…I’m here, mesh’la. I’m sorry, I can try to explain…”

You couldn’t formulate words, your body was in shock. Echo didn’t approach you further, seeing your distress. “Echo…I don’t understand…you were dead…they told me and…I…” Your vision was going blurry with tears, trying to process what was happening.

“T-take off your helmet, I need to see you.”

Echo nodded, swallowing thickly.

This is what he feared most.

Not you being angry at him showing up at your door, saying he’s alive after all this time. Not you having moved on, maybe even with a different man.

It was the look of disgust you would have when you saw him, what they did to him. Nonetheless, he had to come to see you, you deserved to know that he was alive, and he had to know that you were okay.

Echo raised his arms toward his helmet, hesitating. This is when you noticed he was missing his arm, and the cybernetics in his legs. “I’m…different.” He uttered, seeing you staring. “I’m not the same.”

“Please…Echo…” You took a step closer to him, your legs still shaking, tears dripping down your cheeks. “I need to see you. I don’t care.”

You watched as his shoulders fell, still hesitating to take off his bucket, preparing himself for the worst. He sighed, sliding it off his head, revealing his shaved head and ports in his skull. You were momentarily shocked at his sullen and pale appearance, not from disgust or fear, but from what he must have been through to come back to you.

These were all questions for later.

He looked different, yes. But it was undeniably him based on the look in his eyes. Maker, his eyes. Those eyes that used to look at you with so much fondness, loyalty, and love. Now they were swimming with sadness, fear, and uncertainty.

It was him, there was no doubt in your mind.

You launched yourself at him, Echo not knowing if you were coming at him for an attack or an embrace. Surprising him, it was the latter. You swung your arms around his neck, pulling him into you, sobbing his name over and over into his chest. His helmet clattered to the ground at the shock and impact of your embrace.

Too many emotions were threatening to explode out of you. Happiness, disbelief, shock, anger, everything. All you could do was cry. You spent so long thinking he was dead, your grief almost swallowing you alive every day. But he was here, breathing, real.

Your legs were weak again, desperately hanging on to him. Echo’s arm came around you, holding you in place, not knowing if he even deserved to touch you, keeping his scomp arm hanging at his side.

You stayed like that for a while, gripping him tightly, letting everything you’ve been keeping in for so long out, your body heaving with every sob of his name. He rested his chin on your head, wanting to say so much, tell you everything, but it was caught in his throat. He felt his tears swell at the corner of his eyes, hearing your cries knowing the torment you must have been carrying around with you since he was gone. He felt guilty.

Finally, you had no more tears left to cry. You steadied your breath, pulling away from his chest, looking up at him. He refused to meet your gaze, his expression grim.

“Echo, look at me.”

“I’m not who I used to be.” Echo’s voice was low. “I understand if you don’t-“

You didn't let him finish, crashing your lips against his, gripping the back of his head, putting everything you had into this kiss. All the sadness and loneliness lifting away from you, feeling his lips once again, hearing his voice. The same soft lips from your memories, what you dreamed about every single night.

Echo melted at your intense kiss, his insecurities forgotten momentarily as he felt your body against his, something real and whole. He hadn’t stopped thinking about you ever since he was torn from the machines, wondering if you’d still want him, if he could even find you.

You pulled away, gasping, your face still wet from the tears. You kissed him again, this time all over his cheeks, his eyes, his forehead, everywhere you could get your lips. You wanted to show him that you still loved him, you didn’t care if he was different. He was still Echo, the man you loved.

His body was shaking against yours, wanting to touch you, show you how much he missed you. He couldn’t for fear of hurting you, waiting for you to recoil once you realized what he had become.

Broken. Unworthy. More machine than man.

“Echo, you’re still you. You’re alive.” You whispered between kisses. “Whatever happened…I’m just glad you’re with me. I love you no matter what.”

Now it was his turn to hold on to you tightly, wrapping both his arms around you, careful not to rib you with his scomp. He was still getting used to his new body.

“I love you.” He whispered, his voice trembling. “I never stopped loving you.” He buried his face into your hair, inhaling your fragrance. “You kept your promise.” You muttered. “You came back to me.” You looked up at him, gently caressing the side of his face. A faint smile ghosted at his lips, his expression softening, realizing you might not run away from him, after all.

“I told you I’d come back to you.” He leaned down toward you, pressing his forehead against yours, not wanting to let you go. “I never stopped loving you either, Echo.” He squeezed you tighter as you both stood there, embracing one another, your broken hearts healing with every passing second.

“You’re leaving.” He spoke finally, your empty apartment hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

“I am…yeah. I thought…I had nothing left here.”

“I’m sorry.” Was all he could muster. “That I put you through this…”

“Echo…you don’t need to apologize for anything.” You leaned back from him, nodding toward your bedroom. “Lay down with me?” Echo felt panic rise his chest. The thought of being intimate with you and exposing his body was too much, even though he desperately wanted you.

You saw the panic in his eyes. “No! Not like that. I just want to…be with you. Is that okay?” Echo nodded, feeling relieved. He followed you into the bedroom. A familiar feeling washed over him, remembering the nights he would stay over. Sharing kisses, whispering loving confessions under the sheets, always wishing you had more time. It seemed like a lifetime ago. It was almost surreal, being back here, with you.

The room was devoid of all your personal belongings now, just the bed in the middle of the room. Things were going to be different from here on out, but maybe it was for the best. It was time for both of you to move on, together.

You sat down at the edge of the bed, Echo sitting next to you. You took his hand, entwining it with yours. He leaned against you, feeling the warmth of your hand on his, his heart threatening to explode.

You were still the same kind, gentle person you always were. The way you gazed at him…it was like nothing had changed. He felt whole. The anxiety in his chest lessened, becoming aware that you didn’t care how he looked. Echo leaned in, giving you a chaste kiss. “You’re leaving too, aren’t you?” You whispered against his lips.

He nodded. “There’s a squad…I’m heading out with soon.” Echo replied. You knew he couldn’t quit the soldier lifestyle, just like he knew you couldn't quit helping those in need. It was who you were, and why you loved one another. You laid backward, bringing Echo with you. You cuddled up against his side, your hand still in his. You both had so much you wanted to say, but there was time for that later. For now, you just wanted to hold one another.

“I’ll still keep my promise.” Echo mumbled against you, squeezing your hand. “I’ll always come back to you, mesh’la. Always.”

@wanderer-six

#I have a terrible head cold today so I apologize for any errors #I love u echo #echo x reader #echo x you #echo tbb #arc trooper echo #the clone wars fanfiction #clone trooper echo #starrycatwrites #clone trooper echo x reader #clone x reader #tcw #clone trooper echo fanfiction #tcw fanfiction

[diagonal-queen]

The Moon and the Sea

♡ pairing: Paul Verlaine x Arthur Rimbaud

♡ synopsis: After a hard day, Verlaine finds solace in the arms of his partner.

♡ wc: 1.5k

♡ cw: Stormbringer spoilers(?), Rimlaine are extremely sad and gay

note: "i want to write a oneshot about some really beautiful but tragic gay men but i cant think of anything" i said to @small-chaos. they replied "Everybody talks about the moon and the sun but nobody admires the beauty in the relationship between the moon and the sea" and then this brainchild was born. thanks bestie <3 i would also like to shoutout @gettinshiggywithit for helping me complete this when i ran out of brain power, thank you lovely 😚😚 apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy x

The early winds of autumn were warm and gentle, relieving busy Parisians of the sticky summer humidity as the changing season set itself in motion. The sounds of evening began to die down, leaving only the rustling of brown and orange leaves in its wake. Yet, one man hadn't been privy to this particular noise, as all his windows had been closed as soon as he'd first entered the apartment the week prior. All he could hear was the crackling of fire and his own chattering teeth.

Rimbaud found himself growing colder by the minute. That night, he sat shivering on a sofa right before the fireplace, with a thick fluffy blanket wrapped around him. Despite the fact that he was also clad in several layers, a thick grey coat, a large scarf, mittens and earmuffs, he still felt like he might succumb to hypothermia any second.

He wanted nothing more than to leap into the fire itself, but he sat as still as he could and waited. Verlaine was supposed to be back soon, and when he knew that he was alright he would be able to go to their shared room and sleep (somewhat) soundly. That was what he'd planned, at least.

After hearing the sound of the door unlocking, Rimbaud bowed his head as Verlaine entered the apartment and closed the door behind him. He momentarily glanced at his partner, before doing a double take in shock.

Verlaine looked...dishevelled. He wasn't so dishevelled that a stranger may take notice and ask him about it, but for Verlaine, even a loose strand of hair was unusual. Rimbaud immediately knew something terrible must've happened.

"Paul, you...!" Rimbaud sat up, eyeing Verlaine who didn't seem to want to return his gaze. He silently walked, or rather stumbled, over towards the couch where his partner was sitting.

Rimbaud had never seen Verlaine act in such a way. Sure, he could come off as aloof from time to time, but today he didn't seem bothered to hide the fatigue he was feeling. Even his complexion seemed paler.

Verlaine then kneeled on the sofa, before his whole upper body flopped on top of Rimbaud, who let out a soft grunt at the impact. He tried to adjust his posture, but now that Verlaine was slumped on top of him he found it difficult to move.

"Are you alright?!"

"I'm..." Verlaine pushed his hat off his head, letting it fall to the ground by Rimbaud's shoes. "...I'm tired."

His umber eyes seemed unfocused, staring somewhere Rimbaud couldn't see.

"What happened to you, Paul?" The raven-haired couldn't help but feel concern bubbling inside him, and the question came off with more urgency than he'd intended it to. Not that it mattered- Verlaine never seemed to care about things like that.

Verlaine didn't answer for a moment, just letting out a breath that he seemed to have been holding in for a while. His face contorted into a slight grimace.

"...Paul?"

"...I don't want to talk about it now."

In spite of his worry, Rimbaud didn't press him further.

The room was bathed in a golden hue from the fire before the couch they were draped upon. It subconsciously gave a feeling of comfort to Rimbaud, who suddenly noticed how tranquil the atmosphere was despite the fact that he was trapped beneath Verlaine's roughed-up form. He realised that he wasn't shivering so violently now. He was still cold, of course, but Verlaine acted as a soothing source of warmth.

Rimbaud's gloomy eyes gazed down at Verlaine, whose eyes had closed by now. There was no blood on his person, of course, but his slightly dishevelled blonde hair and wrinkled clothing weren't any less cause for concern. For something or someone to have even a slight effect on a creature as powerful as Verlaine...

Rimbaud steadily moved his gloved hand and, after a moment of contemplation, placed it atop the back of Verlaine's head as gently as he could muster. Verlaine didn't react. Rimbaud let out a deep exhale, and cautiously ran a hand through his soft golden locks.

The small room the two were temporarily staying in, an apartment in an old Haussmann-style building located on the outskirts of Paris, was silent. They had become accustomed to moving around as frequently as their job required, and had never bothered to modify any of their living spaces to feel more homely. Rimbaud only cared about where Verlaine was, and Verlaine didn't see much merit in interior design. Yet, something about this place felt inherently intimate, or so Rimbaud thought.

"...Rimbaud?" Verlaine suddenly mumbled. Rimbaud cast him a glance, his face half obscured by blueish shadows while the other half glowed in the yellow light.

"Hm?"

"...I heard something in passing a few days ago," he began, almost as if he were unsure of his own words. "It was about love."

"Love?" Rimbaud creased his eyebrows, perplexed. If one were to ask him anything that Verlaine may bring up in conversation, love wouldn't have been in his first thousand guesses.

"Yes, love...I heard someone compare the concept of soulmates to the sun and the moon," Verlaine continued with a faint voice. "I don't quite understand it."

"Well..." Rimbaud's tone was slightly shaky. "You know the phrase 'opposites attract', don't you?"

Verlaine let out a small noise but Rimbaud couldn't tell whether it was affirmative or negative. Regardless, he continued.

"It means that two people who are different from each other are likely to have a better relationship. The 'sun' person would usually be more outgoing and cheery, while the 'moon' person is more introspective and quiet..." He bit his thin lip and then added, "Not unlike you, Paul."

Verlaine shifted slightly, his hand perching itself on top of Rimbaud's chest.

"Not unlike me...?"

"That's not to say that introspection and quietness are bad things," Rimbaud quickly spoke. "I just mean that...they're traits that suit you well. The 'moon' caricature as a whole suits you well, in fact."

"The moon..." Verlaine muttered to himself. "So far away from the rest of mankind...perhaps I am like the moon."

Rimbaud wanted to comfort Verlaine, to reassure him that he wasn't far away from anybody, especially not him, but the words wouldn't form on his tongue. He felt as if he should have been better at this by now; after all, it was far from the first time they'd had this type of conversation.

"If I am the moon then you're the sea." Verlaine suddenly announced, snapping Rimbaud out of his train of thought.

"The sea?" Rimbaud repeated, quietly. "...I don't understand."

"The sea is complex, full of mystery. You can never predict the force of the ocean's waves as they crash on the sand," Verlaine breathed, as if he were reading a poem. "You are deep and dark, Rimbaud. You're full of undiscovered secrets...and..."

He lifted his head up, lidded brown eyes staring straight into Rimbaud's. "We might be opposites, but I don't think you're a sun."

Rimbaud's breath hitched in surprise. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Verlaine's, whose tired gaze still burned right through him.

"Every day I survey you from afar and it feels almost like you glow when I look at you. How strange is that?"

The black-haired man couldn't tell whether or not Verlaine's question was rhetorical or not. Even if it wasn't, he probably wouldn't have been able to come up with a coherent answer. He was frozen in surprise, unable to break the tense silence between them.

Verlaine's hand moved from Rimbaud's chest to his cheek, gently cupping it while his thumb began to rub circles over his soft, pale skin. The blonde man seemed to be in some kind of fatigued haze.

"The saddest thing is how unattainable you are. But I know that if I were ever to fall..." Verlaine leaned forward, his breath tickling Rimbaud's face. "You would be there to catch me, wouldn't you?"

Then, without giving him the chance to answer, Verlaine brought his lips to Rimbaud's. His grip on Rimbaud's cheek tightened ever so slightly as he deepened the kiss, almost smiling when Rimbaud placed his hands on his back and squeezed.

"Paul-" Rimbaud tried to start when he pulled away, wanting to ask if they should be doing this or if it was really alright, but Verlaine just placed a finger to his lips.

"Shh..." the corner of Verlaine's lip turned up. Rimbaud's cheeks flushed red, and he quickly dove back into the kiss.

Aside from pulling apart for air every few seconds, the pair remained in their gentle embrace until Verlaine eventually pulled away, leaving Rimbaud breathless, and laid his head down on his chest.

"I'm tired, Arthur..." he said, before closing his eyes. Verlaine must've been exhausted- he never called Rimbaud by his first name. It made his heart skip a beat; something he hoped that Verlaine didn't notice.

With the state he was in, Verlaine probably wouldn't remember this in the morning. Rimbaud decided that unless he bought it up first, he wouldn't say a thing about it, no matter how much he wanted to.

And thus, the pair never spoke of that night again. 

taglist~ ♡ @gettinshiggywithit, @fyodorhatr, @flower-of-darkness, @bejeweledgirl

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fic #bsd fanfic #bsd ff #bsd fanfiction #bungou stray dogs fanfiction #paul verlaine #arthur rimbaud #bsd stormbringer #storm bringer #bsd verlaine #bsd rimbaud #rimlaine #verlaine x rimbaud #there is a criminal lack of rimlaine fics in the world #im gonna fix that #rimlaine fanfic

[queen-dahlia]

𝐈 𝐖𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

»»———-Part 1┋Part 2┋Part 3┋His POV———-««

please just ignore my name in one of the screenshots

Note: Translation is not 100% accurate. Expect grammatical errors.

// : alternate translation | ⫘⫘ : flashback

When I fulfilled my role as Belle, I received a pass to the court as a prize, on condition that I should not meet the king.

The purpose of the visit was to have free access to the court library, which boasts the largest collection of books in the country.

Today, I took that pass with me and headed out to places other than the library.

I thought that the place where a prince from another country would be staying would be at the court in all likelihood.

However--

Chevalier: ". . . . ."

(...! Oh no, I never thought I'd run into Chevalier of all people)

Chevalier is now His Majesty the King.

--Clause 99 of the contract: After the selection period, "Belle" is forbidden to have any contact with the King.

(As long as that clause is in place, I must not get involved with Chevalier.)

As I lowered my head and hurried away, I was grabbed by the arm as we passed each other.

Chevalier: "What happened with the eye patch?"

(... How do you know?)

(Don't tell me it's not a coincidence that we passed each other here...?)

The pressure I feel from the icy blue eyes is not going to allow me to be silent.

Emma: "... I don't know, either."

Emma: "I was just helping him find someone, and he put me to sleep in the middle of the search."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Just a short time ago, when I woke up in a bar, Prince Gilbert and the man were gone.

Emma: "Excuse me, where was the man who came with me!?"

Barkeeper: "Ah, he just paid the bill and left."

Manager: "He said it would be a pity to wake the young lady, so he wanted you to sleep for a while."

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

(I'm sure I was drugged, because I didn't drink alcohol, but I suddenly lost my train of thought.)

(But why...)

Chevalier: "... It seems that he likes you very much."

I had only told him the brief history, but Chevalier breathed as if he had seen it all through and let go of my arm.

Emma: "The kind of a man who would have drugged me with sleeping pills and run away?"

Chevalier: "If he hadn't done that, you'd be looking at something you don't want to see right now."

(What does that mean?)

He does not seem to intend to give me any details, and his icy blue eyes stare off into the distance.

Ahead of his gaze is the guest room used by Prince Gilbert a year ago.

Chevalier: "I hear the eye patch is always watching you."

Chevalier: "Perhaps there is someone around you who is in contact with that eye patch."

Emma: "Uh..."

Chevalier: "Is it covert, or is it more than that?"

Chevalier: "Remember, he's watching you anyway."

Emma: "Are you kidding me? I'm not 'Belle' anymore."

Chevalier: "'Belle' must be a trivial matter to him."

Chevalier: "You have a more important value. I don't know what that is."

Chevalier is a man of extraordinary foresight.

Knowing that every word is true, it makes my blood run cold.

Chevalier: "The worldwide disaster could eventually cause an uproar involving the entire continent."

Chevalier: "Perhaps you are special among the pawns on the board that he has prepared for you."

Emma: ". . . . ."

Chevalier: "Eye patch is in the chapel."

After saying this, Chevalier flips his cloak.

(I don't have any idea what's going on.)

I stood stunned for a while as I watched his back as he walked away.

═════════════════

When I went to the chapel as advised by Chevalier, I saw a figure in front of the altar.

Emma: "Prince Gilbert, you are terrible."

Gilbert: "Ahaha, sorry?"

I walk up to Prince Gilbert, who greets me with a smile and no sign of apology.

(He's not surprised at all... It's as if he was expecting me to be here.)

Relying only on the moonlight shining through the stained glass windows, I confronted Prince Gilbert.

Emma: "Why did you put me to sleep?"

Gilbert: "Of course, because it wasn't convenient."

Emma: "What's the matter—"

Emma: "Uh... Prince Gilbert..."

As I get closer, I finally realize.

Prince Gilbert has a scent of iron that was not there before.

My heart froze at the disturbing and ominous smell.

Gilbert: "Oh, did you notice? I changed my clothes."

Emma: "What did you do to that man?"

Gilbert: "There are some things it's better not to know."

(... That's right. This is the kind of person Prince Gilbert is.)

Perhaps I helped to do something evil that cannot be undone.

My heart was palpitating, and a cold sweat was running down my spine.

Gilbert: "I guess I've avenged your good intentions..."

Emma: "...Why did you involve me? If you were looking for someone, you could have done it alone."

Gilbert: "Because it was my birthday."

Emma: ". . . . ?"

Gilbert: "I came to Rhodolite to run some errands. Therefore, I have limited time for you."

Gilbert: "I couldn't spend time with you if I didn't have you running errands with me."

(For that reason…)

(...It's kind of complicated.)

Gilbert: "I'm a bad person. That's why, even if I hurt you, I can choose what I enjoy without hesitation."   //   "I'm, you know, a bad person. So I'm not afraid to choose to enjoy myself even if it hurts you."

Emma: ". . . . ."

Gilbert: "... I was waiting for you to come in, but my body got cold."   //   "I was waiting for you to come in, but I got so cold."

Gilbert: "If that's all there is to say, then I should go."

(...I have no way of knowing what Prince Gilbert did.)

It just smelled ominous. I don't know anything else about it.

Prince Gilbert didn't seem to intend to tell me, and quickly turned on his heel.

(I only know one thing… You've been waiting for me in the chapel all this time in this cold weather.)

This is a secluded place.

If I were to enter Prince Gilbert's guest room, I might be suspected of something.

A chapel would reduce that concern.

Even with such consideration, Prince Gilbert had something he wanted from me.

I may have had to interrupt thanks to some errands or something, but…

I'm sure he meant it when he said 'I came to see you because it's my birthday.'

(I guess he wanted to celebrate.)

(... Even though he is such a bad person.)

«sound of cane»

His back was turned away from me, and he seemed to be lonely.

(Uhm... Just for today, just for today, try not to think about anything else.)

I reach out to Prince Gilbert and hug him from behind to hold him back.

The unusually cold body temperature took my breath away.

Gilbert: "What?"

