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mynumberfivethings · 3 years

Text

I Heard A Rumor...

They land back in 2019, which is a relief, of course, until it’s not.

“What the fuck even is the Sparrow Academy?” Diego grouses. “Lame ass bird fucks.” he chucks one of his knives across the cramped motel room they’re currently occupying and watches it get lodged firmly into the tacky wallpaper.

Allison grabs the second knife Diego’s about to fling out of his hand and glares daggers at her brother. “We’re staying here for free, because I rumored the motel staff into not noticing we exist, so maybe don’t wreck the place?”

Luther nods in agreement. “Allison’s right, we need to be as inconspicuous as possible right now.”

Diego rolls his eyes. “Whatever. So Five, now what?” the siblings all go to turn to Five for the answers they’re so desperately seeking, only to be met with the sight of the pseudo thirteen year old laid curled up on one of the beds, sound asleep.

Luther frowns. “How in the hell can he seriously sleep at a time like this?”

Allison leans over Fives still form and not so gently shakes his shoulder, jarring him awake. She feels a little guilt upon seeing the initially panicked look on his face as he comes to awareness once again, but damn it, she just wants to see her kid again, is that too much to ask?

“We need to figure out a way to get back to our timeline.” she tells him, arms folded over her chest.

Five scratches the sleep from his eyes, unaware he’d even passed out in the first place, wincing as he sits up fully on the mattress. “This is our timeline.” he informs all of them, his voice coming out scratchy and thin. God, he’s exhausted. And practically everything aches.

“What do you mean?” Klaus shakes his head. “In our timeline Ben is very much dead-not some weird emo douche who flocks with a crew of birds-so please do explain how the actual hell this makes any sense.”

Five sighs, “We changed the linear time of events and the order in which they were supposed to originally occur when we were in the sixties and now this is, for all intents and purposes, our timeline.”

“Screw that. We need to reestablish our actual timeline.” Allison counters. “I’m not staying in this weird alternate bullshit dimension any longer than we have to-we still have the suitcase, right? Let’s go back to the sixties and fix what we broke. Easy.”

Five looks at her like she’s lost her mind. Which, she very well may have, he thinks briefly. “Look, I know you want to see Claire again, but you need to consider-”

“No.” Allison interrupts angrily, tears starting to fill her eyes. “You don’t understand at all. How the hell could you? You haven’t had anyone for years, but me? I’ve had people, people I care about-which might be a foreign concept to someone like you, but-”

“Right,” Five cuts her off in turn, unwilling to linger on the sting her words have caused. “I just need time to-”

“Time? Haven’t you had enough of that, already?” Suddenly the room is engulfed in complete and utter darkness and the Hargreeves go into high alert, trying to figure out where the hell that voice is coming from.

Could it be one of the Sparrow Academy heroes? Could they have followed them to the outskirts of town?

“Show yourself, you coward!” Diego shouts, knives at the ready to attack their intruder.

A flash of thunder illuminates the room for only a split second before the lights come back on and the Hargreeves find themselves frozen in place, unable to move even a muscle, try as they might.

Save for one: Five.

“What the hell...” he mutters, as he watches his siblings struggle to try and move from their positions.

“Now, Allison.” that same disturbing voice commands.

Allisons eyes go wide as her mouth begins to move without her permission and out come the words, “I heard a rumor you killed your brothers and sisters.”

They watch with dawning horror as Fives eyes roll to the back of his head and turn an off shade of blue before he seamlessly plucks Diegos knife from where it was embedded in the wall earlier and faces his family, where they stand, helpless.

“Shit!” Diego curses, trying in vain to move even a single digit.

Vanya tries to conjure her own powers but finds that she can’t for some reason. “Five...” she calls out, knowing it’s futile.

Five blinks over to Klaus first, who yelps in surprise, he barely has time to beg Five to reconsider when Five brings the knife down-

There’s boisterous screaming and panicked yelling and general chaos and Klaus is so sure this is it, that Five has plunged the knife straight into his heart and done away with him, until he opens his eyes and realizes nothing is protruding out of him...

Instead, Five has thrust the knife into his own leg. He’s breathing hard, his trembling fingers still hovering over the hilt of the weapon.

The disembodied voice booms, “Allison!”

And Allison curses, but she can’t stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “I heard a rumor you stabbed me in the jugular.”

Fives eyes go pale blue for a second time and without even flinching he takes the knife out of his upper thigh and blinks so that he’s facing Allison this time.

They can all see him struggling, perspiring, fighting against the rumor as he brandishes the knife in one hand, raising it up above his head slowly.

Allison tries to let out another rumor, a contradicting rumor, perhaps, the way she had done when Five had been in front of Klaus, but again, the words get stuck in her throat.

Whatever being is in the room is in total control of her powers...

Allison feels something collide with her neck but it’s not the sharp sting of a knife she’s expecting. It’s Five’s forearm against her, protecting her from his own attack as he shoves the knife directly into his flesh. He’s panting now, with the force that it’s taken him not to obey her mind control.

“Kill them.” the voice demands angrily.

“Fuck you.” Five bites out through clenched teeth.

As if those were the magic words, the voice departs and the Hargreeves can feel their limbs and move about once again, the tense atmosphere dissipating.

“Holy shit!” Klaus gasps out, “What the fuck, Jesus!”

Five grunts as he removes the knife from his forearm and wields it threateningly. “Allison,” he practically begs, his voice strained. “Unrumor me. Now.”

Allison is more than happy to comply, hurriedly saying, “I heard a rumor you didn’t want us dead.”

The knife clatters as it hits the floor and Five collapses next to it a second later, exhausted and hurting something awful.

“Shit,” Diego grabs a bunch of hand towels from the bathroom and kneels down. “We gotta stop the bleeding.” He presses two towels against the stab wound on Fives forearm and Vanya grabs the rest to press against the one on his thigh.

Five tenses up beneath them, his face scrunching up in pain. “Fuck!”

“I saw a first aid kit in the lobby by the front desk, I’ll go get it!” Allison calls out, already halfway out the door in her haste.

“Should we move him to the bed?” Luther asks, hovering over his siblings, concern and anxiety eating away at him.

Diego curses. The hand towels are drenched in blood already. They need to stop the bleeding and soon, or else. “Elevate his leg.” he orders, letting Luther help Vanya try to stem the bleeding there. “Klaus, go get more towels from one of the maids if you can.” Klaus scurries to obey while the others continue to put pressure on Fives multiple injuries.

Klaus and Allison arrive back at the motel room almost simultaneously, one with a stack of clean towels in their arms and the other with a giant red box in hand.

With the extra towels and the supplies from the medical kit, they’re somehow able to stop the bleeding long enough to move Five up to the bed. Luther’s extremely gentle as he transfers him from one spot to the other.

When it’s time to stitch him up, Vanya and Klaus volunteer to do it. Five is too exhausted, both mentally and physically to pretend to be stoic about any of this. He throws his good arm across his face, shielding his eyes from the light.

“What do you guys think that was?” Luther asks the room at large, when the silence stretches on too long.

Klaus doesn’t look up from where he’s threading his needle on Fives thigh, replying dryly. “Yet another person place or thing that wants us dead?”

Diego scoffs. “It’s gotta be one of those Sparrow fuckheads. Who the hell else? I bet it was that goddamn cube-I still can’t believe dad adopted a fucking cube-Christ.”

“Whatever it was, it was in control of my powers.” Allison frowns deeply. “When I tried to unrumor Five nothing came out-even when I tried rumoring one of you into being able to move again, so that at least we would stand a fighting chance against our little serial killer over here, nothing.”

Vanya nods, “Same here. I tried to use my powers but it was like there was some kind of a block or something? Like when I was still taking those prescription pills.” She looks at Fives pale face-what she can see of it, from underneath his forearm-and risks the question, “Five, how did you manage not to....you know...?” As someone who’s had first hand experience being unwillingly rumored by their sister, she knows it’s not something one can easily brush off.

Quite frankly, it’s a miracle they’re all still breathing...

“Yeah, I thought for sure we were dead.” Diego walks over and playfully ruffles the top of Fives messy hair. “Good job not making yourself an only child.” he jokes, freezing entirely when in response to his teasing Five lets out what can only be described as a faint whimper.

“Five?”

“I almost killed everyone.” Five struggles to get the full sentence out, his breath hitching. “Fuck.” he curses, unable to stifle a sob. It’s a pathetically sad little noise, but it brings the rest of his siblings to his side immediately.

“Hey,” Allison kneels down beside the bed and places a careful hand on his knee. She feels him flinch underneath her. “You resisted my rumor-twice. Do you know how rare that is? You saved us.”

Five scrubs his face with the sleeve of his white button up shirt and finally uncovers his eyes. They’re red and puffy from crying, eyelashes wet with his tears. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.” he admits brokenly. “I can’t lose you guys again.”

“Shit Five,” Diego leans down and briefly touches their foreheads together, the palm of his hand cupping Fives head. “You’re not alone, we’re right here. Not going anywhere.”

Vanya nods determinedly. “That’s right. You’re stuck with us.”

Luther towers over the group with a faint but genuine smile. “You know, I always figured you loved us, but I guess I didn’t realize the extent until today.”

