#I’m a simple creature. I wish to eat with my hands and nothing more.

[ghostofskywalker]

Awkward Misconceptions

Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Fictober Day 5 of 31

Words: 948

Summary: You, Din, and Grogu are mistaken for a family.

Din Djarin Masterlist

The child gurgled quietly in your arms as you sat across from the Mandalorian at the table, waiting for the food and drinks you ordered to arrive. You weren’t sure if he was going to take off his helmet to eat or not, but you didn’t want to make him feel like he had to if he didn’t want to. You had seen his face, but there were still complete strangers in the establishment. Since he brought Grogu to the Jedi and found out that he was the true master of the Darksaber, he hadn’t removed his helmet since. You just hoped that he would at least take some of the food back to his ship to eat it later, because you worried about him sometimes.

It had been a shock when you learned of Grogu’s return, to see the Mandalorian exit a firefight with the creature in his arms that you could have sworn had gone off to learn about the ways of the Jedi, and he explained the situation to you once everyone was safe. Of course you had been overjoyed to see the Child again, and you wondered what his future was going to look like now that he had decided not to pursue the teachings of the Jedi.

You hadn’t spent all that much time around him, but you considered him a friend nonetheless. Several times had he reached out to ask for your help, and you were always happy to lend a hand when you could. Although you had left your previous life as a mercenary behind and now spent your days working as a speeder and droid mechanic on Tatooine, the skills that you had not yet lost were often useful to the types of situations he found himself in.

“Here you are,” the twi’lek waitress said as she approached your table with a few plates of food, and smiled when she saw Grogu, who had hopped down from your arms and was now sitting next to you, perched atop your bag so that he could see over the table and better reach his food. “And what a darling he is! Are you out for lunch with your parents bud?”

You internally freaked out a little when you realized what she had just insinuated, but Grogu just gurgled happily as he reached out to grab something off one of the plates. Taking that as the answer she was looking for, the waitress just smiled and told you to let her know if you needed anything, to which you politely nodded and thanked her for bringing the food.

The entire time, your eyes were on the Mandalorian, desperately hoping that things wouldn’t get awkward, and that he didn’t get up and leave. You’d be lying if you said there weren’t times where you wished that you, him, and Grogu could be a family in the way that the waitress had just assumed, but you didn’t ever say anything about it. In no way did you blame the Twi’lek, it was nothing but a simple assumption (that Grogu seemed to affirm), but you just wished you could snap your fingers and make the blanket of awkwardness that had settled over the table just melt away into thin air.

Thankfully, the food’s arrival seemed to work some magic and help recover the atmosphere of the conversation. After a few bites (and a couple times where you helped Grogu), things were much less awkward, and conversation had started to flow between you and the Mandalorian once more. “Where do you think you’re going to travel to next?” you asked.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I didn’t expect for him to return at all, let alone so soon, and I don’t know if I want to keep moving or try and find somewhere to settle.”

“If you’re looking for somewhere to stay while you figure that out, I have a few extra rooms at my place,” you offered. Part of you cringed as the words left your mouth, and you thought that he would see your offer as desperate or suddenly say that he didn’t want to spend time with you anymore, but thankfully that didn’t seem to be the case.

“Thank you,” he said. “I may just take you up on the offer, but I have a few things I must deal with first.”

“Of course,” you said. “It’s only if you’d like to.”

Much to your surprise, he reached out across the table to where your hand was resting next to your plate and laid his over it for a moment. “I would,” he said. “I really appreciate how much you’ve helped me.”

He pulled his hand away after he spoke, but you wished he hadn’t.

The meal was over a little while after (you forced him to take the wrapped-up leftovers for himself), and soon you were waving goodbye at Grogu as he sat adorably in the Mandalorian’s new starfighter’s droid-port. He hadn't gotten in yet, and you had plans to wave them off before heading back to your shop. “Hey!” you called out, and he turned back to look at you. Despite the fact that you couldn’t see his face, you would be willing to bet there was a quizzical look on it as he wondered what you could possibly want now. “See you soon?”

There was a short pause before he answered. “You have my word.” You just nodded in response, both of you knowing what it meant.

Although you weren’t a family in the exact way that the waitress had assumed (yet, if you had anything to do about it), you still considered him family, and you hoped he did too. 

- the end -

i no longer have a taglist! if you're interested in being notified when i post, you can follow my library blog @ghostofskywalker-library and turn on notifications!

#ghostofskywalker.fictober #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #star wars x reader #pedrostories #starwarsficnetwork

[fastfur07]

Treasury

CW: Vore

This one has been sitting around for a while without an introduction, so I just slapped one on. I was "trying something new", apparently.

Soft, safe vore, semi-unwilling pred.

The maid had been assigned to take care of the palace’s dragon, and she had no idea what to expect. She’d heard dragons were huge and frightening, and killed humans for fun, but that couldn’t be true, right? If it was, she was expendable.

She went back over the details of her assignment: do whatever the dragon tells you, and help it any way you can. Simple enough, she thought, and knocked on the door to the beast’s quarters.

The door was answered by the dragon itself. It was smaller than the maid had expected, but still long and graceful, and adorned with yellow and red scales. “H-hello,” she whispered, not daring to make eye contact.

“Hello,” replied the dragon, in a surprisingly friendly voice. “You must be the maid they sent for me. Come in, it’s almost lunchtime.”

The maid followed it into an impressive dining room, its table laden with all kinds of food. The maid couldn’t stop her mouth from watering, but she resisted.

“You’re supposed to be serving me, aren’t you?” the dragon questioned.

“Yes, yes,” the maid replied hastily, standing to attention.

“Well, relax. I’m not going to boss you around. Let’s just talk,” it offered, taking its position at the head of the table.

The maid, feeling like there was no other choice, sat at the other end, and waited for the dragon to begin.

---

"The problem is, I'm always hungry," the dragon pondered, using the pause to tear a huge chunk of meat off an oversized skewer.

"They give me so much food, and of course I'm satiated by it, but there's some part of me that always wants more." Finishing the skewer, it moved on to an equally giant bowl of noodles, and the maid simply watched and listened. She knew dragons had appetites, but how could one so small put away a meal so large?

"It's like there's this aching void, somewhere deep down in my throat, and I try my best to fill it…" The dragon licked the dregs from the bowl, already eyeing up some kind of roast. With all the grace and restraint of a starving waterfowl, it snapped its jaws shut around the dish and gulped it down, whole. The bite was big enough to make a lump appear in the dragon's throat, and the maid was fascinated to see it roll downward and disappear.

"... But as soon as I swallow, the food just goes past it into my stomach, and I don't feel any better."

The dragon kept talking as it ate, and gradually the table emptied. At the far end, next to where the maid was sitting, was an enormous jug, full of water or perhaps wine, as tall and wide as a man with arms outstretched. The dragon climbed up over the lip and lowered its head inside, preparing to wash down its meal.

Unsure of what to do now, the maid remained still and silent. She could hear the dragon swallow, the sound echoing through the jug and out into the room. It slid further in as the drink dwindled, each gulp sounding more hollow and waterlogged than the last.

Finally, the dragon’s head emerged from the jug. It licked its lips, before letting out a tremendous belch. Dragons seemed not to have manners, the maid mused, but she was still quietly in awe at this creature.

“Which of course is not to say that the food they give me isn’t worth eating,” concluded the dragon, clambering down and sitting next to the maid. It rested a hand on its belly, which had grown round and taut: it was certainly very full, but there was nothing to suggest it had just eaten enough to feed ten people. “I only wish there was some way to appreciate my meals a little more."

The dragon glanced wistfully into space before remembering itself and turning to leave.

“I’ll need a few hours to digest,” it called to the maid as it plodded away. “Please take care of yourself in the meantime."

The maid was soon lost in thought. She'd been assigned to tend to the dragon and fix its problems - and wasn't this a problem? Surely she should attempt to help it with its hunger. 

Then she realised she didn't really know anything about dragons. "Easily fixed," she muttered to herself, getting up from the table and heading in the direction of the library.

---

The maid sat at the dining table, flipping through a heavy book. She'd borrowed a jade necklace from the treasury, and was fidgeting with the strap as she read. Hearing the dragon's heavy footsteps, she quickly closed the book, awaiting its instruction.

The dragon, however, seemed curious. It sidled up to the human, inspecting the cover of the book. It didn't understand human writing, so it asked, "What is that?"

"I thought I would help you with your eating problem," explained the maid. "I'm reading about dragon anatomy."

"What?" The dragon tried to hide its surprise. "I didn't need help with it."

"Maybe not, but it's my duty to assist you in any way I can. Look at this," the maid added, showing the dragon a page. "It says your dragon species used to transport jade in their bellies."

"I never did that."

"Maybe not, but it means that if you swallow any jade, your stomach should automatically clear away any acid," the maid explained.

The dragon looked bewildered. "Why are you telling me this?"

The maid took a deep breath. "Because, if it's true, I should be able to use this" - she drew attention to the necklace - "to go inside you and figure out what's wrong."

An awkward silence fell over the room. It took the dragon a moment to comprehend the maid's statement, but once it did, it drew back in horror, rearing up almost comically: "What?? No! Why would you say that?"

The maid didn't have a response to this.

"You could die!" the dragon urged.

"Maybe I could, but you're a dragon, and I'm just a human - and a human who only follows orders, at that,” the maid added, with a hint of resignation. “If it came to it, I'd lay down my life to serve you."

A tear welled in the dragon’s eye. “I…” it slurred, and the maid was taken aback: she had never seen a dragon cry. She’d thought they wouldn’t have reason to.

The dragon sucked in a breath and dived into its coils. It buried its face, covering its head with its hands, and began choking back sobs. The maid immediately rushed to its side: "Oh! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to… please don't cry!"

"D… don't die for me…" the dragon pleaded. "You're so sweet… I couldn't bear to…" 

It couldn't finish its sentence before dissolving into wails again. Hesitantly, the maid gave it a gentle rub along its slender neck. "Ssh. It's okay. I'm not going to die."

"B... b… but what if it doesn't work? You'd be digested! I…" The dragon groaned. "Oh, but I'm still so HUNGRY…"

The maid continued to comfort the dragon as its thoughts swam, and after a while, it lifted its head to look at her. It sniffed. "Okay… I'm willing to try it."

"If you don't want to, that's okay," the maid insisted. "You're the one in charge here."

"Well… I do want to get rid of this emptiness." The dragon looked uneasily at the maid, its eyes still glistening with tears. "I've felt it for so long… but I would never let someone else come to harm to serve myself." 

"I'll try your idea," it continued. "But if anything goes wrong, we'll need to make sure you can get out okay."

A few seconds passed before the dragon finished its thought. "Go find some rope." 

The maid stood up, obediently, but not without concern.

---

A few minutes later, the maid returned with a length of silk cord. "Don't ask me where I got this," she sighed.

"Tie one end around your waist," the dragon instructed, "so I can pull you back up if something goes wrong."

The maid did as she was told. "Are you really sure you want to do this?" she asked. "It was only a suggestion."

The dragon tried to look confident. "Yes. We'll never fix anything if we don't try, and now we know you'll be safe."

"Well, in that case, open up."

The dragon felt like a paranoid child visiting the dentist. Slowly, it forced itself to part its lips. As its maw opened up in front of the maid, she picked up the necklace and tossed it in.

The dragon gagged, and the maid couldn't help but smile: what had happened to its appetite? When it finally swallowed, she gave it a few seconds to collect itself before asking, "Do you feel any different?"

"Well… not really…" the dragon pondered, looking down at its middle. "If anything, I feel even emptier."

"That might mean it's working!" The maid adjusted her tether. "Okay, my turn."

"Wait! Wait wait wait!" The dragon skittered backwards, then stopped and took another deep breath. "Okay. I'm ready."

Its jaws inched apart again, and the maid dropped to her hands and knees. She gently crawled inside, avoiding the dragon's fangs, until she was lying on a quivering tongue.

"Whenever you're ready," she called.

The dragon tried to reply, but with its jaws forced open and a heavy weight holding its tongue down, it could only manage small sounds. It held tightly to the other end of the rope and forced itself to swallow - but nothing happened.

A feeling of apprehension came over the maid when she saw the dragon's throat flex. "Are you okay?" she asked.

The dragon's jaw started to ache. It tried swallowing again, but there was still no movement. The maid was simply too big. She realised this, and flattened herself to the floor of the living cavern, extending her arms in front of her. Another few seconds passed, and the dragon still hadn't managed to swallow.

Then, it noticed something.

A wonderful taste had filled its mouth, unlike anything it had tasted before. The dragon moved its tongue around, exploratively, and its mouth slowly filled with drool. Finally, it could hold on no longer, and let the taste slip down its throat.

“Mmmm.” The dragon give a satisfied sigh, running its tongue across its lips. Dreamily, it looked around the room: the maid was gone.

“Wait.”

Remembering what it had just eaten, the dragon saw the rope, and caught it before it could slither out of sight. Then it looked down at its belly. The maid was shuffling around inside, causing the surface to ripple and squirm. It felt as strange as it looked. The dragon approached with its free hand, but couldn’t bring itself to touch its skin. “A-... are you okay in there?”

“Well, there’s no acid,” replied the maid, her voice muffled, “so that’s a good sign.”

“... What’s it like inside me?” the dragon added, still concerned.

“It’s… dark. Cramped. Pretty warm, too. What you’d expect from being swallowed by a dragon.”

“And you’re not hurt? I didn’t accidentally bite you or anything?”

“No! You were very gentle,” the maid praised.

All the dragon could say to that was “Oh,” and there was another awkward silence. The dragon looked around, suddenly embarrassed. “What do I do now?” it wondered out loud.

“Just relax,” offered the maid. “Maybe lie down, so I can get around easier.”

“Okay.” The dragon left the dining room and headed to its bed, where it had been lying a few hours ago. Doing its best to lie flat, it settled into a comfortable position, and for a long while, all it did was watch the maid crawl up and down the length of its slender body. The sensation wasn’t so strange anymore: it was almost like a massage, but on the inside, where all the sore and tickly spots were.

“I don’t really know what I’m doing,” the maid eventually confessed, “but your stomach seems healthy enough.”

“Well, that’s good…” the dragon replied, suddenly sleepy. “When are you going to come out, though?”

“Well, how do you feel?”

The dragon tried to focus on itself and think about how it actually felt, but aside from the weight in its belly and the tiredness hanging over its head, there didn’t seem to be anything. Some kind of familiar itch was missing.

“W… wait!” the dragon suddenly yelled.

“What is it?”

“I feel… full! I actually feel full! All that hunger and emptiness I was feeling is gone! Whatever you did, it worked!” The dragon leapt up in celebration, causing the maid to slip down in its stomach.

“Oof. Uh, I didn’t really do anything.” The maid looked around awkwardly, despite the darkness. “Maybe it’s just me being in here that did it,” she ventured.

“In that case, can you stay? I mean, please stay!” The dragon fumbled with its words as it remembered its power. “I mean, I order you to stay!”

“You’re the boss.” The maid smiled to herself and settled down. She knew she was going to be in there for a long time - or at least, until the dragon’s next meal.

The end

#vore writing #vore story #soft vore #safe vore #digestion mention

[cloudbattrolls]

Ready Set Go

This drabble is preceded by Piece by Piece.

Jikiro Takami & Jameth Abnale | Takami Estate | Present Night

A subdued air surrounded Jikiro and Jamie as they ate lunch together at the Takami estate’s dining room, both fresh from work. Jikiro’s employees bustled around them, and Jamie gave Akiote a half-hearted wave, but neither man looked particularly happy.

The tealblood had hardly touched his food, even though he loved eel. Jamie had already finished his meal, a bowl of soup he’d added a generous portion of spices to. 

“We’re fucked, Jamie.” Jikiro said, sighing. “I don’t know what to do. I’m getting us new contracts, but word’s spreading about how our current ones dropped us. Every time I think I’ve made good enough wards to keep her out of our own and other businesses, she breaks through and turns someone else against us! She’s just too damn experienced.” He gritted his teeth. 

He held his head in hands.

“I wish she’d fucking give up already. This is such a waste of my time.”

“Mmm.” Said Jamie contemplatively, though his gaze was elsewhere. “Yet you refuse to kill her.”

“By this point I’d consider it.” Replied the older man bluntly. “But there’s basically no way that doesn’t involve sinking yet more money down the drain, and I know damn well my magic’s no match for hers, if it was I wouldn’t have problems anyway.”

Jamie examined his kismesis intently. 

“Is there any source of stronger magic you could tap? I know those things from the legends we’ve heard can’t be all fake. My own homeland tells tales of the fae.”

The ink maker looked uncomfortable.

“We don’t bother those creatures for a reason, Jamie, it’s dangerous as fuck. They’re really hard to deal with and live, Hanabi’s told me so.”

“Oh? I suppose it makes sense she would know, being so old…” he mused. “Well. You might not have a choice soon, laddie. I know you’ve already had to cut hours and roll back production. Haven’t a few lines of ink gone unavailable, too?”

Jikiro winced and nodded. He looked down at his food. His appetite had just…vanished. How was he supposed to eat when he was worried if his lowblood workers would go hungry? It felt wrong.

“Eat, you fool. Starving yourself doesn’t help.” Urged his kismesis, annoyed.

“I’m nowhere close to starving.” He muttered. “I’d cut the estate’s food budget if I had t - “

“Stop, stop, shut up.” Jamie cut in. “Don’t talk like that. Things aren’t quite so bad yet. You know I’d give you a loan if necessary, you moron.”

Jikiro nodded reluctantly, and finally took a forkful of his eel. He looked at the spice shaker Jamie had enjoyed earlier, but decided against using any.

“So, uh…how about you and Velour?” He said, trying to sound more lighthearted.

Jamie snorted. “Oh, don’t go all Viltau on me. There’s nothing to tell.” 

He idly played with a small keychain on his phone, a small metallic charm shaped like a simple spaceship.

The tanuki troll grinned. “Oh yeah? How come every time I turn around you’re spending time with him, or planning to? I might get jealous.”

Jamie sputtered in amusement and indignation alike, flicking a crumb from his plate at his spade, who caught it and threw it in the trash. 

“Don’t be an idiot! I’d rather eat my own socks than have feelings for the man.” He said vehemently. “Besides, I have far better taste in flush.” He sniffed.

“Oh shit, true…not like there’s a whole two other quads or anything, and you’ve never told me what you like in pale.” The tanuki troll remarked, grin even bigger.

Jamie glared at Jikiro, who put his head on one hand as he leaned on the wooden table and looked back, completely unbothered.

“I don’t like anything in pale, and I’ll thank you to mind your own business anyway.”

“Like fuck I will.” Said Jikiro cheerfully. “Not after you being nosy about me and Vil. Give and take, freckles.”

Jamie made an irritated hooting noise, crossing his thin arms.

“There is absolutely no reason I’d ever feel anything for that self-centered, frivolous, shallow, miserly idiot.” He said softly, deathly serious. Light shone off his rectangular glasses.

“You know how this will end, Jiji. He gets bored, or I become too much trouble, and he moves on. We both know that’s always the way. It will be so for him, and for Viltau too. I am prepared. Life will go on.”

Jikiro looked at the cobalt with almost as analytical of a gaze as the kookaburra troll tended to give those around him. 

“That what you really think, or do you just not like me prying?”

“Yes.” Jamie shot back, snide, ears flicking in irritation.

Then his eyes rolled back, and he promptly fell out of his chair, choking for breath.

“Jamie? Jamie!!”

Jikiro’s panicked shouts were the last thing the blueblood heard before he fell unconscious.

—

The cobalt woke up in a soft, familiar bed with sopor-lined sheets, staring at the painted ceiling he’d slept under countless times before.

He could barely move, and his throat was dry, his tongue parched.

“What…?” He croaked, seeing Jikiro sitting at the foot of the bed, looking more solemn than he’d almost ever seen him before.

“Izanam.” The tealblood answered, hatred bubbling beneath his forced calm. “She exploited a loophole in our wards. That fucking spice shaker.” He said, voice raising.

Jamie blinked blearily, then his lip curled in disdainful amusement.

“Well. What’s the diagnosis, medic?”

“Look at your right arm.” He answered, grim.

Jamie did so, drawing it out from under the covers, and saw that his hand and part of his forearm were ink-black. He swore he saw the uneven edges of the mark moving slightly, trying and failing to creep further up the skin. 

“I trapped the poison there; didn’t have a choice. I’m not good enough with that stuff to try to cure it, I could wind up killing you instead. I need to go find a cure.”

“Find, not make?” The blueblood queried. “Don’t you have books for this kind of thing?”

The tanuki troll shook his head. “Not for this. Hanabi and I have already been through the books, and even she doesn’t recognize it. Whatever Izanam used is rare enough that we have no records of it.”

Jamie absorbed this, swallowing to get some more moisture back in his mouth.

“I see. So. Where must you go to find this cure?”

The tealblood looked up.

“Know how you asked me why I had to eat ink and I didn’t answer?”

“Intimately.” Replied the kookaburra troll dryly.

“Remember how we were talking about magical creatures?”

“Oh, this is too good.” Said Jamie with amusement. “What, are you possessed or something?”

Jikiro huffed. “Not exactly -“

“No, no, I need to savor the moment of my kismesis being a pop horror movie villain. Oh, fright, oh terror! Save me from the monster!” He pretended to swoon.

“Are you done?” Said Jikiro impatiently. “I’m trying to give you important information here, you little shit.”

“For the moment.” Jamie chuckled, still amused by the entire situation.

Jikiro folded his tattooed arms. “Yeah, I have some demon power in me, it’s what brought me back from the dead. But I’m not possessed. Hanabi said…she said if I could make a deal with that demon, it could tell me how to get the cure. She said it’s not ideal, but -“

“Hold on.” Jamie said impatiently. “You’re going to go make a deal with a literal demon and that’s all you plan on asking it for? How to cure me? Have some imagination! Ask it for the ability to kick Izanam’s geriatric arse to the curb.”

Jikiro glowered. “Do you have any idea how dangerous making deals with demons is? I’m gonna be pushing it just asking to save you. Hanabi has to coach me on what to say so I don’t fuck myself and the business over.”

“Please, I can coach you too.” Dismissed the blueblood. “We’ll figure it out.”

The tealblood squinted.

“How the fuck are you taking this so calmly.”

Jamie’s two-tone eyes gleamed.

“You know why.”

Jikiro sighed. “Yeah, fair.”

“So, how much time do I have?” The smaller man asked, casual as if he was wondering whether it would rain.

Jikiro looked up again, then back at his kismesis.

“A few perigees. If I don’t cure you. But I will.” He said firmly.