Emma: "I told you not to betray me, but you're the worst."

Gilbert: "Oh, man, I didn't even promise you I wouldn't betray you, did I?"

Emma: "Is that so. …I didn't believe in it much either."

Gilbert: "Ahaha, you're smart, aren't you?"

Emma: "On top of that, I'll say it."

Emma: "Happy Birthday."

While feeling the cold body temperature and the scent reminiscent of blood, I spoke.

Perhaps Prince Gilbert has been waiting to hear these words.

Gilbert: "You have a heart of steel, huh?"

Emma: "... I don't think so. It still hurts so bad I feel like I'm going to spit up blood."

Gilbert: "And yet you're celebrating?"

Gilbert: "I may have just done some bad things, as you might have guessed."

Emma: "I… I try to believe only in what I see."

Emma: "All I saw today was Prince Gilbert, who seemed to be enjoying himself throughout the day."

Emma: "The feeling that you stopped by Rhodolite and wanted to see me was genuine, too."

Gilbert: ". . . . ."

Emma: "Even though you're a big villain, I was happy to feel that way, so..."

Emma: "I honestly wanted to celebrate."

(I wonder if I will regret it when I know everything.)

(... I wonder if I'm going to lament that I shouldn't have celebrated Prince Gilbert's birth.)

I don't know now, but a year ago I was in the fangs of a trampling beast.

Even though I knew I might be betrayed, I also wanted to believe in the goodness of Prince Gilbert.

(To be honest, I was and still am scared to death to the point of shaking.)

Gilbert: "... Really, you're so repulsively stupid."

Contrary to the thorn in his words, Prince Gilbert's expression is soft.

(... Why do you look like that?)

(Can you hear me now?) **

Emma: "Prince Gilbert... What am I to you?"

I tried presenting the question that came up in the conversation with Chevalier as it is.

Prince Gilbert's reply was quicker than I expected.

Gilbert: "... Last hope, perhaps?"

(... What does that mean?)

The word 'last' is the only one that strangely pierces my heart, though I can only think of a few question marks.

(Prince Gilbert…)

(I wonder what kind of secrets you're hiding.)

Gilbert: "By the way, by the looks of it, you're going to celebrate with me, right?"

Prince Gilbert spun around, slipped out of my arms and smiled refreshingly.

I felt firsthand that the atmosphere of the place had changed.

Gilbert: "How are you going to celebrate this year? Of course, you won't run away, will you?"

Emma: "Well, if you want to celebrate, we just did."

Gilbert: "My birthday is not over yet, right?"

(... You mean it's not enough at all.)

Emma: "What do you want?"

Gilbert: "It's cold."   //   "I'm cold."

Prince Gilbert faces me with his arms outstretched.

(Oh, you mean warm up!?)

(... I don't mind hugging him on his back, but not from the front…)

However, I cannot refuse Prince Gilbert's 'request'.

I approached him fearfully in shame and gently put my hands behind his back.

Emma: "Is this what you want?"

Gilbert: "Yes, well done."

Emma: "...It seems modest for a celebration…"

Gilbert: "Do you hug anyone?"   //   "Do you hug everyone?"

Emma: "No, of course not!"

Gilbert: "Right?"

(... Come to think of it, Prince Gilbert has always been so close to me that I've become numb to the sensation.)

When I am aware of it, my heart beats strangely fast.

(I mean, to begin with, this is all you want for your birthday…)

(I'm about to make a strange mistake.)

Gilbert: "Hmmm... Your heart beat is so busy. What are you thinking and feeling right now?"

While hugging me tight, Prince Gilbert whispers sweetly in my ear.

Gilbert: "Tell me what your heartbeat means."

(. . . . .)

Emma: "... I wish I knew."   //   "... I'd like to know."

(I guess this is one of the 'trampling' in Prince Gilbert's words.)

What do you want with me? What do you want to do?

Prince Gilbert does not lie, but he also has many secrets.

Emma: "I'm sure I'm nervous because I'm scared."

Gilbert: "Yeah, because you can smell the blood on a bad guy."

(Yes, he's bad... I'm scared.)

(... I celebrated his birthday as a matter of course. …And I'm so careless that I'm tempted to believe in his goodness.)

I can't hate him even though I know he's a bad person - perhaps the feeling will eventually become so poisonous that I will regret it.

Even though I knew that, I had to wait until Prince Gilbert's body warmed up.

In the chilly chapel, my heart beat calmly, and I continued to embrace his body.

»»———-Part 1┋Part 2┋Part 3┋His POV———-««

#サイバード #イケメン王子 #ギルベルト=フォン=オブシディアン #ikemen prince #ikemen prince gilbert von obsidian #ikemen prince gilbert #ikeprince #ikeprince gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #ikeprince jp #ikeprince translation #ikeprince spoilers #dahlia's bad translation

[tendousthoughts]

HQ Boys Thinking Their S/O Left Them Pt. 2

Character(s) included: Tsukishima & Ushijima

Warning(s): Cursing

Song of the day: Love The Way You Lie by Eminem

A/N: Wow thanks for 200+ likes on my last part & 15+ reblogs! I’m almost at 150 followers so thank you for that too! I can't believe that my account is still active! Here’s part two! As always my ask box is open for comments and such! I would love to have some more Anons or even some character anons. Part three is next so if you have any haikyuu boys you want next just send a message! Please forgive any spelling and grammatical errors!

Where to find all the parts!

Where to find all my content!

Tag(s): @chibiiichann

Tsukishima

So the argument was your fault. The ‘harmless’ joke made its way to be more effective than you imagined. So maybe it wasn’t as funny as you thought to pour water on his head as soon as he got through the door. But it wasn’t your fault for not knowing he was having a tough day already.

“Baby.. please.. kei, I am sorry..” you whispered softly as you followed him in. You could tell he was angry. After all he just wanted to rest and now you just fucked everything up. “Kei.. please.” He turned to you.

“What?” He was drenched and tried to not let his attitude show. He just wanted to take a shower and go to bed.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.. it was just supposed to be a harmless prank..” you muttered softly now avoiding his eyes. They felt like they were burning holes into you.

“Oh wow so funny!” He looked at you. Now making eye contact you can feel the hints of venom in his voice. “It’s so fucking funny. You know sometimes I wonder if I ever did the shit you do to me back to you how would you react? I mean after all it’s just a fucking harmless prank! Do you ever just fucking think for a moment, ‘fuck maybe that’s not a good idea?’ Or no? I mean is you brain so fucking small and your so fucking dumb to the point you don’t have a good thought in there?!” His voice was loud, deep, and annoyed. You could almost see the hatred seeping from each word. You looked to the ground and took his hurtful and harmful words. 

It was your fault after all.

After a moment he looked down at you, getting out everything he needed to say, well almost everything. “It fucking sucks to put up with you sometimes. I hope you know your fucking lucky.” There he went, finally finishing his bitter words. He left slamming the door behind him as he started the shower. The warm tears that you had been holding in now finally making their way out.

After grabbing a jacket, phone, wallet, and keys you leave. Feeling terrible that he had to put up with you. Locking the door as you left you decided to take a walk. It was cold and dark. It was a terrible idea to have, but there wasn’t much more that you could do.

After he finished his shower he got out looking for you. He had sorta realized the weight of his words. He knew he went too far.

After about five minutes he realized you were nowhere in sight. He changed and grabbed his phone. “Pick up..” he muttered, calling you. It was too cold for you to be out, let alone it was too dark.

You looked down at your phone and just ignored the call, scared to be yelled at again. It was freezing, now coming to the realization that you should have brought a bigger jacket. You head to a nearby ramen place to eat.

On his side he is freaking the fuck out. “Fuck fuck..” he muttered softly. He tried calling you again and to his surprise you picked up. “Y/n where are you?” He seems upset.

“Don’t worry about it.. just get some rest okay? Night.” You’re almost about to hang up where he starts talking again. He is frantic and you can tell he is extremely worried.

“Y/n please. It’s dark and cold and I don’t want you getting lost or anything worse please..” he mumbled softly. He is trying not to seem overbearing.

“I’ll be okay. Goodnight.” You hang up. Not to your surprise he calls you about five times as you order something to go for the both of you. After about twenty minutes you start to walk back. It’s pitch black and freezing. You put the bag on your arm and zip up your thin jacket. Now holding onto your phone on flashlight with one hand and with the other the soup trying to keep warm. It takes you another fifteen minutes to arrive and you open the door.

Tsukishima was waiting by the door. It was quite late so you bit your lip and closed the door after. In that time Tsukishima’s arms are already tightly around you. His eyes were red and puffy and it was clear he had been crying.

“I told you to get some rest, Kei..” you whispered softly, unsure why he was up. Kinda glad that the ramen did go to waste though.

“I am sorry.. I’m sorry.. I’m sorry..” he started to cry again holding you tight. You were cold to the touch and to be honest if it weren’t for what he said earlier you would probably be really enjoying this.

“It’s okay.. I got some dinner..” you whisper breaking away from his grasp as you sit at the table him following after. He wiped away the tears sitting in front of you. He felt like shit. As you place the food in front of him he gives a weak thank you, which you just shake your head to and start eating.

After dinner you get up putting your dishes away. Getting ready for bed after. As you finish brushing your teeth and changing. You are met with his long warm arms around you once again. He missed you all day, and didn’t want you to be distant any longer. “I’m sorry y/n..” he whispered softly, tears rolling down his face.

“It’s okay kei.. don’t worry I know you didn’t, it was my fault anyway..” you muttered softly. “I’m sorry baby..” you wipe away his tears. “I didn’t mean to worry you okay..?” He just holds on tighter and shakes his head gently, picking you up. He decides to carry you to the room you two share. As he holds you, you whisper nothing but sweet words of love, trying to comfort him.

When he lays down you gently hold him. He clears his throat ready to apologize more. “Y/n.. I really didn’t mean any of that okay..? I really love you so much and I’m the lucky one. You’re so considerate and shit and you were just trying to play a prank but I had a really shitty day and just didn’t react well.. I’m sorry..” he whispered softly. His head is buried into the crevice between your shoulder and head. It was clear he was upset.

“Baby it’s okay.. don’t worry I know you didn't mean too.. it was my fault.." you whisper softly. His arms tighten around you holding you close. "I should have known it wasn't a good idea and just didn’t do it. Instead I decided to do it and then leave.. making you worried and stuff.. So I'm sorry.." you whispered softly.

He just shakes his head and smiles softly. "Okay.. I love you Y/n," he muttered softly as he closed his eyes. Quite tired from such a stressful day.

"I love you too Kei," you muttered back, staying up until you’re sure he is peacefully asleep. When you are sure, you drift to sleep. You are safe here. You are safe in his arms, being loved by him. This is where you are meant to be, forever.

Ushijima

Practice was shit. He missed almost everything that came his way, and to be honest it was getting to him. He was quite pissed seeing you with some other guy. No matter what or who they were, they weren’t him. That’s all that mattered. You were laughing and smiling with them and he was upset. So of course he would be off his game. Who wouldn’t? You were the person everyone wanted. Ushijima was lucky to be your boyfriend let alone even talk to you.

But the same could be said about Ushijima. He was known everywhere and you got jealous too at times. I mean who wouldn’t when he got gifts every time he entered a match. He barely talked to you then too, because he thought you would be too ‘distracting.’ So in the end you normally would sit in the back and chat with a few people but tried to stay focused. Today was different. It was a practice not a game. So you didn’t mind not paying attention.

Once practice ended you were met with Ushijima’s tall form in front of you. “Oh hey baby,” you smiled getting up. He doesn’t look too happy and gives the guy a stare that makes him almost immediately leave.

“Who’s he?,” he looked down at you again. You’re shorter than him but to be honest he loves it. He loves the fact that he can tease you with kisses or the fact he can pick you up.

“I just met him. He is pretty cool, turns out he was in one of my old classes.” You smile a bit.

“Oh. Okay let’s go.” He muttered softly. Now expecting a kiss on the head before you two leave you wait. It takes a moment before you realize you’re not getting one so you just follow after him.

“How was practice..” you ask when you guys get in the car. It was quiet and you didn’t like that. It was too quiet.

“You would have known if you were watching.” He was brief and quick with his answers. “It went bad.”

You shake your head softly and when you guys get back into the house it’s no better. Now deciding to break the silence once more. “What’s wrong baby..” you look at him. Something’s off. Completely off.

He looks to you maybe for the first time, in what.? Half an hour an hour of being in the same car. Whatever it was it didn’t matter, it was too long.

“I don’t know why you have to come to my practices and just distract me the whole time.” He doesn’t think about what to say before he does.

“What..? I didn’t run up to you like usual and I stayed in the back like you like! What do you mean ‘distract’ you?” You look at him confused.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come then. It seems like everywhere you have to just be in my way. Let alone you just bring people with you.” He looks annoyed and maybe you should just drop it. But you can’t. You did nothing wrong.

“What? I stayed out of your fucking way! I didn’t ask to come. You asked me too! It’s not like I begged you to come and then was up in your face the whole time. Like your so-called fans! They were up in your face the whole fucking time trying to give you gifts and shit! But ya I’m the distracting one!” You looked annoyed. Upset. Pissed off. Whatever you wanna call it.

“Really? Really? We wanna go there now? It’s not like every fucking time we walk the halls together someone doesn’t come up to say hello to you! Or asks if your fucking free, I mean it’s not like your with me or anything.” You can tell he is mad. But it isn’t your fault.

“Yes really! You have fucking people wait by the gates of the school for you. I mean that’s what I get for dating you right? I get a bunch of girls following my boyfriend, I get called a distraction when I come up to you and get called a distraction when I’m away from you. I don’t know what to fucking do at this point!” You can feel yourself tear up. This is fucked up.

“Wow. Of course. All my fucking fault. Mhm just blame it all on me. You know what fuck you, and fuck your high horse.” He slams the shared room’s door closed. You don’t say anything, deciding to just leave. You grab your stuff and close the door. It’s a bit chilly and you’re glad you grabbed a jacket. It wasn’t weird for you two to fight let alone get on each other’s nerves. But when it’s going good, it’s going great.

You leave heading to a friend’s house and stay the night. Unsure how you fucking feel at this point. What the fuck was up with him? You just tried to stay in your fucking lane. It hurts. It fucking hurts to be called a distraction. Maybe he didn’t get that. But you knew he did. He wasn’t that dumb. He wasn’t that fucking dense like everyone else thought. You knew he wasn’t. That was one of his worst insecurities and you knew it.

The next day you were dropped off at school and we’re surprised to see Ushijima waiting. You bit your lips walking right past him. You could see the hurt in his eyes. He had eye bags and his eyes were red and swollen. He seemed like he had been crying, you felt bad. But at the same time you didn’t. You needed him to understand how much you were hurt by his words.

When lunch came around he was waiting at the door of your classroom and you bit your lip. “Do you need something?” You ask. It took him a moment before he shook his head.

“Can we please talk.. I’m sorry..” he muttered softly. He was clearly still upset by yesterday’s fight and so were you.

“Okay. It’s fine I’m sorry too,” you look up now, his big arms were wrapped tightly around you. He sniffled softly as he was already tearing up again.

“I didn’t mean any of that.. you’re not a distraction and I love you so much baby..” he whispered softly. “I was just jealous and shit..” he muttered softly. “I don’t like it when you hang out with others and stuff and I know it’s not fair.. I just get worried you will like them more and just leave..” he whispered softly finally opening up.

“Hey look at me..” you whisper gently, taking your hands and wrapping them around his cheeks. “I won’t do that to you.. I love you so much, okay?” He shakes his head.

“I love you too y/n..” he muttered softly. He was tired and you could tell. Once you reached the cafeteria you sat next to him and he laid his head on your shoulder.

A soft laugh made its way out as you held him. God you love him. Nothing could ever change that. No matter any fight. You loved him and he loved you. That’s all that would ever matter.

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#tendousthoughts #haikyuu #haikyuu!! #sports anime #anime #fanfic #haikyuu fanfiction #tsukishima kei #tsukishima #hq tsukishima #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x reader #ushijima #ushijima wakatoshi #hq #hq ushijima #ushijima x y/n #ushijima x reader #haikyuu tsukishima #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu boys x reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #gn!reader #gender neutral y/n #haikyuu boys #xics.fics

[heyiwrotesomethings]

Warmth

Bela Dimitrescu x They/Them Reader

A/N: Yes, I’ve contracted the RE8 fever, and a bit late at that, what about it? Anyway, hope ya’ll like it. I don’t think there is anything that I should have to warn any of you about but let me know if I’m wrong. Word Count: 2,176

Being the fire stoker for the Dimitrescu daughters was simultaneously the best and worst job in the castle. It was the best job in that the daughters saw them as too valuable to kill or maim since they did their job so well. It made the daughters actually quite appreciative of them. Worst because if (Y/n) were to, god forbid, let a fire die in one of the girl’s rooms, their own light would be just as quickly snuffed out for such an error. That appreciation could turn to devastating hate on a dime if they were to slip up.

Winter was the most critical season. (Y/n) was often running room to room stoking the fires of each daughter’s most favorite areas of the castle to keep the most desirable temperatures. Often times they would fall asleep in the halls outside of the most at risk rooms and jerk awake at the slightest drop in temperature. Lady Dimitrescu had caught them dozing off once and scared them terribly when they awoke. Luckily, the Lady simply rolled her eyes and continued on her way, but not before reminding (Y/n) how easily a fire could fizzle out without the proper care and consideration. A warning.

The castle was huge, (Y/n) wished to argue, it wasn’t their fault that the daughters and their favorite rooms were so spread out. They’d like to see the Lady tend to every fire all throughout the harsh Romanian winter and see how long she could go without suffering from exhaustion. Well, on second thought, could the Lady even get tired? (Y/n) shook their head and sighed, rubbing at their bloodshot eyes. Lady Bela’s room was next in the rotation so they made their way to her wing while checking the state of their matchbook. They’d need to visit the kitchens to get a new one soon.

As they neared Lady Bela’s chambers they noted a slight chill which made their blood run cold.

“No, it can’t be...!” They gasped, fully sprinting down the hall now. They somehow remembered decorum despite the frenzy they had worked themself into and knocked upon the door, announcing their presence before stepping in. Their heart dropped to their feet.

The fire had completely died and Lady Bela was shivering in her bed, only her golden eyes could be seen staring at (Y/n) from beneath the covers as they rushed to the fire place with trembling hands.

“I’m so sorry Lady Bela!” They apologized fervently. How could this have happened? They had the timing down to a science! They had gotten too comfortable as Lady Dimitrescu had suggested and now the eldest daughter was sure to kill them for their carelessness. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know how this could have happened! I swear I’ll fix this, you’ll warm up in no time!”

Soon enough, the fire was blazing, the snap of the wood causing (Y/n) to flinch back. They heard the rustling of sheets and saw a black silk nightgown in their left periphery before they scrunched their eyes tightly shut. This was it, they had outgrown their usefulness. They held their breath and waited to be dragged away by Bela’s sickle but the biting pain never came. Instead, they were enveloped in chilled arms and wrapped in a luxurious duvet. An Ice cold nose dug into their neck and made them flinch.

“You will warm me. Move before I allow it and this will be the last fire you tend to.” Bela shivered and chattered against (Y/n)’s neck.

“Y—yes Lady Bela. Of course.” (Y/n) replied, back stiffening as Bela moved curl up in their lap. It was a bit awkward considering she was taller than most, but once settled she seemed pleased enough.

They sat like that for what felt like hours to (Y/n). Enough time to make their legs cramp and back ache. If Bela didn’t let them go soon, they were sure they’d have more than one displeased Dimitrescu sister to worry about. Fortunately, Lady Bela seemed to have grown tired of them and rose from their lap with a sigh before languidly moving back to her bed.

“Move along little human, if you let Cassandra’s fire go out I can’t say she will be as merciful as I.” Bela informed, looking back at (Y/n) over her shoulder with half lidded eyes.

“Yes, of course! Thank you Lady Bela, I swear I’ll never let it happen again!” (Y/n) bowed deeply before running out of the bedroom, shutting the door tight and quick not only to keep the heat in, but to hinder Bela a moment if she decided to change her mind on being merciful. They ran down the hall like a bullet leaves a gun to tend to Cassandra’s fire next, praying it hadn’t met the same early death as Bela’s.

***

It happened again.

It happened again and (Y/n) was absolutely beside themself. They had never been so sloppy in their life and even if Bela wasn’t going to kill them they almost wanted to sickle their own shoulder for their ineptitude.

“Tell me, what did you promise me yesterday little human?” Bela taunted from the bed while (Y/n) frantically stoked the fire to a roaring blaze.

“I— I don’t know what to say Lady Bela, I am disgusted with myself. Truly, I’ve never—“

“Hush now.” Bela glared from the pile of soft covers. If she wasn’t a vampiric bug woman with murderous tendencies, the scene would have been adorable. But (Y/n) knew better than to entertain the thought for long. Then Bela stretched her hand out from beneath her mountain of blankets.

“Come, warm me little human.”

“Whatever you wish, Lady Bela!” (Y/n) nodded, giving the fire one last look as if to say, ‘behave!’ and then they quickly stood beside Bela’s bed. There was no time to be shy when Bela lifted the covers, (Y/n) dove right in and let Bela maneuver them however she wished.