Five sniffles, wiping away more tears he can’t seem to stop from coming. “I would trade you all up for a decent cup of coffee.” he lies, feeling more exposed than he has in literal years.

Klaus smirks. “Nuh uh, no take backs, Fivey. You loooooove us.”

Five rolls his eyes but it doesn’t have quite the same effect it normally would, considering the fact that he is still very much crying.

Allison clears her throat, squeezes his knee again, this time to get his attention, and says, “And we love you. I’d ask if you know that, but honestly I think the answer would make me too sad.” she sighs. “Five, I’m really sorry about what I said before-I was taking all my frustrations out on you and I spoke carelessly, without thinking.”

Five shakes his head, overwhelmed. “It’s ok.”

“It’s not.” Allison insists. “Five, I don’t know if anyone’s said this yet, but I think it’s long overdue. I’m so happy to see you again. I missed you, you know. A ton.”

Five didn’t think he was childish enough to still need to hear such silly sentimental things. He’s not the type, he’s tried to convince himself. It’s not as though he was expecting some big tearful family reunion upon his arrival, after all. So he wasn’t crushed or anything when his return was met with little more than perhaps confused contemptment. He had things to do, apocalypses to stop and all that jazz.

That’s what he told himself, of course.

But it doesn’t ring very true now, not when he can’t help but let out another sob.

He’s too old for this, he thinks, as Diego pulls him gently to his side and Allison grabs hold of his hand.

He doesn’t need them to love him back, he thinks, as Klaus finishes taping up his wound with a tenderness only reserved for those he loves, as Vanya wraps gauze around his forearm with care.

He’s been fine all this time, he thinks, even as Luther says, “Good to have you back, Five.”

It’s good to be back, he thinks, turning his head so that it’s buried against Diego’s shoulder when he lets out another sob.

#tua #long post #fic #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five #the boy #hurt/comfort #five gets rumored #hargreeves family #hargreeves siblings

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spideymarvelws · 3 years

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reader’s old childhood nickname is bunny, so when Peter figures it out he can’t help but to refer her as that. and like....if you wanted to turn this into a smut—-😳—- it could be something along the lines of “bunny‘s like to bounce, right?” “Bounce for me” JSKSK excuse me as I do the walk of shame 😞

Taking fucking like rabbits to a whole different level lmfaoo

I really hope i did this justice

Main Masterlist

Warnings : SMUT! (dom!peter, sub!peter, face slapping, choking, oral [fem rec], innocence kink?, master kink [at the end tho and its like only mentioned once], excessive use of the word bunny)

Word Count : 1.5k

My Little Bunny

Dom!Peter Parker x Reader

“So...” Peter started, leaning against the counter opposite you in the kitchen, “Bunny, huh?”

“Oh god not you too,” you groaned, thankful that your back faced his as you took care of the dishes in the sink, making it easier to hide your flustered face, “Just a stupid nickname my family use to call me when i was younger,”

“Bunny,” he tested the name on his lips, “I like it,”

“Yeah,” you mumbled, shaking your head at the thoughts that started to form in your mind. You felt dirty at what you felt when the name rolled off his tongue, so innocently but sinful at the same time sending shivers up your spine and shocks in places it shouldn’t.

You were a fool to think that peter didn't notice the change in tone of the room.

“Want to watch a movie after this bunny? or straight to bed,” he bit his lip, watching as you squirmed slightly at the name once again. He loved the power he had over you, how submissive you got with a simple word or touch. He had to admit he abused the power quite a lot, but to see your eyes roll to the back of your head as he fucked you senseless, it was worth it.

“Stop calling me that,” you grumbled, taking one of the dishes from the sink and pulling it in the dish water.

“Calling you what Bunny?” He smirked, biting his lip as he watched you clench your thighs, “You loved the name when we were younger, what happened now?”

“I’m not a kid anymore Peter,” you snapped, letting out a shaky breath after putting the last set of dishes in the machine.

Peter chuckled darkly, leaning off the kitchen counter and walking towards you, pressing his chest against your back. His hands landed on either side of you, holding on to the counter.

Trapping you in his cage.

“So it’s fine when your family says it,” he said into your ear, teasing the skin with light kissed that he trailed down to your neck, “But when i try it out its a problem? Why’s that bunny?”

“Peter,” you grumbled, trying your best to sound authoritative but the small whimper you let out told him otherwise, “Quit it alright?”

“No, no I don’t think i will,” bitting at your skin, “I like it, and i think I’d go as far to say you like it too,”

You bit your lip, holding back a another small whimper that threatened to escape your mouth, “No I don’t,” you gritted your teeth, planning on just turning in his hold and pushing him away, ready to get in bed and forget the night ever happened. But your boyfriend had other ideas.

His left hand raised off the counted, finding its place around your throat, pulling your head back look look him in his dark brown eyes that were clouded with lust. You whined at his movements, your own hands gripping at his, but not making an effort to pull them away.

“Don’t like it huh?” He raised his eyebrows mockingly, “So if i just moved my hand up,” his finger gripped at the edge of your skirt, pulling it up as his hand travelled up your thighs, “And rubbed your little clit, you wouldn’t be dripping wet for me right?”

“I-,” you gulped, closing your eyes as you bit your lip. You’d never experienced peter like this, so dominating and confident compared to the sweet baby boy you grew to love. Sure, you both had sex before, and as your friends would say it was pretty vanilla since it was your first times together.

But you’d be a liar if you didn't like this new side of him.

“Not gonna say anything?” He chuckled, trailing his fingers up the inside of your thigh, hovering it over your clothed heat, “Guess ill just have to figure out myself then,”

He pressed the pads on his pointer and middle finger against your clit, moving in slow circles around the fabric. You softly gasped at the contact, your hand shooting to his hair, tangling your fingers with he brown locks while the other stayed still on his wrist.

“You’re soaking bunny,” he pushed your panties to the side, teasing your lips with the pads of his fingers.

“Peter,” you managed to get out, trying your best to hide the moans digging its way out of your throat.

“S’that all you gotta say bunny,” his finger slipped into your tight hole, making your breath hitch, “I’m sure you could do better than,” his tone dropped an octave, “I’ve been kind so far, giving you what you truly want. But if you want me to continue, you’re going to have to tell me bunny, i cant do everything for you now can I?”

You didn’t responded, you didn't want to give peter the satisfaction of knowing how weak you grew with the dumb nickname. But a sharp slap to your right cheek broke you out of your thought.

“I’m trying to be nice here bunny,” he murmured, taking his finger out and continuing to rub against your clit, “But if your going to be a fucking brat, i have no problem leaving you here until you’ve learnt your lesson,”

“I’m sorry peter,” you finally said, missing the feeling of his fingers deep in your pussy.

“Good girl,” he rasped, letting go of your throat and turning you around, lifting you up and moving to the side to sit you on the clear counter. You wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding on the obvious bludge in his sweats.

“Don’t be greedy now,” he wrapped his hand back around your throat, squeezing tightly, loving how your mouth opened slightly and your eyes become cloudy, “Now tell me. What. Do. You. Want?”

“I want you to touch me, please peter,” you begged, finally breaking, grabbing at his shirt, “Please, fuck,”

“I’m already touching you bunny,” he replied smugly, chuckling at your pleas, “Going to have to be more specific than that,”

“Your mouth, please!” You cried, “Fuck, please, Peter,”

“Anything for you bunny,” he mumbled, placing a sweet kiss on your forehead before moving down your body. On his trail down, he took off your top along with your bra, placing light feathery kissed on your buds briefly before moving down to your skirt.

He bunched up the material at your waist, revealing your cotton panties that had a visible wet spot making you look away in embarrassment.

“Well, you wont be needing this anymore bunny,” he mumbled kneeling on the hard floor before ripping off the panties and diving into your soak heat, giving a bold lick up the middle of your cunt. He bit and sucked at the sensitive skin, moaning at your sweet taste.

“Holy fuck! Peter!” yous screamed throwing your head back as you grabbed at his hair, tugging on his soft locks.

“Keep yours eyes on me bunny,” he mumbled into your pussy, sending vibrations up your body, “Look at who’s making you feel so good,” he wrapped his arms around your thigh, pulling you closer into his tongue.

Peter smirked into your heat, running his finger through your clit then into your tight cunt, moving slowly in and out. He latched his mouth on to your little bud, sucking and licking softly, listening to your noises, taking his time to make sure you were enjoying the pleasure he gave you. You whined at his slow movements, tugging harder at his hair causing him to let out a small laugh, looking up at your pathetic state.

“What’s wrong bunny,” he fake pouted, raising his head from your pussy but keeping his fingers moving, “I thought this is what you wanted?”

“Faster,” you mewled, “Please,”

“Hmm, Whatever my bunny wants,” he added one more finger before plunging into you, moving in at out at an impossibly fast past. His mouth lapped at your clit, slow and calculated, a clear difference to his fingers moving quick, hitting all the right places rapidly.

“Peter,” you moaned, trying your best to keep eye contact with him, but the pleasure was so intense, sending your head flying back.

“Go on bunny, cum for me, cum for your master,” the name fell out of his mouth so fluently, sending you over.