Jamie nodded. 

“Better than I thought it might be. Well! Let’s get cracking. You’ll need to bring me up to speed so I can take care of your business too when you’re away. I imagine the demons are not so easily gotten to by train.”

Jikiro nodded, then hesitated. 

“Jamie, that’s a lot. Especially with the state Izanam has left us in. Are you sure?”

“You trust her to not try to corrupt or sway any of your second in commands, assuming she hasn’t already?” He asked, pointed. “Here I’m safe from that, at least, and I assume you patched your stupid ward.”

Jikiro snorted. “You fucking bet I did.”

“Then I don’t see what better option we have.” He said crisply. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead! Which might be sooner than I think.” He said with dark humor.

“Love the trust here, makes me feel so much better.” Grumbled the tealblood.

“Cry harder, Jiji, as you like to say.” Commented his spade airily. 

“Cool, I’ll go tell Viltau and Velour what happened then.” He fired back, grinning, and smirked in satisfaction as Jamie’s ear tips flushed blue along with his narrow face and he hooted angrily, his accent thickening.

“Don’t you dare! I do not want visitors! Jikiro Takami, I will kick your fat arse to the green moon!”

“Can’t hear you, I don’t speak tiny angry asshole.” He called back, having already walked out of the room.

His kismesis, unable to move off his bed, fumed.

#cloud writes #jikiro takami #jameth abnale

[esresblog]

FRAIL

Frail and fragile, I look at my hands torn to pieces as I just sit on my bed wondering why I’m still here at all. The silence is deafening. I can only hear my heavy irregular breathing and my rapid heartbeat racing against my restless chest. Barely any tears are coming out, forced by myself, as I just need one way – only one, to let my feelings out. But even when I try to materialise them into words I really can’t find the right ones.

There is nothing to say, other than “just tired” or “the same as always”. The first one is true, but I am always tired, which leaves very little as a valid excuse. And what does “the same as always” even mean? I feel rather empty all the time, yet I can’t seem to find the reason why or the triggers of my mood swings. I actually believe they’re not swings – just distractions that went off as their timer ran out, and I was left alone with my thoughts once again. Helpless against my own head, as it tears me to pieces more every day and I learn to hide it better as well. I truly never know what I feel, unless that means that I feel nothing at all. It’s a strange taste in my mouth, as if in moments like this I mourned a time that never existed, a time where me and the ground were together, a time where I wouldn’t have to worry about breathing anymore.

As I adapt myself into the world I learn to mirror other’s emotions, trying to feel them instead of mine. If this was something conscious, it’d be easier on myself. But as happiness can be briefly contagious, sadness hits stronger than ever coming from a place of empathy. As if I wasn’t able to feel things by myself excepting very specific / extreme situations, I need that trigger I get from others. If it’s been too long, I must find some trigger myself. Something to move me from this state, something to remind me I am still alive, I am real and I have a purpose or at least a place on this earth. Something that would make my brain react to the fact I can breathe and move and eat and sleep, hurt and bleed and cry and scream, beg for it to stop, beg for the emptiness to come back… until it does. That emptiness that absorbs everything around it, that incapability of crying unless someone else does first. That impossibility of functioning like a normal human unless there are models around me to use as simple photocopies; to make myself a photocopy of them – at least until they go against me, against what I need, and I lose all hope in living, feeling and going forward.

Without these inputs my mind breaks, incapable of holding information or rational thought. It inevitably turns to madness and death as if it was the only way out – which it might. Something that living with mental illness for close to five years teaches you is that it always gets worse. No matter what precious thing I hold, what beautiful memory is in front of my eyes, it will always be ruined. And by me nonetheless, as if I was a heavy iron creature in a glass-like reality. A creature that not only breaks everything around it, but that those same shards product of their stupidness are what damages them every day, as if it was walking on the shattered bones of all its loved ones. Walking irregularly and purposelessly, until their mental weight is too much for them and their collapse under their own misery.

In this grey, shattered world I’m only alone when I wish I wasn’t. When I think I’ve found peace in nobody, in nothing, in the lack of judging, lack of hurting and lack of yelling, it always comes back. “It” is those repressed memories, things I wish had never happened. Things that attack me just by listening to a simple sentence. Looking at my own scars. Looking at my reflection in the dirty water. Looking at the sky, and realising the sun looks like it did that day. That it’s been a year since I tried something I regret, but only sometimes. Because when the clouds move a certain way and the air smells like a specific dish; when my mother’s expression is back to how it was that pitiful night, or my father is hiding his own - that’s when I truly, deeply wish I had never lived long enough to experience It. A dramatic way of wording, I’m aware, however that’s how they appear in my nightmares and in the corner of my eye when anxiety is too much to contain inside of my mind and it spills like undried paint. Sneaky, usually plain, peaceful black melting creatures with tired eyes that look at me, never smiling, with a pained expression on their face. They remind me of things I’ve done, mistakes I’ve committed that haunt me to this day. How I’ve never been good enough, how even trying to fix my errors just created new ordeals that I face up against every day.

If it wasn’t hard enough to escape the people that hurt me in the daily, now I must evade the most dangerous of all; myself. Because morals are always on top, morals are what stop people from hurting those they love – maybe because they’re not totally inhuman, they have some head and some heart left. They know they will hurt and will beg. But what happens when the person you so strongly desire to end is asking you to do so? The person that most harms has caused you, the origin of all your problems, hate, insecurities and misfortunes – they’re begging right to your face. Asking you to hurt them. To end their own suffering. Telling you your misery will end with them, and they won’t ask for help. They won’t scream, won’t tell anyone else. What if you had them right in front of a bridge, and they tempted you to push them down? Would you really be able to refuse, knowing there are no consequences? After all, who cares if you hurt someone, if that someone is yourself?

Because sometimes living in greyscale can be so mentally torturing that you’d wish to slit your limbs just to be able to see some red dripping to the ground. Your mind seeks some relief to truly know your bodily functions are inevitably still working, that you haven’t died yet and your body is just mismatched with your destiny. That your mind is long gone, and your physical body has just not picked up yet. I tell you; you wouldn’t wish your mind to revive. All you crave is the forever rest and forever peace. The forever sleep that we all have craved – not only the broken ones as me.

Not only the people who have mourned, lamented and regretted every aspect of themselves, just to be lost by their own hand, as if your soul broke in two and one of the fragments was too exhausted to join again. So you must adapt to this half-life you’ve been forced to continue, knowing that part of you is long gone and you’ll never get it back. So you might as well quit early before you might experience some loss of that sort – one you wouldn’t be able to bear. Why not give you and everyone around you that extra help, extra push, and have them deal with one less burden in their lives?

You frail, broken thing. If you weren’t just so pathetic. You used to have an opportunity to be someone in this world, but the world lost all hope on you the day you lost it on yourself. Because nobody likes zombies, a soulless corpse like you would be better off in the afterlife, far, far away – enough to not cause any more harm anymore. Rest well, little dove. It’s not like you ever will until you write your own ending.

And if you ever get that semicolon tattoo, just know that there will be a period someday. It’s true you didn’t end your sentence that day, but it might just end itself out of pity. Don’t be surprised when that day arrives.

Love, Sai

[walker-of-the-sky]

Hello, Id.

It’s been 13 days my mind is on fire.

12, if I count from the hour he was gone.

He.

You?

I don’t want to write this to you.

No, we don’t really know each other that well. I wasn’t supposed to be writing something for you.

“When a writer falls in love with you, you will never die”, they say.

But I’m not fucking in love.

And this isn’t about you.

It’s only about me, though I’d do anything to have you back in my bed again.

(*Him).

It’s been 12 days my mind’s on fire.

... Why?

Why did I even want that to begin with?

My mind is a fragile place, I fear.

And I’m only just beggining to realize.

***

There is something I’ve known since forever:

We’re animals.

(I really like that one song).

“What makes humans so special?”

... Nothing.

I never found we were really that much more special than all the other creatures.

We breathe. We eat. We sleep.

Oxygen. Glucose. Melatonin.

(Turn off that fucking blue light!)

Actions driven by inputs and more inputs and more inputs...

Chemicals.

I always could feel them so easily in my brain.

Did you know? I can’t draw if I spend too much time on my phone.

I feel the dopamine building up on excess, crashing my system, disrupting my focus. It’s difficult to fix the angle on that jawline for the 7th time if my brain is addicted to swapping twitter.

I’ve always been more or less aware.

And I’ve always deprived myself to keep all those chemicals in check.

“Eat that chocolate when you find a good movie. Drink that gin tonic on a Friday. Save those cigarettes for when your friends are over."

... I have all these things at home.

I don’t crave them. I don’t touch them.

I’ve disciplined myself.

I’ve always been more or less aware of my Ego watching over the crazy Id, holding it on a tight leash.

Yes, I’ve always know how much I’m an animal.

I wish more people would admit they are too.

***

But-

I suppose most people don’t feel the obvious presence of the Id inside their minds.

(I sound much more Freudian than I should).

... The Id is the animal, if you don’t know.

It’s the chemicals. The desires.

The survival.

(More or less or so).

My Id and the rest of my mind have never quite been on tune.

And I’m a liar to say I’m fully disciplined.

I need to be, because I know what happens when I’m not.

I can never have one drink, can I? I always need to go to the verge of not standing up. Of cigarretes disappearing in my hands. Of having headaches that destroy entire sunny days.

I don’t like it.

And I see you, Id. It’s always so dangerous when I lighten my grip on you.

I’m glad I’m aware. I know where I’d be if I weren’t.

I’m so, so glad that drinking makes it hard to draw.

Now, isn’t it such a cheesy anime trope?

My life?

“I can be better if I have something to protect.”

My art?

I’ve become a gym rat (who knew!) just so I can cure my shoulders and draw freely again.

I suppose that sounds kind of pathetic.

Why do people do things? Most of the time we don’t know.

They just do. And we see. And we do.

But all of that sounds too rational, doesn’t it?

For an animal.

***

13 (12) days ago was supposed to be one more night.

I didn’t even want to go out, not really.

I wanted to stay home and draw.

I did my makeup without listening to any music. I didn’t even feel like drinking my “heating up for the party” gin tonic - I poured half of it down the drain before walking out the house.

That was how much I did not want to go.

But I could feel you, singing in the back of my mind.

Yes, you, Id. Because you always whisper when I go out at night.

“... Find someone to have sex with.”

Yes, like an animal. Simple and crude as that.

Stupid as that.

Like a fucking animal on heat.

It’s irrational. I don’t do stuff like that. It’s not me.

I did it once and I hated it.

And I fucking hate that, still, that’s what I think everytime.

The bad thing is that I don’t even agree with you -- I don’t think, “oh, that’s great, we should totally find somebody.” If I did, it would be easier. Maybe I would be in peace with the fire you’re setting in my brain.

But to be fair, to be truly fair - I don’t blame you, Id.

I get furious when I’m hungry, and even more furious when I want to sleep. It’s needs, chemicals building up and sending input after input after input.

And 12 days ago, it had been over a year and a half.

I was an animal dying of famine.

Was.

***

You got what you wanted, didn’t you, Id?

You knew the moment he walked inside.

All our friends knew, too. Because I became shy.

I’m always the silly one, loud one, stupid one. Because I don’t care. I don’t give a shit. I can’t say I don’t have anxiety, I do, and the way I deal with it is by caring about absolutely nothing.

But you gave me something to care, didn’t you, Id?

His opinions, his impression on me. I became shy, insecure of my appearance, my moves, my voice.

“I can be better if I have something to protect.”

It’s true I didn’t smoke, I didn’t drink, I didn’t do any of these things.

I wanted to be aware. For him.

And then, despite the complete sobriety, I became stupid, a not so cool stupid, doing excessive dancing moves and screaming a little too much like a horny bird putting on a coitus show.

(Did I really have to show how flexible I was during one of the dances? God fucking damn).

That was you, Id. I fucking know.

Because you fucking knew.

Because when we passed around me I couldn’t breathe, and because the glances we exchanged were like time being frozen in a movie picture - no sound, no movement.

(I have this vision locked on my mind).

Exactly like in the cinema. Exactly like in the books.

(I forgot things like those were actually true).

Too bad you made me too nervous to talk to him, Id.

It’s kind of pathetic to admit I don’t know a lot about him.

But I’m glad our friends hyped me up when he was about to leave.

And I’m glad he smiled at me when I found him in his car.

Guess what, Id?

You are often right about these kinds of things.

***

Being an animal is funny.

There are things we are born knowing.

We come to light screaming for food and protection. We know to look for heat, for milk, for connections that offer us protection and safety and the chemicals of love we so desperately need to survive.

It’s almost silly, looking back to it,

that I feared I had forgotten how to kiss.

(As if it wasn’t imprinted in my mind).

Well, who wouldn’t, after one year and a half?

I’m glad it was so ridiculously easy.

(Oh, be careful. This is where it gets a bit too explicit).

***

I’ve always liked that part:

I can smell your scent for miles.

It’s like food. There is no difference. Most of the time you know you need it, and then you go look for it.

And sometimes, you see it, and only then you realize you’re hungry to the point of agonizing.

(It’s awful, to compare a person to food).

(And yet...).

I love many things.

Drawing. Writing. Walking in the sun. Walking in the rain. Chilly mornings. Chinese food. Sleeping. Waking up and sleeping more.

I love so, so many things.

But few things are better than-

The silence of the world shutting out when you kiss.

Sinking your teeth in the thin skin of a person’s throat-

Feeling the heart beating against your tongue.

I love many things, but I love more when a man closes his eyes and breathes deeply because of me.

When they’re under me, and especially when they turn both of us around.

I love all of that, but I love the most-

The smell.

(Yes, it’s my favourite part of the song).

Did you know? Sex has a scent.

Like a concentrated essence of the person as a whole, coming out in the air. No amount of clothes can hold it within.

It makes sense, since we’re animals. We don’t need to talk to signal these kinds of things.

Time warps...

It’s always such an exciting feeling to feel a man getting hard against you. You feel, and you want to keep feeling it.

(It’s good for him and for you too).

The way we breathe. Loud, deep, hot. Every sigh is a word on its own.

(The car’s windows, just like fucking Titanic. I had never known).

I understand how animals can go on a craze, on a chase that lasts for hours, without tiring, without giving up.

Kissing, smelling, breathing, feels just like that.

***

(Breathe...)

When we were out of the car,

He said something about “Dangerous.”

We were in a slum, after all. Alone in the street at 3 fucking AM.

But I looked at him, I laughed, and I said:

“Don’t worry, I’m not dangerous.”

He laughed. Shook his head. He wasn’t talking about me.

Before we got in the car again, he pointed at something in the foggy windows, and said: “Look.”

I frowned at the white windows.

“It’s dusty?” I asked.

He rolled his eyes, shook his head, and I realized I was supposed to be looking at the heart with an arrow he had just drawn.

It still gives me chills.

The way I looked at it, the hand made heart, and thought - “Why?”

But why why?

It’s strange. I was the cold one.

I’m never the cold one.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about that.

***

But I didn’t, at the time.

That night,

I was a fucking predator.

Focused. On what I wanted.

After one year and a half.

He put his hand on my thigh, on the car. I didn’t hold it.

He told me: “You know you can let yourself go with me.”

I laughed.

What a silly thing to say, I thought. Wasn’t all of that happening because of me?

The thing about tunnel vision is that it makes you fucking blind.

***

We’re animals. There are things we are born knowing.

But I did warn him: “I haven’t done this in a long time.”

Apparently, neither had he.

(How impossible? Aren’t we always been told all the time that everyone is loving someome, everyone is enjoying their lives, everyone is having sex but us? So how? Why?)

It made me feel a little less nervous.

I was nervous, but I wasn’t. I was both and neither.

I’ve been blaming you a lot, Id. But you’re not the only stupid one at times.

There’s you too, Superego. Why did you put Id on a leash?

Why did you keep me from holding his hand?

(I should have held his hand so many times).

You did let me hold him during sex, but that’s only because no one can fight Id inside it’s own kingdom.

(Than god. Thank god).

“Be detached. It’s just a hookup.”

Said who?

He fucking told me the story of his tattoos.

And you know what’s bad?

I don’t even know if he was caring, or if this is normal.

If everyone is loving like this, and I was just too cold, or if he was one in a thousand, and I was still just too cold.

(I guess I’ll have to do it with yet another guy).

***

But the thing is, I don’t want to.

That’s one of your ultimate flaws, Id.

You know you desire, but you don’t know what.

You have an idea. Hunger.

But you don’t know what it is that we need to gather to survive.

I’m an animal,

and his smell on my bed was fucking torture.

On my skin, even worse.

I didn’t want to shower, but it was driving me out of my mind.

(I keep thinking about cats high on catnip. Did you know? They get high because of a sexual response. And I was just like that, brushing my nose on the pillow).

I needed to change all of my bedsheets before sleeping that night,

Because I felt him by my side.

The ghost of that guy who I hardly know anything about.

***

I’ve always been aware of them.

The chemicals.

How the push and shift and pinch every part of my brain.

This was from a biology class in my teenage ears:

Oxytocin.

Sex releases the hormone of love. It’s supposed to keep the animal pair together, so we can raise our beautiful litter of pups.

And I feel-

I feel it dancing all around my flesh, electrifying all of my neurons.

Knowledge is power, after all, and for this false feeling of love I can forgive myself.

It’s not feelings, not really, it’s the chemicals frying me up for the first time in (surprise!) not one, but two and a half years.

(That’s not a story I will explain).

I know, I know - it’s not easy, little brain. I understand. That’s why I forgive you for keeping me awake at night.

Keeping me awake, asking questions like...

***

Did he actually want me?

I know it sounds like a stupid question by now.

(Maybe it is? It’s hard to know without perspective, when I’m trapped on the inside of the fire).

Did he?

Or did he just see, clear as day, that I wanted to have sex with someone and I chose him for the night?

Did he see me,

or a predator whose gaze was locked on him?

(A girl who had been eyeing him all night, following him to his car...)

No, maybe I shouldn’t be wondering.

But I keep thinking about the heart on the window.

And I keep thinking that he didn’t text me after he left.

I keep thinking how he held my hand, how he whispered “I had a great time” while kissing me for the last time, how blew me air kisses as he drove out of my garage-

And how he rejected me when I asked him if he wanted to go out another time.

No, I keep thinking, he was actually pretty fucking rude on the first reply after I finally messaged.

And I keep thinking, he was the one who asked to cuddle, who kissed my forehead and said “we were just like lions.”

(The horrible thing is that, yes, we were).

I keep thinking, is this because I didn’t hold his hand in the car on the way to my house?

Is this because I don’t know what the hell I did when I was leading him out of my house that made him ask, “Are you trying to get rid of me?”

No. I was nervous.

I haven’t had enough hookups to know what the script is like.

(Apparently, neither did he - apparently, I was also his second one in his life. How impossible for me to believe it!)

It’s a mess, and I can’t read it.

I can’t fucking analyze anything.

Why was I cold?

Some ideas do occur. Now I realize I have wounds made by guys that have nothing to do with him, that I need to think about.

And there is you, Superego, messing me up with the societal expectations - I can’t even blame you, because that is your job.

But I keep wondering...

***

What the hell happened?

How can we kiss, and fuck and cuddle and never speak again and act like this is normal?

There is an element I’m missing.

The animal in me has an instinct,

saying something about this is unsolved.

I feel wrong.

(Wronged?)

But I’m still inside... I have limited perspective.

I don’t know what is what or whose to blame for whom.

And I keep wondering.

Did I bleed on someone else?

Or was he just happy to be with a horny girl, happy to be all romantic and cuddly and cute?

Because that’s what we want, sometimes.

(The illusion of love).

And, I did-

I did kind of realize that this was what I wanted, and sex was just a disguise.

Wouldn’t if be funny, Id?

If you had found the perfect prey and then lost due to your own animalistic actions?

(After all, I asked him out and he rejected me).

But the rejection itself, doesn’t bother me.

A whole other human has its own entire life of complexity for me to be arrogant enough to assume it’s all about me.

It’s the silence, after all the noise,

that still bleeds in me.

I feel there is some societal factor which I don’t understand,

and that the animal in me dislikes.

I need perspective.

And time...

(The issue is sleeping in my bed knowing what it doesn’t smell like).

***

A part of me feels like I’m a victim of a lie.

“Everyone’s doing it,” they say.

Why don’t they say it feels so awful?

(I don’t want to wonder, what is he feeling, if he is feeeling, because I know I can’t know and still-)

None of that is enough for Id, of course.

Like all the other things-

Like drinking to the point of poisoning.

(It’s a shame, but I almost do it everytime).

Oh, Id. Dear, dear, Id.

You disguise yourself as the one who chases the needs of survival,

but that’s also a fucking lie, isn’t it?

Or, maybe, it’s what you wished you did.

That, I can forgive.

It was easier, admittedly, when I didn’t realize I was hungry.

But there is no going back. For all that is pathetic, I won’t pretend I can just reverse what has been done.

I know this will be like all the other things.

All the things my Ego will have to hold tight on a leash.

Self-discipline...

***

It’s coming back to me, I think.

I’m writing for the first time in 12 days.

I feel the chemicals...

Slipping out of my fingers.

#some personal writing because I've been insane lately #freud. sex. maroon 5. i don't even know. my brain is fucking soup #but i'm glad i can finally write again. <3 #personal writing #can't wait to translate this to yahikona lmfao i do have many smut scenes to update #hehe................................. #can't wait till I look at this and think LMFAO CRINGE but I'm not there yet so yolo

[pigeonperch]

Vegetal 👍

#just had some celery and baby carrots and honestly that’s the best snack ever #don’t @ me but I would eat vegetables way more often if they were finger food #I’m a simple creature. I wish to eat with my hands and nothing more. #food tw

[sadprosed]

𝑺𝑪𝑬𝑵𝑨𝑹𝑰𝑶  𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺.

↬   OF  FAIRYTALES,  FOLKLORE  AND  FAEKIND.

scenarios  inspired  by  various  settings,  encounters  &  magic  tucked  between  pages,  fashioned  by  the  author.

+   feel  free  to  change  pronouns  /  roles  !

FAIRYTALES.