Unlike the day before, this warming position was much more comfortable and so much more dangerous. (Y/n) could feel that they were starting to drift off in the luxurious bed. If they fell asleep here, surely they would not wake again. Well, that might actually be kind. Who wants to be awake for their death anyway?

“I can feel your heart slowing, little human. Perhaps you’d best be on your way before you succumb to sleep and leave another fire to die.” Bela whispered a bit snidely.

“Right!” (Y/n) shot up and fell out of the bed, scrambling to their feet and anxiously smoothing the covers back down, “Thank you again for your mercy, Lady Bela. I’ll do better!”

“See to it that you do.” Bela replied airily as (Y/n) left the room. They failed to notice the small smile curling Bela’s lips as she watched them go.

***

Two weeks. Nine out of the fourteen days Bela’s fire had died before (Y/n) could stoke it. Sometimes, it even happened twice in one day and (Y/n) was dangerously close to a mental break. Bela, miraculously, seemed to have the patience of a saint and had yet to kill (Y/n) for their failures, simply making the fire stoker warm her with their body before sending them away. Despite the circumstances that preceded the impromptu cuddling sessions, (Y/n) couldn’t help but enjoy every moment they held Bela close or visa versa. It was actually really nice. They would have been lying if they said they hadn’t felt an attraction for the eldest daughter growing within them as they became used to life in the castle.

That didn’t mean (Y/n) didn’t feel horrible though. Each failure, every shiver drawn from Bela’s body, hacked at them like an axe and it was only a matter of time before they became the timber for the next fire.

So they set out for today to go differently, they quickly stoked Daniela’s fire and the one in the library, as well as the parlor, before bounding over to Bela’s room to arrive nearly half an hour earlier than usual. They knocked, announcing their presence, before promptly opening the door. They were already halfway across the room when they glanced up, pausing mid step when they saw Lady Bela out of bed standing over the fireplace. She stared back with wide golden eyes, seemingly frozen in time as well if not for the trickle of water pouring from the small bucket in her hands.

The sizzle of the water meeting the hot wood drew (Y/n)’s eyes to the fireplace and they watched slack jawed as smoke billowed and the small fire drowned into nothingness.

“...what?” (Y/n) whispered, their eyes shifting back to Bela who had the decency to look thoroughly embarrassed before fruitlessly hiding the bucket behind her back. The unusually meek display from the eldest Dimitrescu daughter seemed to spark (Y/n) to speak further out of turn, though words did not seem to be coming easily to them as they just continued to say, ‘what’, only getting louder and sounding more confused and utterly flabbergasted with each utterance. Their arms gestured between Bela and the sodden, burnt wood several times before Bela finally groaned and tossed the empty bucket into the nearest corner of her room with a clatter and a dull thud against the carpet.

“That’s enough!” Bela said sternly, causing (Y/n)’s jaw to snap back shut. She stalked over to them and lifted them by their shirt, quickly pushing them back against a wall in such a way that left their feet slightly above the floor as their hands scrambled to hold onto Bela’s.

“You will speak about this to no one!” She hissed, a buzzing sound emitting from her chest.

“My Lady,” (Y/n) wheezed, “I won’t say anything I swear!”

Bela scrutinized them closely before lowering them back down with a shallow nod.

“Good. Now,” she cleared her throat sheepishly before turning back towards her bed, “light the fire.”

(Y/n) didn’t need to be asked twice, scrambling to their knees in front of the fireplace. As they replaced the soggy wood with fresh timber, their mind raced. Why would Lady Bela douse her fire only to demand it be relit? Why would she do such a thing when she was so susceptible to the cold?

Once the fire was blazing once more, they tentatively turned to Bela, watching as she sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her feet. If (Y/n) couldn’t know the motives behind such a play, they were sure to lose their mind. So, they tested their luck and addressed Bela who gave them a warning look.

“Lady Bela, forgive me, but why ever would you douse your fire? Lady Dimitrescu had informed me of how important it is that you and your sisters stay warm when she assigned me this position. And... well, please forgive me if I’m wrong, you seemed to have made a bit of a habit out of it...”

Bela clenched her fists and growled, making (Y/n) jump to their feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” They said, making a dash to the door only to bump into a wall of Bela’s flies. This had to be it. They should have just kept their mouth shut!

“Stop panicking, little human.” Bela sighed and finished reforming in front of (Y/n). The fire stoker nodded, but their heart still beated ferociously in their chest. Being told to stop panicking by a Dimitrescu was like a great white shark telling a bleeding seal in open water to do the same.

“I’m only going to say this once so listen closely,” Bela averted her eyes for a moment and bit her lip before focusing back in on (Y/n), “you’re beautiful... handsome? Pleasant to look at and very warm and soft, sweet. I can’t very well snuggle up to a fire without being burned so I... stop looking at me like that.”

(Y/n) had a cute little smile on their face that seemed to be growing by the second. Their eyes were bright and alert as they soaked in every word and Bela couldn’t stop the small smirk tugging at her own lips.

“If it’s cuddling you wish for my Lady, you need only ask. I do enjoy the time we’ve been spending together as of late. Well, minus the heart attacks every time I see the fire’s dead.” (Y/n) informed.

“Just please,” they added, “no more fire sabotaging. I hate to see you shiver.”

“Easy enough,” Bela hummed before pulling (Y/n) back to her bed with visible excitement in her eyes, “hurry now, you got here early today so we have extra time!”

Before, Bela had been rather stiff with her demands. It was like (Y/n) was warming a block of ice wary of melting, but now she all but flung herself at (Y/n) with no inhibitions now that her secret was out. She hummed pleasantly and (Y/n) wiggled in her hold while icy fingers trailed beneath their shirt to settle on heated skin. It was shaping up to be a rather eventful winter.

#re8 oneshots #resident evil oneshots #bela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #resident evil village oneshots

[violettelueur]

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI || WITH YOU

| featuring : fushiguro megumi from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors, but other than that n/a

| form : imagine

| word count : 1773

| published : 05 december

| request : Can i have a regular black coffee with Megumi finding y/n crying on the bathroom floor bc she has been experiencing a burn out?🥺✨Your jujutsu kaisen writings is what keeps me sane at the moment💞😭✨

| barista’s notes : hey hey hey~ guess who is back? it’s me barista violettelueur ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆ and when i was typing this out, i was listening to ‘Lost in Paradise’ by ALI and AIKO, which all of you know, it’s jujutsu kaisen’s ending! i love it so so much  ʕ￫ᴥ￩　ʔ but lowkey, it doesn’t match the theme of this imagine here ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ other than that, thank you so much for loving my work and for the cup of classic black coffee order (jujutsu kaisen request!) and please come again soon!

Exhausted. Heavy. Drained. That was all you felt.

Once you were able to go through the door of your dorm room, all you wanted to do was to fall flat on to the wooden floor and lay there for who knows how long. 5 minutes? 30 minutes? An hour? Maybe even a whole day? You were just extremely exhausted. However, you knew that you had to train with your classmates for the Kyoto Sister School Goodwill Event the next day, so sleeping on the cold floor was no the best option.

Slowly struggling to make your way to your bathroom, you quickly gripped onto the side of the sink so you didn’t lose your balance due to your fatigue from today’s mission that you had to go on alone. From what you could even recall for the few past weeks, you were constantly being set on different missions at random times due to the lack of sorcerers there were in the school nowadays. From your knowledge, the third years were suspended for the time being, Gojo was constantly being set out for domestic travels as well as some business behind the scenes that you weren’t informed about, Nanami reported to you that he was investigating a crime that had occurred at Kinema Cinema and the first years (your year) and the second years were training for the event, leaving you the only Grade 1 sorcerer within Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College to be set these missions that seemed to be endless at this point.

Since the beginning, you knew that this was going to be your life once you step foot into the Jujutsu Sorcerer school, but you weren’t aware of the constant hardships that were randomly going to be set out to you. Ijichi even commented that this was unusual for a first-year student like you to be sent on numerous mission like the ones you’ve completed - some even being back to back on the same day - leading him to apologies every time you would enter his car to which you would always tell him that it was never his fault - how could it be? It wasn’t his fault that the higher-ups were demanding you to go off to do these missions. You felt exceedingly guilty for making him continuously drive you around to the locations and waiting for you to finish, not even knowing if you were going to come back alive or not.

However, you couldn’t be more grateful that he was in your company during this draining time. If it wasn’t for Ijichi in your presence, you knew you would have broken down earlier than you had now.

Turning on the faucet, you immediately heard a stream of water gushing from the spout before it was slowly filling up the bowl with the clear liquid. All you wanted to do was to plant your face in and scream out all the intense pressure that has been placed upon your shoulders. Yet you knew, it wasn’t that easy. It never was. 

Before you would even realise what was happening, the hand that was gripping onto the sink suddenly slipped causing the remaining strength that you had in you to disappear as your body immediately fell onto the white tiled floor. 

You were at your breaking point.  

You felt tears begin to uncontrollably stream down your face causing you to grip the top of your head before lacing your fingers tightly onto your hair - so tightly that you could pull out a few strands from your clasp - trying to release at least some of the pressure that was running through your veins.

 Suddenly, you heard a knocking sound from the distance, for a second, distracting you from the state that you were in now. However, you didn’t answer. You didn’t have the strength to. You didn’t have the effort to tell the person to go away nor open your mouth to make a sound. The knocking still continued even with your lack of response, but still, there was no response with you.

“Y/N? Are you there?”

Megumi. Megumi was at the door. Yet you still didn’t have the effort to answer your boyfriend. You were just at the point where you were just burnt out - the higher-ups have really burned you to the point of mental and physical exhaustion.

“Y/N, your door is unlocked, I’m coming in,”

‘No...please don’t’

However, there was no use. You had already heard the click on your handle being pushed down before your door swung open, followed by the tapping of footsteps being heard as Fushiguro began to walk into your room, trying to locate where you were.

“Y/N, where are you?” Fushiguro asked in a worried tone since he was informed by Iijchi that you had returned and that you had most likely stationed yourself in your dorm room after being treated by Ieiri, due to the number of missions that you had completed today. Due to him not being able to see you for even a few weeks without you heading off somewhere, Fushiguro wanted to check up on you to make sure that you were okay and had the idea you had probably fallen asleep. Yet your figure was not on your bed, it was still neatly made from this morning and there was no sign that you had even sat on it. 

Shutting his mouth, Fushiguro began to carefully listen to his surroundings trying to see if he could hear you or anything out of the ordinary in his search for you, only for him to suddenly detect the sound of water being poured or spilt causing him to turn towards the bathroom, only to discover the door opened with the faucet tap running rapidly as water began to overflow onto the ground, leading him to rush into the bathroom to turn it off.

Letting out a sigh of relief once the water stopped, he immediately turned around to find you on the ground, hands in your hair as tears flowed down your face. You looked terrible to put it into lighter terms. You looked like you’ve been through the worst wreckage. You looked like you had lost the will to even move. 

Quickly crouching down to your level - ignoring the water on the ground, Fushiguro managed to carefully lift your body up before placing you on his lap trying to comfort you in any way possible, as he then took a hold of your hands - causing you to relax your grip - to gently remove them from your hair making you weren’t in any pain from the tight grasp you had. Pulling you closer into his embrace, Fushiguro began to slowly run his hand up and down your arm to try to calm you down from your tearful fit before using his other to push away any straying strands of hair that were in your face, so he would wipe away any of the tears that were still present on your eyes or cheeks.

“Shhh, I got you, You’re okay, I’m right here with you,” Fushiguro tenderly muttered to you before placing your head on the crook of his neck as he then began to run his fingers through the strands of your messy hair, carefully brushing out any knots that were created. Fushiguro didn’t even have to ask what was wrong. He already had a slight idea of what was going for the past few weeks.

Due to the lack of sorcerers being available within the school and the stack of higher class missions being piled up, you were the only sorcerer qualified to even go on these missions leaving you to undertake these task alone - much to his dismay, but he had no obligation to go due to his grade as a sorcerer himself. He knew you were strong based on being a sorcerer as well as your emotional and mental state, but everyone has their limits, no matter how long or short one person can hold on to their sanity. Everyone has their limits - he was surprised that you were able to hold on for this long, to be honest, he didn’t think he himself could have lasted as long as you did.

Every day when he had a minimal chance of seeing you, Fushiguro slowly began to notice that you were gradually breaking down, you were becoming more worn out, you were becoming less motivation, you lacked in performance when you were able to train with everyone, and you were slowly detaching yourself from everyone - you were somewhat becoming like him in some way. Fushiguro tired to lighten up your mood by inviting you over to his dorm to watch a movie or to simply cuddle with him, and he knew that you were exceptionally grateful for everything that he was doing, you showed it with the most beautiful smiles and light laughs that you could give him. He just felt so useless.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he suddenly felt a pair of arms being wrapped around his neck, causing him to realise that you seemed to snap out of your own daze. “Thank you so much, Megumi….I’m so happy that I’m with you,” you whispered to him before you tightened your hold on his neck - but not to the point where it was suffocating - before you continued with the three words that always made his heart stop before it would go into a rage as if he had just ran a marathon, “I love you,”.

Even in your current state, you still managed to somehow make Fushiguro feel like he was helping you - to which he completely was, he just didn’t know  - leading him to engulf you in his arms before placing a light kiss on your temple to help you relax your body and calm you down even more.

“I got you, I’m right here with you Y/N,” Fushiguro replied back to you before tightening his hold on you as if he was the one that needed comforting, “I love you too,”.

Being with Fushiguro was something you knew to never take from granted, he was like the moonlight that comforted you when you felt so alone in the night. Fushiguro wasn’t someone to express his affection so openly, but for him to try to help you in every way possible - even if he was somewhat out of his character - was something you could never take for granted from the little kisses to the little dorm invites - yeah you really were lucky. Fushiguro Megumi was really the perfect boyfriend

“With you, I know I’m going to be okay Megumi”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen fushiguro #jjk fushiguro #jjk megumi #fushiguro megumi imagine #fushiguro megumi imagines #megumi fushiguro imagines #megumi fushiguro imagine #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader

[hellandholywater]

A Midnight Clear

It's Christmas Eve, 1896, and all Aziraphale wants is to read his book in peace. His plans are thwarted when he receives a special assignment, but a long-missed demonic visitor appears and sidesteps the Arrangement to grant Aziraphale's wish. In the end, the angel finds that all he wants is his demon back at his side, but where is Crowley?

Aziraphale/Crowley Rated: Teen & up 4k words

Read on ao3

Many thanks to my beta readers, @chiaroscuroverse​ and @wordsintimeandspace​, for making this story so much better than it would have been. I’ve made a number of changes since they’ve seen it, and any errors of style or substance are my own.

Part of the @go-july-celebration​

London, Soho, 1896

A knock came at the door of A.Z. Fell & Co. for the thirteenth time that evening. It was Christmas Eve — a night for peace and goodwill towards men — but after his reading had been interrupted by twelve groups of carolers, each increasingly intoxicated and off-key, even an angel might lose his temper, and this one had. The sign on the door clearly indicated that the bookshop was closed for the night.

Aziraphale leapt to his feet and stormed to the door, unlocked it and yanked it open, seething, intending to give this latest batch of warbling merry-makers a large and vivid piece of his mind. 

"Now, see here!" he began, but his next words came to a sudden, guttural stop. 

"Gabriel!" he choked as his eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "And Sandalphon … what a lovely surprise!" Aziraphale stepped back abruptly and flung an arm out to invite them inside. He tried to wring the venom from his planned anti-caroling tirade and inject a bit of enthusiasm in his greeting to the Archangel and his underling, rather than the unmitigated panic he was feeling. He hadn't seen either of them for decades, and his mind raced trying to puzzle out why they were here in his bookshop now. 

Gabriel smirked at him as he unwrapped the scarf from around his neck and handed it to Sandalphon, whose metallic teeth glinted as he smiled insincerely at the Principality. 

"Calm down, Aziraphale!" boomed Gabriel, as if speaking to an audience in a large hall rather than the bookshop. "It's Christmas Eve! You should be celebrating the occasion, not shouting at people. What kind of angel are you?" he said, throwing up his arms in scornful emphasis. 

At this, Sandalphon let out a chortle that spoke more of schadenfreude than good cheer. Gabriel smiled at him indulgently, making Aziraphale feel slightly ill. 

"I do apologize," Aziraphale said, trying to resist the sarcastic tone he felt like interjecting. "It won't happen again. But, to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" 

At this, Gabriel sobered, and he clasped his shoulder firmly. "Aziraphale, I have a special assignment for you."

"Oh?" The angel raised his brow and pasted on a smile, doing his best to look intrigued rather than indisposed. 

Gabriel continued as if he hadn't noticed Aziraphale at all, which he probably hadn't. (Sandalphon had noticed, however, and shot his fellow angel a rather nasty grimace.) "You're aware, of course, that Frederick Temple was recently nominated Archbishop of Canterbury?" 

"Ye-es, I thought I'd heard something to that effect."

"Well? Temple's participation in Essays and Reviews was nothing short of heresy! And here he is being rewarded for it with the highest religious office in England!" 

"Yes, yes. Terrible," said Aziraphale, furrowing his brow. He’d thought the essays rather funny, but he didn’t want to appear to disagree with the Archangel.

"Aziraphale…." Gabriel intoned deliberately and with more than a hint of condescension. "Did you even read the essays? Denying that true prophecies exist — refusing the very possibility of miracles — even questioning the eternal nature of damnation!" he scoffed, shaking his head. 

Sandalphon glared at Aziraphale as if he were personally responsible for writing and publishing the heretical texts, and nodded slowly. 

Aziraphale winced. "Yes, of course I've read them," he said, hoping fervently his irritation with Gabriel didn't show. "I can't say I find much to agree with in them."

"Duh!" said Gabriel. "And Temple's little writer friends hold too much sway with him. He's starting to have doubts of his own. That's why I want you to prepare a visitation for him, before he's officially installed as Archbishop. Remind the old boy of the divine power of Heaven."

"You mean…."

"Yes. The halo, the wings, the heavenly vestments — the whole nine yards."

"But…on Christmas Eve?" Aziraphale asked, thinking longingly of his abandoned reading. 

"What better time?" said Gabriel. 

"I suppose you're right," Aziraphale said as agreeably as he could manage, under the circumstances. 

"Of course I am! Now, hop to it, Aziraphale," Gabriel smiled, exchanging a toothy grin with Sandalphon. "I look forward to reading your report."

"Er, yes, quite," Aziraphale said as he showed the two angels to the door, and bolted it shut behind them as soon as he dared. 

His shoulders slumped as he resigned himself to a ruined evening. He went to his section on religion in England to locate the book with Temple's essay, in order to refresh his memory before he confronted the man.

* * *

A few minutes later, there came another knock. Beyond frustrated with the way his evening was going, and frazzled by the Archangel's visit, Aziraphale stomped to the door, unbarred it, and flung it open. 

"I'm not interested!" he started to shout at the fourteenth interruption of the night. The words died in his throat as he recognized the interloper. 

"Crowley!" Aziraphale said with a swirling mix of shock, relief, and something he couldn't quite identify. Something that hollowed out his chest and filled his stomach with butterflies. 

"Aziraphale," said Crowley quietly. "I know it's been a while," he started, but stopped abruptly as he found himself being hauled bodily into the bookshop.

Aziraphale poked his head out of the door and quickly looked from side to side. Satisfied, he withdrew and closed the door, the bell at the top ringing with finality as he locked and bolted the door. He turned around. 

"It's been 34 years, you great pillock! Not one word in all that time," Aziraphale accused. 

"I've been asleep. I'm sorry," Crowley apologized, sounding genuinely contrite.

“Asleep! For 34 years?”

Crowley took a deep breath. “Yeah. Well, after our last meeting, I was feeling sort of … melancholy. And I sleep a lot when I get like that.”

“Oh, Crowley….”

“It’s not a big deal. I just…I woke up today and thought I’d stop by, all right?”

Aziraphale just stared at him for a moment, drinking in the sight of him. Crowley was attired in a Homburg and black top coat over a black suit with dark red lapels. He was nearly clean shaven, with just neatly trimmed sideburns remaining. He was as dashing and handsome as ever. 

Crowley doffed his hat and set it on the counter. Aziraphale began to pace the floorboards. 

"What is it? What's the matter, Angel?" Crowley said in concern. "I really am sorry," he said emphatically. 

"Oh no, it's not you, dear boy. I just had a visit from Gabriel."

"Gabriel! What did he want?" 

"He wants me to appear to the new Archbishop — Temple — in full regalia, wings, halo and all. Tonight!"

"Ha!" Crowley started to laugh, then thought better of it. "An Angel of the Lord visiting, well … anyone these days, is hard to come by. What brought this on, then?" 

"There was a book he contributed an essay to, years ago, that had some rather … heretical content."

"Ahhh … the Essays and Reviews."

"You know it?" Aziraphale said in surprise. He narrowed his eyes. "I thought you said you don't read?" 

"I don't! I … skim," Crowley admitted. "Besides, that book is well known down in Hell. Top ten humor book since it was published. But Temple's piece isn't so bad. Why did Gabriel order a visitation for it?" 

"Gabriel is concerned that Temple's friends may hold undue influence over him. Seeding heresy."

Crowley shook his head. "Guilt by association. And the church on the verge of a schism. It's no wonder the humans are leaving it these days." 

"I'm sure that's just a temporary anomaly," said Aziraphale, sounding not very sure at all. 