Your thighs shook around his shoulders as your hips jutted out at the shocks moving throughout your body. You’ve never had an orgasm so intense before with the combination of his teasing and calculated movements you knew it would be your last.

“Good bunny,”

Oh, and that stupid nickname.

You hummed, trying your best not to slouch back or forward, knowing that if you did you’ll most likely hit your head on the corner fo hard stone. Peter took note of this, trailing kisses up your body before brining your chest against his, allowing your to sag against his clothed shoulder.

“Oh we’re going to have so much fun bunny,” he growled, biting the top of your ear, “My little bunny,”

...

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Peter Parker TagList : @ietss @itscaminow

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #peter parker x fem!reader #dom!peter #dom!peter parker x sub!reader #peter parker smut

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yandere-daydreams · 4 years

Text

Kinktober - Day Twenty-Nine

Prompt: Tutor Kink

Pairing: Bokuto/Reader & Akaashi/Reader (Haikyuu!!)

TW: Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, College AU, Non-Consensual Touching, Semi-Public Sex, Molestation, Slight Victim Blaming, and Implied Future Non-Con.

You should’ve known something was wrong as soon as you saw Akaashi.

You could believe that Bokuto needed your help. You didn’t have to believe it, honestly, because he did need your help, he needed as much as he could get. When he’d approached you after a lecture, last month’s assignment balled in his fist and a disappointed pout already painted across his expression, you’d been sure of that, and you’d liked the idea of helping one of your more enthusiastic classmates out. You should’ve hesitated when he asked you to meet him at the campus library in the middle of the night, but he was an athlete, he had a busy schedule. You should’ve been put-off by how excite he seemed, when you agreed to help him study, and you should’ve grabbed your things and gone back to your dorm the moment your eyes met Akaashi’s, tucked into a secluded booth set apart from the rest of the empty tables. Akaashi’d never failed a pop quiz, let alone an exam. Akaashi didn’t need your help, and if Bokuto had Akaashi, Bokuto shouldn’t, either.

You should’ve, but you hadn’t. Bokuto seemed harmless, and you’d been so sure Akaashi wouldn’t do anything, not in public. You’d been so, so sure.

It’s almost funny, how smart people make such stupid mistakes.

You shouldn’t have worn a skirt. You doubted a few extra buttons would’ve stopped Akaashi, but you wouldn’t have to feel fabric rustle against your skin every time his wrist arched, bunching around your waist and doing little to obscure the sight of his hand snaked down your panties, his thumb toying with your clit as two fingers eased into your cunt. You’d tried to get up when you felt him touching you, tried to leave, your reputation be damned, but Bokuto was faster than you could ever hope to be, more reflexive, stronger, and just the weight of his arm around your midriff had been enough to stop you, to keep you rooted to your seat as he nudged his latest draft in front of you and his friend leaned onto your shoulder to get a better view, Akaashi’s demeanor so stoic and so casual, you might’ve thought he was just playing with your pussy to keep his hands busy. He might’ve been, honestly. He could’ve been. You could never get a good grip on people like him, not when their passivity was as practiced as his.

“I just don’t get what I’m doing wrong.” Bokuto wasn’t any better, albeit a bit more obvious with his intentions. Even as he gestured to his paper, that perpetual whine heavy in his voice, his gaze kept drifting, wandering, falling to your heaving chest and the lip trapped between your teeth and all the signs and tells and evidence Akaashi’s work milked out of you. It was perverted. It was perverted, and it was sickening, and it was illegal, but Akaashi knew what he was doing, just when to spread his fingers, just where to rub and prod to make you want to curl into yourself and bury your face on the cluttered tabletop and scream. Bokuto’s interest was obvious, his awareness even more so, but he was more than happy to pretend it wasn’t. You could only be thankful he was so used to acting oblivious. “I mean, I’m using quotes, and I’m talking about the sonnet. That’s what they want, right?”

“Y-you’re not supposed to--” They might’ve been able to act like nothing was wrong, but it was more difficult for you. Everything made you feel breathless, from the idea of doing something so dirty in such a public place to the feeling of your own slick building up and dripping onto your thighs, pooling on the cushioned bench below you. It was humiliating. It was humiliating, and if not for Akaashi’s stare burning into the back of your neck, for the way Bokuto’s grip tightened every time you shifted, you wouldn’t be able to take it. You didn’t want to take it.

It didn’t seem like you had a choice, though.

“You have to embed,” You managed, Akaashi choosing that moment to sink the full length of his fingers into you, down to the knuckle, and making the last word coming out fractured, too cracked not to be suspicious. A student browsing a nearby shelf glanced towards you, absentmindedly, and you glared at the paper in front of you, doing your best not to go any tenser than you already had. “It’s not enough to have evidence, you have to… you have to work it in smoothly, and--” Another finger, Akaashi barely teasing your slit before sliding it in, taking a second or two to scissor you apart properly before returning to his constant, unbearable pace. “And-- and it’s proof, you have to prove that your interpretation is--”

“It’s an argument, Bokuto-san. You’re arguing your case, and you’re supposed to use words and phrases to do that.” You could feel Akaashi’s lips moving against your shoulder, his weight settling into your back. Briefly, his gaze drifted away from you, and towards Bokuto’s essay. “Specific words and phrases, when you’re discussing tone. Quoting an entire stanza is usually considered bad form.”

Bokuto said something about that. You think he said something about that, at least, because you stopped paying attention as soon as Akaashi’s free hand fell to your side, his face finding the crook of your neck as he started fucking into you in earnest. You wanted to do something. You wanted to stop him, but your complaints and rejections and all of it got caught in your throat as you lurched forward, Bokuto catching you with an airy laugh. He almost sounded surprised, but every trace of shock was gone by the time he opened his mouth. “He’s good with his hands, huh?” He asked, acknowledging your violation but not straying from his unaffected tone, never straying from it, even as he held you to his chest, encouraging you to hide your face in his hoodie while Akaashi pinned down your bucking hips and twisted, hitting every sensitive, neglected spot inside of you in one seamless motion. You tried to whimper, but Bokuto only chuckled, hushing you as he carded his fingers through your hair. “He’s almost done, baby, just let ‘kaashi have his fun. He‘s been dying to do this ever since he found out how pretty my new tutor was.”

Holding onto Bokuto wasn’t a choice, at that point. You clung to him, digging your nails into his biceps as Akaashi’s palm ground against your clit and your whole body seemed to burn. You almost moaned, you almost sobbed, but Bokuto was fast, he was so fast. His palm was over your mouth by the time you could think about opening it, muffing any sound you might’ve bad as you clenched around his best friend’s fingers, Akaashi suddenly feeling generous enough to carry you through your orgasm, only stopping when the first pangs of over-stimulation made your eyes water and your legs twitch. Even then, you didn’t try to get away from Bokuto. You couldn’t have, even if you did.

His grip was iron-clad, and he didn’t seem to have any intention of letting go.

“Look at that, Keiji, you made ‘em cry.” The comment earned a polite nod, a small ‘sorry’ as Akaashi pulled away, but there was little remorse in either of their voices. If anything, Bokuto sounded just as happy as ever - happier, even, with all the childish joviality you’d grown used to and something else mixed in, an eagerness, an impatience. One that only seemed to grow more expectant, as he went on. “I’m not mad, but…”

There was a pause, a smile, a kiss pushed into the top of your head. For the first time, you wondered why you ever thought Bokuto was so harmless.

“You interrupted our study date. We should go over the material more thoroughly back at our apartment.”

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pentagonpimp69 · 3 years

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“What is happening with Peter?” Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter and Y/N are good friends. But when Peter goes missing and then shows up days later, beaten up, Y/N tries to get to the bottom of what happened to her friend.

Peter and I are pretty good friends. We eat lunch together, have a majority of your classes together, text often, and hang out a lot. I feel like I know him pretty well. Well, I thought I did at least.

Peter hasn’t been at school for 3 days now. I’ve texted him a thousand times and he hasn’t answered. I asked Ned if he’s heard from him and he said no. MJ was the same. We were all pretty worried. I was thinking about dropping by his place and trying to talk to his Aunt but I didn’t know if that would be to over bearing. I was just very concerned. I decided that if he didn’t show up on Thursday, I would go to his apartment on my way home from school.

But on Thursday, Peter finally showed up.

But he was in pretty bad shape. His face was black and blue and he had a very noticeable limp. The second I saw him, I ran up to him and gave him a big hug.

“Hssssss, hi Y/N.” He says with a painful hiss.

“Peter! Where have you been? What happened?” I asked practically screaming. I was so happy to see him yet I was so confused about what happened.

“I got jumped on the way to my internship this weekend.” He says. He isn’t making eye contact which makes me think he’s hiding something.

“Did they catch the guys who did this to you?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t report it.” He answers.

“Why?” I asked him. Why wouldn’t he report getting assaulted???

“Because it’s fine Y/N. All they got was my wallet with $23 in it and my metro card. Big whoop.” He says. He almost seems annoyed that I was asking.

BELL RINGS

“I’ve got to get to class.” Peter says slamming his locker shut and pushing past me. “I’ll see you later Y/N”

“We have the same class!” I yell to him. We always walk to chem class together? What is wrong with him? I can’t believe he’s acting this way.