‘  let  me  guess,  you  thought  a  true  love’s  kiss  would  help  you.  ’

‘  you  will  always  follow  the  trail  in  the  wood,  and  it  will  guide  you  on  the  same  path,  to  the  same  cottage,  the  same  witch.  it  will  always  be  your  undoing.  ’

‘  i  have  never  seen  a  more  tragic  creature.  how  might  i  help  you  ?  ’

‘  you  must  take  this  knife  and  plunge  it  into  his  /  her  /  their  heart.  ’

‘  forget  yourself.  that  is  how  you  break  your  curse.  ’

‘  remove  this  thorn  from  my  hand,  and  you  will  be  rewarded.  ’

‘  i’m  tired  of  being  a  prince.  i  think  i  would  actually  enjoy  being  a  frog.  ’

‘  tell  me  of  the  beast,  and  i  will  hunt  it  for  you.  ’

‘  mice  are  never  just  mice,  and  pumpkins  are  rarely  just  pumpkins.  ’

‘  i  don’t  think  breaking  a  spell  should  be  this  simple.  ’

‘  i  never  thought  i’d  return  here,  to  the  site  where  it  all  began.  ’

‘  are  you  an  orphan  ?  it’s  just  that  they’re  always  finding  themselves  in  magical  predicaments.  ’

‘  the  mirror  speaks  falsely  in  your  ear.  it  is  your  true  curse.  ’

‘  my  heart  feels  uneasy,  although  i  am  free.  is  it  supposed  to  ?  ’

‘  i’m  sorry,  it’s  just  that  i  thought  this  is  the  part  of  the  quest  where  the  animals  ought  to  start  talking  to  me.  ’

‘  of  course  i  plan  on  going  to  the  ball.  why  wouldn’t  i  ?  ’

‘  jealousy  has  made  more  witches  out  of  women  than  adam’s  rib.  ’

‘  where  has  choosing  goodheartedness  and  having  golden  hair  ever  gotten  you  ?  ’

 ‘  are  you  a  helpful  wizard,  or  the  kind  that  sits  in  a  tower  reading  moldy  books  ?  ’

‘  i’m  dreadfully  bored.  who  knew  waiting  for  a  prince  was  so  strenuous  ?  ’

‘  we  all  have  towers  we  must  leave,  and  magic  that  will  try  to  thwart  us.  ’

‘  i’m  afraid  for  the  clock  to  strike.  the  hour  will  ring  in  the  place  of  my  heartbeat  when  we  must  be  parted.  ’

‘  i  had  no  idea  carpets  could  fly.  or  pigs  for  that  matter.  ’  

‘  what  would  happen  if  the  knight  did  not  arrive  to  the  castle,  and  the  dragon  made  a  den  of  it  and  a  hoard  of  its  people  and  prize  of  its  princess  ?  ’

‘  i  sometimes  think  i  was  switched  out  at  birth,  like  a  lizard  in  a  bird’s  nest.  i  belong  somewhere  else.  ’

‘   in  another  kingdom  exists  a  throne  and  a  crown  that  is  mine  by  right.  ’

‘  if  i  did  not  wake  up  one  day,  i  would  still  be  waiting  on  a spinning  wheel,  dutifully  bored.  ’  

‘  something  in  me  knows  you  are  here  for  my  heart.  ’

FOLKLORE.

‘  in  all  the  myths  i’ve  heard,  it’s  never  been  worthwhile  to  approach  strange  sights.  it’s  best  to  turn  around  and  pretend  you  never  saw  them.  ’

‘  nothing  is  folklore  until  it  exists  longer  than  consciousness  remembers,  and  lives  in  spite  of  it.  ’

‘  i’ve  heard  your  name  before,  in  songs  and  lengthy  ballads.  ’

‘  whatever  has  led  you  here  to  me,  there  is  destiny  in  its  making.  ’

‘  the  beast  returns  every  century  or  so,  and  tries  to  devour  us.  it  will  come  again  before  long.  ’

‘  a  pretty  face  is  not  nothing.  it  earns  you  a  hearth  and  a  kind  hand,  after  all.  ’

‘  their  lips  are  red  as  blood,  and  their  teeth  carve  ruin  into  throats.  ’

‘  aren’t  dragons  supposed  to  breathe  fire  and  make  a  fuss  about  having  their  treasure  found  ?  ’

‘  someday  you  will  become  a  pilgrim,  a  saint,  or  a  favored  story,  while  i  will  be  a  voice  on  the  wind.  ’

‘  the  stories  say  brides  don’t  live  to  the  light  before  demons  devour  them.  why  should  i  become  one  ?  ’

‘  there  was  another  girl  like  you  once,  in  a  small  town  like  this  one.  i  can’t  remember  if  she  became  the  monster  or  died  trying  to  escape  it.  ’

‘  remember  to  festoon  the  hearth  with  garlic,  or  rosemary,  or  one  of  those  mundane  herbs  that  keep  evil  out.  ’

‘  that  sounds  like  nothing  but  a  tall  tale,  but  i’m  certain  smaller  minds  would  eat  it  up.  ’

‘  to  cross  this  bridge,  you’ll  have  to  pay  a  heavy  toll.  ’

‘  don’t  stray  too  far  from  the  path  set  before  you,  or  something  interesting  might  happen.  ’

‘  i’ve  passed  that  yard  of  crops  a  million  times,  but  the  crow  never  moved  from  its  post  until  this  morning.  ’

‘   it  is  as  though  ancient  fears  are  still  in  us  like  scars  or  stitches.  ’

‘  graveyards  aren’t  where  you  find  ghosts.  look  for  them  in  places  that  feel  like  memories  you  shouldn’t  have.  ’

‘  stories  reap  princes  from  peasants  as  if  their  skins  were  crops  in  the  ground.  ’

‘  what  form  does  your  fear  take  ?  surely  not  that  of  a  bear  or  a  lion.  such  things  are  too  assuring.  ’

‘  i  found  myself  where  everything  was  too  familiar  to  be  real.  ’

‘  in  safe  beds  on  cold  dark  nights,  we  learn  to  face  the  monsters  in  our  own  minds.  ’

FAEKIND.

‘  you’re  not  to  partake  in  a  fairy  feast.  don’t  you  know  it’s  the  food  that  will  devour  you  ?  ’

‘  i’m  sorry  you  did  not  read  the  eyes  of  the  trees  before  finding  yourself  here.  ’

‘  i  wish  to  go  back.  i  want  to  forget  everything.  ’

‘  you  think  that  believing  in  us  is  enough  to  protect  you  ?  that  it  will  kill  us  if  you  forget,  and  we  prey  upon  your  unknowing  ?  ’

‘  step  around  the  ring  three  times,  like  a  backwards  clock.  that’s  how  you  get  to  fairyland.  ’  

‘  i’ve  never  heard  such  sweet  music  before.  ’

‘  where  the  trees  begin  to  twist  and  groan  in  their  roots,  remember  you  must  not  make  a  right  turn.  ’

‘  i  didn’t  feel  like  i’d  stepped  into  another  world,  but  like  it  stepped  into  me.  i  knew  i  was  there  and  forgot  i’d  left  anything  behind.  ’

‘  how  amusing.  a  human  !  ’

‘  would  you  be  my  bride  if  i  were  to  take  you  into  the  ground  ?  ’

‘  i  know  of  tunnels  you  might  take,  the  burrows  of  trolls  and  rabbits.  ’

‘  don’t  take  anything  from  this  realm,  none  of  it  is  worth  the  price  of  keeping.  ’

‘  there  are  courts  by  many  titles  in  the  lands  beyond  the  veil,  all  of  them  other.  ’

‘  names  are  not  like  currency  here;  they  are  more  precious  than  diamonds  and  legacies.  ’

‘  did  you  think  all  of  us  looked  like  goblins  ?  ’

‘  getting  here  is  easy,  but  getting  home  is  quite  the  trick.  ’

‘  i  shall  give  you  a  riddle,  and  it  will  puzzle  you  until  you  know  the  answer  but  forget  your  own  soul.  ’

‘  a  bloodline  is  nothing  when  you’ve  outlived  civilizations.  ’

‘  refusing  my  hospitality  is  like  human  sin,  and  it  will  bring  worse  upon  you.  ’

‘  everything  here  is  and  isn’t,  and  things  are  and  aren’t.  ’

‘  on  lonely  nights  i  stare  into  the  trees,  and  a  strange  face  leers  back.  ’

‘  the  thrones  here  are  made  of  bones  and  blood,  and  built  upon  decay.  ’

‘  a  third  time  is  not  a  charm,  but  a  bargain.  it  says  that  you  want  something  enough  to  wager  your  sense.  ’

‘  it  is  dangerous  to  think  that  magical  beings  do  not  have  human  intensities.  ’

#rp memes #rp starters #dialogue prompts #dialogue meme #sentence meme #sentence starters #askbox meme #inbox meme #rp prompts #sentence prompts #fairytales #fairycore #folklore #faefolk #ask memes #rp ask meme #roleplay prompts #rp promp

[thewildwaffle]

Humans are Weird: Antibiotics

A story prompt from a user on a03. Apparently, this is my 50th short story, or at least the 50th installment of m humans are weird short stories. Hurray!

****

Ni Andu watched a dried sickle leaf roll across the empty courtyard from her window. A deep sigh made her breath fog up the glass. The courtyard wasn't supposed to be empty. Especially not this time of year. The Gauru Ni Moon Festival usually brought visitors from around the world and across multiple star systems right about now. But the disease meant no bright banners were hung. No music echoed cheerily through around the corners and down the streets. There were no wafting scents of fresh fruits and fried breads.

It was amazing and terrifying that something so small that it couldn’t be seen had done all this. The Ni were a proud race, rich in culture, and until now, seemingly sturdy in constitution. Diseases had come and gone in the past, but in such small and freak cases that they were hardly given much attention. It was assumed that Ni immune systems were the best in the galaxy and many other races had even requested to study how they were so effective.

Those prideful memories felt hollow now as Ni Andu sighed and pulled herself away from the dreary sight outside. As a new and reluctant head of the house, she had more pressing things to deal with than moping in the past. Several members of her own family were still sick, two of her hatch mates had been very touch-and-go as of late. She slowly made her way to the cushions where they were sleeping to check on them. To her relief, she saw the soft blankets they were wrapped in rose and fell slowly. She stood there, watching them for a bit in the gathering darkness of their shared humble abode. Matki’s breathing sounded like gravel stuck in a child’s rolling skiffer.

“What are we going to do?” Andu’s wide nose scrunched up as she begged the silent house. “What am I supposed to do next?”

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there trying to think of everything and nothing all at once. It was a good while though and was only interrupted when a small light turned on in the meal room. Andu looked up at the light streaming out of the door’s archway. With a sigh, she gathered her strength to move again to see who was up. As she approached, she heard small claws scrabbling on the stonework floor and storage pods opening and closing.

Sure enough, when she peeked in, Andu could see little Piri shuffling through food storage pods that looked even less stocked than she thought they’d been. There were a few bottled foods, a few containers of ingredient-prepped soup containers, but certainly nothing immediately ready for consumption. Most easy and ready-to-eat foods had been eaten long ago or destroyed when they began to decay and grow dangerous molds. And to a small three-year-old Ni, that basically meant there was no food at all.

“Hey Piri, are you hungry?” Even though Andu had kept her voice quiet, little Piri still jumped and tucked his small thin tail like he was ashamed he’d been caught. Andu smiled comfortingly and stepped into the room to pick up one of the soup packs.

“It’s okay, you’re fine,” she patted him on the head softly, “I think it’s time for a meal too. I’m sure everyone else would agree once they wake up and smell the food.”

“There’s not much left,” Piri’s small voice was so sad and only made the words themselves feel sharper to Andu’s hearts. She tried to think of something she could say to make their situation seem less dire, but nothing came to mind. Instead, she scooped up Piri’s small form and waited until his thin arms latched securely around her scruff before she walked over to get a pot to cook in. She was going to have to add quite a bit of water to this if it was going to make enough to sustain everyone for a meal.

Cooking, even making something simple, helped ease Andu’s mind. There was a sense of normalcy in standing in front of a firebox and stirring a bubbling pot of soup. She tried to ignore how thin it was. Still, the smell made her feel warm and it must have wafted across the house as she could soon hear the tell-tale signs of her hatch mates waking up. She gathered bowls and filled each one. Lowering Piri back down, she handed the young Ni a bowl and carried the rest to the cushions where the rest of the family was slowly waking up.

They ate together slowly, trying to make the contents of their bowl last and talking quietly about anything they could to distract themselves from their situation. Matki was recalling a story from four lunar years ago when Andu had entered a fried bread pastry into a competition. Between Matki’s coughing and Andu interjecting to defend herself, the story kept getting interrupted! She’d worked on the recipe for her pastry for so long and was so proud of it, but the night before, something went wrong when she was making her entry. Whether it was nerves, exhaustion, oversight, or Jentala above forbid, sabotage, it went very wrong. From the way Matki described the judges’ reaction, one might have thought Andu had purposefully tried poisoning them! As everyone chuckled, Matki claimed he still had the video recording from the competition and pulled it out, much to Andu’s chagrin.

Andu pretended to be exasperated by the teasing, but really she was just glad everyone felt good enough to laugh again.

It took a while before she and the others noticed that Matki hadn’t pulled up the video. Instead, his eyes locked on the comm tablet screen.

“Matki?”

“Hey, did you find it?”

“Matki are you okay?”

Matki finally looked up, eyes still wide from whatever he’d been looking at. “They’re coming to help.”

Everyone shared a worried look. What?

“Who are you talking about? Who’s coming?” Andu broke the confused silence.

Matki tapped something on-screen with the pad of a finger and a holographic projection display rose up.

Everyone watched enraptured by the newscast. It was about humans. From halfway across the galaxy, they’d heard about the Ni’s plight and had come claiming they had a cure. They were offering aid and resources to run tests to make sure their medicine was safe and effective for Ni use and make alterations if needed. They were even claiming they’d help distribute the finalized cure the moment it was given the go-ahead. In the meantime, they were also sending ships of food and supplies.

Andu could feel the back of her throat tighten. Was this real? Did she dare hope? There’d been so many reports before about help being promised, well, not help to this extent, but help nonetheless. They’d ended up being just for show and were proven empty once those who offered realized how impossible the situation really was.

But humans? She’d heard they were tough. And stubborn. Maybe they were stubborn enough to see their promises through?

The embarrassing video of Andu’s failed pastry was long forgotten, the conversation instead jumped between wild rumors her family had overheard about humans and speculation about how long it would take for the humans to actually lend aid if they were really coming at all. Andu could see a shimmer in the eyes of her hatch mates as they spoke that she hadn’t seen in a while. Although she wished she could feel the same optimism, she could also see how quickly they were all tiring out. Although they’d slept most of the day, the disease was still taking its toll on them all.

Once the meager meal was finished, she stood to gather the now empty bowls. She noticed Piri quickly scrape a finger along the side of his bowl to snag any last morsel before she came along to collect it. ‘Jentala above,’ she prayed mentally, ‘if help truly is coming, send it along soon.”

With bellies no longer completely empty, everyone settled in, and soon the room was full of sleeping or near sleeping Ni.

Andu slept fitfully. She dreamed, but it was fractured and confusing. Even before the disease came, she had a hard time remembering her dreams once she woke up. It was near impossible now. She did remember a loud humming noise though. As she blinked her eyes and lifted her head, she realized the humming was still there. She rose and searched for the source. It almost sounded like… engines? But that, that had to be impossible - the quarantine…

She looked out the window. Dried sickle leaves were flying around wildly as a large shuttle slowly came in for a landing in the courtyard. Andu opened her mouth to call out to the rest of her family, but nothing would come. How were they still asleep with this racket? Apparently, it managed to wake up Piri, who nearly made Andu jump when he bumped into her side while trying to climb up for a better view out the window.

“What’s going on? Who’s outside?” Piri waited to ask until Andu had resettled herself after being startled.

“I’m not sure yet,” she answered as they both watched the shuttle’s doors slowly work through the unsealing process. Across the courtyard, she could see other Ni’s faces peeking out their windows. As far as she could tell, expressions seemed to range anywhere from fear to curiosity to… was that hope? Wait, had they seen the newscast last night? Did they think this was… there’s no way the humans could be here already, right?

They both watched intently as the doors finally opened and a ramp extended. Soon a line of creatures she’d only seen on screens filed down wearing yellow vests and hauling huge boxes in their arms or on carts they pulled behind them.

“It is the humans!” Piri yelled and jumped down from his perch. He ran to where everyone was stirring on the cushions, “Wake up! Wake up! The humans are here!”

Andu wasn’t sure if she should reprimand Piri for disturbing them, or if she should join in. Instead, she watched as the humans in the courtyard started setting up stations and continued hauling load after load filled with what must have been hexaheebs of food, clean water, and various supplies.

She turned to look back at her family who were trying to rise as fast as their weakened bodies would allow. Matki began coughing violently and had to rest against the wall. Andu went to help support him when a knock at the front door startled everyone. They all stared at the old chirrowood door, then around at each other. It had been so long since quarantine had started, they’d almost forgotten what a knock on the door sounded like.

After a pause, the knock came again, this time followed by a worried and drawn-out, “Hello?”

Once she was sure Matki was standing stable, Andu, being the least sick among everyone, walked to and slowly opened the door.

A human from the shuttle stood in the doorway. They were wearing a mask over their mouth and nose, but it was definitely a human! Their eyes closed slightly and creased in the corners as they nodded a greeting. “Hi, my name is Ali, I’m part of the relief team that’s been assigned to this district. We’ve got food and essentials to distribute and I just need to know how many are in this household and if anyone here is in critical condition.”

Andu blinked at the human for a moment as she took in what they’d said.

“We, uh, we have four adults and one child. There, there were more, but…” she couldn’t finish that sentence. From the look the human gave her, she didn’t need to finish it. Her sinuses stung as she fought to not cry. The first visitor in how long and here she was almost crying in the doorway?

“I'm so sorry for your loss,” the human’s head bowed and their shoulders dropped. “I wish we’d known and could have helped earlier. Is anyone here in need of immediate emergency care?”

At that point, Matki started coughing again. Andu and Ali looked back to see him sit back down until his coughing died down.

Andu sighed and turned back to the human. “None of us are great right now. Matki’s probably the worst out of all of us. He sounds bad, but he actually has started to stabilize in the past few days.”

Human Ali gave a short nod and started writing something on a tablet in his hands.

“Do you,” Andu’s voice trembled, “we heard a report last night about you. That you were coming. That you… do you…” she swallowed and fought back desperate tears, “do you really have a cure?”

The human’s eyes creased again. “We do.”

Andu didn’t need to turn around to know the effect this had on her family. She heard it. She felt it. This time, she didn’t fight back the tears.

“Right now,” Human Ali continued, “it’s in the final stages of approval for Ni use, we’re just waiting for the ‘go-ahead’ and we’ll help distribute it as soon as it arrives. Until then, I’ve got some food and supplies for you. I can help unload and unpack if you need?”

“That… that would be... thank you,” she wiped at her tears. “Thank you so much.”

Over the next few days, more shuttles came and went, bringing more supplies, food, tools, and just in general, a brighter outlook and mood to the entire neighborhood. The humans really were here to help, and they seemed happy to do so. Not only were they good with their promises of aid, but they also delivered on the cure they said they had. Ni were instructed on the drug’s use and administration directions thoroughly for both the tablet and liquid forms of the cure. The effects were quick, and from the reports on the newscast, overwhelmingly positive. The Ni were cured! The plague that had once threatened to wipe out their entire population was gone! Celebrations larger than even the Gauru Ni Moon Festival were planned, songs were written, stories shared and spread. It was wholly agreed by all that this was a historic time in Ni history that they all survived through, and all thanked Jentala above for sending the humans to help.

It went without saying that everyone wanted to know more about the cure itself. And that meant everyone, not just the Ni, but the rest of the galactic community who before, had written the Ni off as a lost cause because of the horrific disease. What was this miracle cure? What other things could it do? Where, by all that is bright and shining, did the humans get it, and could it be easily replicated?

The humans, for their part, were again as open and gracious with their information as they had been with their aid. It was an old medicine they’d discovered long ago on their planet. Considered to be the first “antibiotic,” it was widely used on Earth and had saved millions of lives since its discovery. It worked by interfering with bacteria cell walls and destroyed them by causing them to burst.

It was called

Penicillin.

“Amazing!” “Spectacular!” “So simple, yet so ingenious!” many in the galactic community praised. “How ever did you discover this amazing drug?”

The initial answer wasn’t too surprising, for humans at least: it was an accident.

Andu almost snorted as she read the report to the rest of her family. Granted, the end of the plague was the first time any of them had come in direct contact with humans, but they all had heard many of the stories about human escapades. Wild experiments that on paper seemed more like a drunken brainstorm party that ended up advancing rocket fuel technology by at least 8 lunar years. Crash-landings on category 3 death worlds and they ended up liking them so much they decided to set up colonies. Half of what they did seemed to be mistakes that just went right for them. Apparently, the miracle drug penicillin was included in those stories.

She looked up its history and manufacturing.

Andu felt claws dance down her back as she read more. It came… from mold? Mold?! She looked up from the tablet to the faces of her equally horrified hatch mates. It took them a moment to remember how to close their mouths.

"You mean like mold on old bread?" Piri broke the shocked silence.

Andu blinked and looked back at the report. Old bread? How many times had they not eaten bread fast enough in the warm humid seasons only to pick up a bul of bread and find mold growing on it. It was dangerous, it had to be carefully disposed of, it was… able to save lives?

She returned to the report. The more she read, the more comforted she became in the safety of the miracle antibiotic. That, and she couldn't argue with the results. Her family was around her, now loudly being altogether boisterous together as they "discussed" the humans and all the ways they played with death in order to save life.

Matki snatched the tablet from her claws, wanting to read the report for himself. As Andu was jostled by her now healthy, energetic family, she was just happy and eternally thankful that the humans were crazy enough to play with something as dangerous as fungus, and then kind enough to share what they discovered.

#humans are weird #aliens #space orcs #disease #penicillin #antibiotics #immune systems #space #hfy #ni #space australians #writeblr #original writing #short story

[jackrrabbit]

Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

[emeren]

birthday boy - eren jaeger

shameless birthday fluff for the boy who deserves a happy ending and a happy birthday 

pairing: eren jaeger x fem!reader 

word count: 2.1k 

content warnings: absolutely none, 100% fluff!

notes: i’m emerging from my request writing hole to post this lil one shot for my love’s birthday. i did not read over this so there may be errors or whatnot, but enjoy!