"Right. Well, I suppose I'd better go and leave you to it," said Crowley. But he didn't move, and Aziraphale was heartened. 

"I was so looking forward to reading Dickens tonight…." He glanced coyly at Crowley for a moment, then quickly looked away. 

Crowley smirked at Aziraphale, then sighed quietly. "I suppose I could do the angel visitation bit for you," he proposed. 

"Oh, would you?" 

"'Course I would.”

"Thank you, Crowley!" Aziraphale smiled, reaching out to grasp the demon's shoulder in gratitude. He lingered for a few seconds, holding Crowley's gaze, gave his shoulder a squeeze, and withdrew. 

Crowley gave a barely visible shiver when the angel removed his hand, and Aziraphale wondered if he'd caught a draft. He was so sensitive to the cold. 

"Oh, I nearly forgot," he said, pulling a suspiciously book-shaped, festively wrapped package from inside his coat. He held it out towards Aziraphale. 

"Little Christmas present for you, Angel."

Aziraphale reached out and took it, grinning in delight. 

"Crowley! But I don't have anything for you," he said regretfully. 

"'S' alright, Aziraphale. It was my pleasure." Crowley gave it to him with a wistful smile. 

"May I open it?" 

"Please."

Aziraphale tugged on the end of the ribbon and set it loose, then carefully unwrapped the paper. It was indeed a book, housed in a red Morocco-backed slipcase, its spine lettered in gilt, with red cloth sides and chemise. Aziraphale tilted the slipcase and removed the white book, the stamped red and black design of the cover proclaiming it one of Oscar Wilde's most beloved works. 

"The Happy Prince and Other Tales?" 

Crowley nodded. "First edition, of course."

"Well! This is a lovely gift. The Selfish Giant has always been one of my favorite stories of his. Poor Oscar…. I do already have a first edition, but of course, another copy is always welcome!"

"This one's inscribed," said Crowley with an inscrutable smile. 

Aziraphale opened the book to the title page and read:

Aziraphale, my dear friend. May this book bring you as much joy as you have brought me. You're an absolute angel. ~Oscar Wilde, 1896

Aziraphale looked up and stared at Crowley open-mouthed, turned back the book in wonder, then set it down next to Crowley's Homburg. "You didn't!" Aziraphale said in disbelief. "He's in Reading Gaol, isn't he? How did you …?" 

Crowley smiled genuinely for the first time that night. "Richard B. Haldane, liberal MP and reformer, has been visiting Oscar from time to time, appealing for improved conditions for him. I simply impersonated Haldane and they let me in to see him."

"But… he can't have been in a mood to sign autographs — how did you get him to sign this for me?" Aziraphale said in amazement. 

"Oh, I took him some books and writing materials he hasn't been allowed. Convinced the warden it would be in his best interests to let him have them."

Aziraphale shook his head, then looked at Crowley as if he'd never seen him before. "You went to all that trouble for me?" 

Crowley just smiled crookedly. "It was no trouble," he said, and then, softly, "I'd do anything for …," he choked back the final word, biting his lip, but it didn't matter. He might have been confessing his every sin, the way the unspoken end of that sentence rang in the silence. 

Aziraphale was stunned. He needed to say something, to tell Crowley that he felt the same way, but he hadn't expected this revelation, and he just wasn't good at change. What did Crowley expect? What was he hoping for from Aziraphale? 

Crowley cleared his throat, stepped forward to reach for his hat, and suddenly he was in Aziraphale's arms. He froze for a moment, then he hugged the angel back quite desperately. They had rarely touched over the centuries, and never before had there been… whatever this was, with Aziraphale's hands fisted in the back of his coat and their heartbeats separated only by a few layers of cloth and thin corporations. They stayed like that for a long time, the seconds ticking by into minutes, and gradually relaxed into each other. 

"Thank you, my dear," Aziraphale said breathily into Crowley's neck. 

Crowley let a stifled moan escape him. 

Aziraphale responded with a sharp intake of breath. But he didn't let go. 

Slowly, Crowley straightened and withdrew. 

"I should go — get started on that visitation before it gets too late," he said reluctantly. 

Aziraphale was sure he was looking at Crowley with darkened eyes, and he was dangerously close to telling him to stay, to forget about the incoming Archbishop. 

Instead, the moment passed, and Crowley put his hat on and turned to go. His hand was on the doorknob when he was stopped in his tracks by Aziraphale's hand covering his.

"Wait," said Aziraphale softly. 

Crowley waited, holding his breath. 

"When you're done with Temple, will you come back here?"

Crowley nodded. "Yeah, 'course I will… if you want," he murmured. 

Aziraphale's hand squeezed his gently and then let go. 

"It's been far too long, dear boy. I… I'll see you when you return," Aziraphale said as firmly as he could manage.

"I'll be back before you know it," Crowley said. And he disappeared into the night and the fog. 

* * *

Aziraphale returned to his desk and tried to resume his reading of A Christmas Carol, but he was distracted, thinking about Crowley. He thought about his utterly perfect gift, and the visitation tonight that was so far outside of the Arrangement, Aziraphale couldn't see it as anything but another gift. 

He knew, on some level, how Crowley felt about him, but it had been more of a vague sense of love that radiated off of him. He'd never heard him use words the way he'd done tonight. "It was no trouble. I'd do anything for…," and, "'course I will… if you want," swirled in his mind, and warmed him from the inside out. 

He flushed as he thought about how beautiful Crowley was, his crooked almost-smile, his kindness, and how right it felt to hold him. And he thought about the way his stomach swooped just from touching his hand.

By 10 o' clock he'd abandoned Dickens in favor of Wilde, and at a quarter past 10, he began pacing the floorboards in front of the door, stopping every so often to peer out the window and watch for Crowley's return. 

He needed something to do to stop him from flying out the door in search of his demon. 

He got out two bottles of claret, and set them on his desk, then summoned a stockpot with a snap of his fingers. Another snap brought a bowl of oranges, a cup of sugar, a small cutting board and grater, and an assortment of mulling spices to the counter. 

Aziraphale studded the oranges with whole cloves and set four of them in a shallow pan. He opened the door of the cast iron stove, stoked the fire with a few pieces of split wood, and balanced the pan of oranges on top. After grating a quarter of the nutmeg, and peeling the ginger and slicing it thinly, he set the spices aside. He peeked inside the oven, sighed and snapped his fingers again, removed the pan of fully roasted oranges and set them on top of the stove. 

Aziraphale uncorked both bottles, poured the wine into the pot, and set it on the wood stove to start heating while he carefully cut the hot oranges and squeezed the juice into a tall mug. He added the sugar and spices to the claret and cleaned up the mess as he waited for the mixture to simmer. 

The angel sat down with Wilde and tried to read, but was unable to concentrate, glancing at the door every few seconds. Sighing, he got up and put a record on the gramophone, and started to tidy his piles of books, adding his resonant baritone to the choir of St. Paul's Cathedral as they sang:

It came upon a midnight clear, That glorious song of old, From angels bending near the earth, To touch their harps of gold:

"Peace on the earth, goodwill to men, From heaven's all-gracious King." The world in solemn stillness lay, To hear the angels sing.

Aziraphale strained out the spices, added the orange juice and stirred, sniffing the fragrant steam appreciatively. He closed his eyes as the song came to a close. 

For lo!, the days are hastening on, By prophet bards foretold, When with the ever-circling years Comes round the age of gold

When peace shall over all the earth Its ancient splendors fling, And the whole world give back the song Which now the angels sing.

When he opened his eyes again he noticed an ornament that was askew on the bookshop’s small Christmas tree. He straightened the ornament, and checked the rest of them while he was at it. The gold-sequined star on top of the tree gleamed.

The angel moved the steaming pot of mulled wine to a large trivet. He ladled two cups of the concoction into mugs and snapped a light miracle on them to keep them piping hot. 

As cozy as it was in the bookshop, Aziraphale felt uneasy. He checked the clock again, sighed and shook his head. It was nearly midnight. It wasn't like Crowley to take so long on a job. What if something had happened to him? It would be all Aziraphale's fault! 

The angel puttered around the shop, reshelving books and dusting everything in sight, though nothing needed it. He had worked himself into quite a state by the time the door opened, ringing the bell. He startled, and turned around to see Crowley slipping inside the bookshop. The fog had dissipated for once, and the clear night let in a crisp draft of air with a hint of snow. 

"Crowley!" he exclaimed, hurrying forward. 

"Hello Aziraphale!" Crowley grinned. His grin faded, replaced by a blissful expression, as Aziraphale hugged him tightly. 

"I'm so relieved you're back! It went well, then?" He drew back to look at Crowley. With one hand, he locked and then bolted the door. 

"Yeah, it went… surprisingly well," he started, but was struck silent when Aziraphale took his cold hand in his warm, soft ones, and led him to the sofa next to his desk. Crowley sat down, and Aziraphale, instead of sitting at the desk as he'd done every other time in the last century, sat next to him. He didn't let go of Crowley's hand, but rested it on his thigh. 

"Ngk," said Crowley, flushing beautifully. 

Aziraphale pressed a glass of the mulled wine into Crowley's hands, then picked up his own. "Tell me what happened, my dear. Why were you gone so long?"

Crowley nodded, taking a sip of the sweet, hot liquid gratefully. 

"Well, I took a cab to the residence of the Archbishop, and waited for the horses to trot off, and for quiet to settle there. I miracled myself into angelic robes and unfurled my wings, and cast a glamour on them to make them appear white. And then I popped into Temple's chamber with a burst of light."

Aziraphale hung on his every word as he described Temple's shock. 

"I thought he was going to have a heart attack, at first," Crowley continued. "He'd been reading in bed. He grabbed at his chest with one hand — very dramatic, it was. If he'd been wearing pearls, he'd have clutched them," he laughed. 

Aziraphale laughed, too, and squeezed Crowley's hand. He didn't let go. 

Crowley paused, taking a deep breath. "We wound up having an interesting chat about science and religion, actually," he said. "I sort of forgot why I was there. Sorry about that, Angel," Crowley apologized. He took a swig of the mulled wine. 

"I'll think of something to tell Gabriel," Aziraphale assured him.

"This isn't Smoking Bishop, but it's close," Crowley said curiously. "What is it?" 

"Oh — it's made with claret instead of port. Little creation of mine. I'm calling it, 'Smoking Archbishop,'" Aziraphale said proudly. 

Crowley cheerfully toasted the angel's ingenuity, taking another swallow of his invention and gazing at him fondly, his glowing golden eyes just visible through his dark lenses. 

Aziraphale preened under Crowley's attention, fluttering his eyes at him, and took a large sip of punch. "I'm just glad you're all right," he said insistently. "I shouldn't have sent you. It was an indulgence, so I could read, and I was too distracted worrying about you to enjoy it for long," he fussed, too caught up in his self-flagellation to notice his confession. 

Crowley brought their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss over Aziraphale's knuckles. 

Aziraphale blew out a sharp breath. 

"Angel, I'm fine. It's all right. It was a lark, to be honest. I had fun."

"But…you shouldn't spoil me so," Aziraphale fretted. 

"I don't mind," Crowley said roughly. 

"Well… Anyway, thank you," Aziraphale said, his voice like warm honey.

Crowley visibly melted. "Nggyeah," he babbled. "I…," he stopped speaking as Aziraphale brought his hand to his chest. Crowley gasped. Aziraphale was sure that, even through multiple layers of cloth, Crowley must be able to feel his heartbeat tripping under his fingers. 

"My dear…," Aziraphale started breathily, but the rest of his words got stuck in his throat as Crowley removed his hat, set it aside, and ran his free hand through his hair. His sunglasses followed, set down next to the Homburg. 

He looked straight at Aziraphale, and cupped his cheek in his hand, all of his defenses down. 

Aziraphale was thunderstruck. He felt so much love radiating from the demon, it was a miracle he'd ever been able to keep it cloaked from him all this time. Aziraphale felt as if he was going to discorporate on the spot. When he didn't, he turned his head to the left, and kissed Crowley's palm. 

Crowley managed a small, "Hnnggh," and dared to stroke Aziraphale's cheekbones with his thumb.

Aziraphale closed his eyes in bliss for a moment, then, unconsciously parting his lips, he leaned forward. Crowley's mouth met his with a softness and tenderness that would have shocked the demons of Hell. 

Crowley brought his other hand up, framing Aziraphale's face with his fingers. He deepened the kiss until the angel moaned. 

Aziraphale brought his hands up to Crowley's head, sliding his fingers through soft red hair. He ran his fingers around to the back of his head, pulling him closer, a frisson of excitement sparking through his body like fireworks. 

Crowley slid his hands down to the angel's shoulders and wrapped his arms around him, pulling him closer still. Aziraphale matched him breath for breath, kiss for kiss. From a church nearby, there came a chime, followed by twelve bells.

Aziraphale opened his eyes and drew back to see a dazed expression on Crowley’s face. 

"It's Christmas. Merry Christmas, Aziraphale," Crowley breathed. 

"Merry Christmas, darling." Aziraphale grinned. 

"I love you," Crowley whispered fiercely. 

Aziraphale drew in a sharp breath, then let it whoosh out again as he drew the demon's unresisting body close. 

"Oh Crowley … I love you, too," Aziraphale said shakily.

They settled back onto the sofa in each other's arms, and Aziraphale reached for his mug. Crowley picked up his own and held it aloft. 

"To… to Gabriel for being an utter bastard, for giving you the assignment that finally brought us together."

Aziraphale pursed his lips and raised his eyebrow, and Crowley looked uncomfortable. The angel relented with a giggle. 

"To new beginnings," he suggested with a smile. 

"To new beginnings," Crowley echoed, and raised his mug.

Outside the bookshop, snow began to fall. Aziraphale noticed the fluffy flakes out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head to watch them fall. He turned back to Crowley, eyes shining brightly. 

"Snow, in London! It's a Christmas miracle!" he exclaimed. 

"Nonsense. It's going to inconvenience tons of people. They won't be able to see their families for Christmas dinner. Got to be one of ours.”

"Oh really?" Aziraphale smirked. "It wouldn't do for me to let you go home in this dreadful weather. You'll have to stay the night."

"I take it back, it's a miracle," Crowley intoned. 

Aziraphale beamed at his demon.

#good omens #good omens fic #christmas fic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale/crowley #christmas fluff #go-july-celebration #gojulycelebration #good omens july celebration #good omens july #mutual pining #romantic fluff #good omens fanfic #I wrote this

[chefdoeuvre]

Liquid Courage

Jay Halstead

Pairing: Jay Halstead x Sister!Reader

Description: When you have an older brother there is no such thing as being an adult in his eyes.

Words: 1125

Requested: yes by anonymous; number 5 and number 2 jay halstead x sister reader where he is being an overprotective big brother? thank you!

Warnings: drinking, overprotective Jay.

A/N: You guys already know I love overprotective Jay, I hope I did your request justice. Banged this request out to post on my birthday lmao. I apologize in advance for any grammatical errors.

—

You walked into Molly's with your eye on the prize. The prize being getting a few drinks in your system. It was your birthday after all and if you wanted to survive the party Will and Jay planned you were going to need some liquid courage. Herrmann being Herrmann knew exactly what you needed and placed the glass of scotch in front of you. How did Will and Jay have time to plan this entire thing? In all honesty, you had no clue. The three of you were busy with work year-round, you were a paramedic at 51, Jay was a detective with intelligence, and Will was a doctor at Med. To say the Halstead siblings were constantly busy would be a drastic understatement.

Luckily today just happened to be your off-shift which meant you had plenty of time to worry about how disastrous the party would turn out to be. As much as you loved your brothers they were absolutely terrible party planners. Which was why you were always the one who planned and hosted parties, yet somehow they had convinced you that they had everything under control. You didn't really trust them on that, but you were willing to give them a shot. You had texted Jay to pick you up from Molly's whenever they decided the party would start since they didn’t actually tell you when to show up.

So there you sat sipping your scotch only to find the glass empty already. Herrmann was prepared and slid over a bottle of beer. You gave him a warm smile and went back to drinking. Your eyes scanned the bar only to realize it was practically deserted. There were a few people, sans you, who were hanging out with each other. They looked like college students just having a night out at a new bar that they've never been to.

A few hours into sitting at the bar and a few drinks in you your phone pinged signaling a text. You looked down and squinted to try and unblur your vision. From what you could gather it was Jay. You assumed that he was just texting you saying he was on his way over. You finished your beer and began to put your coat on. Herrmann had left an hour ago as another bartender, who you couldn't remember the name of, took over instead. You thought nothing of it assuming that Herrmann just went home to see his kids and Cindy.

Jay walked into the empty bar with a smug smile stopping beside you when he was close enough. You whipped around after hearing his heavy boots.

"Jay!" You exclaimed with a drunken smile.

"Hey, Y/N." Jay laughed at your excitement.

"Alright, I'm readyyy." You slurred after doing your best to fix your coat.

Jay narrowed his eyes before looking toward the almost empty beer bottle in front of your seat, "oh my god, are you drunk?" Jay bit back a sarcastic comment.

Your eyes widened knowing he would instantly become overprotective, "I can explain." You held your hands out.

"I don't wanna hear it, let's go." Jay dismissed and wrapped a sturdy arm around your shoulders as he dragged you out of the bar.

The cold wind outside began nipping at your nose slightly sobering you. You were still drunk however as you stumbled over your feet and grabbed onto Jay's shirt to keep you up.

"Alright, don't hit your head." Jay pushed your head down as you climbed into the passenger seat of his truck ungracefully.

You hiccuped as you pulled your seatbelt over to the other side and buckled it up. You looked up at him expecting an angry expression, but instead, you were met with one of concern.

"Seriously, you couldn't have waited until we got to the party?" Jay shook his head as a small smile graced his features.

"So you're not mad?" You asked with a pout.

"Oh I am, but it's your birthday so I can be your overprotective brother once it's midnight." Jay shrugged with a smirk.

You groaned as you leaned your head back and Jay started the car heading over to his apartment. He handed you a spare bottle of water and told you to drink it all. By the time you guys had arrived to your party you were slightly more aware of your surroundings and could form a few coherent thoughts.

After unlocking the door you were met with happy faces and multiple voices screaming 'happy birthday' a grin formed on your face when you recognized it was all of your friends from the firehouse, the district, and Med. Once you received hugs from everyone you headed toward the table where glasses of champagne were set up. Before you could extend your hand to take one Jay came up beside you and grabbed your wrist.

"Uh, what do you think you're doing?" Jay mused as you pouted.

"What does it look like? I'm getting a drink." You deadpanned gesturing to the table of drinks.

"Not on my watch." Jay shook his head placing his hands on your shoulders and turned you around then pushing you away from the table handing you off to Will.

You let out a huff as Will placed an arm around your shoulders to keep you anchored between him and Jay. They stood talking to Kim and Natalie about you and telling embarrassing stories of you as a child. Apparently, they had an endless amount of them because whenever you thought they didn't have any more they go into depth with ten more. One particular story garnered the attention of everyone in the apartment. They all gathered around listening to Will and Jay, letting out loud laughs when they got to the good parts. You stood there turning into a tomato out of embarrassment. Your brothers were definitely doing this to get back at you with their overprotective ways. Sure they were way too protective of you, even if you were an adult and could take care of yourself just fine, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

The boys had finished their embarrassing stories and everyone turned to their friends and engaged in conversation. You thought you finally had a way out and tried to slip out from under Will and Jay's hold. However, the two men had other plans as they quickly pulled you back to stand beside them. You rolled your eyes at your brothers before eventually giving up and crossing your arms over your chest as you continued standing beside them. Yeah, there was no way you were going to have any alcohol or get away from your annoying and overprotective older brothers for the rest of the night.

#request #fanfiction #imagine #chicago pd #one shot #jay halstead x you #jay halstead x y/n #jay halstead fanfiction #jay halstead x reader #jay halstead imagine #jay halstead #one chicago #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd fanfiction #one chicago imagine

[lia-bones]

Stay with me forever

Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: After a full moon night, (Y/N) takes care of her friend and answers important questions.

Warning: fluff💕, Injuries, Self-doubt

(Misspelling, Grammatical errors, translation errors)

{please let me know if I have forgotten something.}

Words: 2305

Author note: Actually, I didn't want to upload anything else this week. But since today is the birthday of a good friend of mine and she wished that I would write this for her, I decided to publish it today. And since it's Valentine's Day today, too, it fits well.

(As always, I apologize for all misspellings, grumbling errors, and translation errors. English is not my main language)

I hope you enjoy it. 🌻

(not my GIF)

* * *

It was a full moon night. The wind drummed on the roof and the bright light of the moon shone into the little hut at the edge of the forest. Just a few more hours and the sun would take the moon out of its service.

It could seem romantic. The bright full moon, the twinkling stars and the calming rain.

But for (Y/N) (L/N) and her boyfriend, Remus Lupin, epidemic nights were far from romantic. Such nights were characterized by fear, worry, pain, injuries and tears.

But even on these nights it wasn't just the shadow side. There were also small sparks of light. Consists of caring, tenderness, encouragement, soothing words, love and hugs.

While (Y/N) stayed at home, cooked, put the first aid kit ready and kept looking out the window at the wods, Remus was out there.

Not quite like himself. In the body of a werewolf, without control, waiting for the morning to break. There are potions that would give him control over his wolf. But they cost a lot of money, money that they didn't have.

So it stayed like that.

(Y/N) would wait and prepare everything for his return.