I walk a few feet behind Peter on the way to class. I don’t even want to talk to him anymore with the way he’s acting.

As we get to the Chem rooms Peter briefly turns to say something but I walk past him and got to my seat next to MJ. I slam my books onto the counter in anger.

“Whoa, what’s up with you?” MJ asks.

“Look who finally decided to show up.” I nod my head towards where Peter and Ned were sitting. MJ seems just as surprised as me by Peters appearance.

“What the hell happened to him?” She asks me in a hushed voice, not wanting him to hear.

“He got jumped apparently. But get this, he didn’t report it to the police” I tell her. Her face shows that she doesn’t believe that story either.

“Y/N , MJ!” The teacher yells from the front. Both of our heads snap to the front of the class.

“Yes sir?” I answer.

“Like I just said, please put on your safety gear. We’re doing experiments today.” He says, clearly annoyed by MJ and I not paying attention.

We walk to the back to grab our gear and MJ is glaring at Peter the whole time.

“So he gets jumped and he can’t answer his damn phone?” She whispers to me.

“Exactly! Theres something he’s hiding. He got super annoyed with me when I asked him about it.” I tell her as we walk back.

“Let’s figure it out at lunch.” She says as we set up for class.

I nod. As we are getting stuff ready, I look over at Peter and notice he’s looking at me. I try to motion for him to text me but the teacher begins to start, interrupting me.

I have to get to the bottom of this.

“So what he saying?” MJ asks as she sits down at the lunch table.

“Nothing! He still won’t answer my texts!” I tell her, “I wonder if his phone got broken during the ‘assault’”

“But he could text back from his computer! Why wouldn’t he answer any of us?” She asks.

“I don’t know.” I answer her. I begin writing Peter another text before I get interrupted by Ned.

“Hey guys!” He says in his usual bubbly voice as he sits down.

“Hey ned, where’s Peter?” I ask.

“Wow good to see you too Y/N.” Ned says, acting offended. I rolled by eyes at him.

“Sorry. Hi Ned. How are you?” I ask him, trying to only be a little condescending.

“I’m good! Thank you for asking! And as for your other question, Peter is in the library trying to catch up on the work he missed.” He says.

“Did he tell you what happened?” MJ asks Ned.

“Yeah, he got jumped and he missed a few days to recover.” Ned says, oddly not look at either of us. Ned clearly knows.

“Did he explain why he didn’t answer any of our texts?” I ask him.

“He was recovering.” He answers. He seems defensive about our questioning. MJ and I share a look of confusion.

��You said he was in the library?” I ask him. Ned nods.

“I think I’m gonna go talk to him.” I say standing up.

“I don’t thinks that’s a good ide-“ Neds starts.

But I interrupt him, “I’ll be back!”

I stand up and walk out of the cafeteria and head to the library. I’m going to have to corner him in order to get him to tell me the truth.

As I walk into the library, I immediately spot Peter. Sitting at a table with his back to me and a bunch of school work surrounding him. I walk up behind him and grab his shoulder. He wines at my touch. I immediately pull my hand back.

“Peter, I’m sorry.” I say as I take the seat next to him.

He shows a weak smile and rubs his shoulder, trying to sooth the pain I had just caused him. “It’s okay.” He says through gritted teeth.

“What is going on?” I ask him.

“Nothing. I’m sorry I didn’t answer your texts. I was just trying to recover.” He says. He doesn’t look at me, he just keeps working on his missed assignments.

“Peter.” I say. Im getting super frustrated by him. Especially since he won’t even look at me.

“Y/n.” He says back.

Thats it.

I grab his face sharply and he whines again. But I don’t let go. Now, I can get a clear look at his face. His eyes are both black, his nose might be broken, and the edge of his mouth is even a little blue.

“What the hell happened Parker?” I ask him again. “And I want the truth this time.”

He sighs.“I got jumped.” He still isn’t looking me in the eyes.

“I know you’re lying Peter.” I tell him. He finally looks me in the eye. Tears are starting to form. “Peter, you can tell me what happened.” I tell him.

Suddenly, he pushes me away. “No I can’t Y/N.” He starts pulling all of his stuff together quickly with tears are running down his face.

“Peter, I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you!” I say trying to calm him down.

“Don’t be!” He yells, “In fact, don’t ever worry about me again!” He zips up his bag and practically runs out of the library.

There is 100% something he’s hiding. I pull out my phone to text MJ.

“I’m going to his place after work. There’s something he’s hiding.”

Hope you guys like it! Its something new for me! Please let me know what you guys think and if you would like a part 2! Love you! Stay safe!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker oneshot #peter parker imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #writing

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razorblade180-heated · 3 years

Note

Yoimiya and Kazuha fluffy smut to celebrate you gettin her 😏

Festive reunion

[Warning, it’s smut, duh…]

Speechless, it was never a word in Yoimiya’s vocabulary. It also was the last word anyone would use to describe her. On a normal day she was the chatter box of any conversation bringing zest and joy to any topic. However, today was a bit different. The hot blooded extrovert was had prepared herself to meet tons of new people now that she had been summoned to fight alongside Aether and his companions. Yoimiya had failed to realize one of them was Kazuha. It wasn’t like she forgot him. Far from it. There wasn’t a day since his departure that Yoimiya didn’t think about him and his flowery words that contrasted yet complimented her straight forward thinking. Looks like the feelings were mutual, because the wandering samurai was showing a more direct side of himself she’d never seen. With her hand in his, Kazuha led her to his temporary home inside a magical teapot.

Yoimiya couldn’t help but blush. She had only just showed up! Not only that, but he had gotten permission to perform the wishing by himself, creating this alone time. What are the chances the others knew his intentions to begin with? Oh her poor heart couldn’t handle that level of embarrassment!

“Are you okay?” He asked.

“H-Huh? What’s up?”

“Your face, it’s bright red.”

Yeah no kidding! Anyone’s would be in this situation. Being swept into romance moments after showing up somewhere was a lot to process for her.

“I’m fine. Hehe Just a little hot outside and you know…stuff.” She smiled sheepishly, fidgeting a bit.

Kazuha gave his own gentle smile as he blushed lightly. “Guess I’m going a little fast huh? Sorry, we take things slo-”

“No! Uhh I mean…it’s okay, really. Actually I’m extremely flattered. I just never expected this as my welcome present. I was expecting more of a meet and greet.” She giggled, “but…this is nice too. Now I don’t have to wonder if you missed me.”

“Days didn’t feel nearly as bright without you.”

Great. Her face might as be as red as her vision. Her heart fluttered each step they took until they finally walked into the modest home Kazuha made form himself. It was obvious he had found interest in Liyue aesthetic, except a fireplace in the living room that felt slightly out of place, yet cozy nonetheless.

Yoimiya turned around to close the door behind her. The sudden feeling of Kazuha’s arms wrapping around her waist gave her a jolt. The young man held her close and Yoimiya could feel the heat from his face tickle her back as he pressed his head against it.

“Forgive me, but it’s hard to control myself. It’s…been quite some time, hasn’t it?

“Yeah, it has.” She could feel his lips kiss her nape, grazing her neck and nipping on pale flesh until a red mark was left behind. Yoimiya closed her eyes and exposed more of her neck for him to have, gasping from contact. She leaned forward slightly, pushing her butt against his pelvis for friction. Her left breast was soon claimed right after, his fingers slipping through the bindings.

“Mmmm Kazuha~” Another moan escaped her when Kazuha’s other hand made its way under her yukata, making short work of those bindings as well. The flustered pyro bit her lip when she felt two digits slip inside. Yoimiya braced her arms against the door while she let her lover take control.

Kazuha could feel her grip around his fingers and he ran them over her most sensitive spots. “To think you’re already this wet?”

“I missed you too ya know!?” She blurted out, blushing at her confession. “Please don’t tease me.”

“Bend over more for me.”

Yoimiya did just that. Straight forward Kazuha was something she didn’t know she needed in her life. He removed his fingers from her body and bunched up her clothes. Her face grew hotter feeling the bindings on her fall off her, exposing her body. Fingers gripped her plump rear and the chill of one running down her slit would’ve made her yelp if it wasn’t for what happened next. The heat of Kazuha’s breath.

“Kazuha? What- Aaah!”

He slipped his tongue inside her dripping core, lapping up her essence and getting lost in her scent. Both his hands help support her legs as they trembled from his assault. The sound of her moans only spurred him to completely devour her.

“KAZUHA!!” She yelled, moaning heavily. She could feel his tongue flatten out and swirl around to rake every spot. “I-I said no teasing!” His fingers dug into her damp thighs as he continued to eat her out. Yoimiya’s body instinctively bent over more to allow him deeper reach. Her moans turned to panting. Kazuha wasn’t gonna let her go. The sound of her own arousal and his dramatic slurping noises only turned her on more like he knew it would.

Yoimiya dropped her head and look to the floor. That’s when she caught sight of Kazuha’s position, on his knees and his length already freed. The member was already hard and dripping precum in anticipation. Was it always that big? In a few short moments, that was going to be…just thinking about it made her mind go blank and body tense.