SUMMARY: reader shows eren what it means to have a good birthday.

eren had never been one for birthdays. 

he’d tried, he’d really tried to love them just as much as everyone else did. he could vividly remember all of the kids in his class bringing in donuts and ice cream and handing out little handmade invitations - invitations he never received. 

after two or three failed birthday parties thrown by carla - birthday parties that only armin and mikasa showed up to - eren had stopped trying. he insisted that he hated march 30th and that it was the worst day of the year. his mom always made a big deal out of it anyway, insisting on taking the three kids out for ice cream and a movie in celebration. 

eren would’ve never admitted it, as his pride was too strong, but he liked the small celebration his mom would throw. just him and his two best friends, building blanket forts and being allowed to watch one PG-13 movie for the special occasion. 

he remembered his tenth birthday being the last one that he even bothered acknowledging. that was the last birthday with his mom, the last birthday that didn’t go forgotten on grisha’s busy schedule. that was the last birthday that he went for ice cream and got to watch a PG-13 movie. 

as he got older, birthdays became less of a big deal to his peers. they weren’t large scale, festive events, but rather small group hangouts that involved getting drunk in a field. some sad, petty part of eren enjoyed watching everyone’s special day become exactly like his had always been: just another of 365. 

he didn’t remember telling you what day he was born. in fact, he was sure he hadn’t told you. it’d been a conversation topic he’d narrowly avoided in the past; lucky enough to have met you around april in order to skip over the awkward ‘oh, it’s my birthday’ chat. 

so he was confused. 

he was confused when he pulled his apartment door open, only to be met with your figure holding a carefully wrapped gift. hell, even eren didn’t realize that it was his birthday. he’d stood there in the doorway, gawking at you with a half-asleep look in his eyes. 

“what’s that for?” he’d asked incredulously, pointing at the gift. you laughed, the sound music to his ears as you slipped into his apartment. 

“happy birthday!” you squealed, setting it down and wrapping your arms around his slim figure. eren frowned for a moment, mind counting through the days of the calendar until they landed on march 30th. oh, i guess it is my birthday.

he hugged you back, eyes still warily focused on the gift. “who told you?” he’d questioned. 

you smiled up at him, placing a light kiss on his cheek. “i have my ways.” 

eren didn’t know what emotion it was that burned in his chest at your soft grin. he desperately wished for it to be annoyance, but it wasn’t, so he resorted to feigning it instead. 

“i’d rather we didn’t make a big deal about it,” he grumbled, slipping from your arms and walking towards his kitchen. he didn’t see the way you rolled your eyes or the way you mocked his voice, only turning around to see you approaching him with a bag he hadn’t previously noticed. 

“that’s alright, i was just going to make you some breakfast, if that’s okay?” eren normally would’ve protested any other special treatment on his birthday, but it wasn’t very unusual for you to cook him a meal. eren had a big stomach, and absolutely no skills in the kitchen. he resorted to shrugging, not wanting to show you the way your suggestion made his heart skip. 

and so he watched you. he watched you flit around the kitchen and make him his favorite breakfast (waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, extra side of bacon). your movements were so mesmerizing he’d nearly forgotten about this rotten day, the day that his younger self had declared the worst of the 365. 

“here, shithead. enjoy your meal,” you hummed playfully, sliding the plateful of food in his direction. eren flipped you off, too hungry to pick a fight as he dove into his meal. 

he tried to ignore the feeling of you staring as he scarfed down his waffle. he’d hoped you wouldn’t say anything else about his birthday. “do you wanna open your gift after we’re done eating?” you’d asked. 

eren paused his feast to look up at you, your eyes focused on your own plate as you waited for a response. he was apprehensive, but decided to take the bait nonetheless. “uh, sure.” 

eren could remember the best gift he’d ever gotten. it had been a handmade terrarium from armin and mikasa for his eighth birthday. they’d gone out in the woods behind their houses and rifled through the bushes and weeds to put together a jar filled with all sorts of creatures and plants. eren’s favorite had been the spider - whom he’d lovingly named peter - as he would catch flies and other small insects to feed to him. he’d been so excited about their cheaply made gift that nothing had ever come close to topping it (not that he ever got much in the ways of gifts, anyway).

as you sat him down on the couch, carefully placing an oblong box in his lap, he was unsure. he loved you, no doubt, but he didn’t know what on earth you could’ve gotten him. 

his previous confusion only grew when he opened the box to find a bundle of wildflowers. they were a mix of baby hues, soft and simple. he looked to you, brow raised in question. 

“flowers?” he’d asked, mind pondering all the possibilities. you laughed lightly in response, standing from your seat next to him. 

“c’mon,” you gestured for him, eyes scanning his bare chest. “go put a shirt on and come with me.” 

eren sighed, standing himself as he set the flowers on the couch. “listen. i love you, i really do. but i would just rather we don’t make a big deal out of today, alright?” 

he watched you roll your eyes, watched you fold your arms over your chest.

“i’m not making a big deal out of today,” you’d responded, a hint of annoyance in your voice. “just go put a shirt on. it’ll just be the two of us.” 

eren talked a lot of game regarding his self-proclaimed willpower, but he would never understand how easily he caved to you. thirty minutes later, he was sitting in the passenger seat of your car, eyes mindlessly gazing out the window with the bundle of flowers in his lap. 

you were playing his favorite music, humming along as your fingers tapped against the steering wheel. he’d just stared at you, admiring your beauty as you turned up a desolate road that he’d been too focused on you to recognize.

it wasn’t until the car stopped; surrounded by newly blooming flowers and freshly greening trees, did he piece together where he was.

“mom?” he’d breathed, eyes glancing out the window. you just smiled in response, unbuckling your seatbelt and getting out of the car. eren looked down at the bundle of flowers in his lap, wildflowers, his mom’s favorite. 

in that moment he felt like crying. sure, he’d cried on his birthday before, but this was different. it was a cry of appreciation, one that burned in his chest as you impatiently pulled his door open. he was quick to blink the tears away, putting up a front as he got out himself. 

his mom’s cemetery was atop a hill, located away from the city amongst the trees and wildlife. he remembered picking it for her because of how freeing it felt - it was more of a place for remembrance that mourning. he knew that was what his mom would’ve wanted. 

eren showed his appreciation by wrapping your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as the two of you approached his mom’s headstone. 

“what made you think of this?” he’d asked quietly, setting the bundle of flowers right beneath her name carved within the granite stone. he remained kneeled in front of it; long fingers coming up to trace the words. he’d been surprised by your answer. 

“i know you hate your birthday,” you’d started, watching the moment in front of you. “and i know your mom was the only person that ever tried to make you enjoy it. i hope it wasn’t insensitive of me to bring you here? i just thought maybe you’d want to spend the day here with her.” 

and there it was again: that burning within his chest. he pulled his fingers back from the cold stone, relieved you couldn’t see the mix of emotions on his face. it was on the contrary. he’d never had someone think of him this way, think of what he truly wanted to do. he smiled as he stood to face you. 

“thank you.” he’d said sincerely, wrapping his arms around you and kissing the crown of your head.

the two of you sat for hours, hands wrapped together as eren told stories about his mom and talked to her gravestone as if she were really there, too. he talked about his tenth birthday; how his mom had rented some barely scary movie, but how armin couldn’t sleep for weeks following their watch. he talked about the time mikasa had beaten up one of the popular kids for only excluding eren from his birthday party. before he knew it, he was wrapped up in stories upon stories. 

all too fast, the sun began to dip past the horizon. the two of you stood from the grass, pants slightly damp with mud but neither of you cared. eren leaned down, pressing his lips to the stone as a parting goodbye - something he’d started doing as a kid. 

as you drove away, eren felt content with how the day had gone. he watched the sunset from the window, face flushed and a small smile on his lips. he enjoyed the sweet moment, but couldn’t help the perverted thought that crossed his mind. he’d never had birthday sex before, and oh boy was he excited to try. 

the car stopped outside of his apartment, the two of you walking up to the door hand in hand. he grabbed his keys, about to unlock the handle when you stopped him. 

he loved when you looked at him like that. when your eyes were big and doe-like, filled with a mix of adoration and excitement. your hands carefully wrapped around his jaw, pulling his lips down to meet yours in a tender, warm kiss. 

he could feel his heart clench at the action, pulling away with a smile on his face. “what was that for?” 

“i just love you, ‘s’all.” you hummed in response, motioning for him to open the door. eren hated that you could make him blush, looking away with a playful roll of his eyes. 

he wasn’t expecting what waited for him behind the door. 

with the flick of the light switch, all of his friends popped up from around the apartment, yelling ‘surprise!’. his eyes widened in shock, a large banner that read off ‘happy birthday eren!’, but the words were all scrunched together at the end, the banner not large enough. 

“connie made that!” armin explained hurriedly, as if noticing the way eren’s eyes traced over the decoration. eren couldn’t help the burning in his chest as he looked at all of his closest friends. 

sasha, connie, jean, mikasa, armin, you. you, who had clearly planned this all. eren wasn’t ever very sappy, at least not since he was in high school. but the burning in his chest had become too much to bear, overwhelmed by all of the decorations and confetti, and thoughtfulness. 

he looked at you, tears in his eyes. he’d never had a big party before. he’d always wanted one, and here it was. “thank you.” 

“goddammit, this is what you get for taking him to the cemetery before his surprise party!” jean yelled, pointing at his friend. “i don’t think i’ve seen you cry since you were an annoying ass teenager!” 

“oh, shut the fuck up,” eren replied lightheartedly, embracing each of his friends. he wasn’t even embarrassed to cry. it’d been so long since he’d felt so loved. 

and so you all sat, eating ice cream and watching a horror movie. eren was in the middle, you curled up on his one side and armin on the other. as all of his friends enjoyed his birthday, squealing at the unnecessary gore, he couldn’t help but smile. 

maybe march 30th wasn’t the worst day, afterall.

<3 <3 <3 

#eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger fluff #eren jeager x reader #eren jeager fluff #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager fluff #eren yaeger x reader #eren yaeger fluff #eren jaeger #eren jeager #eren yaeger #eren yeager #eren jäger #emmy writes

[watchmegetobsessed]

LUCKY PAIR

a/n: another one :)

pairing: Sebastian Stan X Reader

word count: 1.5k

This fic is part of the LITTLE ONE series, but can be read as a simple oneshot as well! Find the masterpost of the series HERE!

masterlist

Sebastian has always been a humble man. Growing up, with a strong and loving family background, he never really left the path that leads to good manners and appreciation even for the smallest things in life. Not even becoming a successful actor could change the way he sees and feels grateful for everything he has and achieved.

There were times when he thought he wouldn’t find the person he could settle with, feel comfortable enough around to spend the rest of his life with. Let alone start a family with. That was until he met you.

From the very start he felt a sense of belonging to you, like you pulled him in, so easily and fast, enchanted him and simply made him yours. And he didn’t mind it, not even a bit. Dating you has been such a different experience than his previous relationships. As if it made him realize how shallow and loose they were, but now he had the chance to taste what real love is like. With all the good and bad, the two of you have been sharing such a deep connection since the beginning that put his previous dating experiences to shame.

Now that you are pregnant and engaged, Sebastian has been immensely overwhelmed with how amazing his life is getting, all thanks to you. He is amazed by everything about the road to becoming parents, all the changes and challenges, he feels like it all led him to this exact point in life. What he likes the most about it however is you. Seeing you grow your baby, see the growth and the changes every day, the miracle of life happening right in front of his eyes. And he is still having a hard time believing that you chose him to do all of this with, to have the most beautiful gift of life with him.

He has always admired you in many ways, you’ve been a fascinating creature to him from the very beginning and he loved learning new things about you, things that made him fall in love with you even more. After spending years together he could still look at you with the same amount of love he did when you were just getting to know each other. But then came the pregnancy and Sebastian found himself falling deeper than ever.

He has often found himself looking at you with his heart full and chest warm at the oddest moments. When you were doing your skincare routine in the evening, standing in front of the mirror, putting on all the different products, he always has a great view of you from the side, sitting on the bed and he loves how he saw your belly get bigger each time, as you went through the same steps. Or the way you always scratch the lower part of your bump every morning as your good morning to the baby, humming to yourself with your eyes still closed in the soft morning light that floods the bedroom through the massive windows. Or how you draw a little heart on your tummy with your lotion before spreading the scream all over your skin. All these little things have had him melting, so thankful that he gets to see and experience it. With you.

Now the two of you are having a lazy Sunday, Sebastian has been watching a football game on TV and you are sitting next to him, your laptop on the top of a pile of pillows next to you, your legs crossed underneath you as you’re typing away on the keyboard. You’re wearing your reading glasses you recently got and for what he nagged you forever to finally get, but you refused to, feeling like you’re a little too young to have reading glasses. But then you realized you really did need them when you had trouble reading emails on your phone. You gave in and bought a pair, the transparent frame is a subtle accessory on your pretty face. Sebastian hasn’t told you, but it’s doing things to him, especially when you push them up to the top of your head, keeping your unruly hair back with them from your forehead. However now it makes you appear more on the cute side rather than the sexy, though that aspect is still there as well.

You’re snacking on some veggie chips, your latest craving that now takes up half of the pantry, reading something your mother has sent you about the wedding that will only take place after the baby is born, but she’s been so excited about it, she’s been bombarding you with ideas she finds online. You don’t mind it, carefully reading everything she proposes to you and then leaving comments and suggestions of your own before sending it back to her.

You’re wearing an oversized shirt with no pants on, just your underwear, your legs bare and looking so soft and squishy, Sebastian is having a hard time not to reach out and feel them with his own hands.

It’s so domestic, so mundane and simple, seeing you like this in the comfort of the home the two of you share, yet in this moment he feels like he is on top of the world. He swears he could cry from happiness when he looks at you in this state and he wishes he could preserve this moment forever.

He watches you reach into the bag, your eyes still on the screen, but then you realize that the chips is gone and you pout softly, giving the now empty bag a sad look. It’s just then that you notice him watching you instead of the game on the TV.

“What is it?” you ask with a shy, confused look. Sebastian shakes his head, smiling to himself as he leans closer, his lips meeting the corner of your mouth in a soft, chaste kiss.

“Nothing. You want me to grab another bag for you?”

“Ah, no. I shouldn’t even have eaten this bag,” you mumble under your breath, pursing your lips.

“Just eat it if you want it, Doll. There’s nothing wrong about it.”

“Don’t tempt me, I’ve already put on so much baby weight!” you warn him playfully, making him chuckle.

“That’s alright. You still look beautiful,” he assures you, making your heart flutter in your chest. As a reply, you just give his hand a squeeze before returning to your laptop, starting to type away, but Sebastian can’t stop himself from staring still. Licking your lips you notice his gaze again, feeling a little shy under his inspecting stare.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” you start guessing, but he shakes his head no, a hand reaching out to finally grab your bare thigh, his fingers deliciously sinking into your flesh.

“No, I just…” he sighs. “You’re so beautiful and I love you so much. That’s it.”

Your cheeks immediately heat up at his words, not sure where all of this affection is coming from all of a sudden.

“Stop, I didn’t even shower this morning,” you huff awkwardly. You just simply couldn’t muster up the energy to undress, shower and dress again, so you decided to skip, now Sebastian is treating you like a princess.

“I really don’t care,” he smirks, reaching up his palm cups the side of your face, his thumb running across the soft skin under your eye. He simply can’t fight this sudden wave of sentimentality, not that he wants to. Showing his love and affection has always been important for him and he will not shy away from letting you know how he feels. “I know I’ve said this before, but… I really am one lucky man.”

“You always say this as if I’m doing you a favor by being with you, but it’s mutual, Seb,” you softly tell him. Abandoning your laptop you scoot closer until he can wrap an arm around your shoulders, your sides pressed up against each other. “I’m lucky to have you too.”

“Yeah? So you’re not sick of me yet?” he teases you playfully, pressing his fingers into your side, making you jump a little.

“You think I would have said yes if I was?” you ask, holding up your hand, the diamond ring sitting not so subtly on your finger.

“Maybe you said yes just because I knocked you up,” he prompts and you smack his chest, making him laugh.

“Stop that! As if we weren’t already planning to have a baby, sometime soon,” you mock him, narrowing your eyes at him and smirking down at you he just kisses your forehead.

“I know, I know. I’m just still kinda looking for the explanation how someone like you ended up with me.”

“Oh please! Thousands of women were devastated when it got out that you’re off the market,” you scoff at his comment. “I should be thinking about the how, not you.”

“I guess we are… a lucky pair then, huh?” he smirks as you snake a hand behind his neck, pulling him down so your lips meet in a smearing kiss.

“Mm, the luckiest,” you grin against his lips.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastian stan oneshot #sebastian stan one shot #sebastian stan blurb #sebastian stan fluff #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x you

[jinx-jade]

Contagious adoption Part 2: Creatures

Marinette and Tim were sitting in the living room of one of Tim’s apartments. They had flown in from the Tibet village about thirteen or fourteen hours ago.

Tim had filled out all the adoption papers and any other legal papers his newly claimed daughter would need. To his surprise, Marinette had identification papers. He had thought the little deity didn’t need them. After all, Marinette had lived on the hill to grant wishes, why would she need identification papers.

Unless she didn’t live on the hill her whole life… 

Thinking back to what Marinette had said when he asked her why she stayed up on the mountain all alone. Tim had a feeling she’s been abandoned before.

Back on the mountain, Marinette had shifted from one foot to the other a few times before answering his question. She seemed to have been contemplating what to tell him. Or was it how much to tell him? 

Her answer, “Because I have nowhere else to go and no one waiting for me anywhere.” was a well-thought-out way to respond. 

If no one wants you, then no one waits for you.

If no one waits for you, then you have nowhere to go.

“... ake, Mr. Drake,” Marinette called for the umpteenth time.

“Sorry about that, guess I got lost in my thoughts,” Tim said with a sheepish smile. “Did you need something? Oh, and you can just call me Tim, or any variation of dad that you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t need anything… ” The little deity trailed off. “But, uh, does… does Papa work?”

Tim gave his daughter a soft smile.

‘His daughter. Now wasn’t that a strange thought.’ Tim couldn’t help but think to himself.

“You can call me Papa if you want.” He said with a smile, before adding, “I can speak French and a few other languages.”

Tim was unsure why he felt like mentioning that he can speak French was important. However, when Tim saw Marinette look up at him in awe, he couldn’t help but think It was the right thing to say.

“Now, what is it you wanted to do,” Tim asked, picking his daughter up so she doesn’t have to look up at him the whole conversation.

“Can we make cookies? It’s… It’s been a long time since I’ve had any…” Marinette trailed off again.

“Of course we can make cookies. What kind did you want to make?” Tim asked with a soft smile.

Life continued like normal for the young CEO, vigilante, with the addition of a small deity. However, there were a few changes to his lifestyle.

Tim was now able to cook and bake, not as good as Alfred, but he figured that Alfred won’t ban him from the kitchen.

Tim also registered Marinette Drake-Wayne as being homeschooled. Which was fine since Tim was technically qualified to homeschool his kid. However, Marinette flew through the classes like they were nothing. Her teachers wanted to have her IQ tested, but Marinette said she didn’t want to, so no one pushed it.

Tim also worked from home, only ever showing up to meetings. He also seemed to have a little helper when it came to some of the paperwork. Turns out, Marinette knows how a business runs, and how to run one. It was slightly concerning, but his daughter waved his concern off.

Tim took a break from being a vigilante. He still helped out by sending the bats reports of the rogue of the day, or sometimes a week, that they were tracking. Marinette helped out with this as well. Apparently, she’s been a vigilante before. To say that Tim was concerned was an understatement, but his concern was once again, waved off.

After a month of living with his adopted daughter, Tim had his first in-person meeting at W.E.

“Hey bean, do you want to come with me to work?” Tim asked while making breakfast.

“Am I allowed to?” Marinette shot back in response.

“I mean, B. always took his kids to work so, I’m just gonna say you’re allowed to,” Tim answered with a shrug, setting the food at the table.

Marinette shrugged back.

“Sure! I’ll go ahead and call H.R. and let them know I’ll be making my first appearance as Marinette Drake-Wayne.” Marinette informed him, before digging into her food.

Tim chuckled at that.

“You’re definitely gonna be H.R.’s favorite.” He claimed before he began eating his breakfast.

“Papa, I used to grant magic wishes on a hill with mythical creatures, that is my version of normal. I’m willing to bet that I will be H.R.’s least favorite person by the end of the year.” Marinette claimed, causing Tim to laugh.

“Bean, sweetheart, you’re about to call H.R. to let them know about a mess they will have to clean up. The rest of the Waynes, myself included, usually just let them find out through the tabloids and news stations. You’re definitely gonna be their favorite.” Tim informed his daughter.

_______________________

Tim stepped out of his car and walked through W.E. up to his office. He was aware of the attention that was on him, not bothered by it in the slightest.

He looked down at his daughter to see that she was trying to hide from sight. She was clearly not comfortable with everyone looking at her. Well, everyone looking at her and the lack of magic. He really should have remembered that Marinette has extremely bad anxiety whenever she can’t freely use magic. In his defense, it seemed that neither of them had remembered due to having barely left the apartment the whole month Marinette has been living there.

Tim looked up and around the workplace. He raised a brow at the employees that were just watching, most of them scrambled to work, or simply turned their attention away to seem busy.

When Tim and Marinette finally made it to Tim’s office, they thought they could relax, only to see the rest of the Waynes sitting inside.

Bruce looked like he was about to ask something, but stopped when he caught sight of the little girl hiding behind Tim.

Tim of course, ignored his families questioning stares in favor of calming his daughter.

Tim sat Marinette down in his office chair with a cup of coffee, before turning his attention to the others in the room.

“I wasn’t aware everyone started working at W.E.” Tim joked with a raised brow. A clear question as to why they were in his office.

“Not all of us do,” Dick answered looking towards the small child. “Did you just give the tiny person coffee?”

Tim shrugs the question off easily, “Caffeine helps calm her anxiety when she’s too overwhelmed.”

“And who exactly is she?” Damian inquired, sounding a bit more like a demand than a question.

Tim looked over to Marinette who seemed to be doing slightly better. There wasn’t much else they could do besides give her more coffee and random tasks to do. He gestured for her to come over and talk, a simple task to take her mind off the lack of magic. She slowly made her way off the office chair and towards the group of people.

“Marinette, this is my adoptive father, brothers, and sister, Bruce, Barbara, Dick, Cass, Jason, Steph, and Damian. Guys, this is Marinette Drake-Wayne, my adopted daughter.”

Marinette gave a small, shy wave and smile before hiding behind her father once again.

“You disappeared for a month, and apparently adopted a kid.” Jason states. “Damn, and here I thought it was supposed to be my job to stress B. out.” He claimed with a chuckle.

“Could one of you watch Marinette for me while B. and I are in the meeting? I had asked her this morning if she wanted to come since I couldn’t leave her at home alone, but I don’t think either of us thought It would be this bad for her anxiety.” Tim states.