Remus would go to the forest before sunset and only come back after sunrise. Sometimes more, sometimes less injured. Hardly any memories of what had happened that night.

As soon as he was back, (Y/N) was ready to help. Every time again.

The moon slowly started to sink from the sky so (Y/N) made the final preparations. Hot water in a bowl next to the bed, a cup of tea, a first aid kit and of course chocolate. Everything was ready for the return of her boyfriend. She grabbed the cozy blanket from the armchair and stood by the window next to the door so, that when she saw him coming, she could come towards him.

It didn't take long before she saw the long figure of her boyfriend staggering towards her hut. Dressed in sweatpants and an oversized pollver, hunched forward and one hand on his ribs. (Y/N) moved quickly out the door and down the path towards her him. When she got to ther, she put the blanket over his shoulders and hold him up, on his upper arms. She looked into his scarred face, a few fresh wounds had appeared, and carefully ran a finger over a place of uninjured skin. "Hey love, come on let's go inside. Let me take care of you." she whispered in a soft voice and gave him an encouraging smile. He just nodded slightly, so she put one of his arms over her shoulders to support him. He briefly made a hissing noise, but then clutched her cardigan with his hand.

"You okay, darling? Do I hurt you?" the much smaller woman asked concerned and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

"No ... it's okay ... it's just my ribs." he explained through gritted teeth.

She changed the position of her arm around his upper body a little so as not to touch his ribs and with the other hand she grabbed the wrist of his arm over her shoulders so that it would not slip away on the way in.

As soon as they made it to their bedroom, Remus' girlfriend helped him sit down on the bed with his back against the headbord.

"So let's take that sweater off so I can take care of your scratches and ribs." instructed (Y/N) and grabbed the hem of his top.

Remus started laughing slightly, which soon turned into a cough and gave her a tired smile. "Admit it. You just want to see me half naked."

(Y/N) suppressed a laugh and bit her lip. But it didn't quite work out. The corners of her mouth curled up and she giggled muffled.

"I don't have to admit anything. We've been together for ten years. If I want to see you naked, I have plenty of other opportunities. So let's get started. You need to rest."

Her boyfriend gave her one of those gentle smiles that made her heart melt over and over again. He leaned forward, so that she could pull the sweater over his head and then let himself fall back against the headboard with a sigh.

"Well, it doesn't look as bad as last time."

noted (Y/N) with relief and stroked gently under a wound, along his collarbone.

Remus muffled to agree and closed his eyes.

(Y/N) immediately started her work, cleaning the wounds, a little diptam essenz and bandage. Fortunately, that full moon didn't seem too bad. A few small scratches on his face, a couple on his upper body, and one on his forearm. The worst seemed to be his ribs, of which, as (Y/N) found with a quick spell, two were broken.

(Y/N) took the vial of Skele-Grow and held it in front of Remus' face.

"Broken ribs. So, bottoms up."

He screwed up his face and turned his head to one side. "I don't want to drink that stuff. It tastes awful." he protested.

She shook her head in amusement, put a hand on his cheek and turned his face back to her. "You know, sometimes you'r like a little kid. You've taken this stuff so many times. This time you can do it too. Then there is tea and chocolate and you can sleep." he sighed in resignation and then nodded. "Brave wolfi" (Y/N) giggles and pulled the cork out of the vial. Remus rolled his eyes but opened his mouth as she held the glass roll to his lips. She poured the contents into his mouth and he swallowed with narrowed eyes.

"Disgusting." he brought out and ran a hand over his mouth.

"Here, eat your chocolate."

(Y/N) held a piece of dark chocolate in front of him. He willingly opened his mouth again and managed to smile at the same time. His girlfriend giggled and put the piece on his tongue and then kissed the corner of his mouth.

While Remus continued to eat his chocolate, (Y/N) stroke with one hand through his mousey brown hair in which the first gray strands were slowly recognizable.

Not due to his age but to the pain and stress he had to go through every month.

He had been through so much in his life. At school and in the years after that he had his three best friends who had accompanied him during the full moon. From the moment she found out about his lycanthropy , she lay awake those nights and waited for the sun to rise. As soon as the sun rose she was on her way through the castle to the hospital wing, where she would wait for the four Marauders to arrive. She took care of him or just kept him company and stroked his hair. Just like now.

Not quite like now. She reminded herself.

He lost his best friends four years ago. One, James, killed by Voldemort along with his wife, Lilli. Ther son, Harry, with his terrible aunt and uncle. The other, Peter, murdered in cold blood by the third, Sirius,who is now sitting in Azkaban forever, because he had betrayed them all and killed muggles.

Now it was just the two of them.

He alone in the forest on full moon nights.

She l alone in the little cottage , waiting for his return. Always hoping he wouldn't hurt himself too badly. Taking care of him and stroking his hair as soon as he was back.

And she would always wait. Because she loves him.

When his chocolate was empty, she kissed his forehead and smiled against his skin. "You should sleep now." she whispered in a soft voice.

"Lay down with me" he whispered back and stretched out in bed, his head buried in the pillow. "Of course, always." she said in a low voice and circled the bed. On the free side, she lay on her back and turned her head in his direction to look at him.

He, too, had turned his head in her direction and looked at her through tired eyes.

"Can I put my head on your chest, hear your heartbeat." he asked softly in a hoarse voice.

"Sure, you don't have to ask." she answered, moved closer and stretched out her arms to him. He rolled over his shoulder, so that he was now lying on his stomach. One leg and arm crossed her body and his head on her chest, right above the point where he could best hear her heartbeat.

It was quiet in the small bedroom. Only the breathing of the two and the wind in the trees outside could be heard. The sunlight that came through the window enveloped the room in golden light, so that dust particles could be seen dancing through the air.

(Y/N) continued to run one hand through his hair and the other over his forearm. He was breathing steadily with his eyes closed. She thought he had fallen asleep when a quiet whispered question came from him: "Why are you doing this? Why are you staying with me? I'm a god damn monster. You should be scared of me and run away.You deserve something so much better. I have no money. I'll never get a real job. I will never be able to buy you jewelry or go to expensive restaurants with you. You should be with someone who can offer you a better life. Who doesn't turn into a bloodthirsty beast once a month." She could hear the tears in his scratchy voice, noticed how his hand craned into the fabric of her T-shirt and he pressed closer to her. She ran one hand over his wet cheek and took a deep breath.

"Because, I love you, with every fiber of my being. Because, I feel lonely without you. Because, I like to have you around, feel safe and protected with you. Because, you make me infinitely happy and every time I see you I have the feeling that my heart is about to jump out of my chest. I don't care if you have money or not. I don't care if you have lycanthropy or not. I love you because you are you, Remus. I don't want jewelry or expensive food that doesn't even taste good. All I want is you. Just you, Remus Lupin, now and as long as my heart beats. I will always take care of you because you do the same for me. You are not a monster, you are my Remus. My lovable, clever, silly, strong, polite, shy, generous, Remus. I love you for all that you are. Please don't forget that. Always." she explained in a calm, low voice and finally kissed him on the head.

It was quiet for a moment. Her spoken words hung in the room. Time passed and she was starting to get nervous while waiting for his answer.

"Stay with me forever." he whispered, his voice muffled by the fabric of her T-shirt. "Stay with me forever. Marry me and stay forever. I love you more than anything else in the world. You are the only person I have left. You are already my family, my home. I am ready to give you everything I have in the hope that it will be enough for you. So please marry me and stay forever."

(Y/N) was amazed. She had dreamed of marrying him one day. They had already shared ten years of their life together and she was ready to spend all other years with him as well. She smiled from ear to ear and now tears were running down her cheeks too. " YES YES YES. Of course I will." she replied happily her voice mixed with a happy sob. Remus propped himself up and brought his face over hers. "Yes?" he asked again and she nodded vigorously and put her arms around his neck. He too smiles happily and pressed his lips to hers for a kiss full of love.

"Thx" he whispered against her lips, and continued kissing her with all the love he felt for her. After a few seconds, he pulled his head back a few inches to look her in the eye and admitted, "I don't have a ring."

She giggled slightly and put her hands around his face. "I don't need a ring. Just you."

Remus smiled down at her and kissed her whole face, lastly her lips, on which he got stuck.

They just kissed for a while, the taste of tears, chocolate and tea on their lips, surrounded by their love for one another.

After a while they parted the kiss. Remus put his head back on her chest one arm and one leg over her body and pulled her very tightly against him. "My future Mrs Lupin. I love you." he whispered to her with a tired voice. It was time to go to sleep. He still wasn't recovered from the night he'd been through. But that was okay with him. Now he was engaged to the woman who loved. It was worth the loss of some sleep for him.

"I love you too, my future husband." she whispered back and put both arms around him. One of her hands brushed his hair again. Not long afterwards they both fell asleep. Both with a satisfied smile on their lips, snuggled very close to each other.

Both ready for what the future may bring as long as they had each other.

* * *

#remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #remus x you #young remus imagine #harry potter #remus imagine #reader insert #young remus lupin

[that-bi-bitch-writes]

The Rumor Around Hogwarts (Ch.3)

Chapter Three: Hello Stranger

Male reader insert for now, future addition of they pronouns as it will lean more towards a non-binary insert with the only change being less reference to Y/N as a young boy and more gender neutral terms. Still masc/male aligned. 

No real warnings for now except canonical mentions of neglect

This chapter is a little over 1.5k words. A lot of it comes directly from the book but if you want to skim/skip that part there is a huge space and a line where it starts and ends.

Not really proofread but I hope you Enjoy!!

To say [Name] was excited to go to Diagon Alley would be the understatement of the century. Somehow he had found out exactly when the majority of new wizards would be buying new supplies for their first years. Of course, with his mom being who she was, he’d missed it, but something deep within told him today was the day he needed to be there. 

‘The universe and mom conspiring. Plausible’ he thought aloud

“Mom! Hurry up or I’m taking your purse with me to Diagon Alley. All by myself.”

“I’m coming, Haven’t I apologized enough? You’ll get there when you need to be.” she said as she entered the kitchen. She grabbed a piece of toast from the house elf, grabbed her purse and approached him waiting near the front door. With a smirk she started “besides, it’s all part of the universe’s grand plans, isn’t that right darling?” 

Though [Name] loved his mom she sure could be a little shit. It’s why she was the perfect “master” for his house elf. Apparently the elf belonged to his father’s family and he refused to be let go. Believe me M/N tried many many times. But every time anyone mentioned freedom he would go berserk and the sight was unbearable to watch, so they’d just decided to keep him for the time being. [Name]’s mother set a rule though, if the elf were to stay he could not refuse help with any of the chores and could not punish himself. 

Compromise was one of the hardest things for everyone in the house. ‘My way or the highway’ was an unspoken family motto. And though he was a mean and stubborn houself, he was a part of the family. But that doesn’t mean he had to be nice to him

“Goodbye midget” [Name] yelled over his shoulder, earning a scowl and some mutterings

“Why do you do that” his mom asked casually “it’s not that different from his actual name, so why not just call him by his real name”

“Because he hates it” [Name] responded “and why am I getting a lecture from you. The queen of passive aggressiveness towards him. You forget I can hear what you’re really thinking when you talk in that saccharine sweet voice of yours. Save it for someone who can’t read minds”

She huffed and nudged him to the car. “I can't wait until you start driving. Or apparating, whichever you choose first. As much as I love doing some things the muggle way, I’ll never get used to traffic.”

[Name] picked up some dirt and tossed it to the ground with a loud and clear “Diagon Alley” before getting in the passenger's seat. M/N laughed at him and poked his side before starting the car. 

“I can’t believe my baby is starting Hogwarts.” She sighed out. And turned on the radio before pulling out of the massive driveway.

The journey to Diagon Alley was not very exciting for [Name] but for Harry it was a life changing experience.

____________________________________________________________

Harry woke early the next morning. Although he could tell it was daylight, he kept his eyes shut tight. 

“It was a dream” he told himself firmly “I dreamed a giant called Hagrid came to tell me I was going to a school for wizards. When I open my eyes I’ll be at home in my cupboard.”

There was suddenly a tapping noise. And there’s Aunt Petunia knocking on the door. Harry thought, his heart sinking. But he still didn’t open his eyes. It had been such a good dream. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

“All right,”Harry mumbled “I’m getting up”

He sat up and Hagrid’s heavy coat fell off him. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak.

Harry scrambled to his feet, so happy he felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside him. He went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn’t wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid’s coat.

“Don’t do that.”

Harry tried to wave the owl out of the way, but it snapped it’s beak fiercely at him and carried on savaging the coat.

“Hagrid!” said Harry loudly “There’s an owl-”

“Pay him,” Hagrid into the sofa.

Harry counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held his leg so Harry could put the money into a small leather pouch tied to it. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up and stretched. “Best be off, Harry, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London and buy all yer stuff for school.”

Harry was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them.He had just thought of something that made him feel as though the happy balloon inside him had got a puncture.

“Um - Hagrid?”

Mm?” said Hagrid who was pulling on his huge boots.

“I haven’t got any money - and you heard Uncle Vernon last night … he won’t pay for me to go and learn magic”

“Don’t worry about that,” said hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. “D’yeh think yer parents didn’t leave yeh anything?”

“But if their house was destroyed-”

“They didn’t keep their gold in the house, boy! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizards’ bank. Have a sausage, they’re not bad cold- an’ I wouldn’t say no teh a bit o’ yer birthday cake either”

____________________________________________________________

A boat and train ride later, Harry and Hagrid had arrived in London and made it to the Leaky Cauldron, where Harry was recognized by everyone in the pub. Including a stuttering Professor Quirrell who introduced himself as Harry’s Defense Against the Dark Arts (DADA for short) professor in the upcoming term.

Gringotts was the next stop and it was a particularly interesting event for Harry. The boy who had grown up on scraps from the Dursleys and hand me down clothing was shocked to see so much money in his name. The goblins were obviously a new experience. Then there was Hagrid’s secret mission from Dumbledore.

After parting with Hagrid, Harry had entered Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions alone and nervous. The situation was not remedied by a pale faced blond in the back of the shop who spoke pompously and reminded Harry of Dudley. His casual mentioning of wizarding culture left Harry feeling stupid. When the pale boy had begun talking bad about Hagrid, Harry knew he wouldn’t like the boy and could offer nothing particularly interesting to the conversation.

A lot of questions and shopping later, Harry had to get his wand. Truth be told, this was the part that Harry had been anticipating the most. Entering the shop which read Ollivatders: Makers of Fine wands since 382 B.C, Harry began to be a little overwhelmed and swallowed any questions he might’ve had.

The man seemed to know whom he was and asked Harry a series of questions to find the perfect wand for him. There were a lot of trials and errors, swishes and flicks, and damage done to Ollivander’s shop. Until finally the right wand was found. And it was a little… curious.

“It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar.”

“Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember. … I think we must expect great things from you, Mr Potter. … After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things - terrible, ye but great”

“And you’ll get them.” All eyes snapped towards the unexpected voice “the great things.” 

“I believe you’re right Mr [Last Name].”

Somehow in all the chaos, neither Ollivander nor Harry had noticed [Name] was in the shop the whole time. He’d already gotten his wand but when he recognized the boy from the zoo he wanted to catch up.

Noticing Harry’s uncomfortability with the subject of Voldemort, [Name] had started up a totally different conversation while escorting Harry out of the shop.

“Fancy meeting you here. I guess the universe was actually looking out for me. I’m [Full Name] by the way. Nice to meet you Harry Potter”

“Nice to finally put a name to your face. I’m not sure what you meant by the universe but I’m glad we got to meet again. I had no clue you were a wizard”

“... Are you like new to the wizarding world or something? I mean I’ve been raised going to muggle schools but even I would’ve figured out the boy who didn’t react to me doing magic was a wizard”

“It was unintentional”

“Still magic”

It was getting darker and both [Name] and Harry had to go soon. Harry was still a little glum from the conversation with Ollivander, but [Name]’s playful banter had brightened his mood. Harry needed more people like that. Like [Name] and Hagrid, who just saw him as Harry Potter, and not as the boy who lived. 

“Will I see at Hogwarts [name]?” Harry asked hopefully

“You bet. Find me on the train. Or rather, I’ll find you. Then maybe I’ll show you something cool I can do.” 

Now Harry had two things to look forward to. Hogwarts, and Hogwarts with [Name].

#Harry Potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter x male reader #harry potter x nonbinary reader #nonbinary #nonbinary reader #non-binary reader #nonbinary reader insert #reader insert #male reader #harry potter x y/n #non binary reader #rumor #the rumor around hogwarts #that-bi-bitch-writes #x reader

[unclegarou]

In honor of reaching over 100 followers, I present to you.... *drum roll*  

Let Me Make It Up To You | Garou NSFW Scenario (Fem! XReader)

a few lines from my “What Garou Says During Relationship” are used below in bold 

pleaseeeeee send feedback. if there is any grammatical errors or parts you did / did not like, let me know!

These past few days had been uneventful and tiresome, the same thing on your agenda every single day. Work, work, and work. Some times you craved for a thrill, the kind that prevented you from continuing that repetitive schedule, even for just a few hours.

It was nearing midnight when you finally broke away from the hot steam, a rush of cool air hitting your skin as you drew the shower curtains back. You’d been idly standing under the water for at least a hour, simply collecting your thoughts and rinsing away any bad odors. Your feet met with the tiled floor, leaving those annoying, wet puddles in your step. A clean towel was already hanging from the thin railing latched on the wall, which you quickly snatched up to dry the droplets of water rolling down your body.

There was nothing better than that relieved feeling after a long shower. It worked wonders for the pressures you've been enduring lately. Your hand swiped diagonally across the fogged mirror, revealing only half of your reflection. You contently stared at yourself, noticing the usual tiredness in your eyes starting to vanish.  

You departed from the bathroom and into your messy closet, briskly digging around until you settled on an oversize t-shirt and a random pair of panties. You didn't have the energy to hassle with the clips of your bra so you decided to go without one, knowing it could wait till morning.

The night wasn't officially over until you turned off the remaining lights and checked if all doors were locked. You wandered through the house, visiting one room at a time until you were left with the kitchen. A cold breeze whipped past you, prompting a chain of goosebumps along your bare arms. Your head snapped over to the source, eyes landing squarely on the open window. How did that get open?

Just as you began to investigate, a pair of arms slithered around your waist. “Guess who?~”

Now, any sane person would have screamed at the top of their lungs, but this was a common occurrence for you. The presence looming behind you definitely belonged to Garou, his alluring voice sounding all too familiar. You peeled away from his hold and whirled around to face him, but his insanely built chest was the first to appear in your line of sight. You craned your neck just to get a glimpse of his face, which pretty much looked the same, but unlike before, his aura was practically screaming trouble. As much as you hated to admit it, you were in awe, “What are you doing here?”

Luckily, Garou wasn't paying you any mind, his eyes too occupied with traveling around the kitchen. “I'm hungry.”, He stepped past you and headed for the refrigerator, “What’s for dinner?”

After an entire month of no communication or surprise visits, he was back, and without the apology or explanation you deserved. Both of your hands firmly rested upon your hips, doing their best not to wrap around his neck and strangle him, “Garou, its almost 12 o'clock.”

“So?”, Garou answered plainly, closing the fridge and switching to the cabinets, his perfect height keeping him face to face with each built-in space. You watched in disbelief, a part of you wondering how he could be so casual like he didn't go MIA for weeks, but also admiring the muscles that seemed to flex so deliciously under that tight, long-sleeved shirt.

You slowly exhaled from your nose, “Sooo, stop going through my stuff.”

Despite your efforts to hide it, Garou could easily sense the irritation in your tone. He briefly paused his search to glance in your direction, “What's with the attitude? I thought you'd be happy to see me.”

Your hands reluctantly slid down from your hips. Of course you were happy to see him. It was impossible to forget all the times he popped up at your house just to talk, the conversations ranging from trivial matters to current problems with the rise of monsters and heroes. He was the only guy that made you feel the happiest during the lonesome days of your life. Not to mention the suggestive flirting and ‘accidental’ touches.

But he went and disappeared, unannounced and without a trace.

The memory struck a nerve, instantly bringing you back to your hostile behavior. “I already left you and everything we did in the past.”, you declared confidently, even though half of it was lie.

Garou didn't have a response this time, he only stared at you, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. This obviously wasn't how he was excepting you to react, he blinked dumbfoundedly. You shifted uncomfortably, thinking maybe you went too far, until you noticed his eyes weren't on your face anymore, but your chest instead. Thanks to the open window from earlier, your nipples were poking underneath your shirt, in perfect view for Garou to see. Your arms shot up to cover your chest, “Hey! Keep your eyes on my face, pervert.” The fact that you were barely clothed completely flew over your head since you were so irritated with his calm demeanor.

“Pervert?”, He laughed at your flustered face, smugly leaving his spot by the cabinets to stand directly in front of you. He leaned down to your level, an amused smirk playing on his face. “It’s not like I haven’t seen em’ before.”

All sensible thoughts were abandoning your mind, the only thing you could do was conceal your erect nipples embarrassingly. Being so close rendered a good view of the hunger in his eyes. Another laugh filled the room, “Oh right, that was in the past.” Your discomfort didn’t make him back away, instead he inched closer, this time right next to your ear, “Do you need me to remind you?”