Her first orgasm hit hard, making her scream as Kazuha continued tasting the wave of pleasure that came with her orgasm, until he licked up the majority. Kazuha stood up, wiping his face and catching his breath as he admired the sight of Yoimiya trembling and still bent over. Her skin had gotten redder and a thin layer of sweat had started.

“You’re so gorgeous…”

“Shut up. I don’t wanna hear that while I’m this.” She muttered. Yoimiya felt embarrassed enough to just die! They’ve been intimate before, but knowing Kazuha was seeing her like this was always going to be too much to handle.

“Do you wanna stay like that?”

She nodded, “looking at you right now would be too much.”

Kazuha could see the tips of her ears turn bright red. He wanted to listen, but found himself denying the mercy.

Yoimiya was ready for him to continue until she felt felt his hand on her chest raise her up enough for his face to come over her right shoulder. Yet again the girl was speechless upon staring into his eyes and seeing his playful smirk.

“I missed all of you. That includes your eyes.” Not holding back, Kazuha captured her lips.

Yoimiya felt her heart pound and head go into a haze. She openly invited his mouth to conquer her own. Not like she was really using it right now anyways. The heat of his member pressed against her entrance and with a few hip movements, slipped inside. Yoimiya whimpered from the feeling of being spread open so quickly. Kazuha’s hips begin smacking against her rear. Whimpers turned to yelps between the patient kiss. How long had it been since she felt full? Was Kazuha always this warm? Was his grasp on her this good? All these things made Yoimiya kiss him harder, wanting him to continue this assertiveness.

Kazuha was in no better shape. Distance had only strengthened their yearning. Kazuha added his own gasps and grown into the mix. Yoimiya had a grip on him that made his hips move on their own. The heat and wetness of her core made him ache in the best way. Their lips parted to only paint and whisper sweet nothings as their bodies gave into pleasure.

“Kazu~ more…more~”

“You’re everything when you beg like this.”

“Mmmph~ meanie. I-aahh…want another kiss.”

Kazuha obeyed, giving her what she craved without question. Yoimiya was always cute, but the blush across her face brought it to another level. Kazuha could only be weak to it.

“Yoi, I’m…”

“Me too.” She gasped, reaching the end of her rope. Yoimiya stole another, longer kiss; moaning heavily as she came.

Kazuha could only thrust a few more times before her tightness overwhelmed him. He gave one last thrust, cumming inside her. He pulled from the kiss to let her breathe while he peppered her ear with kisses.

Yoimiya’s entire body shuttered upon feeling his warmth shoot inside. The little nips and pecks Kazuha gave her made her giggle, putting a smile on het face as she continued to catch her breath.

“Kazu, that tickles hehe.”

“Now how am I supposed to stop with you calling me that, Yoi?” He teased, continued his kisses. He slowly lowered both of them down to the floor. Yoimiya held his face and the two were finally face to face properly. He smiled at the girl who smiled back with kind eyes and a pinkish red blush. “Your face is more beautiful than any sunset.”

Yoimiya couldn’t help but avert her gaze briefly before staring back. “It’s dangerous to spoil a girl with talk like that. Especially after what we just did.”

“Heh, I can’t name a moment more perfect to spoil someone than this.” Kazuha kissed her forehead. “I love you. I’m glad you’re here.”

“Glad to be here.” She put her arms over shoulders and around his neck. “More kisses please.” Her heart danced so much Yoimiya thought she was at a fireworks festival. “Let’s love each other here a little longer.”

xxxxx

“Hello everyone, I’m Yoimiya!” She said to her new teammates, placing her hands on her hips and glowing like the sun; her time with Kazuha only adding to her radiance.

Many waved happily upon her entrance, while I few people like Aether, Beidou, and even Hu Tao noticed the marks on Yoimiya’s neck. They looked at Kazuha with a cheeky grin he did his best to ignore, but even laid back samurai couldn’t help but smile sheepishly.

#genshin impact #kazuha kaedehara #yoimiya naganohara

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prose-for-hire · 3 years

Text

Vampires Suck

Pairing: Spike x reader (gender not mentioned)

Request: not requested. I couldn’t sleep and this was the result. In my fictional land anyone can give blood (mlm and anaemic people included). This fic includes a magical loophole where (chipped) Spike can bite so long as the human agrees.

Warning: Biting. Blood. Swearing. Very heated kissing. Sex references. Reader smokes a cigarette.

A/n: Moral of the story is, give blood. You never know who might need it ;)

You had always given blood regularly. Since you were old enough you went and gave a pint of the red stuff. Not just for your free snack after. It was just a part of your life now. However, you never realised that the blood you had donated might have gone to someone looking for their own kind of snack.

It was dark out, you had only been able to come for your appointment in the evening. You had been outside waiting, you had come too early again. You didn’t want to go in yet or face the miserable receptionist who made it her mission to make you feel unwelcome in the cheeriest way possible every time you came here.

You were stood in the parking lot of the medical centre as you started to hear a rustling sound. You turned and the parked donation van was moving and someone was cursing loudly from inside. You frowned, deciding to investigate.

You walked over to the van and opened on of the doors to find a man trashing the area. It was the type of van that could allow for someone to give blood in there should it be full in the centre.

The man had slicked back, bleach blonde hair, he was painfully attractive and he was holding an empty blood bag and staring straight at you.

“Uh, are you okay?” You inquired.

“Does it sodding look like it? All out of the good stuff in here only got the fancy gourmet kind”

“What?”

“Talking blood. Y’know, kind that gives you life... makes you hard” He said as if it was obvious.

“Right. Yeah. I’m going to go now” you shook your head in disbelief. He was certifiable and you had just made it your problem.

You walked back to your waiting spot and hoped he wouldn’t follow you. The noises coming from the van stopped, he was thinking. And now he was coming your way. Perfect.

He stood for a moment, looking you up and down before shrugging to himself and taking something out of the inside pocket of his leather duster.

“Cigarette, love?”

“Probably shouldn’t. I have an appointment soon”

“Don’t make it taste much different. Kind of... smoked I suppose”

You just stared for a moment and took the cigarette he was still waving in front of your face. If anything it was to shut him up.

He smirked as he handed you his lighter and you lit the smoke and inhaled. That receptionist was going to have a field day when she smelled it on you. She wouldn’t know which disapproving expression to use first.

“Do you have an appointment too or are you just on day release?” You asked and he actually snorted at the question, almost choking on the smoke. He was enjoying this interaction.

“Just looking for blood as I said” He explained before inhaling again. It was often easier to just loot a blood bank, charming someone into agreeing to give him their blood could take effort that often wasn’t worth it.

“Why?”

“Guess” He said and you sighed, but bit.

“You’re a vampire” you said without missing a beat. It was the lamest thing that you could think of.

“That was quick” he said actually surprised, “Bloody Drac” he then muttered realising it was probably his fault you had guessed so quick.

“Funny” you mumbled through the filter as you inhaled the thick smoke into your lungs. You weren’t convinced in the slightest.

“No, really”

“If you were a vampire you wouldn’t tell me unless you were gonna-“

“Go on” His eyes glinted dangerously as he gestured with his head.

“I think it’s time for my appointment, thanks for the smoke” You rushed the words out, crushing the cigarette under your feet. The hairs on the back of your neck had started to stand on end, you stared at the entrance to the centre but didn’t move fast enough. As if you were willing him to stop you.

And he did as you took a step away. He grabbed your arm and pulled you back. He was strong. Crap.

“Hear me out, love”

“Get off my arm, idiot” he did let go very slowly. He was starting to really like you. You were kind of rude but in a fun way. And you were extremely attractive to him. Which is how he came to his proposition.

“Won’t take nearly as much as those leeches in there would and I’d treat you to better than a cookie” he raised an eyebrow to try and entice you further.

“There’s no way that you could be a-” You started but you watched as his face shifted briefly. Fangs protruded from his mouth, his forehead bunched and ridged at the centre, “-holy fucking shit!”

“Yeah, right. Come here” he was interested to note you weren’t scared, just trying to process a lot at once. He was also hungry so he grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you back up into the back of the van and slammed the doors closed behind you, “I need you to agree” He said as he sat you down on a swivel chair.

“You want me to sign a fucking consent form before you drain me of my life?! What is this some new-age vampire shit?”

“I’m hungry, your blood is at least half-decent and you’re all I’ve got”

“What’s in it for me?” You squinted.

“The eternal gratitude of a man that will actually live for ever”

“Doesn’t mean anything if I won’t be alive to feel the gratitude”

“Bloody-“ You were irritating him, you had an answer for everything, “look, I can’t bite unless someone agrees to it. I’ll take a pint, maybe less. You’ll get something from it too, I promise”

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, but pain and pleasure kind of go hand in hand, right love?”

You smiled slightly at that and he smirked even more. He had definitely picked the right one. To think he was gonna try and charm that cow of a receptionist again in his desperation.

You made up your mind. What did you have to lose?

“So you-?” He pressed.