“How about those of us who don’t have a meeting to attend will go back to the manor, and we can watch over Marinette,” Barbara suggests.

Tim looked to Marinette to see if she would be ok with it, only to receive a shrug from the little deity.

“Ok.” Tim agreed after some hesitation. “If Marinette starts getting too anxious then give her something with caffeine in it and have her draw, or bake something,” Tim informs them.

After Marinette and Tim say their goodbyes, Marinette follows Barbara, Dick, Cass, and Steph out to the limo.

The drive to Wayne manor was awkward, to say the least. None of the Waynes had known that Tim adopted a kid, and they weren’t sure if she knew about their nightly activities, so they stayed quiet.

Tim’s daughter didn’t seem to mind the silence. Marinette was looking out the window calmly with no signs of her previous anxiety. However, every once in a while her hand slightly opens and closes as if grabbing something.

When they arrived at the manor, Dick was immediately grabbed into a hug by his daughter. Mar’i speaks too fast and excitedly for them to understand, unknowingly grabbing the attention of most of the Waynes.

Cass however, noticed the youngest and newest Waynes flinch at Mar’i’s unexpected appearance. Cass quickly and quietly, moved away from the other Waynes, bringing Marinette with her, inside the manor.

“Would the two of you like anything to drink or snack on?” Alfred asked when they entered.

“Tea. Muffin,” Cass says pointing to herself. “Coffee. Muffin?” Cass said pointing to Marinette.

“Of course, why don’t the two of you relax in the garden,” Alfred suggests.

Cass nodded her head leading them to the garden while Alfred left to prepare their snacks and drinks. Marinette seemed to be stuck in her head and simply followed Cass silently.

Marinette and Cass spent the afternoon in the garden, the plants seemed to have a calming effect on the smaller Wayne. After Marinette being in the garden for a while and drinking her coffee, Marinette seemed to have calmed down.

However, not all of Marinette’s anxiety and nerves were calmed by the coffee and plants. Cass just wasn’t sure what else could be calming the little bluenette.

After a few more minutes had passed, some small creatures started gravitating towards Marinette.

A white rabbit, some squirrels, birds, even a butterfly landed on Marinette’s nose making the girl giggle.

Cass could only watch in awe as the small creatures came closer. None of them wanted any food, water, or shelter, they simply wanted Marinette’s attention.

Then Cass noticed that the few small injuries and bruises she had received from last night’s patrol were fading away.

No.

They were healing.

Cass took out her phone and quickly recorded her injuries healing too fast to be normal, this seemed like the kind of thing the other bats would want to know. 

Cass also took a video and a few pictures of Marinette playing with the animals. She had to admit, the pictures looked adorable, so of course, she sent some to Tim. 

Chat: Tim

Cass: one attached picture*

Tim: good call on bringing her to the garden

Cass: Alfred idea

Tim: where are the others

Cass: Mar’i frightened? Marenet?

Tim: KEEP MARINETTE AWAY FROM KORI AND MARI

Cass: why

Tim: Marinette isn’t

Tim: normal

Cass: one attached video*

Tim: yeah

Tim: her anxiety is caused by not being able to use magic freely

Tim: should have mentioned that before

Tim: sorry

Cass: I text others?

Tim: Yeah go-ahead

Tim: Lunch break is over

Tim: I'll see you guys when the meetings are over

Cass: ok

Cass shot a quick text to Dick, warning him that Tim doesn’t want Kor’i or Mar’i near Marinette till he was at the manor, before looking up from her phone to check on Marinette. She seemed to be relaxed, definitely not as anxious as before. Cass probably wouldn’t have been able to tell that Marinette has anxiety from looking at her right now.

Marinette looked up from the little creatures she seemed to have befriended, with a smile. She got up with some plants in her hand and made her way towards Cass.

Marinette placed a flower crown on Cass’s head with a giggle, before running back to the animals.

Cass couldn’t help but think that Tim had a lot of explaining to do when he gets to the manor.

‘But that’s not my problem to deal with.’ Cass thought to herself as she took a picture of the flower crown and sent it to the family chat.

#maribat #maribat march 2021 #Contagious&nbsp;adoption

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (Two)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: swearing

Notes: Hi everyone! Here’s ch2 of the new story, hope you guys like it. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @monvieesdaebak @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t think you have ever been this bitter in your life—and you have a few things you can be bitter about. You could honestly make a list. But this? This is the ultimate bitterness and you hate it. It is driving you absolutely nuts! You’re alone with a man on an island…that’s lonely enough, right? Well, said man doesn’t even want to talk to you…that makes it ten—no, a million times more lonely. And you have every right to be bitter about that. So, yes maybe you are being a little petty when guys do interact.

It’s not like you are trying to purposely be petty, no, it’s not like that. You just can’t help your smart ass mouth or how childish you can become. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind completely though, he just has his own smart ass comments or he becomes childish himself. It’s a horrible mix! Neither of you win! And you always want to have the last word but with Taehyung as your opponent it’s almost impossible.

“Maybe if you weren’t always following me, they would have sent us home by now.” Taehyung states bitterly as he puts his slice of bread on top of his now made sandwich.

“I’m not following you.” You roll your eyes, “I have to eat too.”

“You can’t wait until I’m done?”

“You look pretty done to me…” You point at his sandwich and he scoffs.

“I still have to eat it.”

“Eat in your room for all I care.”

You and Taehyung are getting along just fine…maybe not swimmingly but like, fine. It’s been a couple weeks and you have mostly stayed out of one another’s way but it’s moments like this that you end up interacting.

“I think I’ll eat at the table, thanks.” He grabs his sandwich and makes his way to the dining room table, sitting down with a thump. He aggressively picks up his sandwich and takes a bite while showing you a smart ass smile.

“Fantastic,” you state, “Me too.” You finish pouring milk into your cereal bowl and set it back inside the fridge. You dramatically make your way over to the table as well, giving him a wide grin as you sit down in front of him. You slightly slam your bowl down on the table, some milk dribbling over the edge of the bowl and Taehyung snarls.

“Great, you’re making a fucking mess.”

“If you went up and ate in you room you would have no idea about this mess.”

“But you still would have made this mess?”

“Ignorance is bliss, Taehyung.”

“You’re such a…” he stops, setting his lips into a firm line and you lean your head forward, clearly curious about what you are.

“Such a…?” you blink at him repeatedly and his lips curve upward into a charming smile.

“A fucking brat.” Taehyung grabs his sandwich again and takes an obnoxious bite while grinning and you give him your best annoyed eye roll.

Okay, maybe a little less than fine. This company has got it all wrong! All. Fucking. Wrong. You two are barely getting along! It’s just eye roll after eye roll, smart ass comment after smart ass comment. That’s it. That’s the relationship. Taehyung barely spares you a glance throughout the day. You do your own thing and he does his. You won’t lie though…you are curious what he gets up to…the last week he has left the house and doesn’t come back until sunset…and he comes back sweaty and exhausted.

You want to ask what he does, you do, you really do. But something tells you he wouldn’t even tell you even if you begged. And you’re not about to beg for this asshole.

So, you guys keep to yourselves save the occasional breakfast/lunch/dinner run in. While he does god knows what, you have also been trying to keep yourself busy. You have recently learned to cook a couple meals, nothing too fancy but you feel proud. You play a lot of games, read a lot of books and watch a lot of movies.

But to put it simple—You’re bored. Fucking bored. You miss human interaction. You hate to say it but your food run ins are mostly on purpose at this point…you just want someone to chit chat with for a few moments even if its unpleasant conversation—because hey! At least it’s conversation.

You and Taehyung eat in silence after your little convo, he and you share strange eye contact…you call it strange because it’s more like he glares at you and you glare at him. Your eyes never leave one another. You feel like he’s trying to cast like, black magic on you, maybe something where if he glares enough you will burst into flames. You assume this because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“Stop looking at me.” Taehyung finishes his last bite, wiping his mouth clean with a napkin.

“You stop looking at me.” You fire back and he sighs, folding his arms across his chest.

“Why would I look at you?”

“Why would I look at you?” you mock, shoving a spoonful of cereal into your mouth and Taehyung squints at you.

“Oh yeah, real mature y/n.” His lips curl inward and he relaxes his arms at his sides as he stands from the table.

“I’m going to my room now.”

“You literally don’t have to announce everything you do.” You raise the bowl to your lips and drink back the leftover milk. You don’t want to look at Taehyung’s expression, you know you’re being ruder than usual. You’re just bitter. Yeah, pretty god damn bitter. You hear Taehyung release a long breath, and you’re starting to think he’s right, maybe you are a brat.

“Goodnight y/n.” he says much softer than you were expecting.

Yeah, maybe you are a brat.

~~~~~~

You’re snuggled up on the living room sofa, the TV plays some cartoon movie you found on the shelf (obviously one of his picks). The movie is on a low volume as you have a book in your hands. You just started it this morning and you have not put it down, it’s called The Roommate, a funny and sexy novel. Too bad your own roommate is nowhere near funny nor sexy. Okay, maybe he’s a little sexy. But his attitude is the opposite of sexy so therefore he isn’t sexy. Yeah, totally. Whatever you have to say to yourself, right? It’s evening now and you’re almost done with the book, you have hardly taken a break from reading. This reminds you of your last memories before the island…the night before you were…kidnapped. Yeah, kidnapped. That’s how you would describe it.

The night before you were like this…snuggled on your sofa in your parent’s house…

“All I’m saying is it doesn’t seem like you’re trying that hard to—”

“Honey, relax.” Your dad cuts in. Your mom is going on and on again about how you still haven’t found another job.

“Relax? Our daughter suddenly left her job and moved back to town!” Your mother throws her hands up, “And she won’t even tell us why!”

You sit here, your knees to your chest as you read your book. You try your best to ignore your mother…you two have rarely ever seen eye to eye. If you told her why you “quit” your previous job and why you had to move back home she would probably find a way to blame you.

“She will tell us when she’s ready.” You hear your dad whisper to your mother. “Don’t push her, you know that makes it worse…”

You can’t help but nibble on your lips, starting to feel the anxiety build. You try to focus on the words on the pages in front of you but they’re beginning to become blurred.

“Oh what is she 5 years old? You treat her like a child! She’s an adult she can handle a little confrontation.”

Your eyes lose focus on the words in front of you, instead all you see is blurred vision thanks to the tears that try to visit.

“I’ll be going to sleep now.” You announce, closing your book and setting it on the end table next to the sofa. “Goodnight.” You grab your phone and stand from your place on the couch. Thankfully, your dad offers a soft ‘goodnight sweetie’ and your mom just nods her head.

You make your way down the hall to your bedroom, opening and closing the door quickly. You lean back on the bedroom door and sigh out, blinking away any tears that tried to appear. You won’t cry. Not again. You feel your phone buzz in your hand, startling you. You unlock your phone to see who messaged you when you see it lit up with a notification from him. You feel your whole world collapsing. Why the fuck is he messaging you?

You stare at your books pages, in deep thought as you recall your last night before the island. You don’t want to remember honestly. You shake your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts when the side door opens in the kitchen. It’s Taehyung. He’s sweaty and clearly exhausted again…what the hell does he do outside for so many hours?

“Hi.” You say, looking up at him from your book. Wait. Why did you greet him?

“Hi…?” Taehyung is just as surprised as you are, with his wide eyes and open mouth. He scrunches his brows together as he eyes you. He gives you a small wave, confusion written all over his face as he begins walking through the entry way and heading upstairs.

You sit here embarrassed as hell. Why did you say hi? And why was your voice so high pitched? You turn red, redder than you probably can imagine. You drop your face in your book and groan, wishing you didn’t say something as simple as ‘hi’.

You have to remind yourself you two aren’t talking. That your roommate here at Casa de la Trapped, isn’t looking to become buddy buddy with you. Which sucks because you are human, you know, a social creature. What’s the harm in becoming friends? Sure you two banter, but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You just don’t get any bad vibes from him, in fact sometimes it seems like he’s forcing himself to be closed off.

You try to go back to your book when you hear a faint yelp from upstairs. Did Taehyung just kind of…scream? You sit here with your book, your ears in the direction of the stairs trying to listen for any indication that something is wrong. But it’s silent. You decide to go back to your book when you hear the noise of Taehyung running down the stairs. He is out of breath by the time he reaches you, standing next to the sofa.

You quite literally choke on your spit when you see him. This boy just don’t give a damn, huh? He’s standing here, trying his best to breathe evenly with nothing but a dark red towel hanging lowly around his hips. You gulp at the sight of him. You knew he probably had a nice body but you were not expecting this. His strong build surprises you, his soft, caramel skin glows even in this lighting and his muscles flex with every movement.

“Uh,” you begin, setting your book down again, “Can I help you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Taehyung rushes to say, he sounds much different than usual. His voice is usually calm and deep but right now it’s panicked like a child.

“With what?”

“There’s a spider in the shower, I need you to take care of it.”

“You want me to kill a spider for you?”

“Kill?” Taehyung brings a hand to his chest, a shocked expression on his face. “All life is precious, y/n.” he pouts. “Just get it and take it outside.”

You tilt your head and try not to laugh as you look at him…he looks bothered, that’s for sure. But god, what a baby. Can’t even take care of a small bug by himself.

“Fine. Show me where it’s at.” You rise from the couch, pointing at the direction of the stairs.

“Yes, yes. I’ll lead the way!” Taehyung walks quickly. He makes his way upstairs with you following right behind him. He leads you into the bathroom when he brings back the shower curtain to show you the spider.

“Well?” you ask expectantly. “Where is it?”

Taehyung turns to face you, his face as white as a ghost.

“It was just here, I swear.”

You roll your eyes as you fight back a grin.

“Sure, Taehyung. Are you sure you weren’t just trying to show off your body?” you shamelessly drag your eyes down his body and he goes red.

“W-Why—why would I do that?” he murmurs out, “Plus, I am sure you’ve already imagined what I look like without clothes.” He recovers quickly, a smirk making its way on his face.

“Not likely.” You say nonchalantly. “Well, if there’s no bug—”

“Wait! You don’t expect me to use this shower still, do you?” He looks panicked again, like a small child.

“Uh, yes?”

“The spider could be lurking anywhere! Let me use your shower.” He suggests, loving his own idea. You on the other hand, do not love his idea.

“Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Yeah, nah.”

“y/n…” He whines, “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You raise a brow, a small smirk creeping on your face. “Okay, have breakfast with me tomorrow. And you actually have to talk to me.”

“y/n…” he warns. “You know we shouldn’t do that.”

“And I want 5 facts about you.” You stand your ground, your hands on your hips as you speak. “And I’ll give you 3 about me.”

“How is that even fair?”

“I’m the rule maker here, Taehyung.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Get used to it.”

Taehyung walks closer to you, his breaths reaching your skin.

“Oh y/n.” Taehyung’s voice goes low, “I definitely make the rules.” There’s a moment of strange tension as he stares down at you…then he’s speaking again. “If you only give 3 then I only give 3. That’s the deal.”

You stare up into his dark eyes and you struggle to swallow your own spit, he might only have a few inches over you but maybe they are a little intimidating.

“F-Fine. Use my shower.” You step out of his way and gesture towards your room. “See you at breakfast tomorrow.” You wink.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but this time it almost seemed playful and not overly dramatic. You don’t want to get your hopes up but when he’s not being closed off and frankly, rude, he’s really not that bad.

“Don’t get used to these types of deals.” Taehyung throws over his shoulder as he walks to your room. “Basically, don’t get used to me.” He says a little quieter, but you still hear him and you frown.

“Like, I would want to!” you yell out.

Taehyung does not want to leave this shower, ever. He’s almost kind of bitter that he let you have this room! You get the awesome rain shower and he’s stuck with some plain, basic shower head in the guest bathroom. He eyes all the different bottles that sit on the shelves inside the shower, these must be all the bottles you use in your real life, he thinks. He grabs the shampoo and opens it to sniff it. He’s never gotten close enough to you that he can smell your hair but man, this is what you smell like? Delicious. He squirts a generous amount of the shampoo in his palm with an evil glint in his eye and massages it into his scalp. Whoops, did he just use your shampoo? Oh well. He rinses his hair out and uses your conditioner as well, but he doesn’t stop there. He uses your body wash too! It smells divine and its making his skin so soft.

Taehyung just knows that him using your shit would bother you, he just gets that vibe. And he’s not sure why but riling you up is quite fun. Taehyung turns the water off and grabs his towel and starts drying off…he steps out on to the shower mat and eyes the room as he dries himself. He sees you organized all your lotions and whatever other products onto the sinks counter top, he sees how empty “his side” of the sink is. It previously held all his belongings that he had moved into his bathroom—the guest bathroom.

“Are you almost done in there?” He hears you knocking on the door. “I want to take a shower before bed!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He whispers out, “Hold on!”

Taehyung wraps the towel around his hips again and goes towards the bathroom door, he stops to check himself out in the mirror before opening the door.

“I’m all done, cry baby.” He rolls his eyes and you secretly hope they get stuck like that for how much he does it.

“Me, the cry baby? You wouldn’t even use your own show—”

“—anyway, bathroom is all yours.” He breezes past you, but stops before exiting the bedroom. “Um…” he turns around, “See you in the morning.” And then he’s walking out.

~~~~~~

You made eggs, bacon, pancakes, and have fresh fruit in a bowl all set up on the dining room table. For some reason you are too nervous to call out for Taehyung and let him know that breakfast is ready…you know, 30 minutes ago. You just patiently wait, sitting here tapping your fingers against the wooden table.

Another 20 minutes pass by when you hear faint footsteps from upstairs…he must now just be getting up, you think. You rush to reheat up some of the food before he makes his way downstairs. You set the bacon, eggs and pancakes back down on the table and make yourself busy like you haven’t just been waiting for almost an hour.

Taehyung finally walks through the kitchen, his face evident with sleep and his hair sticking out in all directions. He blinks at you lazily before his eyes widen in panic.

“B-Breakfast. I forgot—”

“It’s okay, I just finished.” You cut him off with a strained smile. “I see you like to sleep in.”

“Most days, yeah. Because I go to bed so late.” He admits sheepishly. Then he smirks. “Can that be fact number 1?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, you’ll allow it? How gracious of you.” Taehyung takes a seat at the dining room table and he starts with grabbing two pancakes from the pile and setting them down on his plate.

“You cooked all of this?” He asks, surprised.

“No, the other people who live here did it.” You deadpan.

“Always a smart ass.” He says while pouring syrup all over his pancakes, “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

“Right…” you make your way to the table and take a seat in front of him. You start with some pancakes as well, waiting for him to finish with the syrup so you can pour your own generous amount. He notices you waiting, his eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth twitches into a sort of half smile. He slides the syrup across the table and your hand goes out to grab it, your fingers touching his.

“S-Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

You both get out at the same time. You stare at one another for another few seconds before Taehyung rolls his eyes,

“Big deal, our fingers touched. No need to get weird.” He chuckles, and you feel your heart feel all fucking weird.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “What’s fact number 2?”

Taehyung takes a bite of his pancakes and moans into the syrupy mess, his eyes finding yours again.

“Oh? You’re greedy for information.”

“I’m a little greedy.” You admit, “So?”

“Fact number 2…I’m almost 5’11.”

“So you’re 5’10. Just say you’re 5’10.”

“But I’m not just 5’10. Because I am almost 5’11.” He groans, “Can’t you just humor me here?”

“Okay Mister 5’11.” You laugh, “My fact number 2 is that I have one older sister.”

Taehyung nods his head, remembering the picture of you and some other girl that you looks a lot like you.

“I see.” He swallows his food, “So you’re the baby of your family?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” He smirks at you, “You have that baby of the family vibe.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” you give him a curious look and he looks at you like you can’t be serious.

“Because you’re…you know,” he gestures towards you with a knowing look and you scoff.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Brat.” He states simply. “Because you’re a brat.”

“Whatever.” You grab for some eggs and bacon, and Taehyung does the same.

“So, what’s fact number 3?” you ask, piling some eggs onto your plate.

“Already want the last fact? We are barely just eating.” Taehyung points out. He shovels some eggs onto his own plate once you are done, and sticks a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“Greedy, remember?” you remind him with a smirk. “So?”

“I’m sure you already gathered this but…I’m an aspiring musician.”

“I figured you were…that, or an artist.”

“Art is just a really fun hobby for me.” He admits. He loves to paint but singing and making music is where his true passion lies.

“What’s your last fact?” he stuffs his face with another piece of bacon, you watch him as he eats the crispy meat.

“Umm…” you look up at the ceiling as you think, “I used to think I looked bad in sun glasses but then I got over that…so now I buy any cool, funky sunglasses I can find.”

“That’s a really random fact.” Taehyung chuckles, “I like cool, funky sunglasses too.”

“Wow, are you saying we actually have something in common?” you tease, bringing a forkful of eggs to your mouth.

“Don’t get used to it.” He says dryly. “Since we said all of our facts, I guess I can go now.”

“You’re not going to finish your food? Taehyung…” you place your hands on the table. “They’re not going to assume just because we are talking that we are falling in love for Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t want to give them any ideas.” Taehyung says a bit harshly. Your face falls into a frown and you stand from the table.

“You can finish your food. I’ll leave.”

Taehyung blinks up at you and opens his mouth to say something but he remains quiet. You shake your head at him and walk off into the living room. If he wants to continue this “Little to no interaction” thing then so be it!

Taehyung sits here with his appetite lost. He holds his fork in his hand out in front of him and attempts to cut into his pancakes when he just gives up. He drops the fork onto the table and sighs out.

“y/n…” he calls out but you ignore him. “y/n!”

“Don’t talk to me.” You say with as much attitude you can muster and Taehyung silently mocks your words. He grabs his fork and aggressively cuts into his pancakes and takes a bite.

“Fine by me!” He yells out with his mouth full.

“You’re so annoying!” You groan and Taehyung silently mocks your words again but you can’t see him.

“And you’re a brat!” He says stuffing his mouth with another slice of pancake.