It didn't take long for his words to send a wave of excitement between your legs, a sensation you'd long forgotten ever since he left. Just when you thought you had the situation under control for once, he managed to spin it around in his favor. You turned your back to him, “No, I don't want to remember so just leave.”

Garou remained close behind you, the distance separating your bodies was very slim, “You know you don't mean that.”, he teased, unfazed by your threat, “Stop being a damn baby and let me make it up to you.”, his arms encircled your torso for the second time today, and you had a feeling he wouldn't be letting you go.

“What do you mean—”, your words fell short at the pair of lips that connected with the crook of your neck. It was a gentle kiss against your skin, a little alarming at first but delicate enough to make you relax. He lingered there for a moment before trailing kisses up to your jawline. Your eyelids slid shut, a blissful gasp escaping your mouth. Seeing as you didn't try to run off, he took it a step further and nibbled at sensitive areas he memorized from previous interactions.

Garou knew you had no intention of rejecting his advances, but he still decided to test the waters. His warm tongue playfully darted out to lick the shell of your ear. The way your back shivered against his chest was more than enough answer, yet he still preferred to tease you anyway, “If you want me to stop just say it.”, his hands were now underneath your shirt, rubbing at your sides affectionately.

This may be your only chance to finally break free his spell, kick him out of your life forever and move on, but the more you thought of that outcome, the more it seemed to bring you pain. There was no way you could tell him to stop now, especially since he's got you all hot and bothered.

Just as he expected, you didn't put up much of a fight, “Mh, that’s what I thought.” There was no turning back now, he had you right where he wanted. Those large pair of hands roamed straight up to your breast, eagerly groping them however they pleased. The nipples you were desperately trying to hide before were softly pinched between his thumb and finger. You whimpered shyly, gradually submitting to his temptations and giving him all the access he needed.

Garou pulled your shirt off in one quick motion and twirled your body around to face him. He lifted you up by your thighs, effortlessly settling them around his waist. Garou charged at your lips, his tongue forcibly invading your mouth. You matched his enthusiasm, wrapping your arms around his neck, desperately pulling him closer and deeper. He backed you up against a nearby wall, his hips grazing between your legs ever so slightly, allowing you to feel his hard length, but only for a moment. He was starting to tease you again. You impatiently reached down to palm his clothed dick, which was clinging tightly against his pants, begging to be let free.

Garou detached himself from your lips, “Not yet, I want to focus on you first.”, he grabbed both of your arms and pinned them above your head. There was no room for protest as he reclaimed your lips again, kissing you more fiercely than before. It seems he was serious about making up for lost time. No matter how relaxed and unbothered he appeared to be, Garou completely understood that you were hurt by his abrupt absence, and this was his way of saying sorry.

Using his other free hand, he drifted between your thighs and pressed against your damp panties. His fingers caressed the material so close to your throbbing pussy, nearly driving you insane, “Please, Garou.” His ears perked up at your whimpering, instantly falling in love with the sound. He easily tore apart the piece of fabric and discarded them on the floor. Taking his middle and index finger, he plunged into your slick entrance just as you asked. Your back arched, a delighted moan falling from lips. But your satisfaction was short-lived as he pumped in and out of you at a terribly slow pace. Not only were your wrist imprisoned in his grip, but he was mischievously watching each of your needy reactions.

“Do you forgive me now?”, Garou catered to your neglected breast, kissing and biting around the areola while curling his fingers inside your tight walls. You vigorously nodded your head, unable to speak, but it still wasn't enough for him. “I don't think you do.”, his thumb rubbed against your clit, stirring up more pleasure in the pit of your stomach, “How about now?”

The wild combination was enough to make you use your words, “Yes, Yes, Yes, I f-forgive you.” His slender fingers were striking spots you never knew about. It felt so good you found yourself grinding against his fingers, moaning helplessly. The intimate moments you shared before felt nothing like this, it was like you were living deep within ecstasy. Your eyes rolled back, a sudden thirst overpowering you, “Don’t stop, please.”

“Fuck.”, Garou grunted, he thought he could hold himself back earlier but now he was at his limit. Distracting himself by attacking your swollen lips just wasn't working anymore. He released your wrist from his grasp and went to rub his painfully hard dick. “Look at me.”, his fingers picked up their momentum, reviving you from your dazed state and right into his possessive stare. By the way your walls were fastening around fingers, you were near your orgasm. He sinked further inside you, “Cum.”

Just as he commanded, your creamy, white liquids were flowing down his hand, which was hungrily licked up as soon as you finished. The upper half of your body limply fell against his chest, trembling frantically. It was obvious that you were exhausted, but he knew very little about aftercare, only allowing your body to calm down for a second before letting you down from his hold. “Garou.”, you whined, legs still wobbling and breath uneven, but it was too late, he had already dropped the pants that were irritatingly restricting his dick. A little precum was dripping from the tip, “Turn around, I'm not done yet.” Garou was fully engulfed with lust, it was evident in the way he looked at you.

With the little energy you had left, you did as you were told, hands flat on wall and body bent over. He didn't waste another second, firmly gripping your hips and thrusting right into your pussy. You sucked in a deep breath, his length stretched you out way more than his fingers, and you wondered why he just didn't start with it from the beginning. Your knees began to buckle at his harsh pounding. He continuously pulled you down his length, keeping his eyes trained on your back, loving it’s perfect arch. Your cries of pleasure was like music to his ears. “Whats my name?”, he growled.

You moaned hoarsely, “Garou.”

Of course he pretended like he didn't hear, “Say it. Louder.”, his pace never faltered as his dick rammed deeper inside you with each thrust. Your hands were sliding down the wall now, unable to keep up with his stamina. You were quivering all over, a sign that another orgasm was threatening to release, the feeling was overwhelmingly good. “Garou!”, you violently came again, adding onto the liquids that were already trickling down your legs. Garou pulled out of you soon after, his hot seed splattering all over your back.

If you had been in the right state of mind, you would've scolded him, but right now you just needed to rest. Garou wasn't panting as harshly as you were, only a few droplets of sweat ran down his forehead. You were the only one who could barely stand, the wall being your only support.

This was the time where Garou was supposed to say something meaningful and go run you a bath, but he just stood and admired his work, a sense of pride rushing through him, “You look so pretty like that—”

“Wait, Garou.”, your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, instantly recognizing the erotic tone in his voice, “Let me take a break first!”

He grinned cheekily, already reaching for you with greedy hands,  “Come on, one more round won't hurt.”

#garou #one punch man garou #one punch man #opm #opm garou #garou x reader #one punch man x reader

[iwillsithereandtrytocontribute]

Lost in the Wrong Story

I Knew You

Masterlist Last Next Ao3

A/N: A mini series collaboration of Roman angst between @hitmewiththatfanart33 and I. Feel free to ask either of us to be tagged. The next part will be posted to her blog!

Chapter Summary: Roman’s absence is affecting Patton a lot more than he lets on, and given the opportunity, he goes after him alone. Roman makes it clear he’s there to stay.

     Janus blinked owlishly as the early morning sunlight flooded into the room. That was strange. His room didn’t get sun. It took him a moment to realize where he was, but Patton’s arm around his torso quickly gave it away to his still-exhausted brain, as did the thousands of pictures lining the walls. Patton pulled Janus in tighter, wrapping him in his warm embrace until he was flush against his back, and oh how Janus longed to shut his eyes and melt into him. After the night he’d had, Janus could sleep for hours more. He shook his head slightly with the knowledge he couldn’t, and he forced his eyes to stay open, however heavy their lids were. Unfortunately, being awake meant that everything was starting to come back to him. 

     His heart ached, wishing Roman could be here with them. Janus must have moved slightly because Patton opened his eyes and removed his arm from around him to reach for his glasses. Janus sat up with a quiet groan, almost instantly missing Patton’s warmth, and he shivered as a chill ran over him.  

      “Morning, Honey-Dee,” Patton yawned. It was a huge one that merited a small, cute head shake afterwards. 

      “Good morning, my love,” Janus hummed, (voice true to his favorite pet name), barely holding in a matching yawn. Patton giggled and cupped his cheek to give him a quick morning kiss as well as nuzzle their noses together. Logan knocked on the door frame— when had he gotten there?— effectively drawing their attention away from one another. He looked entirely too fond. “And my other love.” Virgil appeared behind Logan. “And my—”

     “Yeah, yeah. We get it, Jay,” Virgil interrupted. “We’ve got more important things to do.” Janus decided not to mention the deep blush that had appeared on Virgil’s cheeks. He was right of course, but that didn’t take away from Janus’ satisfaction at flustering his partners. 

     Logan, on the other hand, was much more serious. He’d always been the most insufferable morning person. Knowing him, he’d been up for hours. “I am a little surprised at you, Janus. I would have expected you up by now seeing how worried you were last night. Given what you described, I was up rather early in order to begin our search for Roman.” 

     Janus rolled his eyes. He flicked his hand at Logan, putting him in the dress he had worn the night before, and god did he look good, shoulders bare and more elegantly dressed than they’d ever seen him. “You try running a restaurant in that.” Logan’s blush was matched by his partners. Now was not the time to be useless gays, but god dammit if that wasn’t just what they were.

     “I may have made an error in judgement,” Logan acknowledged. Virgil discreetly kicked him. Patton didn’t notice, but Janus still caught it and delighted in the rapidly deepening blush that came across their nerd’s face. “I apologize for being short with you,” he finished sheepishly, returning himself to his regular shirt and tie.

     “I convinced him to let you sleep in,” Virgil explained. Janus thanked his stars for his emo, for if he’d gotten a second less of sleep, he was sure he’d commit several different crimes today before blacking out. Several more than usual, that is. 

     Patton cocked his head to the side. “It’s not like you to be up so early, Virge.”

     “It is if I never slept,” Virgil said, doing finger guns in a poor attempt to lighten the situation. Patton crossed his arms, giving Virgil his Pattonted death stare. 

     “We’ll talk about that later.”

     Janus swung his legs out of bed and stood up. A wave of his hand removed any rumples from his clothing— he’d been too tired to change last night— restoring it to its crisp, clean norm, and as a finishing touch, he snapped his shoes on before elegantly twirling his bowler hat between his fingers, placing it on his head. Patton did the same, the only difference being him switching out his cat onesie for his normal clothing. Janus took a deep breath. “Alright. Let’s get Remus.”

***

     Patton hid behind Logan, as did Virgil, which was why he held his hand so that their brave Janus, who had put up with Remus’ chaos for years could do the talking. Logan was probably the warmest of all of them, even though Ro— smile, Patton— Patton himself was a pretty cozy temperature. He didn’t know what it was. He just radiated heat that Patton could feel even from merely hovering close to his strong shoulders. The same couldn’t be said for Janus and Virgil, however, for the two of them were cold as corpses— ew no, he was too close to Remus’ room gross gross gross…

     “Hello, Remus,” Janus greeted smoothly. Patton loved his voice so much. 

     “Riddle me this: if my anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, what does he want?” The way he spoke— like they were prey— made Patton squeak and squeeze his boyfriend’s cold hand tighter. 

     “For you to open the imagination. Roman locked us out.” Janus sounded annoyed already, and Patton peered around Logan’s shoulder to brave a look at the scene. 

     Remus lounged languidly against his door, holding it seductively, but at least there wasn’t any blood involved, and Janus had his arms crossed with his weight shifted to one leg in impatience with the duke. “Not my problem,” Remus shrugged, about to close the door. Janus stuck his foot inside. 

     “It is when he’s your brother and might not be coming home unless you help us,” he snapped. Then his tone softened, his eyes flickered to the floor, and he looked so uncharacteristically troubled. “He’s really hurting right now, Remus. Please.”

     “Only if I get to call Patton daddy.”

     “No,” Patton’s partners all quickly said in unison. Patton blushed. He was still scarred from figuring out what that meant after being called it so many times, but he was used to it by now. 

     Remus considered Janus, peering to the left of his door to get a good look at the other three of them, and Patton shuddered. “Fine,” he groaned after a long silence. “I can’t unlock it, but I can use my door.”

     Janus stepped aside to let Remus out, and he shut his door behind him, closed his eyes, then opened it again. It was just a swirling black portal of some sort. “In you go! There’s no telling where you’ll end up— it’s a bit chaotic in there— but if you think about brother dearest long enough, you should be able to find him.” Remus sounded incredibly impish, which made Patton a bit nervous, but when it came to any of his partners, he would do anything. He took a deep breath, stepped around Logan, and charged through the door before he could be stopped. He only had one thought on his mind: Roman. 

     When he stumbled through to whatever side, dimension, or however else he could have possibly reached this place from Remus’ door, he was in a lovely khaki skirt with a loose-fitting, light blue shirt tucked into it beneath a black corset of sorts. His feet were bare— that was probably the first thing he noticed because suddenly there was grass— and everything around him was so green and alive. Nearby a gray... scarf?... he assumed to be his rested on a low-hanging tree branch. Under that same tree sat a basket.

     Everything was starting to feel eerily familiar...

     Nostalgic.

     He let himself breathe in the fresh air that smelled of spring while he figured it out, letting the sun filtering down from the gaps in the trees hit his freckled arms. This place felt like home. All he could hear were birds chirping their beautiful songs without a trace of another human in sight or earshot, which troubled him, but he didn’t let it deter him from his mission. He’d be found by his loves if he got lost, right? Of course. Why would he even doubt it?

     Though he tried to think bright thoughts, his smile felt queasy and he suddenly dreaded having rushed through the door alone. Why wasn’t anyone else here yet? And where was here? His breaths began to come in heavier, and he spun in a circle. Everything looked the same. These were just trees in the woods with no markings, no one to hold his hand, and certainly no one to lead the way. 

     That just meant he had to figure things out for himself. Janus had said fairy tales, right? Well then which one was he in?

     Oh! Oh! Black corset, tan skirt, no shoes… Was he— was he Aurora?! Patton squealed, unable to stop himself from jumping up and down in the soft greenery. ‘I know how to find Roman,’ he sang in his head, though really Roman would be coming to him. 

     He clasped his hands behind his back innocently, looking around before beginning to sing. He took a big, slow, almost dancing step, liking the way the skirt moved with his leg. “I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam.” He twirled, and soon he was getting into the swing of things, freely sashaying around the forest floor. 

     “And I know it’s true that visions are seldom all they seem, but if I know you, I know what you’ll do: you’ll love me at once, the way you did once…” Patton suddenly stopped, his chest throbbing as the full force of everything hit him. “... upon a… dream.” Then, of course, he was crying. What if Roman really didn’t come for him? What if he didn’t want them to find him so badly that he would just leave Patton alone? What if he never got his fingers kissed again, or had someone to sleepily sing with him in the morning? What if no one ever carried him to bed when he accidentally fell asleep during a movie? What if he never got to tell Roman how much he loved him again? God, he missed him so terribly much already. 

     He pressed his back against one of the trees with the gray bark, burying his face in his hands to wet them with tears in private. Someone gently tried to pry them away, and Patton, thinking he was alone, screamed loud enough to send the birds flying. There was nowhere to scramble backwards to, so his first instinct was to push the person away from him as hard as he could. They didn’t so much as budge. And though his original effort failed, Patton was instantly overwhelmed with joy because he’d know that broad, firm chest anywhere. His head shot up. 

     Heart still pounding, he grinned, exclaiming, “Ro—” 

     “Shh. Dance with me?” Patton frowned, hesitantly offering his hands with halting movement as he tried to discern Roman’s face. He hid his sad eyes behind a concerned expression, and in a moment the look was gone, turning into a too-wide, too-bright smile. Roman took Patton’s hands, pulling him away from the tree, and began twirling him in time to music that played softly from thin air. Roman hummed along as they danced without saying a word. 

     Patton tried to enjoy it, he really did. Roman was an elegant dancer and Patton enjoyed being his partner, but something was obviously wrong. Patton couldn’t pinpoint the denial as accurately as Janus, but as in tune as he was to emotion, it was hard to miss the raw feeling in Roman’s face, posture, even the world he had created. “Roman—” Patton tried again. 

     Roman pulled Patton closer, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, but never once did he look him in the eye, instead gazing off somewhere behind him. “It’s alright, Patton. You’re allowed to cry,” he murmured. Patton almost laughed. 

     “It’s not about that. I mean, I suppose it is... I just didn’t think you were coming for me, and I missed you so much it hurt.” Patton was far from laughing now. He felt tears burn trails down his cheeks, and their dancing came to a halt along with the music. Roman lifted a hand to wipe the tears off of his face. 

     “You missed me?” Roman asked haltingly. His face slackened for a moment before being drawn back into that fake smile. It almost looked like a glitch, the sudden changes scaring Patton. “We only met but a few minutes ago. Did I make that large of an impression on you, darling?” he teased. 

     No no no… He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t— “Roman, we’ve been dating for months.” Patton was full-on crying now. He hadn’t quite believed Janus until now, for there was no way Roman felt so unwanted with all of them around. And yet… here they were. Standing in the middle of a serene forest that his ever so talented love had created, Patton uncontrollably crying his eyes out and Roman standing still as a statue because he didn’t know how to cope. How was it that Patton was only now feeling the depth of Roman’s insecurities? How was he only now realizing how hurt Roman was? 

     Roman dropped Patton’s hands reflexively, taking a small step back. “Patton… Why are you here?” 

     “We— We came for you. Janus told us what happened and—”

     “I told him not to follow me. I need— I need some space.” He ran a hand through his hair. 

     Patton took a step forward. “You need to come home.” Roman stepped further away, turning his back to Patton. “Roman?” He tried to put his hand on Roman’s shoulder, but he pulled away. 

     “Where were you when Janus came for me?” Roman asked hollowly. “You leave me alone for days before showing up randomly to discuss our feelings? I’m sick of it, Patton. I just want to be left alone.” Did he, or was he trying to push them away? Roman turned his head slightly towards Patton, and he swore he would never forget that apathetic goodbye. “Don’t try to follow me.” His stomach sank in dread. 

     Then Roman began walking through the trees, and behind him tumbled in thick fumes of fog. Patton desperately tried to follow him, but his regal form was quickly enveloped in the mist like a fleeting vision of a ghost that Patton had been graced with, leaving him to stumble around blindly, tripping over tree roots and low bushes. Roman wasn’t gone. He wouldn’t just leave him like this. It was a joke, right? Please let it be a joke. 

     He kept going and going and going, too scared of being left alone to stop, too scared of losing Roman to slow down. At one point he walked face-first into a tree branch, breaking his glasses, though it wasn’t like he could see in the first place. He threw them to the ground with a sobbing scream of frustration, then kept moving. 

     He had to keep searching. He had to. 

     “Roman?” Patton called. “Roman, this isn’t funny. Come out.” He finally found the end to the fog, but no Roman. Grief and fear twisted together to wrench his stomach. “Roman!’ Patton yelled louder and louder, diving back into the fog, screaming Roman’s name until his voice was hoarse. He fell more times than he could count, tearing his skirt and even his skin on more than just a few occasions. Wherever Roman was, he wasn’t here anymore. Slowly, the fog cleared, leaving a beaten-down Patton to numbly wander the forest. 

     He was alone.

*

*

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@cuter-on-the-inside @abbyisconfused @n4o5r7a9 @omni-hamiltrash @fandomsofrandom @t0astyt0es @withspaces @anyelram841 @yep-another-fander @strangecreatureyoucantidentify @fandom-trash-304 @chelsvans @nomejodasb @iampengwing @neonb-fly @analogical-mess @midnight-tragedyy @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @athenashipsthings @thgjclw @littleladynightshade @casuallyimpossibledream @hekking-happy-nonsense @comicsimpson @slutforketchup @sanderrsidess @i-need-you-buddy @witchyvirgil @ghosttb0y @pixelatedrose @emilightniing @csi-baker-street-babes @iwillsithereandtrytocontribute @spooky-scary-virgil @justanothernerdyfandomblog @phantomfantasize @panicattheeveywhere @hedgiehoggles @i-really-like-dragons @youre-lazy-and-youre-gay0-0 @crabsncrabs @gattonero17 @dragonleesupporter @lokiamorstuffs @emo--nightmaree @anotherbisexualbooklover @7-slights-at-virgil @romanvirgil @croftersjam15

#dlamp #fairytale #fairy tale #ts fic #ts fanfic #sanderssidesfanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #thomas sanders #jasper writes #ts roman #ts remus #ts janus #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #disney #roman angst #royality

[maraudererasmut]

Experiment MJ001

TW: Drug and alcohol use. Mentions of drugs and alcohol use by minors. 

Marjiuana is legal in my country. It has been for a while.

I’ve always been very nervous about things in my life. Not anything in specific, just things in general. I had spend so long being repressed by my parents, I had cotten it in my head that drugs = bad and since marjiuana = drug, QED marjiuana = bad. 

Today, I decided to do something out of the ordinary and purchase a (legal) chocolate bar from the pot store and try it out!

So, I am currently high for the very first time in my life! (I’m in my late 20s)

I had an idea that I thought was brilliant at the time to write Wolfstar fan fiction about Remus getting high for the first time WHILE I was high and see what happened!

I also decided that I’m going to POST IT. Without editing it! (Pure, unadulterated chaos!!!) Now, for your viewing pleasure, the ramblings of a T on Pot. I have no idea if this is good or not. I haven’t read through it yet. I’ll probably wake up tomorrow, read this, regret it and delete it. But until then... enjoy!

((I’m sorry if it’s terrible!!!))

((I am also currently still high while typing this, so I apologize for any errors!!))