“Agree. Consent. Go for it” you offered with a shrug so he could take his pick. You really weren’t sure why he needed it. His face instantly shifted. His demeanour darkening. It was only as frightening as it was hot. Or, that’s what you told yourself. You weren’t convinced he was going to make it as good for you. You came here expecting a small pinch and a bravery sticker, maybe a biscuit. So, anything more than that would just be a bonus. You tended not to get your hopes up to avoid disappointment.

You didn’t realise you were about to be pleasantly surprised. Very pleasantly surprised.

He sat on the seat beside you, he leaned into you, pulling your chair from underneath and dragging it towards him. He jerked your head to the side. His fangs protruding from his mouth and you closed your eyes.

He didn’t hesitate, his teeth sunk into the soft skin on the left side of your neck. He pierced your skin, making sure it was deep. His jaw locked around your neck. He retracted his teeth only slightly and allowed your blood to start to run before he began to suck on your neck.

You hissed as he had penetrated your skin. It stung at first before it started to melt away. The dull ache in your neck still there but it gave way to a much richer feeling. Euphoria.

The sensation of him sucking the blood from your wound felt insanely good. Your head started to roll back, you didn’t notice the way he firmly grasped the back of your skull. Your head moving further to the side. For deeper purchase on your neck and for your comfort. You were lost in this feeling. It was nothing you had ever felt. Pure ecstasy. It felt so good you didn’t know whether to touch yourself or him.

He drank deep, taking you in completely. Your hands started to move, your fingers crawling up his back in desperation. Willing him to drink deeper. Harder.

Your nails started to drag down his back, he enjoyed this sensation you could tell. You wanted him closer, everything about him enticed you no matter how much danger you felt you were in. Your brain was screaming and you couldn’t figure out how much of it was fear and how much was pure desire.

Your breathing was heavy and you didn’t care about anything anymore. Only him. His touch. The way his mouth felt. His smell was so delicious you weren’t sure if you weren’t going to snap and start biting him in return.

He really didn’t want to stop, your blood was the sweetest he had ever tasted. Nectar of the Gods. Your heightened arousal was affecting him too, he could taste it it was so strong. He just about managed to unlatch his fangs from your neck before he rounded into headache territory.

But he couldn’t let go of you. Usually this was transactional for him, even amusing to watch the human in their desire.

But he wanted more of you. To soak up every drop. He didn’t question it. Why this stranger made his head almost as dizzy with want as theirs. He no longer knew where your arousal ended and his began. But he didn’t think about it. He just enjoyed it.

His mouth met yours roughly, his hands were everywhere at once and you desperately missed the way his mouth felt against your neck. You kissed him with such passion, writhing against him. You wanted him inside you just like he now had you in him. Coursing around his veins.

His kiss was hot, urgent. And you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. You started to fumble to unbuckle his belt for him but he took your wrists and restrained you, pushing you against the side of the van. Your back pressed hard against the wall. He assaulted your mouth instead, the metallic taste of your own blood mixed with saliva.

He had you there, in your mind he could do anything to you and you would have taken it gladly.

Your face was covered in your own blood, he enjoyed the sight. That he had done this. Even that you had wanted him to.

He moved, kissing down to your neck where the bite mark was still fresh. There was still some residual liquid that he caught on his tongue. He lapped at the wound lightly and you moaned into his ear making him smirk. He wanted to play that sound over and over in his mind. He kissed back up to your mouth He was almost struggling keeping your wrists at bay. Almost found it cute you were trying to struggle against him. He caught your mouth several times, your lips the best he had ever felt against his. He was enjoying this too much for something that he expected to last a mere moment. He was hungry for you in such an innate way.

You started to slow your movements, becoming exhausted.

He slowly felt the come down of your arousal approaching. He cursed it, wishing it wouldn’t. He was having too much fun. But you might want to leave it there and he was going to give you that choice. I mean, he wasn’t a complete animal.

He stepped away and you whined. You slid down the wall as he let you go, he had been the only thing keeping you up. He just stared as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. His eyes boring into you. You felt so exposed.

You managed to slide to sit in the seat you had started in. You fought to slow your breathing down, wiping your own blood from your face as he watched you come down from the euphoria.

You now felt a little embarrassed as his eyes wouldn’t leave your form. He didn’t even seem to blink. He had stepped back from you, as if he couldn’t trust continuing to be in such proximity. You definitely hadn’t planned on doing what you had just done and he knew it. Which is why against his better judgement he had held you still.

“I-“

“Hope it was as good for you as it was for me” he smirked, starting to turn to the doors and leave the van with you still trying to form words. The wound on your neck was throbbing, but you knew you would have done it over again.

“I-“

“Yeah?”

“Don’t know your name”

“Spike” he said, offering his hand to you to help you out of the truck too. You were a bit wobbly getting onto your feet, which he was expecting. You were surprised he hadn’t left you there. To be fair, in the past he usually would.

You started walking away from the medical centre, with him by your side. You were still in a daze and he wasn’t that much far gone from being a gentleman he wouldn’t walk you partly where you needed to be (so long as it wasn’t out of his way).

“Maybe we could make it a regular thing” he posed the question innocently but there was a devilish look in his eye. You acted as if you were thinking about it. Truthfully, your mind was screaming out yes. He waited, he for some reason actually cared for the answer.

“You’d have to buy me dinner first this time” you warned but smiled as his own lips tugged into a small half-smirk.

“It’s a date”

#Spike #Spike btvs #Spike x reader #Spike imagine #Spike x you #btvs #Buffy The Vampire Slayer #buffy the vampire slayer imagines #btvs x reader #btvs x you #btvs imagine #gender neutral #gender not mentioned #tw blood #tw biting

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annab-nana · 4 years

Text

Stay With Me - Colby Brock

When tagging along with the boys on a trip to London, you experience some crazy things when you’re alone in your room at the Langham Hotel.

@traphousedaily’s favorite snc series project with: @lonely-xplr, @sarcasmhadachild, @taradummy @reddesertcolbs, @reinad-snc, @cartiercolby, @colbylover99, @sunflowerwhoever, @xplrtrash, @goddess-of-time-and-magic, @xolbyz

A/N: This is my longest fic I have ever written, so if you like the longer fics, let me know! Also, this probably isn’t the best edited because I tried to get it out in a hurry so sorry about that haha

Warnings: some curse words; mentions of suicide, murder, and suffocation

Word Count: 4.6k+

--------------------------------------------------

“We’re going to England, brothas!” Sam shouted which was followed by excited squeals and scream from you, Jake, and Corey as Colby clapped beside you all. When you went to the party at Kian and Jc’s, you were not expecting your best friends to come up and surprise with such news. You giggled as you watched Corey prance around, saying “Oh my God” repeatedly, and Jake spew absolute nonsense of connecting Queen Elizabeth to Bloody Mary.

“Pack ya bags. We’re going to London, baby!” Sam spoke enthusiastically before covering the camera lens that Colby was holding with his hand. And from there, your crazy adventure with the boys began and you hand no idea what you were in for or how badly it would end.

...

After your suitcase was packed and you had your backpack on, you were ready to go to London. You were so excited to see a new place and considering you have never left the country, this was a whole new experience for you. After a ride in an uber and a plane, the five of you arrived in the capital of the United Kingdom.

“Are you guys gonna be safe driving on the opposite side of the road?” Jake questioned as we walked through the parking lot of cars.

“Oh,” Sam and Colby say together, though Colby’s ended with a ‘my God’.

“I didn’t even think about that,” Colby added as he walked backwards, facing the camera towards us.

“Look at the steering wheel, brotha!” Jake pointed to the steering wheel of a black car in front of you all and the wheel was in fact on the opposite side.

“Oh no! How are we gonna do this?” Colby questioned as we all looked at the car, thinking the same thing as the boy with reddened locks.

“I don’t know my right from my left,” Sam spoke in a horrid British accent that you could not help but laugh at.

“Alright, you’re gonna drive,” Colby told his counterpart as you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Okay,” the blond sighed in defeat.

“This isn’t looking good,” you spoke to the camera that Colby held as you two watched Sam try to pull out of the parking spot. He already nudged Jake with the car and then tried to turn right when you can only go left. After a bunch more tomfoolery from the group, you all finally moved your stuff into the car and got in as well.

“Alright boys so-” Colby started to explain what we were doing but was cut off by Corey clearing his throat.

“And girl,” he scolded as he nodded his head in the direction of you.

“No, Corey. Y/n is one of the boys,” Jake butted in.

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or an insult,” you chuckled before turning your attention back to Colby so he could continue his explanation.

“Anyway, this is what we’re doing. We’re going to the Langham Hotel which is known as the most haunted hotel in the UK.”

“And also top ten in the whole world,” Sam added.

“Wait, are we going there or staying there?” Jake asked beside you. Your eyes followed from his to Colby’s to see his answer.

“Staying there.” Your eyes widened slightly as you looked at the two boys beside you. Corey giggled nervously and made jokes to hide his fear and you and Jake just laugh in disbelief.

“In our last series, The Origin, we talked to those guys like a demonologist and he says we’re a lot better at paranormal investigations than normal and he thinks we have a gift. So, this whole trip is trying to prove that our group is the best ghost hunters on YouTube and because of that, we are meeting with two paranormal experts who’ve been studying the paranormal and demonology for years and we’re doing an interview here in an hour,” Sam explained.