Great. For a moment there you thought you two could almost get along but he is set on this bullshit of not talking. You walk to the shelves in the living room and choose a new book, another romance novel. You take a seat on the couch, and curl up into a blanket. Taehyung can do whatever he wants! You’re going to enjoy your book and forget all about his annoying ass.

~~~~~~

Taehyung is finally dressed into some shorts and a sleeveless shirt as he makes his way out of the house. He is going to continue working on his little…project. You are probably wondering what he gets up to everyday, he thinks.

He is working on building a raft. He wants to escape this island but he doesn’t know how to build a fucking raft and this company didn’t necessarily give him the tools to escape. But he’s figuring it out. He is quite literally breaking tree branches and going from there. But it is taking time but apparently he has all the time in the world. 3 months? 6 months? A year or even more? He releases a long breath as he walks the path to where his “raft” is. If anything it’s just nice to get out of the house and breathe the island air. This whole thing kind of just gives him something to do and he knows this may not really work but he’s got to try. He’s a man of action after all.

He finally sees his “raft” chilling against a tree close to the beach and he walks up to it. Already feeling frustrated just looking at the pathetic thing. He has to make it big enough for two people…he isn’t an asshole, he doesn’t plan on escaping by himself, leaving you here.

He goes to his knees and holds it up, he feels his frustrations bubble over and he throws it to the ground. How the hell is he supposed to escape with this shitty thing?

He slams his eyes shut and sinks into the sand. He wants to go home. Things aren’t easy here…he can’t sleep. He is surprised he’s eating as much as he is, and he has mostly bad interactions with you. And he knows that it’s his fault. But he knows this is for the best but he can tell it’s not what you want. To be honest, this is actually really hard for him. He tries to come off as cold and closed off so you won’t take an interest in him but he’s dying! He wants to talk to you too! He is probably one of the most social of his friends! He has a lot of friends and he loves talking and hanging with them.

Taehyung feels his eyes become wet with hot tears and he grits he teeth together in irritation. He wishes he was home with his friends, with his family, with the girl he likes. He misses everyone so bad. He knows the night you two were “kidnapped” was the last day of the year, meaning they started this experiment January 1. He recalls his last few nights before the island…it was his birthday.

“No! I want him to open my present first!” Jimin whines and Taehyung can’t help the wide grin that adorns his face.

They’re all out at a bar, the music is loud and the alcohol is nonstop. Taehyung is surrounded by his closest friends, plus Hana—the girl Taehyung has been crushing on for the last year. She brought along a couple of her friends to this night out of celebration.

“He can open whoever’s he wants first…which is mine, right?” Jungkook hands Taehyung a box and Taehyung chuckles.

“Just for that, your two are going last.” Taehyung says, “How about I open Namjoon’s first since he planned this night?”

Namjoon gives the other two boys a cocky grin as he hands Taehyung a bag.

“Can I go after Namjoon?” Hana’s sweet voice is heard over the blaring music. She looks absolutely gorgeous tonight, her pink dress doing her a million favors. Not that she needs the favors, she’s always gorgeous.

“Y-Yeah.” Taehyung blushes, “But you didn’t have to get me anything…”

“Really? You practically yelled at us when you thought we weren’t getting you anything.” Jimin playfully comments.

“Shut up dude.” Taehyung grits out, “Anyway, let’s see what Joonie got me.”

The night went on, the music got louder, the alcohol kept on coming. Taehyung is so happy. Everything is perfect. He doesn’t think anything can ruin his good mood.

“Want to dance with me?” Hana’s words leave her pretty, pink lips and Taehyung finds himself nodding yes before he can even register what she said. He would literally do anything she wanted.

“Then come.” She waves him over with her small, manicured hand.

Hana and Taehyung end up on the dance floor for quite some time…he’s too drunk to be nervous like he usually is. His large hands grip at her tiny waist as he brings her in closer, she lightly moans when she feels his hard body against her.

“We should talk.” Hana breathes out, “About us.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, panic starting to make its way into his body.

“What about us?”

Hana chuckles lightly, she goes on her tip toes and places a soft, sweet kiss against Taehyung’s lips.

“Nothing bad, I promise.” She takes his hand and leads him outside the bar, out to a little patio. Taehyung has a huge smile on his face as he follows her outside…it’s not the first time they’ve kissed but he still can’t get used to it.

“You like me right?” she asks, pointing to herself. She’s got that sweet smile and Taehyung feels his nerves spiking.

“Yes.” He finally breathes out.

“Good. Because I like you too.” She admits, she closes her eyes for a moment, Taehyung spots the golden eye shadow that is painted over her lids. She opens her eyes again and he spots a sadness in them.

“But…” she begins and Taehyung feels his smile fade.

“But what?”

“No…it’s nothing.” She clears her throat, “You should take me on a date. And soon.” She giggles. Taehyung feels his smile grow and he nods his head.

“I would love to. We can—”

“Hey Tae!” Hobi’s voice cuts him off, “Yoongi says he just got off work and is on his way!!” He cheers happily. Taehyung turns to face Hobi and gives him a thumbs up before he’s spinning back around to Hana.

“Let’s go inside. We can discuss more on our date.” She smiles, taking his hand again.

“Sure.” Taehyung grins, his stomach doing a million flips. “Let’s go!”

Taehyung feels a few tears escape his closed eye lids as he sits in the sand. It’s too early to be in this state, Taehyung thinks. But alas, he can’t help it. He misses his life. This island put his life on complete hold. What if he’s stuck here for a year? Would Hana wait for him? It’s not like he’s expecting her to…but he thinks he would wait for her.

He stands to his feet, wiping his face of any leftover tears and he begins working for the day. He finds new trees with branches that would be easy to cut down and he resumes his little project. Hours and Hours go by and Taehyung is sitting on the beach’s sand and staring out at the water. He’s tired, he’s sweaty and he’s hungry.

Taehyung starts making his way back to the house now that the sun is setting. It’s pretty orange glow sets a relaxing mood and Taehyung feels grateful. He walks up to the side door that leads to the kitchen and watches you from the window. You look calm as usual and he feels himself feeling frustrated all over again…how are you so calm? He was having a meltdown on the beach earlier and here you are cooking dinner with a small smile on your face. He doesn’t understand you. Does this whole situation not bother you? No…he knows it has to bother you but how are you able to be so relaxed about it?

He opens the door and walks inside, startling you. You bring a hand to your heart when you see him but then visibly relax after a moment or two.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles lamely. And then he’s walking up the stairs leaving you to your lonesome.

~~~~~

Month: 1

It’s been a month. A whole month! It seems Taehyung has gotten even more distant with you…no major interactions since you two had breakfast together. He keeps his comments to you brief in passing and he barely makes eye contact. You’re fed up. You’re lonely. You need interaction and you can’t always cater to him! He can suck it up for once and do what you want.

Feeling brave, you give yourself a pep talk in your bathroom mirror. That’s right, you are going to just go for it! You are going to demand that he hang out with you. You fix your hair in the mirror and nod to yourself. Yeah, you got this. You exit your room and stroll down the hall to his bedroom, once you are standing in front of it you lean your head against the door, your ear lying flat against it as you try to listen for him. The room sounds pretty quiet…maybe he’s sleeping? No, no. You’re just trying to find an excuse not to do this, aren’t you? Ugh, pathetic.

You raise your fist up and begin knocking on his door. You’re left with silence…you’re being ignored. So you knock again. And again. And ag—

“What?!” Taehyung swings open the door, revealing that he was indeed maybe sleeping. His hair is doing that funny thing where it sticks out in every direction and his eyes are barely open.

“This better be important.” He huffs out.

Suddenly, you feel a wave of shyness wash over you. You feel kind of bad you interrupted his nap…but you got to stay strong.

“Please hang out with me.” You blurt out.

“Huh?” Taehyung looks at you as if you’re crazy. “Not happening.” He quickly says.

“Just play a game with me, or maybe we could watch that movie…”

“I don’t want to do anything with you.” He raises his voice just the slightest and you flinch.

“Yeah? You think I want to do things with you? Like you specifically? Hell no! But I just want to do something damn it!” you flail your arms up, and breathe out heavily. “I am so fucking tired of always being by myself, it’s literally driving me insane.” You admit, you look off to the side as tears threaten to wet your eyes. “I am alone every single day. It has been a month, Taehyung? Did you know that? You’ve left me lonely for an entire month! I am going fucking crazy!” you bring your hands to your hips, “I have tried learning to cook all these god damn recipes as a way to distract myself but dude, I don’t even like cooking. I read all day too…I have all these imaginary book friends and that’s where I meet my social needs, isn’t that insane? Oh my god, I am going insane. And you?! How are you okay?!”

Taehyung is left speechless at your rant. He realizes that this loneliness is really getting to you…he admits he isn’t much better. But he kind of likes that you’re beginning to spiral. Is that mean?

“W-What game?” he juts out his bottom lip as his eyes slide to the side.

You stare at him with wide eyes as your chest heaves. You screw your eyes closed, and bring a hand to your head.

“What game?” you open your eyes to look at him, “That’s all you have to say?”

“What game y/n?”

You glare at him, huffing out deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

“Mortal Kombat.” You spit out, “I really want to kick your ass.”

Your fingers work the buttons on the controller as you test out every god damn combo you can…and damn it is working because you are on fire.

“You could have warned me that you actually know how to play…” Taehyung pouts.

“You should have just taken my word for it, you loser.” You continue to kick his ass in the game, you are pretty good at pretending his character is actually him.

“One more game, y/n.” Taehyung begs, “I will beat you!”

“You haven’t won even one match, Taehyung. Just admit you suck.” You chuckle darkly.

You press a few more buttons until you see the word ‘Fatality’ grace your screen, you stand up in excitement yelling out your victory, you laugh like a god damn maniac and he can’t help but chuckle. Taehyung throws his controller to the ground and pouts dramatically.

“I know what will make you feel better.” You turn to face him, calming down.

“Nothing will heal this wound, y/n.” He states, throwing the sofa’s designated blanket over his body.

“How about we watch that movie you like so much?” you offer with a smile but Taehyung goes stiff at your question.

“I think we should just call it for the day…” he looks awkwardly to the side and you slump your shoulders.

“Oh…okay.”

“Listen…it’s not you—”

“Just stop.” You hold your hand up, “You want nothing to do with me, I get it.”

“y/n…” Taehyung looks down at his hands…he does feel bad. It’s not like he didn’t have fun with you just now. He just wishes this was all different.

“I’ll be in my room—”

“Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He cuts in.

“What?” you ask, completely off guard. “What?” you repeat.

“I said,” Taehyung breathes out, “Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He’s not just trying to be nice…he’s also, you know, hungry.

You hate yourself because you light up like the sun almost immediately. You wish you were strong and you could tell him to fuck off but instead you become the god damn sun from how brightly you shine.

“Really?” you ask with the most hopeful eyes.

“Yeah.” Taehyung laughs, “Really.”

“You mean…you want to actually spend time with me?” you ask bluntly.

“I guess you can put it that way if it makes you feel better.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, but it’s in that playful way you only ever get to see so often.

“It does make me feel better actually.”

“Well, then.” He stands up and motions his hand towards the kitchen. “Shall we?”

“Are you going to be annoying the whole time?” you ask, “Or will you be serious about learning?”

“God, woman.” He rolls his eyes again. “I hope I annoy the shit out of you.”

“Oh, you already do.” You gesture for him to go to the kitchen first.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Somehow I believe you.” This time it’s your turn for the dramatic eye roll. “Now come on.”

“Oh my god. You aren’t even listening!” you yell out over Taehyung’s nonstop humming and whistling.

“I truly believe cooking is like an art, you know?” he continues to whistle some made up tune, “These instructions are like…a guide but you can kind of do what you…” he makes a fist with his hand and shakes it in front of his face. “… you want.” He finishes. “Yeah, these are more like suggestions.”

“Can we please just follow the directions.” You deadpan. “I want this to taste the way it’s supposed to!”

“You’re no fun.” Taehyung says nonchalantly. “Cooking should be fun.”

“Cooking is so we can eat.”

“These dumplings are going to taste fine, y/n.” He assures you with a grin.

“You say that but…” you look at his pile of failed dumplings. “But…” you show him with your hand the absolute mess he’s made.

“Your point?” He raises a single brow and you scoff. There’s no way he is serious, absolutely no way.

You notice Taehyung is staring at you, his eyes look everywhere but your eyes and you start to feel nervous under his gaze. He has one of those dark, intense gazes that you just can’t shake off your mind.

“What?” you finally ask. “Something on my face?” you joke.

“Actually, yes.” He blurts out. “So much flour.”

“Oh.” You start to turn red with embarrassment, “Where? Here?” you point to various spots on your face with a towel and he just shakes his head.

“No, there.” He points but you still miss it.

“Just clean it off me!”

“You want me to touch you?”

“Yes, please touch me.” Then your eyes expand in size. “Wait, that sounds wrong.”

“You have a dirty mind, y/n.” Taehyung shakes his head again, “You’re just all kinds of dirty.”

“Oh my god, stop.” You look at him with your flustered as hell face, your face is probably redder than ever and it feels so fucking hot.

“Here.” Taehyung grabs the towel from your hands and begins wiping your face clean. “Your face isn’t dirty anymore.” He pulls his hand back, “But your mind still is, huh?”

“Will you just shut up?”

“Will you just shut up?” he mocks how you usually would and you roll your eyes. Hard.

“Doesn’t feel good does it?” He teases, “Getting a taste of your own medicine.”

“Can we please just focus on this recipe?”

“Fine.” He breathes out, “Except I will ignore this recipe completely and do what I think my ancestors want me to do. They whisper in my ear that these need more garlic.”

“You are so annoying.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Okay, I get it, Taehyung.”

You reach behind you and untie your apron and place it on its hook by the pantry. You walk over to the dining room table and take a seat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taehyung quirks a brow as you rest your head on the table.

“Resting. Letting you do all the work. You can cook from now on. I give up.”

Taehyung shakes his pointer finger at you and walks your way.

“Oh no, no, no.” he grabs on to your arm and begins dragging you up. “This was your idea so we are cooking together.”

“Uh, actually this was your idea.”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s mouth hangs open as he realizes how true that is. “Not one of my better ideas…” he admits.

“Oh? Do you usually have good ideas?” You make your snarky comment and Taehyung let’s go of your arm.

“Usually the best.” He says, a cocky smile making its way on his stupidly handsome face.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Well, you don’t know me.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” You jab at him and he visibly deflates.

“You know 3 things about me actually.” He gives you a half smile.

“All I remember is that you’re almost 5’11.”

“Well, that one was the most important. So your head is in the right place.”

Taehyung doesn’t realize it because you didn’t say anything but his face is full of flour as well. You stare up at him and start to laugh. Taehyung looks at you, confused. An adorable pout forms on his lips as he begs you to tell him what’s so funny.

“Your face.” You point at him and his fingers go to touch his skin.

“Clean me.” He commands. “I cleaned you, it’s only fair.” He points out.

You nod your head and walk towards the counter to grab the towel, Taehyung follows closely behind you. You turn around quickly and your chest bumps into his.

“Oh sorry.” He says while scratching the back of his neck, “I got too close.”

You nod lamely, but neither of you step back. Maybe expecting the other to do it? You decide to ignore that and you reach up to clean his face. He has flour everywhere. No joke. This dude is messy. You kind of laugh as you wipe his face clean, he can’t help but laugh too. His breath mingling with yours as you two giggle.

“We are kind of a mess.” He admits, his tone is soft—almost shy. You slow down the patting on his skin and you gaze into his eyes for a moment. They’re dark. They’re powerful. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment when Taehyung clears his throat and you bring your hand back down.

“There.” You say, “All done.”

“Should we finish cooking?” Taehyung grins down at you.

“I don’t know, what do your ancestors say?”

“They say you’re a smart ass.”

~~~~~~

“Do you think we could…we could do this again?” You and Taehyung are standing outside your bedroom door. Why did Taehyung walk you all the way to your door? The world may never know.

“Do what exactly?” he asks as he sways back and forth in front of you

“Play a game…or cook dinner…or you know just hang out.”

“Maybe… once a week we can play a game or watch a movie or something…” he gets out awkwardly.

“Wow, you’ll grace me with your presence once a week?” you roll your eyes, “How generous of you.”

“Listen…” Taehyung looks at you more seriously, “I know social contact is important for like, our mental health or whatever. But we shouldn’t push it.”

“You’re so…”

“I’m so what?” Taehyung steps forward and you gulp.

“So unfair.” You whisper. Taehyung bows his head down, he feels like he is shrinking. Because you’re right, he is being totally unfair. But he thinks this is the right move, the smart move.

“Y/n…” he sighs, “I’m doing this so we can leave.”

“And what if your little strategy isn’t working? It’s been a month Taehyung.” You point out, “And we’re still here.”

“I know, I know. Jesus, woman.” He breathes out, his dark eyes finding yours. “Look, they will get bored with us.”

“How can you be so sure?” you step forward. “What if we aren’t boring to them?” you whisper, your eyes staying on his.

“That’s why we should interact as little as possible.”

“Taehyung. No offense. But do you really think I want to interact with you?” you spit out, “I just need something, anything. I just need someone.” You step closer, “And you happen to be the only person here.”

Taehyung’s brows pinch together as he looks down at you, a frown decorating his face. He…he doesn’t want to be hurt by that.

“Once a week y/n. That’s all I can offer you.” He steps closer to you, his feet bumping into yours, “Don’t get greedy on me.”

You tilt your head up and chuckle,

“I told you I’m greedy though.” Your eyes stay on his, his piercing gaze causing you to shudder but you don’t break contact and neither does he. He’s challenging you, you can feel it. His eyes begin to narrow as he stares down at you, you wonder what he is thinking. He sighs out, his breath hitting your face and you blink up at him. You’re about to say something, anything when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You mean to keep your eyes on his eyes, you really do but you don’t. You hate yourself for dropping your gaze down to his lips. He smirks as realization hits him.

“Goodnight y/n.” He says, his voice so deep and low it catches you off guard. Then he’s stepping away from you and heading towards his room, leaving you at your door. You release the longest, shakiest breath as you watch him disappear.

You open the door to your bedroom and walk inside, you wish you could yell out in frustration. You wish you could scream into your pillow and know for sure he can’t hear you. You wish you weren’t here.

You change into some sleep clothes and slide into bed. You pull the blanket up to your nose and kick your legs dramatically. This guy is so annoying! Why can’t he just not care and live life normally so you can be normal too! Listen, you aren’t fucking thrilled about this either. But you’re handling it a lot better than he is. Why is that…? Why are you handling this so well? Maybe it’s because your real life is a fucking mess and this truly is the vacation you needed. You know, you know how pathetic that sounds.

You close your eyes and try to sleep but memories of your real life keep hitting you. You hate this. You hate all of this. You’re lonely. You’re all alone. In this this life on the island but also in your real life. You’re so fucking alone. You feel tears prick your eyes and you let yourself quietly sob for who knows how long. You wish you had someone to lean on…just in general. But you lost all of your friends at work…you lost your boyfriend…you only have your parents and even they are fed up with you.

After crying tears after tears you decide you’re thirsty. You tip toe out of bed and make your way downstairs…the house is so quiet and dark. It’s relaxing and also depressing. You finally make it to the kitchen when you scream bloody murder. Sitting in the dark at the dining room table is Taehyung.

“Wow, y/n. It’s not next week yet.” He jokes. You quickly turn on the dining room light and look at him like he’s insane.

“You fucking scared me!” you exclaim loudly, “And why are you awake?”

“I have trouble sleeping…” he admits, he scratches the back of his neck and gives you a sheepish grin. “What about you?”

You step closer to the table and Taehyung’s eyes slightly expand. He notices your swollen eyes and puffy lips. Had you been crying?

“Hey…are you okay?” he whispers out, standing from his chair.

“Don’t act like you care so suddenly.” Your eyes slide to the side, “I’m fine.”

Taehyung looks down, guilt burying itself into his body. He looks up at you and tries to speak but he doesn’t know what to say.

“I just came down for some water.” You tell him. “That’s all.” You walk over to the fridge for the pitcher of cold water then you walk to the cabinet and try to grab a glass from the top shelf but you struggle. You huff out and close your eyes in frustration when you feel Taehyung’s chest on your back.

“I’ll grab it for you.” He says softly. He reaches for a glass and hands it to you, you take it from him and offer him a small thanks.

“See? That’s something only people who are almost 5’11 could do.” He teases and you look at him with a serious expression. You look down at your feet and sigh out before you let a giggle slip between your lips.

“Goodnight Taehyung.” You look up to study his face, and you see his smile fade.

“What?” you ask.

“Once a day.” He says. “We can hang out once a day. But that’s it.”

You feel your heart do something funny…you feel your tummy doing something weird too. You feel your entire chest get hit with a wave of….something.

“It’s fine, Taehyung.” You finally say after a quiet moment, “I don’t want to push you.”

“This isn’t for you.” He smiles, “I think I need the social contact too.”

“Well, no fucking duh.” You state with the roll of your eyes. “We can’t isolate ourselves…it’s so unhealthy.”

“I get it.” He breathes out, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after that until we’re out of this place.”

~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days you and Taehyung play some games or watch a movie together, just doing at least one activity a day. Just like he said you two would. Admittingly you do feel better about this arrangement. Not talking at all was a pain in the ass and terribly lonely. Sometimes Taehyung will come to the living room and play a game by himself while you read, just sharing a space without really talking, even after he did his one activity with you. You hate to admit how much you like that he does that.

It’s not like you want to get to know him specifically…but you would like to sort of know the person you are living with…that makes sense, right? It’s not him! It’s just that he’s the only person here…and you want a friend. Yes, you can admit you want a friend. You aren’t going to fall in love with the dude…you just want someone to talk to and hang out with. God, is that such a crime? Plus, you’re in no place for love. If the company truly knows you, with their “research” and all then they should know you are not ready for any type of romantic relationship.

You lay here on the couch, your legs hung over the arm of it while you stare up at the ceiling. It’s hot out today and this house happens to come with a lovely pool. The ocean is scary so no beach for you…but pool? Yes. You lay here, wondering what Taehyung is up to. He went out again today like he usually does, you wonder if you can ask him about it now…now that you guys aren’t on total terrible terms. Nah, you will wait a little longer before you ask. Instead, you rise from the sofa and head upstairs to change into a swim suit.

You have a lot of options, to be honest. This place did not lack on the clothing items! You decide on a simple dark green bikini, you try it on and decide you like the way it looks. A lot actually. Have you lost some weight? You guess the lack of fast food options has made you a little slimmer, and the amount of fresh food that’s available here. Plus you started lightly working out in the home gym, sweating a storm.

You head back downstairs and go to the back where the absolutely lovely porch is located…it’s a whole wooden deck. With a glamorous pool in the center and a hot tub off to the side. You wish you really lived in a place like this—not here, specifically. (For obvious reasons) You shrug off the towel that’s wrapped protectively over your body and make your way to the pool. You don’t know what you’re being self-conscious for…Taehyung doesn’t usually come back until sunset and it’s barely the afternoon.

You dip your toes in the water first…it’s pretty chilly but you handle it, dipping your body further and further into the water. You shiver just a bit before dunking your head underneath, letting the water consume you. You stay underwater, opening your eyes and staring at the blue nothingness.

“I love you.” He says for the first time, making you float on air. You knew he was going to say it soon, you could feel it but you were not expecting it here.

You two are sitting at Cozy Coffee, your favorite place to relax and read and write. You are in the middle of writing a very intriguing sentence when your fingers stop typing in reaction to his confession.

“You what?” you ask, a small smile adorning your face. “You love me?”

“Yes.” He reaches for your hand across the table, “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I had a feeling.” You tease. “But I…”

“You don’t have to say it yet if you aren’t ready,” he squeezes your hand, “I can wait.”

“No!” you squeeze his hand back, “I…love you too.” You admit softly.

He brings his hand back, folding his hands together out in front of him and sighs out, his breaths escaping him softly.

“These past 6 months with you y/n…” he begins, “Have been the most wonderful.”

“They have been pretty nice, haven’t they?” you smirk. “Tell me your favorite part?”

“Any part where you’re naked, for sure.” He laughs and you gasp.

“Hey! Behave.” You warn with a smile and he keeps laughing.

“I’m serious, this is the best relationship I have ever had. You’re definitely the best girlfriend…all these other girls have been crazy.”

You frown at that, “Why crazy?”

“Ugh, you know how women can get.”

You don’t like the way he said that, you feel your smile twist into another frown.

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Because you aren’t like that. You’re different.”

You smile again, once again feeling special with his praise.

“Different how?”

“Jeez, you ask a lot of questions.” He half jokes. “I don’t know, you just are.”

The water is starting to sting your eyes as you continue to hold your breath, memories flooding you. This water isn’t the only thing trying to drown you. You finally squeeze your eyes shut and swim up to the surface, gasping for air once you reach it. You breathe out heavily as you try to catch a breath, your wet hair dripping down your just as wet face. You swim to the edge of the pool and lift yourself up on the ledge and sit with your legs still in the water.

Why do you have to think of him?

After an hour or so that passes and plenty of sun later you decide you’ve had enough of the day outside. You stand to your feet and grab your towel and dry off, draping the towel over your right arm. You’re still pretty wet you admit, but nothing crazy. You head for the house, walking through the back door. Once you enter the house the cool AC hits you, causing you to shiver but you decide a warm shower will solve this. You turn the corner in the hall to head upstairs when your body slams into another body. You run into Taehyung hard causing you to tumble over and fall on top of him.

Taehyung yelps out when he makes contact with you, his body falling to the hard tiled floor and he winces. You fall on top of him, your chest smooshing his face. Yeah, your boobs in his face. That’s what that fucking means. Your wet boobs in his sweaty face.

“What the hell?” Taehyung mumbles between your breasts, “Get off me.”

You’re quick to try to scramble off his body, your hands landing in all the wrong places as you try to lift yourself. He groans loudly when you make contact with his lower hips and his hands go to grab your wrists trying to stop you from moving around so much.

“Chill, chill.” He breathes out slowly, still holding on to your wrists. He makes his way out from beneath you and pulls you up by the wrists.

“I wasn’t this sweaty before you ran into me…” Taehyung observes, “How wet are you?”

“I wasn’t this wet until running into you. How fucking sweaty are you?!”

“Fair.” Taehyung says with a smirk, then he’s blinking at you. “You went swimming today?” he eyes you up and down and you immediately feel insecure under his intense gaze.

“Uh, yeah.” You take the towel that’s draped around your arm and go to cover yourself with it.

“Why are you getting shy now?” as sly smile draws itself on Taehyung’s face. “You didn’t seem this shy just a moment ago with your tits in my face?” he questions with a low voice.

“Oh my god, can we not bring that up?” you begin to blush and you hate yourself for it.

“Why not?”

“It was an accident first of all. There will never be a time again where my boobs are in your face.”

“Oh you’re making the company sad.” Taehyung pouts.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and Taehyung laughs. His laughter dies down though when he shamelessly eyes you again.

“Green is my favorite color.” He says while walking past you and heading upstairs.

You stand here, embarrassed as fucking usual. Your whole body warming up and you don’t even feel that cold AC any longer. You breathe in and breathe out. Taehyung is not making this stay very easy, is he?