Remus had never consumed marjiuana before. Growing up, his parents had been very strict with what kinds of medication he was allowed to consume, particularly in regards to his lycanthropy. “You don’t know how it will affect the wolf, Remus.” “You don’t know what will happen…” “We can’t predict how the wolf will react…” 

Magic had always been the go-to remedies for colds or maladies; Muggle drugs were never to be trusted in the LUpin home.

So when Remus got drunk for the first time, he made sure that his friends were around to help him through the experience. 

Now, in his seventh year of school, Remus finally built up enough courage to ask his friends to, once-again, monitor Remus while he was testing the waters.

Remus sat with the three other Marauders, staring at the brownie in his hand.

“Are you sure this is safe?” he groaned, internally terrified of what may happen. The scent of the brownie wafted through the air, and Remus cursed his wolfish senses as his mind began convincing him that this might be worth it for the chocolate alone.

“”Yeah, I’m sure, Moons…” Sirius teased, licking his lips like a cartoon wolf sizing up a prized pig as he stared at his own brownie.

“Yeah, Pads and I have done this hundreds of times!” James chimed in, already  half way through his. “It’s fine!”

“You’re not werewolves,” Remus grumbled as he turned to Peter. “You’re the sensible one, Wormy. What do you think?”

Peter stared at Remus for a moment before breaking out into a smile. 

“I say fuck it!” he said, taking a bite out of his own brownie. “You only live once, Moons!”

Remus closed his eyes, took a bite from his brownie, chewed and swallowed. 

Nothing happened.

No big bang, no swirling in his brain, no sudden rush of feeling. 

“It’s… not working?” He said, turning to Sirius.

“Give it a bit, Moons! It takes time to work! It’s like alcohol!”

“Okay,” Remus said with a shrug, finishing the rest of his brownie. “So… what do I do until then?”

Sirius shrugged, but his smirk gave him away. He sat back onto the pillows and blankets that they had dragged to the ground, his head resting precariously close to Remus’ lap. He grinned up at Remus before reaching for his wand and giving a lazy flick into the air. 

Sirius’ record player began to spin, and All Along the Watchtower began playing, filling the entire room and seeping into Remus’ bones.

Remus laid back on the pillows, his head next to Sirius’. He closed his eyes and let Hendrix drift through his mind, trying not to let Sirius’ scent drive him crazy. 

Remus didn’t feel anything.

Not for a while.

He didn’t think it was even working.

The boys had spent the next hour talking, chatting, chilling, as they usually do on Saturday evenings. They talked about girls (James complaining about Lily), boys (Sirius’ trists with that Ravenclaw boy), and everything in between (Peter’s insistence that, yes, James, he is still Asexual. And no, James, he doesn’t need to double check.) 

Remus didn’t notice the time passing as he laid on the pillows next to his friends, for the first time in his life actually being able to participate fully. They normally spend evenings hanging out in the middle of the room. James and Sirius always got high. They had since they had discovered Muggle weed last year. Peter had partaken on occasion, but usually insisted that he preferred a couple of beers over weed. Remus, on the other hand, remained sober all night, watching his friends fall into various states of inebriation, testing their limits, seeing new sides of themselves. 

This was his first time.

Remus smiled to himself, thinking about how much fun it is to participate, even if he didn’t know what being high felt like yet. 

“What’re you smiling about?”

Sirius’ voice was practically a purr in Remus’ ear, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. 

“M’not… Not really. Just… happy to be here with you lads....”

“Mmm, same, Moons. Happy to be here… Today’s a good day to be alive…”

“That’s a weird thing to say…” Remus rolled over and looked at Sirius. 

Was Sirius always that handsome? Did his eyes always sparkle silver in their conjured lights? Did his hair always look that soft and touchable? What would happen if Remus touched it? Was his skin always so pale, so milky while, Remus had to resist leaning over and tasting it. Remus edged his arm over slightly, comparing his own freckle-dusted arm to Sirius’. One was slender and perfect and tattooed and lovely. One was broken and scarred and ugly. 

It was no wonder Sirius never noticed Remus.

“Whatya thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Sirius’ voice distracted Remus from his thoughts. 

“Mm? What’d’ya mean?” 

I can see for miles and miles and miles and miles and miles…

The Who was playing in the background and Remus watched as Sirius’ head bobbed up and down to the music, a wide grin spread across his perfect cheeks. 

“I mean you’re thinkin’ of stuff. We all are… I am… That’s what makes things so cool when you’re high… You think of stuff…”

Remus blinked. What was Sirius even saying? What had he been doing? Was he thinking? He seemed to be thinking…

His brain felt like the needle was skipping across the record. Or that more than one record was playing at a time. Everything that was said out loud was one record in one player, and a vision of him talking to Sirius from a bird’s eye view was another record. And the way the music blended into his brain was another record. 

Was this what being high was?

“I’m thinking of the music… I guess. And… Mrs. Robinson…”

“Ha ha! That’s that one Hufflepuff chick, ya?”

“What? No… it’s… coo coo ca choo?” Remus closed his eyes. His mind was feeling a bit foggy. 

Put it in your pantry with your cupcakes…

“Oh! Yeah! Jesus holds a place for those who pray…”

“Hey hey hey!” James’ voice came from miles away. Or across the room. To Remus, it felt like both at once.

“Yeah,” Remus said with a grin, rolling over onto his left side to face Sirius. “Coo coo choo, Mrs. Robinson….”

“BOYS!” Peter hollered from the other side of the room. “Hot Blooded! This is my jam!”

Remus grinned, listening as the sound of guitar filled the room. He tapped along to the song, watching Sirius watch the ceiling.

“What are you thinking about, Pads?”

Sirius tilted his head towards Remus and gave a wink. 

“That I’m hot blooded,” he said, his tongue resting on his fang. 

“Pfftt… You’re just a horny mutt…” Remus teased. He felt an immediate pang of regret as Remus realized that Sirius was likely horny for a certain Ravenclaw boy. 

“Mmm, bet you are too. Not that you’d ever date anyone… But I bet you’re real bad, Moons… “

Remus rolled his eyes, trying to keep his heart from exploding from his chest with terror. Why was Sirius talking about how horny Remus was? That wasn’t something Sirius ever talked about. 

“You know how it is… not allowed. The whole… furry little problem…”

Oooh, I’m picking up good vibrations, oooh she’s giving me excitations…

“I’ve told you, just date one of us…”

Remus chuckled, trying not to show how much he wished he could. 

“Oh yeah, James would totally ditch Lily for me,” Remus teased, listening to the Beach Boys suddenly start the quiet part of Good VIbrations. 

“I didn’t say date James…”

“Oh, Sorry… Peter then… Yup. That seems like a great idea…”

Good good good good vibrations!!

“Are those really your only choices?”

Sirius was on his side at this point, facing Remus head-on, giving a sly grin. 

Normally, Remus would laugh this off as a joke and change the subject. Perhaps talk about the fact that Sirius had American Woman on his magical mixed-record. 

Today was different though. Today, Remus was feeling a little bolder. A little dizzier. A little more capable of looking at the situation differently.

Most days, from the very beginning of his life, Remus had been taught to be small, demure, less than other people. He knew not to make waves or say what was on his mind, because he was not to draw attention to himself. Today, for the first time in his entire life, Remus was starting to understand what it felt like to be a normal person. Someone who wasn’t a werewolf. Someone who didn’t grow up being told that they had to hide themselves because of societal pressures. Today, he could suddenly just say whatever he thought and felt and there was absolutely nothing keeping him from saying it. 

“I can’t very well date you, Padfoot. What would that poor Ravenclaw boy do without you in his life?”

“Who, Spencer? Nah, we were never an item. Just fooling around…”

“Fine then,” Remus said with finality, trying to shrug while on his side. Whoooo are you? Who who, who who? “I suppose you’re the only person in all of Hogwarts who I can date.” 

Sirius grinned his wicked grin, inching closer to Remus, his eyes positively smouldering. 

“I suppose so. Guess we’re to call it, then. We’re dating now…”

Whooo are you? Who who? Who who?

Aaaawww, who the fuck are you?

“Hear that Prongs,” Remus said, playing along with the joke. “Sirius and I are dating now.”

“Well it’s about goddamn time,” James yelled back.

Remus chuckled to himself, but when he opened his eyes, Sirius was there. In front of him, their noses almost touching… There was a moment…

Whoooo are you? Who who? Who who?

Remus inched closer, rubbing his nose to Sirius’, just playing along, just being silly, just keeping up with the game.

Sirius closed the gap.

Remus sank into the kiss, feeling Sirius’ lips against his own, Sirius’ tongue tasting like chocolate and pot, Sirius’ hands suddenly around his waist. 

Then Remus pulled away.

Who are you? Who who? Who who?

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sirius laughed, pulling himself slightly away from Remus.

“I just wanted to see how far you’d be willing to play along! I didn’t realize you’d actually let me kiss you!”

“Fuck…” Remus swore, starting to feel angry at Sirius. “Shit... I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Nothing…”

“Maybe what, Remus?”

“Nothing, Sirius.” Sirius’ lips were against Remus’ again, but the werewolf knew better this time. He pulled away, his eyes narrowing. “Stop dicking around.”

“I’m not dicking around…” Sirius whispered, his voice dropping low and rumbly. Remus felt a chill down his spine as House of the Rising Sun played in the background.  

“Don’t kiss me if you don’t mean it,” Remus grumbled, before he had a chance to think about his words and and regret saying him, Sirius was kissing him again. Remus tasted his tongue and lips and the thrill of kissing someone he had wanted to kiss for as long as he could remember. Sirius pulled away, his eyes gleaming and ravenous. 

“I mean it,” he cooed. “I—”

Before he could continue, Remus was pressed into Sirius, taking advantage of his inebriated state and lack of over-thinking. 

“Get a room, you prats!” James called across the room. Remus didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything except the feeling of Sirius’ body against his own, Sirius’ hands around his hips, Sirius’ tongue in his mouth, Sirius’ teeth nipping his lower lip. Everything was Sirius.

Remus closed his eyes and lost himself in his Padfoot. He silently prayed that things could stay this easy forever, but deep inside, he knew that would be a dangerous path to head down...

#wolfstar #sirius black #remus lupin #TW: Drug use #marjiuana #getting high for the first time #high writing #T tried pot #it's... wierd #My brain is melting

[messyworldfanfictions]

Imagine teacher Tom Hiddleston (AU)

Summary : Imagine Tom Hiddleston is your cold English teacher who scares the whole class, and you are constantly arrogant with him because you don’t like the way he talks to students. One day he caught you cheating on a test, unfortunately or fortunately for you, he’s going to decide your punishment and it’s going to be… rough.

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader , Tom Hiddleston x you

Warnings:  Dom/sub, tom hiddleston - Freeform, Daddy Dom Tom Hiddleston, Dom Tom Hiddleston, Teacher Tom Hiddleston, Professor Tom Hiddleston, Villain Tom Hiddleston, Tom Hiddleston in a Suit , Angry Tom Hiddleston Spanking, Dubious Consent, Humiliation, Dirty Talk, bratty student, Touching, Corporal Punishment, Punishment, Misogyny,…

A Notes: Hi everyone, this is for my Tom thirst hehe, hope you’ll like it :) !

Please, check the tag, Tom is very very rude, very Dom and a little misogynistic  in this story. Of course, I’m sure Tom’s personality is completely different in real life, it’s only fiction, fantasy.

Constructive criticism are welcome, English is not my first language so I apologize for possible mistakes. If you see errors, please tell me! :)

Have fun !

Tag list is open, check my bio :)

************************************************************************************************

It’s Monday, 8 am and you were sitting in your usual place at the back of the classroom, you were constantly sighing at the idea of starting the lesson, what a nightmare to start with the English teacher… Mr Hiddleston was as friendly as a prison guard and he wasn’t really gentle with the students, he was always condescending when he spoke to them. You were wondering how a man with such a beautiful face, such perfect features, could be so disdainful.

The noise in the classroom was terrible, the students were shouting and their voices echoed in the hallway. Paper pellets were flying around the classroom until a silhouette arrived at the entrance of the room, a heavy silence settled in the room as the students rushed to their seats. Mr. Hiddleston closed the door behind him and walked towards his desk, the sound of his shoes resonating through the room like a military march.

“I see you’re having a lot of fun when you’re not under surveillance. You look like a bunch of savages, your parents obviously haven’t done their job,” he sighed disdainfully. His ice-coloured eyes scanning every student.

He put his bags on his desk, turned to the blackboard and picked up a piece of chalk, “I hope you’ve done your homework and have studied last week’s lesson, otherwise you’re going to have a hard time. ” he said, smirking.

You could see the other students’ faces decomposing, a girl spoke « B-but… S-sir… S-sir… You didn’t say that… We had to study the lesson of…“ He turned his head slowly towards her with an irritated expression, that was enough to shut her up. The girl swallowed the end of her sentence.

“Miss Johnson, we have a tongue well hanged today…? “The girl lowered her eyes, knowing that she had made a mistake by speaking without his permission. ” We will enjoy it then.“ he said, turning to the blackboard and writing the sentence, *When a woman has scholarly inclinations there is generally something wrong with her sexual nature,* he crushed the chalk forcefully writing every word, every letter.

“So, Miss Johnson, who wrote this quote? "he asked, raising an interrogating eyebrow, crossing his arms on his chest. You were shocked by the pressure he was putting on that poor girl. Her eyes began to water and you could see her hands twisting nervously under the table. "I… I don’t know, sir…” she whispered embarrassed by the situation.

“Excuse me Miss, but I probably didn’t hear your very well…” he replied, leaning slightly forward and pointing his ear with his index finger to make her understand that she had to speak louder. You were convinced that he took pleasure in humiliating the poor girl. She began to cry and it was too much for you. “Miss Johnson, we don’t have all day,” he said, raising his voice.

You smashed your fists brutally against your table. “Stop! Can’t you see you’re bullying her?! Aren’t you tired of persecuting the vulnerable?! You’re pathetic. "You shouted in rage.

You could see a bolt of lightning passing through his stormy eyes. His jaw was clenched and his fists too. "Well, Miss Y/LN, I didn’t know we had a good samaritan in the class. You used your mouth usefully, for once. "You wanted to wipe that nasty little smirk off his face.” Miss Johnson, how sad… I’m terribly disappointed in you… “ he said faking a disappointed face. "Maybe the author was right…” he sighed.

“Shut up, you misogynistic bastard,” you whispered angrily for yourself. How dare He.

“Well, since I see you all seem to have studied, I’m going to do a test now about the authors and their quotes, take a piece of paper and match the right authors with the right quotes. "He said as he began to write the quotes on the board.

After a few minutes of chalk noises, he turned to sit at his desk and said in a stern voice, "You have 30 minutes, not one more. »

You didn’t know how you were going to get through it, you didn’t open a single page of your english lesson this weekend, in fact you didn’t even listen him last week, you were too busy thinking about what you were going to do when you came home. You were already almost failing his lesson, if you missed that test you were going to be in the red. You couldn’t afford to miss your year because you’d already failed one year. Suddenly an idea came into your head, you hadn’t turned off your phone before class, it was easy, you would quickly find each author by typing the quote on google. Mr. Hiddleston had his head buried in a book, so you had time to do your work, you were at the back of the class and he couldn’t see what you were doing because you were too far from his desk.

                                              *****************

Twenty-three minutes had passed, you had only three authors left to find, you sighed with relief seeing that you still had 7 minutes left. You decided to put your phone between your thighs because you knew that he couldn’t see it there and you lifted your head from your paper to relax for a minute and …. Where was the teacher?! He wasn’t sitting at his desk, how was that possible?! You didn’t even hear him get up from his chair. You looked frenetically for his presence, your head going from right to left quickly, when you felt a hot breath against your neck, you froze. He was there, right behind you, you didn’t even hear him approaching… Did he see you cheating…? Now you felt his breath close to your ear and it made you shiver.

"What are you looking for, Y/N? "He whispered softly.

Your chest was rising fast, your heart was pounding because of the fear running through your body. He never called you by your first name, and that didn’t presage anything good. If he had seen you cheating, he was going to give you a bad grade … You squeezed your thighs together until it started to hurt, you were afraid that he would see something.

You heard him chuckled darkly in your ear, his proximity, made you feel… strange. You felt something burning in your belly but you didn’t know what it was… Or maybe you did?

"Come on Y/N, open your legs for me. ” he whispered, so you were the only one to hear his words, his nose gently brushing against your ear. You let out a little moan, your trembling, sweaty hands grabbing the table. His voice had the effect of an electric shock all over your body, you were burning inside… You hated yourself for feeling this way about him but you couldn’t help yourself… Why was he so attractive?

He put his hand on your shoulder and pressed lightly, not hard enough to hurt you but firm enough to make you understand that if you didn’t do what he asked you to do, he would hurt you there.

With a sigh you slowly opened your trembling thighs and the teacher dipped his hand between your thighs, he stayed there for a few seconds that seemed like an eternity, while his hand was close to your private parts, you could see his face showing a triumphant smile, you didn’t look at him but you could see his dirty grin from the corner of your eye. He finally removed his hand, taking your phone and paper with him. “Thank you. "he whispered.

Damn it. He was going to give your a really bad grade, you were going to fail your year again… What were you going to tell to your parents… Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Your eyes started to water at the thought but you didn’t want to cry in front of him, oh no, you wouldn’t give him the pleasure. You wouldn’t beg him either, you wanted to keep your dignity intact.

The school bell rang in the hallway, "You can go, don’t forget to put your test on my desk when you leave. ». You got up in slow motion and started to put your things in your bag, completely depressed.

You walked towards the door, you could feel his eyes on you as you walked through the classroom, before you could reach the door you heard his voice ” Miss Y/LN, I would like to speak to you for a moment please. Wait until everyone leaves and then close the door. ” he ordered.

You knew he was going to humiliate you for many minutes, you could see him gloating. But why didn’t he do it in front of the whole class…?  You kept your eyes locked on the floor, refusing to make eye contact. But you could feel his eyes running over your body, why was he looking at you… that way? The situation became more and more uncomfortable, you couldn’t stop thinking about his hand between your thighs…

After the last student left you closed the door, you were determined to show him that he was not intimidating you and that he did not have any power over you. With a determined walk you moved towards his desk, he had not taken his eyes off you.

When you arrived in front of him you said, “Sir, if you think I’m going to apologize, I won’t. I’m not going to apologize. If you think I’m going to beg you to not give me detention, you’re mistaken. If you think I’m going to beg you not to give me a bad grade on that test…” You marked a pause, “You’re wasting your time. “He was staring at you with a straight face. Your breathing had accelerated with your words. You spat those words so angrily that you didn’t even take the time to breath while you spoke.

After a few minutes of silence, a grin appeared on his lips, his eyes sparkling with mischief, you didn’t like it, it wasn’t supposed to make him smile…

"Don’t worry Y/N, I didn’t ask you to stay for this. Don’t be concerned about my time, I have 1 hour of free time now. "he answered you, getting up from his desk. He walked around his desk and in a few steps he was close to you, he started to walk around you like a predator surrounding his prey. Your fists were so clenched that your knuckles turned white. What did that bastard want…

"What a fiery temper you have, Miss…” he whispered these words, leaning towards your ear, and walked away. You almost felt… naked. “Actually I don’t want your pleas, I can’t stand the whining… ” he said disdainfully. The sound of his shoes was resonating in the empty classroom. “I think that if you get a bad grade for this test, your year is in danger … Am i right ?” Shit, he knew. “I don’t think you need to fail your year… I think you need more… discipline.” When he said the last word, you felt him stopped right behind you. You could feel his hot breath hitting your neck.

“W-what do you mean… ? "you stuttered in a shaky voice, your legs were shaking but you didn’t know if it was anxiety or… Excitement.

You felt his finger touch your neck and he brushed your hair to one side so he could have better access to your soft skin. He pressed a wet kiss against your neck and you closed your eyes, muffling a moan of… Pleasure?

"I want to make a deal with you Y/N,” he whispered, “I want to punish you … Punish you for being a little bratty bitch. "You felt his hands grabbing your hips, and he pressed his body against yours, you could feel his hardness against your ass…

"You have two options. First, you submit to my authority and lie down on that desk while I give you the correction you deserve…” Suddenly he pulled himself away from your body and said in a cold voice “ Second, you get out of my classroom and you explain to your parents that you’re a dirty little cheater. "He paused, "But I want you to know that if you lie down on that desk, I don’t want any tears, I don’t want any struggles, you lie down and you stay still. » Another pause, "I don’t want to force you to do anything. » he mocked.

Very funny asshole, like I have a choice, you thought. You could hear your heart beating in your chest, the noise was so intense, you couldn’t think. You were trying to give yourself courage, it was just a bad time to go through… Then maybe you could like it… No, no, you didn’t want to like it…

” You better hurry up and make a decision Y/N, my patience is limited. ” he warned.

You walked slowly towards his desk, your knees trembling with apprehension and you lied down on his desk with your face against the hardwood surface, your hands on either side of your face. He had full access to your buttocks. You could hear his footsteps approaching you and stop a few inches away.

“Good girl,” you heard him whisper, “I’m going to teach you your place and you’re going to like it. ” he whispered as he flipped your skirt up, exposing your ass and your panties. You couldn’t deny feeling his hands under your skirt made you wet. But it was also very humiliating.

“You will count them.” You nodded, unable to speak.