Jake appeared to be really excited to the right of you and on your left, Corey stayed quiet, which led you to believe he was kind of scared and trying to hide it. You felt a mix of both the emotions of the boys next to you. You were excited for the adventure like Jake was, but also a little scared like Corey since y’all were going to one of the most haunted hotels in the world.

...

“Hey, there it is,” Colby announced to you three in the back and the camera that he had pointed at the building before you guys.

“The Langham!” Sam shouted as he kept his eyes locked on the road, still trying to get used to driving on the other side of it. You all pulled up the hotel, got your bags, and headed inside in no time.

“So, we have a reservation under Golbach,” Colby started as he spoke to the man at the front desk.

“We put in a request. We don’t know if it was able to be fulfilled, but we’re trying to do room 333,” Sam asked the man in the grey suit, a maroon tie and handkerchief to compliment it. You and Corey shared a look after Sam mentioned the number 333, both knowing it did not sound good.

“Absolutely. You have been allocated in that room,” the front man told y’all and Colby turned to you three with an excited grin which you returned. The man at the front desk noticed your group’s excitement and smiled along with you.

“We heard online that room 333 was like haunted or something like that?” Sam mentioned, hoping to get some information from the clerk.

“Is this why you have the camera?” He grinned as he processed the transaction.

“A little bit, yeah,” Sam chuckled.

“There is the legend, yes,” he told you all as he focused on his work.

“Have you heard anything about that?” the blond pressed again.

“We can’t tell guests,” the clerk starts with a smile, but the grin soon drops as he nods his head. Something about the way he did that made you feel a bit uneasy.

“Do you believe in it personally?” Sam questioned as you all listened intently to what the man had to say.

“No. In one year that I’ve been here, I didn’t have any complaints and so on, but you can tell me. Just stay there with the camera, yeah?” he laughed as you all joined in, trying to relieve the awkward and weird tension.

...

“My name’s Sam. This is Colby, Y/n, Jake, and Corey. We’re filming for our channel, but these guys are always into it and woah.” Sam turned the camera to the large creak you all just heard coming from above him and Rosie, the lady you had just met who is a member of the ghost club. John, a guy from the council for the Society for Psychical Research, sat next to her. You sat on the couch nearest to him between Colby and Jake and Corey sat on the chair next to Sam across for you.

“We just rented out room 333. We haven’t even told them why that’s a significant number, but do you guys know much about room 333 here in the Langham Hotel?” Sam asked, filming the response from Rosie.

“Well, the story goes that a Victorian doctor spent the night in room 333 with his bride. It was his wedding night. Who knows the circumstances, but the story goes, he actually murdered his bride in room 333.” She pauses as y’all take in the information she had just given before she continues.

“So, fast forward now to 1973 and the journalist James Alexander Gordon was staying room 333 where he’s waking in the middle of the night and he said he saw a fluorescent ball of lights that slowly formed into the figure of a man, but there was something strange about this man. He was dressed in a full evening suit, very smart, but the bottom half, his legs, were actually missing. Now the journalist actually tried to speak with the figure, but the figure didn’t speak to him. He just walked towards with his arms open wide.”

“A famous cricketer, he was staying at the room and in the middle of the night, he was woken by the sound of taps turning on. He went into the bathroom. Water was gushing out through the tap.”

“Woah,” all of you say collectively as you think back on what happened to the boys previously. You didn’t go with them on that trip, but you heard the story several times and watched the video too. Sam fills in the woman in on the experience briefly before she can continue with her story.

“Anyway, he turned off the taps, went back to the bed, what he could hear was still the sound of running water, gushing out even though the taps were turned off.”

John nods along before speaking about a theory that ghosts are like a tape recording of traumatic experiences that just play over and over again. He explains that you can’t really interact with it because it’s always going on a loop. The theory piques the interest of the group to say the least.

...

After finishing the interview and exploring a bit of the beautiful town you were in, you all gathered around the camera as Sam gave some background on the hotel. He tells you all about a German prince who jumped from the building out the window and how the doctor from earlier killed his wife and himself afterwards, both stories happening in room 333.

Soon the camera is turned off and you all pile in the elevator to head to the third floor. The whole hotel has an unsettling vibe, especially with some weird and creepy paintings that are hung all around. There is a big one of a boy with creepy eyes right when y’all get off the elevator.

“Which way is room 333?” Corey asks a worker when y’all get to a hallway and do not know which way to turn.

“Oh… uh… room 333… it’s that way,” he speaks, dragging out each word and shuffling away in a weird fashion. You and Corey share a wide-eyed look before going to catch up with the rest of the group.

“This is the most haunted room in the most haunted hotel,” Colby tells the camera as he films Sam who is about to unlock the dreaded door. The key does not work on the first try or the second which scares you all, but thankfully, the third time’s a charm.

Sam pushes the door open to reveal the supposed haunted room. A bed sat in the center of it, a closet to the left and a desk to the right. Huge grey curtains covered the window and another door was next to it, which you assumed to be the bathroom.

“It smells like old people,” Jake mentioned. “You know what that means? That means its haunted, bitch.” You and Colby giggled at the beanie boy as Sam and Corey were off in the other corner of the room. Colby mentions how tiny the room is as Corey says how that one of us could be standing where someone got murdered.

“Oh, we got three rooms. There is no way we can all share this bed,” Colby mentioned.

“Where are the other rooms at?” Corey asked as he stuffed his hands into his new hoodie that he got earlier when we were going around the city.

“Just down the hall,” Colby told him.

“Oh, so still on the most haunted floor,” Corey rolls his eyes and nods, accepting the fact that something bad might happen tonight.

...

You all left room 333 and headed to 324 where Corey and Jake would be staying to check the room out. Your room was next door, 323, and looked remarkably similar to 324. After exploring the rooms, y’all take on the hotel in its entirety, passing more creepy paintings and experiencing a door closing behind you without anyone around it, several vortexes, handprints on mirrors, immediate temperature changes, strange noises, and so on. The thing that freaked you out the most was Sam getting random headaches as you explored.

Back in room 333, you guys sat on the bed and Sam explained all the new ghost hunting gadgets they got, from the EMF reader to the dowsing rods. Sam says that with the dowsing rods, you can find basically anything you want.

“Anything?” Colby questions as he picks up the rods.

“Alright, where’s my girlfriend?” he asks and both rods point to you almost immediately. A blush scatters on your cheeks as you laugh it off.

“See guys, even the rods think you two should get together,” Jake tells the camera. Colby ignores the awkwardness between you two as he asks Corey how to effectively use the rods.

Y’all decide to begin the investigation, starting with the EMF reader. Corey brings it close to the hangers that made a noise and it moves up one green light. It lights up to orange in a few places on the right side of the bathroom which freaks you all out and y’all decide to set the EMF reader up in the bathroom since it got the most activity. You all put together that the bathroom is the only spot in the room that has a vortex and that it is exponentially hotter than the bedroom.

While Sam and Colby messed around in the bathroom, you, Corey, and Jake stayed in the bedroom to see if anything would happen in there while the cameras weren’t running in there at the moment.

“If there’s anything in here, can you please make the bed shake?” Jake asked into the air above him, trying to get whatever was out there to make the bed shake like they did earlier. At the moment, he was laying on the left side and you were on the right. Corey was next to you in the desk chair. You guys waited a moment for any responses and then you got one.

“We’re here,” you heard the raspy low whisper come from the closet.

“Please tell you heard that too,” you begged as you sat up, pulling your knees to your chest to comfort yourself. Corey nodded profusely in the dim lighting as Jake audibly answered ‘yes’. Corey dashed to the bathroom door to tell the other two.

“Hey, you good?” Colby asked you quietly as the other boys discussed what happened. Your eyes left the trio before meeting the blue ones that gave you such peace. He had placed a comforting hand on your back, his thumb rubbing it to soothe your nerves.

“Yeah, just freaked out. This place has been giving me an uneasy feeling all day, but I’m good.” You smiled up at him and he gave you a grin right back, one big enough for those adorable little dimples to pop out.

“Bro, if you guys lay on the bed, you will feel something with you,” Jake told Sam and Colby. You stood off the bed, allowing Colby access to lay on it. He handed you the camera, which you handed to Corey because you were not the best them and your hands were slightly shaky.

“When I was laying with him, we could feel it shaking,” you told the duo as they sprawled out on the mattress.

“You should turn off the light,” Jake told Corey and he did. It was just you five in the room alone with the darkness and all who inhabit it.

“Do you guys feel the bed shaking at all?” Corey asked, his voice right next to you.

“Maybe, barely,” Colby’s voice sounded in front of you.

“If the German prince or the doctor that killed his wife is in here, please shake the bed,” Sam asked nicely of the spirits that are presumed to be in the room with you guys. After a moment of silence, a stunned ‘woah’ fell from Sam’s lips.

“What?” Corey questioned as you heard him fiddling with the camera. “What? Bro, I can’t find the light.” Sam grabbed the green light grid thing and turned it on to provide you all with some sort of light.

“I felt it go back and forth,” Sam told us all as he kept his eyes on Colby to see if he felt anything too.