~~~~~~

Month: 2

“Don’t you use that blue shell!” You scream at the air around you, your eyes concentrating on the screen ahead.

Taehyung smirks, working his fingers on the controller. God, he can really move his fingers. Wait, why the hell would you think that?

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

You are both totally immersed in your game, the finish line in sight. You jump to your feet in rushed excitement as the finish line is soon approaching. You need this win to tie with him on your ongoing competition in Mario Kart. You’re both oh so close, the anticipation rising. Like, honestly you might shit yourself. Taehyung also leaps to his feet, joining you at your side. Now you are both screaming at the screen, your throats will totally pay for this later. You are jumping up and down, yelling at one another , slamming your fingers on the controllers, harshly pressing down on the accelerator button. You can see it. Its literally right in front of you! AND you are ahead of him! The finish line! Your screams getting louder and louder…when…you are graced with a black screen.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” You yell in unison.

You turn to face Taehyung, the one you hate the most right now. Your eyes dark and your voice low.

“What did you do?”

“ME? I didn’t do anything!” He says accusingly.

“You must have! You knew I was going to win—”

“First of all, we don’t know that.” He cuts you off all matter of fact. So annoying.

You look at him incredulously.

“THAT’S IT! I’m going to strangle you!” Before you can take a step towards him to you know, kill him, the screen turns a bright white, catching your attention. Lucky dude. Your focus now on the screen, you look at it with your head tilted to the side. There are black letters at the top of the screen and you decide to read out loud whatever this caption says.

“Re…Request?” your eyes scan the word slowly. “Oh. Oh shit,” Your eyes go wide, you turn to face Taehyung, his expression mirroring your own. You had completely, like completely forgot about the ‘Requests’. It has been a couple months of silence so how could you not forget? You wonder if this company is finally ready to move …this…along. Whatever this is.

Only seconds pass before more black words appear on the screen. Your eyes stay on Taehyung though, too nervous to read what comes next.

Taehyung must realize you have no intention on reading anymore because he exhales deeply and faces the screen.

“Okay, here goes…” he begins, “The two subjects must…”

#bts #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung fanfic #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst

[iwhishtomeetinournextlife]

An anonymous lover (part 6)

Summary : Y/N sees Sirius Black running away after a particularly rough letter from his mother. She wants to cheer him up and decide to send him a letter, anymously, she knows how much he hates her house.

Warnings : Slytherin!Reader, female!reader, not proof read, panick attack

Word count : 2k

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - You're here - Part 7

English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes

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

Y/N didn’t go to class, she felt like shit, completly like shit. She was in her bed, rolled in her blanket, looking at nothing, the argument with Sirius playing in her head over and over again. Tears would have rolled down if she hadn’t cried all of them already.

She simply couldn’t believe it, a part of her wished so hard that was all a nightmare. But she knew it wasn’t, she had let her guard down and had been stabbed a million time by the very person she had trust enough to tell all of her being.

She hated how much this impacted her, she should be used to it by now, shouldn’t she ? It wasn’t like student from other house hasn’t already told her all those things ; “monters”,”abomination”,”shame”... It wasn’t rare for slytherin for being bullied just for bieng slytherin, most of them have built up walls to protect themselves.

She even got comment from other slytherin, the bad one, those who gave a bad name to this house, on how she doesn’t deserve to be here, that the Hat had made a mistake, because surely there was no way “a dumb”, “snoflake”, “less than nothing” had ended up in the house of the greatest wizard of the magic world !

All their insults started to spin in her head, she had tried so hard to not let them get to her but Sirius’ comments just validated them. They were right, she was a shame, to her house, to this school, probably to her family and friends too, why would anyone wants to be with her anyway ?

She started to feel herself suffocating in her duvet, so she took her blanket off. Her hands were trambling, hearts pounding faster than an hyppogryff at full speed, she could barely breath and started to panick even more. It wasn’t the fisrt that happened to her, so she tried to remember Madam Pomfrey’s advices.

She closed her eyes and focused on her breath, trying to gain control back, it took many tries, but after minutes who felt like hours, she was able to breathe properly. She sighed in relief, and for a few minutes, just looked at the floor, debating with herself of what to do and letting her time to recover from what just happened.

She tapped her thigh vigourously and stood up, she wasn’t going to let a heartbreak lead her life ! She was going to take a nice shower and get into comfortable clothes and get out of her room !

After cleaning herself up, she still didn’t feel like going to class, fearing of a new break down, so got dress, she took some school supplies and went to the slytherin common room, it was dark, with tall walls and big windows to have a look in the Black lake. Mermaids came sometimes, communications was a bit hard but it was kind of fun to bound with these creatures, she loved watching them swin, it was mesmerising.

She sat down on a window seat, were cushion had been placed and as well as a tray for those who –just like her- wanted to study. This would give her the possibility of being productive despise not going to class, and avoid thinking of Sirius for a while –she did let her potion books and notes in her bedroom just to be safe-

After a few hours, she was proud of herself for all the work she had done, all her homeworks were done, and she even took the time to do studies in advance, she had not think of Sirius that much, and was now looking at the lake, some mermaids were playing together a bit further, it was hide to see since the water of the lake wasn’t clear but if you focused enough, you could see it.

But she was took out of her observation when she felt a tap on shoulder, when she looked it was Collins, the prefect who guide her back to the common room last night. She was so overwhelmed yesterday, she hadn’t took the time to look at him, she hadn’t realised he was a fellow slytherin. She didn’t care much of her house structure if she was honest, she had no idea of who was headboy or girl, prefect or member of the quidditch team.

She took a good look at him, he was tall with blond curly hair and dark eyes, quite cute actually. But then it hit her, was she in trouble for skipping class ? Shit, had she missed McGonagall detention ? So she just at him, waiting to be reprimand or something, but it didn’t happen, he just looked at her and then away, oppenning and closing his mouth, trying to say something.

She decided to end his suffering and spoke, “Yes ?” He hesitate a bit more before looking finally at her. “Are you.. Are you okay ?” This took Y/N by surprise, she wasn’t expecting him to worry about her, when he guided her back, he hadn’t said a word and clearly looked uneasy, she thought he would do anything to avoid her.

“Hum, well, yeah, thanks for asking.” An akward silence set between the two for a few seconds, Y/N decided to put her stuff away since she wasn’t going to study again.  “Do you need anything else ?” Collins jumped, surprised to hear her after the seconds of silence. “No.. I mean YES ! I … well..” he clearly didn’t know what to say, that’s adorable though Y/N. She motion him to sit down in front of her.

He did so and sighed, before slamming his hand on face, “Sorry, this is akward, I don’t know what to say”, Y/N laughed a bit “I can see that !” she teased. He became all the shade of red. “What about some presentation first ? I’m Y/N Y/L/N” she reached out her hand.

He smiled and shook her hand. “Benjamin Collins, but please, call me Ben” She nodded. “So, Ben, what else did you have to tell me ? “

He looked down at his hand, playing with his thumbs, “I.. I don’t know. After what happenned last night I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and when I didn’t see you at mealtime, I got a bit worried”. Y/N openned her mouth, it was her turn to not know what to say, that was just so sweet, she didn’t expect it from a stranger. But then her stomach gurgled and it was his turned to laugh. “I ‘m taking that into you didn’t eat yet ? Come with me, we’ll found you something”

And that’s how both of them went to the kitchen, the house elves were nice to make her a little something, and they talked for a few hours. Y/N learned he was a year older than her he was a muggleborn, he had a little sister he was really closed to, she didn’t turn out to be a witch too which made him quite sad but he was proud of her anyway. She spend such a good time with him, it’s actually him who had to remind her of her detention.

To not be late she had to run to her dorm to quickly change, not sure McGonagall would have liked seeing her in a casual outfit, and then she had to run to the classroom, whe she arrived just in time. There, she saw Sirius, who snapped his head at her when she got in clearly waiting for her. But before their eyes could meet, she turned her head and sat down as far as possible from him. It is only now she realised she hadn’t thought of him at all while she was with Benjamin.

He was about to say something but to Y/N’s relief, Professor McGonagall got in, “Perfect, I see you are both here, for your detention you are going to organise all of the books of this class in alphabetical order, without magic, of course” Y/N widen her eyes, there were a lot of books here, it was going to take forever.

Both her and Sirius got up and started to work, Y/N always stepped away the closer Sirius got to her. He eyed her every now and then but she ignore him completly, after a few minutes he looked to see if McGonagall was paying attention to them and when he saw she was busy, he spoke low to Y/N.

“Y/N ?” she ignored him, “Y/N ? Can we talk ?” she still ignore him, “Y/N, please”, she blessed him with a hard look and spoke irritated, “What”

Sirius felt himself getting smaller at her look, he did deserve that. “I’m sorry” she rolled her eyes and kept her work. “I really I’m Y/N, I-.. You didn’t deserve any of the words I said to you, I didn’t believe any of them I-” as he was speaking, she walked away, not giving a glare.

“I know, I know, you’re mad-” she was about to talk but he kept going, wanting to have the chance to finish first “-and I deserve your anger, but I want to make it up to you”

She finally talk, “It’s far too late for sorry, the harm is done, there is nothing you can do”

“There’ got to be something I can do ! Please Y/N”

“You want to make it up to me ? Organise those books so we can be out as soon as possible and stop talking to me”

Sirius frowned, and sighed “I will find a way Y/N, be sure of that” “Get to work, Black”. He grimaced when he heard her uses his last name, he will take a lot more than a simple apology to earn her forgivness, but he was going to make every effort, she was worth all of it. He will take down the moon and give it to her if that would make her talked to him again.

Once they stopped talking it took an hour and a half in total to finish it, Sirius did his best to be as efficient as possible, if she wanted to be out as quickly aas possible, she will. Once they had finish, she quickly excuse herself from Professor McGonagall and walked away.

Sirius sighed, putting his face in his hand. McGonagall walked to him and pat his shoulder, “Good luck Mister Black, you are going to need it”, he thanked her and went to his dorm.

He decided to analyse every letter she has send him, searching for all the things that could make her forgive him, making a list, putting on plans, with the help of the marauders. He had a pretty clear idea, it would take a couple of days to put in place, he hoped so hard it would work.

It was now time for dinner, he went with his friends, once at the table he search for Y/N at the slytherin table, his eye widen when he saw her sitting next to a boy he recognise to be the one who took her back to her common room yesterday. He felt his blood boil in his veign, she was smiling and laughing out loud. Wow, that laugh, he loved it, but he shouted dark glare at the boy, he wanted to be the one to make her laugh.

“Stop tarring” said Remus suddenly, making his friend jumped, “you don’t get to be jalous” Sirius groaned and let his head fall on the table with a hard thud, turning a few heads. “I know, I still don’t like it”

“She moved on fast” noted Peter. James shrugged a bit, “She’s a slytherin” he put his hands in the air when Sirius shot him an angry look, “Wha’ I mean is tha’ they are proud, she wasn’t goin’ to let herself down fo’ you”

Sirius sighed, he guessed that was a good thing ? He didn’t want her to be hurt because of him, but he felt bad for wanting her to care about him more than she does. He put that thought away, he didn’t get to wish for that when he was the one who pushed her away in the first place.

He looked at the two of them once more, clenching his fists, he had to make it up to you, and fast, or else he will lose you forever.

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

@blackpinkdolan  @jentaculargums @bruxa0007 @deathkat657  @bleh-bleh-blehs @whiskeypowder @edithsvoice @weasleybeb @auggie2000 @the-mess-in-my-head @theincredibledeadlyviper

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

I will be on vacation for two weeks with my family, I will probably not be able to update the serie for a while.

Thanks all of you for your support, your like, reblog and nice message, it really warm my heart and motivate me to keep going <3 Love you, have an amazing day

#Harry potter #sirius black fanfiction #an anonymous lover #sirius black #marauders #marauders x reader #x reader

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

A Tight Squeeze

A/N: You all can blame @contesa-lui-alucard for this monstrosity... I literally am in love with this character now and I will never stop... I slept on him SO hard and I REGRET IT! Thank you for the inspiration and this fic is so self indulgent I wish Pat was my true baby daddy... Enjoy loves!🖤

Warnings: tw: pregnancy, tw: pregnancy kink, obscene amounts of marital fluff and love, tw: breeding kink, tw: unprotected sex, tw: doggystyle, tw: very slight edging, tw: body image, tw: slight depression (regarding body image and self esteem), lots of fluff (because Pat is fluffy), tw: daddy kink, tw: hair pulling, creampies (I mean when am I NOT doing a creampie?) a smidgen of Dom!Pat because I CANNOT control myself

(PLZfor the love of Satan lmk if I miss a tag or TW... I am only human and I make errors all the time)

“Goddammit!” you practically cried, seeing the thousandth piece of clothing you owned barely fitting around your new curves. The look of defeat and sorrow running across your pretty face from the mirror as you twisted and turned to somehow wish the new poundage away.

“Honey?” a sheepish voice called from the kitchen in your quaint home, his heavy footfalls coming steadily as he padded back to your bathroom.

His precious features gracing the floor-length mirror as he crowded the edge of the molding on the frame of the closet.

He gasped slightly, surveying the scene before him. His cock stirred in his jeans as he appraised your body, the new planes from the growing baby inside you making you glow with an effervescence he had never seen before.

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he caught his breath, your tits plunging out of the small tank top, bouncing as you frustratingly tried to pull it over your growing bump, to no avail as the bottom half and your belly button poked from under the hemline.

The leggings barely fitting on your thighs as they clutched onto your globe of an ass. He wished on all the stars that you couldn’t fit into your underwear and had forgone them all together so he could rip the seam and go to town on your backside.

“Pat,” you whined his name, running your hands over your belly, clearly upset you had a dwindling wardrobe as the days progressed.

“I need to get some new stuff honey,” your pretty lips going into a full pout as the tears rolled down your cheeks. You never had any reason to feel as unattractive as you had just now. He had never given you any indication he didn’t think you were the most beautiful creature on this planet. In fact, when he and you had found out about the baby, he was completely overjoyed and more touchy than he had ever been in the years he’d been married to you.

His feral instincts had kicked into hyperdrive when he became a father-to-be. Making sure you were well taken care of in all aspects including but not limited to cleaning, cooking, foot rubs, nightly baths, and of course reading poetry to you and your unborn son as he grew bigger and bigger.

He loved every detail of it. The gross and good parts, and ebbed and flowed with every single mood swing and nauseous feeling you had. He was the perfect husband, and here he was, looking at you as if you were the most gorgeous goddess he had ever seen. In fact, you were to him, no matter how many times he had been in utter disbelieve that you gave him the time of day let alone let him fuck you three or more times a day.

“Okay baby,” he cooed, coming over to wrap you in the biggest hug he could, rubbing your back as you sobbed over this minor detail in your pregnancy.

He hushed and rocked you, petting your hair, while you inhaled his fresh scent, rubbing your face in his cotton t-shirt as he whispered the sweetest nothings into your ear.

“It’s gonna be okay honey,” he murmured, “you still look absolutely perfect to me my sweet love,” the words making you tear up even more as he kept with his praises.

“You’re absolutely amazing,” his chorus kept going, the baby suddenly joining in the party as he kept talking, “we both think you are, mama,” the sobs catching in your throat as your son kicked a series in your stomach, his low baritone only encouraging the movements as he kept on.

“In fact, I think mama could use a nice bath and something sweet to eat… What do you think?” he arched back to see your head pop up from its place, his precious smirk making you smile with glassy eyes while you nodded.

“That’s exactly what I think too,” kissing your forehead with the lightest effort, “okay, go get out of these, and I’ll get it going for you, deal?” his eyebrows raised as he ran a hand over the expanse of your bump, cradling underneath while you wiped your cheeks off with your hands.

He kissed over your face before heading to the bathroom to run the tub, the lavender scent emanating as the water filled the basin.

You struggled out of your clothing, cursing the companies who made your clothes as you did so. You felt like burning them in a fire or ripping them to shreds but settled on maturity rather than violence as the clothes weren’t the issue.

Your body ached from the weight of everything. The baby of course wasn’t your average-sized fetus, being that his father was a whopper when he was born. You never assumed, however, that he could be as heavy as he felt the more he grew inside you. And you also didn’t take into account the toll his size would take on yourself as the months dragged on. But willful ignorance is what you went with, and with that came karma in its truest form.

No matter how much you hurt and complained, you loved your boys, size and all, and you knew you wouldn’t do this for any man except for your precious Pat.

He was truly just the best partner in every sense of the word. And this simple gesture of making sure you practiced some self-care was his way, amongst many, of showing you how much he appreciated the sacrifices you were making for him and your growing family.

You waded into the steaming water, the enveloping hug of warmth shrouding your emotional state into numbness as the floral notes caressed your senses. This was heavenly, you thought, submerging your body as far as possible into the water, the top of your belly poking out like a small island in the ocean as you relaxed.

You closed your eyes, trying to take in the serenity, rubbing slow circles on the sides of your taut stomach as the baby relaxed within you.

Your meditation was so deep after a few minutes, you never heard Pat come in to check on you.

His hand found the exposed skin, calloused fingers enveloping it in a heated touch as he whispered to you, “how are we doing now mama?” he cooed, his soft smile in the warm light bringing you to tears again.

He was the sweetest thing on this planet. You hoped to any entity that was listening that your son had his perfect features. Those golden eyes, his soft lips, the freckles that speckled his body, his calm demeanor.

“Better,” you whispered back, unconsciously pushing your body into his touch, “thank you, daddy,” smiling at his sweet face.

“Good,” holding his gaze for a moment to peer at your perfection for just a second longer, his smile widening as yours did too.

“When you’re ready to get out I’ll help you get all lotioned and dressed… I’ve got one of my shirts and sweats out for you babe,” his lips pressing against your forehead again as you exhaled a relieved sigh.

“We’ll go get you some new stuff in the morning,” rubbing the top of your bump as you smiled brighter and brighter, “that okay?”

You nodded, peacefully, not wanting him to leave this spot until you were finished.

___________________

You spent about twenty more minutes in there until the water became too cold, his cue to get you and little man from the tub.

He helped you get dried off, making sure to gingerly rub your skin before grabbing the lotion from the cabinet. He knew you liked the lavender scent, so he had picked up a bottle when he was at the store earlier in the month. The fact that it was just about gone being an indication of a good purchase on his part.

He rubbed your relaxed muscles, making sure to massage the cream into every crack and crevice he could reach for you, the primal instincts rising within as he ran his hands over the curves and dimples on your skin.

He tried to shake the thoughts, thinking of the task at hand, but being hopelessly derailed after you let out the fifth or sixth moan in pure bliss.