You knew his hand was hovering in position. He liked to see you shiver, waiting for the first spanking that would make you moan. A loud smack filled the room as his hand met your buttock.

“One.” You moaned.

*SMACK*

You jumped a little, startled. The spanking was harder than the last one.

“I can’t hear you Y/N, speak louder or it’s going to hurt. » he warned

« TWO » you cried out.

He smacked you twice more times in a row. One of the hits made your clit twitch.

Three, four, …

“If I knew you’d enjoy this… activity, I would have done it sooner” he mocked. He ran his finger over your white panties which had become transparent due to your wetness. He was right, you were excited… You were starting to forget the humiliation and you were enjoying every hand that crashed against your skin, making it redden a little more each time.

*SMACK.SMACK.SMACK*

Five, six, seven…

This time you whimpered in pain, lust and desperation. You felt yourself grow wetter. His hands made your knees so weak. « Please … » You whispered in a whiny tone.

“I knew you’d finally beg me, you cocky slut. ” he mocked.

*SMACK.SMACK.*

Eight, nine…

You loved the harsh slaps against your skin. You had never known that you could feel like this. Especially with him…

“You know” he spoke slowly in a low whisper,“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me this year, my behavior disgusts you, but I know you’ve been dying for me to fuck you like the slut you are, with your arrogant attitude, making eyes contact with me, crossing and uncrossing your legs. » His arm raised high and the final blow came.

« TEN » You cried out, breathless. Your bottom pulsed in pain, but it was drowned out by the pleasure you were feeling right now.

He went back to his desk as if nothing had happened and said in an authoritarian voice « You have taken your punishment so well, miss. You can go, now. ”

You stood up suddenly, your face red in shame. You rushed to the door but before you could get out of the class, you heard him, “Oh Miss, before I forget, you can relax about your grade. ” he paused, “But watch your tongue during my lessons, my punishments can be much more… painful. "he warned you with a large creepy smile.

He barely had time to finish his sentence before you opened the door and ran to disappear into the hallway.

(Not my gif)

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddelston x reader #loki #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston fandom #tom hiddleston fanfiction #ao3 writer #marvel #mcu #dom tom hiddleston

[notaburgler]

A fic I wrote for a friend for Christmas. Just a little Dadzawa... (Pardon any spelling or grammar errors)

A twinkling above head and a rough pass of freezing wind jolted Eraserhead from his trance. The winter months made patrol so much less enjoyable for the hero. He tried to bundle up the best he could, but couldn’t pack on too many jackets or sweaters and remain limber at the same time. He was in luck; his capture weapon helped keep the icy fingers of Mother Nature from grazing his neck and sending shivers up and down his entire body. 

Eraserhead hated the cold. What’s worse was his roommate, none other than the voice hero Present Mic, kept the windows open and a fan on leaving the house terribly cold all day and night. His sleeping bag was never enough. He layered blanket after blanket and cranked the heat to 100. Trying hard to beat this winter, he would curl up in bed after a long shift; but that cozy thought was still hours away. 

No, villains didn’t fall silent due to weather. They didn’t close up shop or hibernate. If anything, the colder the night, the more dangerous it got. Hero’s movements were sluggish and left them less than efficient due to shivering and tingling, frozen fingers.

With his hands tucked in his pockets, he walked the streets in a particularly dangerous part of town hoping if he were to catch a villain in the act, the physical activity of fighting would help warm his body up, if only for a short while. 

His fingers tingled and his nose red, the clocks second hand finally marched to the 12 at the top of his watch signaling the end of his shift. The next hero would jump from a rooftop or rush around the corner any second to greet and relieve him. So, he waited. He waited and waited. He was sure he was at the agreed upon meeting spot. Maybe he took a wrong turn?

A light, gentle buzz came from his pocket. He lifted his phone and sighed at the text shining into his tired, bloodshot eyes.

“I won’t be able to make it tonight. Sorry.”

It wasn’t really what he wanted to see. Be late. Be lazy. Be in the wrong location or lost. Don’t bail! Now Eraserhead was stuck working the next shift. And with class the next day, he would be in no mood for anyone’s sass.

The class was rowdy. Aizawa already had a headache, and the events that unfolded during his second shift on patrol didn’t help. There wasn’t anything in particular that happened; just a few evil doers that thought it would be fun to make him stay even longer than he wanted and a store clerk that couldn’t exactly pinpoint the details of the person that robbed him. Sometimes, Aizawa really disliked people. 

“Calm down.” His voice was as usual, deadpan and almost monotone. It was how he presented himself that seemed off to the rest.

Midoriya, the observationalist he is, pointed it out first. Aizawa disregarded the claim that he seemed more tired and cranky. 

Cranky, huh? He guessed that would be a good word to use to describe his current mood.

It was a bit of a childish word, but who was Aizawa to argue? That’s exactly what it was. He needed a nap that lasted the duration of his 30’s and a nice fluffy bed to cuddle up in while he slept. Was that too much to ask?

He’d been working himself to the bone: teaching class, patrol, meetings, grading homework. Not to mention those kids wouldn’t stop drawing the League of Villains attention. He was on guard at all times. Having another student badly hurt or kidnapped would only make his bad day worse.

He caught himself watching the clock as Mic took to the center of the room. He should have been spending that time grading papers and going over the curriculum. Lunch would start soon and this would be his chance to at least nap for a moment. Why he wasn’t using Mic’s presence to nap, He wasn’t sure. He felt the urge to sleep, but once he curled up in his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, the undeniable feeling of dread sunk into him and forced his stinging and tired eyes open. 

He sat up and watched the class silently jotting down notes. At least they paid attention when Mic was teaching. So many times had his class become unruly to the point of him having to threaten harm (albeit faux harm). He’d activate his quirk, drying his eyes even more, and pull his scarf from his neck. With a menacing glare they would calm down and he would resume class. 

He jumped slightly. A motion he hoped had gone unnoticed by his class when the bell rang signaling it was lunch time. 

With a sigh, he slouched at his desk, Present Mic staying behind to check in. 

“Rough day?” His gloved hand pressed against Aizawa’s shoulder in a comforting manor. 

Aizawa sighed again, letting his eyes fall closed, “Yeah ... rough Day? Night? I don’t even know anymore.” He opened his eyes once more and glanced up at his best friend.

His smile was almost annoying. He hadn't patrolled in weeks and his homework assignments were easy to grade. Yeah, he worked at the radio station and was up early for his show, but it was only a few hours and at least he enjoyed it. Aizawa, at this point, wasn’t even sure he liked what he did. Hero work was one thing, but teaching? Who would want to be a glorified babysitter all day?

Mic huffed gently seeing maybe now wasn’t the best time for Aizawa to have company, “Well, take care of yourself.” He dropped his usual persona; Calling everyone listener, even when they were right in front of his face.

****

“Mr. Aizawa seemed off today.” Uraraka stated with concern in her soft eyes. 

“Maybe one of his cats rejected him and he doesn’t know how to handle it?” Kaminari, always coming up with the weirdest of reasons behind people’s actions. 

The group of students headed down the hall to the dining area as they spoke. None of them felt quite right about his demeanor. He was normally calm and tired eyed. He’d take every chance to sleep that he could. Some students and staff had found him in the most precarious locations: janitors closets, the rooftop, on the sports field, under tables, the bathroom stalls. But today he was showing signs of sleep deprivation they hadn’t seen yet.  

Bakugo huffed, “People can have bad days. I have them.” He slammed to the table.

Kirishima, the sunshine boy of the class smiled smacking him on the back a little rougher than normal, “everyday is a bad day for you.”

“Shut up asshole!”

Uraraka spotted Midoriya talking to himself again. This wasn’t the first time. He had an unusual talent to absorb information like a sponge and made notes of it all in his handy dandy notebook always in his bag. He also had the uncanny ability to creep people out with that same information, not to mention the delivery. 

“Deku?” She asked with a tilted head that made her hair lightly bounce.

He shook himself, nervously falling backwards and onto the floor. 

As he stumbled to his feet he smiled, “sorry, just going over details I can remember about Mr. Aizawa.” He scratched his head. “He’s smart and logical. So there’s a reason he’s kinda in a sour mood, right?”

****

He should have napped. He needed to nap, but he was so used to lack of sleep at this point that napping was a bandaid on a broken leg. He had transcended into a state of eternal consciousness. Even with closed eyes and a yawn, he would never be able to fall asleep at the school like normal. He needed his bed and his blankets and the soft hum of the street lamps outside. He needed that white noise machine Mic had bought him last year for Christmas to be able to tune out all other thoughts and just sleep. But he also needed to eat; a fact announced unintentionally when his stomach screamed from it's emptiness. 

At least the teachers lounge was quiet. Most of them would indulge in Lunch Rushes food, and for good reason. The lounge was quiet, just what he needed. He had a free period after lunch- more time to wind down and stop snapping at the students. The questions were valid and the reactions were to be expected. All morning they had been unusually attentive and calm, and all he had been is a real jerk. He spent the better part of second period explaining to them that he wasn’t their parent and he shouldn’t have to teach them respect and manners all because Ojiro let out a small burp that made the class erupt into laughter.

It was an odd mood he felt so purely. He hadn’t been this irritable and moody since high school, and even then, it wasn't nearly as bad as it is now.

Yeah, he didn’t get sleep. Yeah, he was hungry. Yeah, he was irritated that the pro that was supposed to relieve him last night bailed. All of these things would put someone, anyone into a foul mood. Not even All Might, Mr. happy-go-lucky, wasn’t immune to bad days and poor attitudes. 

Aizawa brushed off his mood as a fit of hanger and ate in silence. 

As he felt like a calm had washed over him, the chatter of students in the halls just past the frosted glass window on the door brought back his irritation. 

Maybe he should have called in today? Maybe he should have taken the day to just stay at home and catch up on sleep? Maybe he should have called another hero last night to take over? Or maybe just bail altogether and hope for the best? It’s not like anything happened that couldn’t have been dealt with later or by the cops.

His lunch ended, meaning his free period was over. At least he got a little time to reflect on his recent actions and words. Calling Midoriya annoying and telling Bakugo he will never be a hero with such a poor attitude (in retrospect, he wasn’t one to talk) was maybe a bit harsh. All Might was with his class, so he hoped to have them calm and listening for the rest of the day. Maybe an apology was due? Maybe he’d let them slack off for a bit? He wasn’t sure, but he’d make the decision once he got to the classroom.

He slid the door open staring at the floor. His eyes a mere slit against the rough features of his face. It figures, now is when he would be able to pass out right on the floor and sleep for days. At least he’d be in the classroom when he woke and wouldn’t need to get dressed in the morning. 

His eyes lifted and his hand reached for the back of his head with a nervous rub of his neck. Yeah, an apology was due. “Hey class-“

“THANK YOU MR. AIZAWA!”

He glanced around at the room. 

Balloons and streamers strung throughout. A cake big enough for an army to eat— with leftovers to spare. Each student wearing a shirt with his creepy smiling face on it. 

“What’s going on?” He tried to hide his excitement. 

All Might blew his cheap plastic kazoo right in Aizawa's face, “the students wanted to let you know how much they appreciate you. So they spent lunch putting together a party.”

He glanced around the room at all of the smiling faces. 

“Eri,” Midoriya nudge her out in front, “go.” He quietly urged her.

She looked to Mirio for confirmation, and after his nod, she pressed forward with a box in hand, “thank you Aizawa.” 

She was adorable. Unable to maintain eye contact, but fighting her nerves and fears to present the man that had been caring for her with his gift.

His first smile of the day was the most genuine smile he had worn in ages. “Why couldn’t we get a picture of that smile instead of the creepy one that looks like he’s about to put an axe through the door?” Kaminari whispered to Jiro.

A new pair of pink sweatpants was just what he needed. Present Mic had adamantly begged the students to get him something other than the dreadful pink sweatpants, but after hearing of how much he loved them, they had to buy them. His smile grew even more sincere as he unfolded them to see them better. A large cut out of what looked like a cat was poorly sewn into the butt of it.

“Eri drew and cut the cat, Midnight helped sew it on.” Mirio smiled with a thumbs up.

The anger. The irritation. The bad mood. All of it wiped clean and replaced with a warm and tender feeling buzzing inside. He felt whole in this class. He felt important. He felt happy. 

“Thank you class.” He blinked hiding the small trail the tear had left along his cheek.

Shouta Aizawa may not be their parent. He may not be their real family. But this classroom, and these students, are the only family he really needs. 

He whispered, a voice gone unnoticed, even by Jiro, “Thank you so much class. I love being your teacher.” 

#dadzawa #shouta aizawa #class 1a #grumpy teacher #hes their dad #prove me wrong #family #feel good #bnha #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #mha #fanfic

[omenapologist-moved]

Rabbit: Second Statement of “Mira”

Lost statement which was recovered in the depths of the Magnus Institute. This is one of few tapes we were able to recover. This tape appeared to have been slightly damaged in storage, but the integrity of the audio recording remains.

Statement begins.

Once again, I find myself here in this pleather seat, in front of you. Stoic as always. Removed from the situation I am about to relay to you. You try and look like you aren't bothered by my words, but the slight tremble in your voice betrays you. But even more than that, it's the look in your eyes. Your doe-like eyes, Archivist. Big and round and deep and full of fear like a little prey animal when faced with the barrel of a gun. 

But don't worry, I'm not here to torment you or to further comment on your striking resemblance to that which torments me. Some... Interesting things have happened since I was last seated across the table from you. This update I bring is mostly a formality. I expect these tapes to be the only record of my existence, or rather, the only record of this incarnation of myself, of Mira, in due time. I've traveled to many more towns, worn a few different faces since the last time we spoke. Well, the last time I spoke at you, if we wanted to be more technical about it. 

...Does my face look the same to you? I don't even recognize that I have one anymore. It is not something I worry about, particularly when I am alone to my thoughts. Who I am when I am alone does not matter, just as it doesn't matter whether or not a tree makes a noise when it falls in a forest and no one is around. It is when I am around others that who I am matters. 

To you, I am Mira. The strange little taxidermist that kept running over innocent animals with their car, had a psychotic break, and skipped town over and over again. At least that is what you tell yourself to avoid confronting the greater other, that which I am and that which I am not. You try and be skeptical, Archivist, but I can tell it is mostly to hide your fear... But you didn't say no when I came back.

My apologies, I said I wasn't here to torment you. It's just a little funny. 

I've poked and prodded and beaten around the bush long enough.

It's been nearly three years in total now since I left a life I once said was mine. I found a picture of that person in an old notebook the other day, and it was not me, and I am fine with that now. Every day I become more and more of a stranger to myself, and that is okay. 

I have become content with my life's path once again. 

I have rediscovered an old hobby.

For these past years, every time I saw that deer, I would look at it in its beautiful eyes that looked too much like mine and I would slam my foot on the gas and stare it down as I ran it over. I got better at causing less damage to my car over time. I'm amazed it's survived all the collisions. I'm amazed I have survived all the collisions. 

I came close a few times to being hit by an oncoming car, or veering directly into a tree, or the hooves of the animal smashing their way through my windshield and crushing my throat under their keratinous force. It felt as though the universe were holding me in its cold arms and sheltering me from the worst of these impacts, just so that I could be where I am today. 

The last few times I caused steel to collide with flesh, an itch grew upon me. Something I had not felt in quite some time. A desire once more to create, to peel away the soft, gentle fur of a little creature until its pink muscle is bared to the world and eaten by flies and maggots and carrion crows. To stretch its skin taut and stitch it back together, to have those glassy eyes once again staring me down from every crevice of my home. 

I resisted it at first. I knew I'd be a failure to it, that it would hate me, its cruel father, for condemning it once more to walk the Earth in such a terrible form. Legs a few half-inches too long, lips that were meant to be drawn into a contemplative expression stiffly stitched into a grimace, and those eyes...

But then, in a town where I wore the face of a happy-go-lucky bartender named Elijah, one of the stray cats I had been leaving food out for presented me with a gift. A freshly-caught little rabbit. I remembered how it felt to process such a creature. The fur of rabbits is so soft, softer than anything synthetic, but you have to be careful when you de-flesh the hide. The skin is so thin and tender and prone to tearing with the slightest nick, and if you are enough of an amateur such as myself you can ruin the whole hide. 

But once it is done it is such a precious little thing. So soft, but less... Frantic than it was in life. 

No little panicked rabbit heartbeat. 

Just silence and softness.

I wrapped the little thing in a plastic bag and I put it in my freezer, and the next day I went to the store and bought the barest of supplies. The tan would be nothing impressive, I wasn't even sure if it would last given the exceptionally low quality of the alum I had purchased, but it was worth a try, I thought. 

Somehow, it was worse than my previous specimens. The eyes squinted at me and they scorned me and they judged me not just for the sin of stuffing this creature but for all of the sins I had committed since pursuing this hobby. The skin itself had cured just fine, and yet the fur was falling out in chunks. I was eventually left with a thing that hardly resembled a rabbit anymore at all, but for the two unmistakable ears protruding from the top of its head. 

Most of it was bald flesh, translucent. The cheap floral foam I had used to sculpt the form it was stitched onto cast it in a ghastly green hue, and without the bulk of the fur to hide my errors every little imperfection shone through. The light tan stitching holding the piece together made it reminiscent of a recently autopsied corpse rather than a piece of taxidermy. I could see the full resin orb of its eyes through the skin, wide in terror at my sins. 

What have you done. 

What have you done. 

What have you done.

But somehow, I was not discouraged. I gave the blasphemous excuse for a piece of art a prominent place on my bookshelf. To remind me of my work, and that I had far to go.

Several days after, one of my coworkers invited me to an outing after work. The face I wore wouldn't say no, and so despite myself I accepted. I had yet again started keeping some meager supplies for the collection of roadkill in my car, but had yet to find any salvageable specimens. 

The outing doesn't matter. My presence was ultimately only so that I may be the vessel of that which they wished me to be, so I played my role and I played it well. I socialized, and joked, and was informed sometime afterwards I had been the life of the party. Good for them to get such use out of me. By the time I left the party, it was well after dark. 

Despite my best attempts in the contrary, I had found myself in a fairly rural area once more. Not that being in the city had kept the deer from pursuing me, of course. It would always find me. The red of blood and peeling mint-green of my car made quite the contrast. One I became used to with time.

I was driving home from the aforementioned outing. It had rained earlier that day and the yellow tinted light from the occasional street lamp danced somberly upon the wet asphalt. The road to the ramshackle motel I was staying in was a lonesome one. I was accompanied only by the watchful birch trees and my own thoughts, which had grown fuzzier as of late. A dull hum in the back of my mind, intrusive thoughts blending with my own until I couldn't tell where I ended and the other began. 

The sky was black and starless, the typical countless pinpricks of light obscured by oppressive storm clouds threatening to release another downpour. The typical yellow lines that divided the road were worn away in this area, neglected asphalt riddled with potholes of varying but always hazardous sizes. 

The black of the road and the black of the sky blended into an all-consuming void, the shimmer of my headlights on the wet road the only stars in sight. Ghostly birch trees stood as sentinels on either side of the road, observing me as they did every other passerby. As I progressed to my destination the trees became thicker and taller and the road became skinnier and more perilous. 

As they had promised, the clouds above unleashed their storm upon me. I turned on my high-beams and proceeded through the downpour.

In the distance, something on the shoulder of the road caught the light emanating from my car. Two perfect circles of light flashed. Animal eyes. I knew what would come next. The deer with my eyes would walk onto the middle of the road, and it would wait for the kiss of hard metal against its soft flesh and strong but not strong enough bones, and it would die there on that road and be gone by morning, and I would wash its blood from my car and pay for the repairs I needed to pay for, and I would pack up again and I would move town and change my name and my face to suit the next group of people that I would find myself amongst.

No.

No, I decided.

That was enough. I had enough.

The deer looked at me in the same way it always looked at me. Its eyes were more mine than they ever had been, full of a very, very human hatred.

My heart beat in time with the pace of my windshield wipers as they swept the rain from my field of vision. I stared at the deer in waiting of its own demise. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white, skin taut like that of a taxidermied rabbit around its form, translucent and pale and cold. I pressed my foot onto the pedal until it was flush with the floorboard. I felt the car lurch forward, taking a moment to make purchase with the rain-sodden road. 

I felt every moment of the impact, this time. I heard as the plastic and metal on the front of my car were wrought around the cervine's fragile frame. The doe slid onto the hood of my car, and as it did I became closer to its eyes than I ever had been and how they burned, Archivist. 

As the skull of the creature made impact with the glass barrier separating the two of us, its eyes did not close, the glass windshield spider-webbing around where the deer had collided with it. It remained in one piece, but only barely. The car slid along the slick road, and I slammed on the breaks. My nose smashed into the steering wheel, eliciting a trickle of blood to spout forth from it. The slain animal slid from the front of my vehicle, propelled forward by the remaining velocity.

The vehicle finally finished its motion, and sat under the rain. Again, there was silence.

I wiped the blood from my nose, and I leaned over to my glove box, and I retrieved my skinner knife and my spare needles and thread, and out there on that lonesome road in the middle of the rain I began my masterpiece.

The deer was dead. Its eyes were still open. I had never in all this time seen them shut. Despite the fire behind them having been extinguished by my own hand, they still burned.

I would give it a reason to hate me.

#tma #the magnus archives #fanpod #the stranger #tma oc #oc: mira