He snapped then, the ambient lighting in the room looking so good on your naked body as you laid out perched in the best way for him.

“Pat?” his sudden stop causing you to look up from your spot, the pillows you had stacked so you were comfortable during his massage able to push you to see his looming body over your belly.

“What’s wrong honey?” gazing at him in the warm light, his hair tousled from the work he had been doing, his lips quivering as he gulped a dry swallow upon seeing your eyes meet his.

“I need you to get on your hands and knees and arch that perfect back of yours before I paint my jeans,” his tone deep enough to cause a stir in your nether regions.

Your eyes dilating immediately upon his sudden domineering behavior, “like this baby?” you made a show out of it all, wiggling your ass as you crawled up the bed, gripping the sheets in both hands as your back arched just the way he liked it.

“Such a good fucking mama,” he cooed, the sounds of his pants unzipping and the clang of them on the floor, coupled by the bed creaking slightly from his weight on the edge, “back up to me honey,” his hands gripping the sides of your hips as he helped you ease your body to meet his.

His tip barely touching your ass, causing a hiss to leave his chest, and a moan to leave yours upon feeling his pubic hair graze your mound.

“I’m gonna destroy this pussy of mine,” he growled, his voice getting deeper and deeper as he grabbed and rubbed his tip in your wet folds, “fuck this wet little pussy until you can’t take it anymore,” gritting as your hole sucked the head in, your warmth coating it so perfectly.

“Fuck Pat,” you whined, his hold on your hips bruising as he stilled his tip for a moment or two before sheathing it to its base, “y-you’re s-so f-fucking b-bi,” not able to even finish as he plunged even further, pushing your hips so you both let out a chorus of groans.

“Y-you t-take t-this b-big c-cock of m-mine s-so w-well m-mama,” he gasped out, picking up his pace as he fucked further and further into you, his hand pressing into your lower back as you arched more and more.

“I-I’m s-such a g-good g-girl,” you mused back, “I-I l-love p-pleasing m-my b-baby,” feeling his dick harden even more in your squelching cunt as he plummeted further into your hole.

“S-such a g-good g-girl,” he recanted, “k-keeping m-my c-cum s-so g-good,” speeding up even further, your moans picking up as he found your G-spot.

“Y-you l-love b-being all f-full of m-me,” the slaps of sweaty skin and balls hammering the room as the moans turned into feral screams.

“I-I l-love c-carrying y-your b-baby P-Pat,” the tears streaming as you felt the shroud of warmth begin to expand from your cunt to the rest of your body.

“T-that’s f-fucking r-right y-you d-do,” he growled, his teeth snarling as the sweat dripped in a waterfall from his short locks, the songs of your cries opening his senses to overdrive as he watched you writhe under him.

“Y-you c-cum on t-this m-monster c-cock of y-yours,” he grunted, feeling your walls vibrate around him and your screams emanate. As a last-ditch effort, he moved his hand on your back to grab your messy bun, pulling the hair to cement your rapture.

“F-fuck P-Pat!” you came, and you came hard. The damn breaking to coat his dick in your sweet sticky release wave upon wave, the wet sounds sending him over the edge as he pummeled the last of his efforts into your spent pussy.

He grit his teeth again, pushing in two more times before emptying his large load into your occupied cunt, the overload spilling out in a thick mixture while he pumped lazily in and out, musing at the sight.

He pulled out slowly, holding your hips so you could relax a little bit before guiding you to the side and surrounding your body with an abundance of pillows once more.

“So much for a bath,” you sighed and laughed, fanning yourself in a sweaty haze.

“I’m sorry honey,” he chuckled too, grabbing a towel to wipe you and then himself off, “I wasn’t even thinking about it… I just got too riled up from the clothes you were wearing earlier, and I…” he trailed off, watching a smile creep over your face as he talked.

“Really?” your curiosity getting the better of you, “you liked me in those clothes?”

“Ummm,” he sheepishly blushed, “y-yes?” itching the back of his head trying to avoid any eye contact with you.

“Well....” you adjusted as the baby began to make himself known for the night, “I guess I know what I need to do in the future,” winking as he found the other side of the bed, curling up to run his hand over your belly.

“Honey,” he whispered, “you don’t have to be doing anything for me to get turned on by you… I’m just in love with you either way,” his admission making you misty-eyed while you felt his light touches on your skin.

“But I have to admit… I really like this kind of look on you,” gesturing to all of your figure from head to toe.

“Well, you made me this way,” inching in to kiss his plush lips, him returning as you both pecked each other for a few seconds.

“I’ll keep you this way if you want me to,” his voice barely loud enough for you to hear, “keep you all knocked up and gorgeous for as long as you let me,” his words going straight to your cunt again as he kissed you again and again.

“As many times as you wish… Daddy,” winking and kissing him deeply, a smile inching over his lips as yours met.

“I love you,” his faint words cutting into your soul as if he was saying it for the first time.

“I love you,” returning it with a smile and a nuzzle into his neck as you began to drift off together in sticky paradise.

___________

Well... What did we all learn today? That I have a total fucking issue with not being his baby mama and that I have staples that I stick to and will not waiver from in my deepest darkest fantasies... Goodnight everyone I love you and I'll be crawling back into my festering hole to think about what I have done.

Oneshot Taglist: @maybe-your-left, @safarigirlsp, @clydesfavoritegirl, @thepalaceofmelanie, @hopeamarsu, @caillea, @historyandfandoms50, @mariesackler, @millenialcatlady, @thepriceofstars, @roanniom, @kathorax, @driversmutbucket, @clydes-hole, @xxcatrenxx, @paper-n-ashes

(Plz lmk if you would love to be added/removed from the taglist... Thank you all for the love and the support for this absolute garbage)

#paterson #paterson x reader #paterson x you #paterson fluff #paterson smut #tw: pregnancy #tw: breeding #tw: daddy kink #tw: unprotected sex #tw: hair pulling #tw: edging #tw: pregnancy kink #tw: body image #tw: self esteem issues #tw: slight depression #Dom!Pat

[bored-storyteller]

uh I love your storys about Uta ^^. You write him so good and in character . Could you maybe write a story about him were him and the reader ( human) meeting at an auction like reader was captured and meets Uta there . But maybe they escape the auction house and meet Uta sometime after this again. I`m sorry I love Uta angst and fluff .

Dear anon. I'll tell you, your request inspired me a lot (that's why I did it right away), but I must confess that I'm not really satisfied with the result and I'm sorry (I rewrote it three times). I have to thank my poor summary skills for this defeat, I don't think I managed to really give you what you asked me. Feel free to send me clarifications or a further request for me to remedy!

43- Tokyo Ghoul, Uta x human!reader

“The bird of ill omen and the broken toy”

You are in front of his eyes, huddled in a corner of the cold and dark container. On your knees, tied up, you are the condemned to death ready to face the gallows, or rather you are a delicious dish wrapped in its most beautiful dress to entice the spectators.

"Oh, look here ... what a delightful creature."

You are not the main article, you are not the rare object, yet your smell has brought him there. Uta is not a glutton, but he couldn't resist the temptation to peek at whoever was carrying such an inviting fragrance.

"This is really a shame ..." his voice is sweet, calm, yet ironic and cruel. Yes, it's a shame that he has to give you to some miserly ghoul.

Uta doesn’t usually prefer a certain type of food, he is not delicate or picky, nor does he have problems eating even his similar ones. But he has to admit that while those bright eyes of yours, shining with tears and desperation, look at him, he really would like to be able to eat them. Yes, it is rare for someone to stimulate his appetite in this way, customers really have to thank him for his self-control.

You are so small in his shadow, and even if you tremble, even if you smell of fear, he sees no hope in your eyes.

You know you have no escape. As little as you may be when it comes to ghouls, you know you can't save yourself. You heard them talk.

You would rather die now than continue that torture.

He feels it, and oh, how tempted he is to grant your wish.

He leans over you, he wants to see you well, he wants to hear you. The demonic beak of his mask brushes against you, rubs against your temple like the muzzle of a mother cuddling his cub, or the muzzle of a lion that is playing with his prey.

Maybe, if he had met you in another situation ... maybe ...

No. He doesn't necessarily have to devour you. Nothing is ever said with Uta, even he knows it, he knows himself. Who knows what would have happened if you had met somewhere else. Who knows who you were, elsewhere.

In conclusion, you were both unlucky: you cannot survive, and he cannot be the one to eat you. You have something in common.

"Uta!"

Roma's voice makes its way, muffled by the metal container in which you are locked up - like a ready meal -

"I'm coming!" It's time for him to go on stage, for you it's time for the final bow.

He doesn't tell you anything anymore, he doesn't need to. He will say goodbye to you that same evening, but he feels a little happy that you are among the last items to be exhibited.

He still gives you a look, you, little shaking puppet, sweet broken toy. Who can fix you anymore?

After that, he leaves you behind, abandoned in the cold darkness of your last hours in solitude, as he plunges into the cold light of demons, ready to entertain his fellow men with his affable ways. What a crazy world you are both in.

. . .

Locked in your cold prison, if you could you would cover your ears in a desperate attempt to get away from the announcements and screams, but it's impossible for you. So you wait, trembling in your shell of panic, not knowing what to do. If only you had at least a vain hope, a false chance. If only you could save yourself, for some reason, any reason then yeah, oh, how dear life would be to you thereafter. But you can't even think now.

And you don't even realize that the noises change. The cries of the victims become the cries of the executioners, and the applause becomes breathless footsteps in search of a safe place. But you don't know it, or at least not until they get closer, more distressed. They are probably running away. But who can save you? Who knows you are there? Who can remember you?

And in fact, no one stops, no one frees you, and the footsteps and the screams brush against you and pass you, without bothering to kill or save you. At least you think so.

But as soon as the silence comes, the creaking of the doors opening makes you lift your face, towards the light.

He is there again, and you wonder if that Bird of ill Omen is not your hallucination. With that bizarre suit, that hateful mask, and those ancient letters around his neck that seem ready to strangle him.

He doesn't talk to you. He is simply looking at you, you feel him looking at you, behind that deadly beak. In the silence that surrounds you, whether it is a real silence or created by mutual presence, he suddenly occupies your every thought in those few seconds of eternity. Maybe it's the touch of death that wanders your mind, but suddenly unusual questions arise in you. Who knows who he is, what he does. What does he like and what not ... does he live in the alleys of the city, or maybe, instead, without that mask he pretends to be someone?

He came to take you and devour you. But it almost seems like a strange barrier is keeping him away from you.

And while you are suspended in this limbo of cold resignation, as he came he disappears, and with his disappearance he takes away from you that sad calm that had enveloped you.

The panic returns as someone approaches.

Don't scream. Don't scream. Don't scream.

"Hey, are you okay?"

Clean eyes, a clean face, no mask is looking at you agitated. You don't know how to answer, you don't even know if what you are seeing is true.

“I'm a human, I'm a CCG investigator. Don't worry, it's okay, we'll get you out of here. "

Without your being fully aware of it, you find yourself in warm, safe arms that take you away from hell behind you. You didn't even realize you were crying.

. . .

He recognized your smell right away.

Even if it's been some time since his meeting with you, it's hard to forget something that has affected him so much, especially if it is something that has particularly touched his sensitivity over that of others.

And it's not that Uta is then easily surprised, he is ready to expect anything from that crazy world, yet you manage to upset him without even knowing that he is there.

You are smiling. And that's not the fact, but at the same time it is. You are smiling sweetly, sincerely. Your eyes are clear and bright, and you are listening to someone talking to you about their petty problems without batting an eye.

That night, that night he met you, he came back to eat you. He was not a ghoul who got lost in gluttony, but given the situation he had a particular interest in the statement "carpe diem".

He hadn't, in the end. In the end he just looked at you. It would have been easy to swallow you, but he had left you there. He had told himself that he hadn't made it in time, but who knows what was really going through his head at that moment.

It doesn't matter anymore, however. What's a broken toy like you doing so quietly exposed? How can you smile at people like that, when surely the world around you has crumbled into millions of little bits?

You make him angry, you know? Humans like you, whom the world keeps getting back on their feet despite everything, provoke anger in him.

And you are there, a few steps away from him, and you do not realize that the one who had the task of trampling your life is watching you.

And no matter how much anger he may feel inside of him, he can't help but look at you, as you speak comfortable words to someone, while you give your attention as if you have no problem.

"Uta?" Renji's voice, intent on looking at him from behind the coffee shop counter, makes him look away from you.

"Nh? Ah… ”His gaze falls on his now coffee-stained lap. The stain is almost invisible on the black sweater, but it is damp and warm.

"Don't laugh ... can you give me a towel please?"

"I'm not laughing." Yet Uta could swear that in the serious voice of his trusted friend a note of amusement is audible even to those who do not know him.

Carefully he puts the cup back on the saucer, making sure not to do any further damage.

This then. When was he ever so distracted for a human?

But when he instinctively looks for you, after all that nice little theater, you're not there anymore. The table you occupied is empty.

Only one object remained abandoned on the shiny surface. A book lies alone, the bookmark sticking out in the middle.

It is placed on the side where you sat. Did you leave in such a hurry that you left it there?

It is not that he has a real reason to do it, yet, while he is about to leave :Re, with all the tranquility that characterizes him, he picks up that literary volume in his hands, hiding it inside his jacket. Even that printed paper is imbued with your smell by now.

. . .

You talk to books, apparently. The edges of the pages are filled with thoughts written in pencil. They are all yours, it almost seems like you use the books as your diary, but there is nothing so personal about you. They are just… points of view. The world told by you, depending on the inspiration that the phrases in the book give you.

"It must be difficult to live in a world where you can talk to your food about your favorite book."

When Uta's eyes had settled on that particular phrase, he had closed. For someone else it might have been a stupid phrase, probably, but for him it was like a punch in the stomach.

He doesn't know if you wrote it before or after the accident, but in any case that simple sentence arouses a mixture of emotions that he doesn't really know where to place. Even if you wanted to, you couldn't understand what it meant to be a ghoul in that world, but on the other hand, the utopia in which Renji seems so hoping could be made up of people like you. If only he believed it, Uta could like that world, as long as there was a place in that world for someone like him.

“Excuse me, did you happen to find a book yesterday? I'm afraid I left it here by mistake. " Your cordial voice betrays a note of alarmism as you speak to the young girl. Your hands grip the counter as if it were a rock of salvation, but your feet are ready to run elsewhere, to look somewhere else in case it isn't there.

"Oh ... no, I'm sorry, I haven't seen any books." Touka's voice is sorry, an apologetic tone hovers between her words.

"Oh, damn ... sorry, thanks anyway!" Your words are so hasty, so quick that he doesn't have time to interrupt them.

The bell rings and the door closes with a click.

"You have it, don't you?" Renji never misses anything - or almost -.

"Yeah, it’s better that I give it back to them before they run all over Tokyo on foot."

"How long have you been so thoughtful?"

Uta allows himself to take a last look at the silver-haired ghoul from over his sunglasses, as he prepares to leave the cafe: "I'm always thoughtful."

. . .

The snow has just started to fall. It is light and silent, the parks of the metropolis have not yet begun to turn white.

You would gladly stay and watch the show from the heat of your home, if it weren't for that damn book you forgot somewhere. Oh, you love your books, but they're so good at hiding. You were convinced you left it in the coffee shop!

"Excuse me…"

A cordial voice caresses your eardrums. It's so warm and peaceful, yet a chill shiver stops the blood in your veins.

Turning around, you meet a man dressed in black. He is strange, but it doesn't surprise you, there are a lot of strange people in such a big city, even people who wear sunglasses on a snowy day.

You had already seen him in the cafe, but you didn't dwell on him. Not because he doesn't get your attention, just… it was an instinct.

“I think you were looking for this. I found it yesterday by chance. "

Clear and tapered fingers hand you your much-desired book. On fair skin, intertwining dark patterns form inexplicable designs, at least for you, but you're sure they have a lot to say, don't they?

Slowly you reach out your hand, and hesitantly touch the cover, to resume what you were looking for.

The night of the accident did not disappear. You are scared. You are afraid of death, but even more of pain, of imprisonment. You are afraid of fear itself. However, you are also afraid of not living, of wasting, of losing.

You are in a limbo that does not let you escape, and you can not help but continue your life, savoring every second, waiting for the Bird of ill Omen to come and get you.

So you push back the mistrust again, and a grateful and kind smile goes to the one who helped you, without asking for explanations.

"Thank you very much." Your voice reaches his pierced ears with such unexpected sweetness.

"It was a pleasure." His smile, decorated with the piercing, is barely hinted at, but delicate - reassuring? -

And for endless moments you look at each other, in silence, without speaking and without thinking. And then, as if nothing had happened, the dances between prey and predator begin.

"Can I buy you a coffee?"

. . .

Your eyes look at him shiny, frightened. You are still in a cage, imprisoned by a body that will soon be ready to consume you.

Uta wonders if you really never anticipated this. All the times you've crossed paths, have you really ever been in doubt? Every time you looked at him, every time you smiled at him or laughed at his words, did you never guess the truth? No, maybe you've always known it from the start, broken toys never work too well.

The mask of that evening, like a macabre mockery - both for him and for you - is leaning on the work table, not far from you, looking at you placidly. It’s a coincidence that he pulled it out just in the morning.

Suddenly the images of that day come back between you two, like a dream. The incomprehensible to you tattoo on his neck has a creepy look overwhelmed by the shadows that the soft lights create on the ghoul.

Fear invades you, like a script. Yet, while the Bird of ill Omen looms over you, trapping you in the corner of the room with his arms, your terror is different from what he had already seen in you. Today it is almost more visible, less controlled, as you tremble beneath him.

Maybe it's the surprise of being caught in a trap by someone who – perhaps- you had slowly begun to love – despite everything-, or maybe, simply, inside you a little hope still survives.

Uta's head bends, and the tip of his nose brushes your neck, smelling the coveted perfume that had so attracted him.

If you're so scared, how did you smile all that time? How did you keep going? How did you keep loving that world?

Beside his mask, as a warning of future torment, your dear book lies silent, ready to say goodbye. You lent it to him last time, he asked you for it.

Your smell is as strong, sweet, delicious as ever - so why is his stomach closing up? -

His jaws open, and as delicate as cruel they enclose your fragile neck. In them, the accelerated beats of your heart, still alive, make him tremble.

One bite and you will be nothing but dead flesh, and he hesitates.

He had to kill you before it was too late, right? Uta should know himself well enough, he had to understand right away what was happening inside him.

A sigh, and then his lips pull away, his saliva stops wetting you. He is not hungry, he has already eaten.

He is still upon you, but now he is only looking at you, with his eyes of blood and darkness. You, like a frightened puppy, remain shaking in a corner for a few moments, lost in his pupils. And then, like a crazy lightning bolt, you run away, as you have always run away. You slip under his arms, and as fast as you can you reach the door of the shop.

Uta watches you go, swallows bitter air, and then bows his head, surrendered.

What will happen now? Will you shut up in fear? Will you tell anyone? Only time will tell.

He slowly gets up, his hands caressing each other's tattooed arms, in a distracted gesture of protection, as he approaches the table. His fingers touch it, and then squeeze it, while he looks at the book that is left alone again, without your eyes on it.

And then, suddenly, as if he had woken up from a dream, he notices something: your smell has not vanished.

Turning his view, he sees you. You are still there, or maybe you are back there.

Now it is you who are on the side of the light, and he is in the corner of the cage. The Bird of ill Omen has become the broken toy, left alone among his masks.

"What's up?" No matter the crack inside, Uta always looks so mature, peaceful, even after he has threatened to kill you.

You take a step towards him, but your outstretched arm continues to secure yourself to the door jamb. If you left he wouldn't follow you, you know that right?

"I ... I think I'm crazy, Uta ..." You too realize how much your behavior is against logic, how foolish it is to remain - to search - in your nightmare. But on the other hand, humans ... no, people, when they are desperate, lose the light of reason, and do wrong things. Things the world says are wrong. That world, which claims to be the only one, when it is nothing more than a facade, a corner of something much larger.

"Yes, I think so too." He really thinks so. You have to be crazy to still be there, at least as crazy as he is. "Why are you still here?"

You shrug your shoulders, hugging yourself more out of shyness than out of fear - yeah, you're no longer afraid, it's as if you've run out of batteries.

"I ... as long as I'm alive I can choose, right?" It came out of your lips so naturally that you didn't even realize it was you who uttered that sentence, yet it's a truth so deep, so intense that it has guided you from that damn night to this day.

"And what are you choosing?"

Your eyes cast a fleeting glance outside, at the glimmer of the city, and without hesitation you gently accompany the door to close, imprisoning you. Imprisoning both of you.

Maybe it's a prison, but this time it's really your choice. You are with that Bird of ill Omen, but you are not tied up, you are not thrown to the ground in a cold corner. You are with him, surrounded by works of art that stare at you impassively, but it was you who decided it.

"I choose not to ignore anymore ..." Your fingers intertwine with each other, you play with them as if you need to keep them busy as you approach him. He is waiting for you. "I want to understand."

"How can you understand?" He would like to tell you, but he doesn't say a word, because not even he can understand you. What kind of mask would suit you? Who knows, yet he has learned enough about you that he should be able to think of at least one. But no, you are always there, hoping for something, believing that after all, living is worthwhile.

So he stays there, even when you lean against him. Not a contact, but a fusion. Stomach against stomach, lungs against lungs, heart against heart. Your hands cling to his arms only to hold him closer, and as he looks at your closed eyes he knows you're listening to him. You're trying to feel his every breath, every twitch of him. You want to get inside him, and he lets you do it - isn't that what he wanted too?

The predator and the prey united in a single entity for an eternal instant.

It's all so against the moral and social rules, but what do you care now? You already know he could kill you. And in that world that goes round and round without stopping, a black writing in an ancient language that also goes around a greedy neck could be your starting point for putting the pieces back together. Maybe it's a disease, maybe it's madness, but deep down, why not? Why not go a little further? Better to die than to be afraid to live, right?

"How much confidence ..."

His voice further softened by his whisper makes your previously closed eyelids lift. His nocturnal eyes look at you slightly narrowed, a slight upward crease caresses his lips without even knowing it. It is difficult for Uta to do something without being aware of it.

He is very beautiful. Beautiful and awful.

"Can't I?"

The world out there, the crazy little world is gone.

"Well, why not ... you are my food, after all."

#tokyo ghoul #uta tokyo ghoul #uta x human reader #uta x reader #tokyo ghoul uta #tokyo ghoul oneshot #tokyo ghoul fanfiction #tokyo ghoul x reader #reqest