“You felt it? I don’t know if I’m feeling anything,” Colby sounded a little disappointed like he wanted to feel what you, Jake, and Sam had felt.

“It literally rocked bro,” Jake told the camera and you nodded your head in agreement. You all hung out in the bedroom, trying to figure out the green light grid and how else you all wanted to go about the investigation when Corey got a text from his little brother, Cambrey.

“Are you okay?” you asked Corey as he stared wide-eyed at his phone screen. The other boys turned to look at Corey to see why you asked him such a question when y’all were just chilling at the moment.

“Uhh yeah, Cam just texted me this: Hey so I just saw your new video and at the end of it when you were talking about in the part where y’all kept saying save me and you were wondering like what you should do, I just wanted to let you know I went to a psychic lady and she told me that I have powers to send ghosts to the other side lol. All I have to say is you are free to go to the other side and it helps them go through. I know this sounds really stupid but ever since I talked to her, I’ve been seeing giant black figures in my room every night and when I sleep, it feels like someone’s watching me.”

“What the fuck?” Sam comments as you all share looks between you guys.

“Wanna know what’s even freakier? Cam is fourteen right now and I was fourteen when I first saw the shadowman.” ‘Woah’s fall from the group around him as we take in the information and process what we’ve been told because it seems so surreal. You all talk about how to deal with this. Corey feels guilty and responsible for Cambrey possibly seeing the shadowman. You try to comfort him, but the heavy feeling that he is dealing with is something that you can’t help that much.

“Maybe it might be good if we call it a night,” Sam suggests to the group as you nod your head. Things are a bit tense right now and maybe just getting settled into our own rooms and stopping the investigation for now could ease it some.

“Let’s set our alarms for three or something like that, but I think it’s good to take a break for a minute and like relax and we’ll come back to this in a minute.” And that is exactly what you guys did.

“Are you gonna be good by yourself, y/n?” Colby asked before you left their room with Jake and Corey.

“Yeah, I should be but I might call you so that if I hear something, you might hear it too and so I don’t go crazy,” you chuckled as he smiled at you, the grin making butterflies flutter around in your belly. He nodded before you turned around and went to your room.

A sense of relief flooded your body when you walked into the room. You were still very creeped out by the hotel and the fact that you were on the most haunted floor of the most haunted hotel in the most haunted country in the world. You were happy you were no longer in the most haunted room, but the things that were happening in there freaked you out.

You went to your suitcase and flipped through your clothes until you found something to sleep in. You had packed mainly warmer clothes for sleepwear, but since room 333 was so hot and you were still burning up from it, you grabbed the one pair of shorts you brought and a tank top. You grabbed a hair tie from your backpack and went to the mirror, throwing your hair into a ponytail. After you brushed your teeth and got your charger out, you settled into bed and shot Colby a text.

Y/n: can I call you?

Colby: of course

“Hello?” you asked as soon as you hear the ringing stop.

“Hey, are you okay?” His voice sounds so concerned and it makes you smile.

“Yes, Colby. I’m fine. Can you stay on the phone with me until I get tired?”

“Yeah, sure.”

It didn’t last long until you were about to conk out, so the two of you said your goodbyes and you placed your phone down on the bedside table. Just as you were about to fall asleep, you swore you felt the bed shake. You do not know why you said what you were about to, but you did.

“If there is anything there, can you make the bed shake again please?” A moment or two of silence passes before it does it again. The bed wobbles lightly beneath you.

“Okay so there’s something here,” you whisper to yourself. You try your best to shrug it off and go to sleep. You almost slip into a blissful sleep before you hear a whisper similar to the one from before.

“You’re not alone, y/n.” You immediately grabbed your phone to text Colby. You knew he would probably be in a deep sleep by now, but it was worth a shot.

Y/n: the bed shook in here

Y/n: and I asked it to do it again and it did

Y/n: then it whispered youre not alone y/n

After not seeing the bubble with three dots pop up, you decide to let your phone record audio while you sleep just to catch anything that might happen and set an alarm from three in the morning. Finally, you get to sleep.

You woke up with a jolt, a sweat on your forehead and the bed moving slightly beneath you.

“You’re not alone”

“We’re here”

“Come with us”

The whispers filled your head as you watched an outline of a guy appears in the hallway near your door.

“Colby,” you call out as you sit up and rub your eyes.

“Sam? Jake? Corey?” you continue but not a peep comes from the man as he inches towards your bed.

“Seriously guys. Cut it out,” you chuckle, but he keeps coming closer and closer until he is right beside you. You reach a hand out to try to touch him, but your hand falls through his misty form.

“Whoever you are, please leave. You aren’t welcome here,” you demand, but your voice falters at the end. You hear a loud maniacal laugh vibrate throughout your small room as the figure crawls on top of you.

His presence is suffocating enough, but when a hand comes up to your throat and clamps down, it becomes difficult to breath. You fear for your life as you try to pry the hands from your neck, but just like his body, you can’t grab onto them. Your fingers slip through his and there is nothing you can do about it. Tears seep out your eyes and black spots cloud your vision before all you can see is black.

“Y/n! Open the door! Y/n!” you hear the worried shouts of your friends. You look around and reach for the lamp to turn it on. Looking around, you see that you are safe. It was nothing but a bad dream. You hand flies to your throat and when you feel that there isn’t a misty hand closing in on it, a sigh of relief leaves your lips.

You sling the covers off your body and run to the door. When you open it, you are met with the concerned expressions and worried eyes of the four boys you loved most. Your tear-filled eyes meet the specific blues ones before you step forward and wrap your arms around his waist, hiding your face in his chest.

“Are you okay, y/n?” Sam asks as he places a hand on your shoulder. You flinch at his touch unintentionally before muttering a ‘sorry’.

“You were screaming,” Jake added as he met your eyes.

“Really?” you asked, but based on how scratchy your voice sounded, you could tell it was true. “What happened?”

“Sam and I went to Corey and Jake’s room because Corey called us, but we heard you screaming and rushed over here. What happened to you?” Colby asked calmly above your head.

“Did you get my texts from earlier?” Colby nodded at your question. “I had a nightmare and the same whispers I heard earlier, I heard in my dream. And then this figure came up to me and try to choke me to death. I saw black and then woke up to you guys banging on my door,” you finished as the tears came back and you went back to hiding in Colby’s chest. His hand rubbed up and down your back comfortingly as he looked around at the other guys, unsure of what to do.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore,” you muttered into his chest.

“You can come stay in our room,” you heard Corey offer.

“Or ours,” Sam suggested.

“Can you stay with me?” you asked the blue-eyed boy as you looked up at him.

“Yes. Sam, can I have the camera? I’ll start looking through the footage and you can go to sleep since you couldn’t earlier.” Sam handed him the camera that he had hanging by him side before the other three left to go back to their rooms.

“Was I really screaming?” You asked Colby as soon as you sat on the bed.

“Like you were being killed,” he told you. You grabbed your phone and began to listen to audio recording you started earlier. It is mainly quiet for the most part, just your soft breaths and sounds of you moving in your sleep. Then, you hear the whispers again.

“Listen to this!” you shout as you hand the phone to Colby. His eyes widen at the sound.

“That’s what I’ve been hearing.”

“That’s insane,” He told you as he handed the phone back to you. You get all the way to the end and do not hear any screams.

“There’s no screaming on this.”

“When did it end?” You check and the time that stares back at you freaks you out even more.

“3:33 a.m.”

“Here. Let’s put this away because you have been through a lot tonight and just chill out,” Colby suggested as he placed your phone down and pulled you closer to him. You settled yourself into his side and placed your head on his chest. He had one arm around you while the other laid on his stomach.

“I’m sorry we put you through this,” he muttered as he fiddled with the bottom of his shirt.

“No, it’s okay. I have had a lot of fun this trip and I don’t want it to end early because I had a bad dream. That’s all it was,” you tried to see the bright side of it all.

“That makes me feel better because I really do love you, y/n, and I’d hate to see you not come on another trip with us or stop hanging out with us because of this.”

“I love you too, Colby, and it’s gonna take a whole lot more than a bad dream to get rid of me,” you both chuckled as a comfortable silence fell over the both of you. You fell asleep in the safety of his arms and right there, you did not have another bad dream that night.

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soyeahitsmiddleearth · 3 years

Text

Killer Good Looks pt. 2

The Company/Reader

Goblin tunnels, scapegoats, and life-threatening adventures... Oh, and you're still supposed to kill these guys, hm.

Angst, Humor, Action

----

The fall from your little cozy cave down into the deep dark depths of the Goblin Tunnels was not a pleasant one, and you're almost certain that a concussion is in the makings with how many times you and your companions have smashed your heads against walls, each other, and rocks alike.

You got lucky for the most part, and they've got pretty thick skulls so they'll be fine too.

Once the twisting tunnels and dead-drops are done, you all lay at the bottom of some sort of cage, groaning and recovering from the shock of it all (you're fairly certain there's a period there where you're all unconscious).

Damn it, you should've known better.

You've known for ages about the goblins that reside in the Misty Mountains, but you, for some reason, thought you'd be safe enough with the horrible weather to make it in and out of the mountain range before they even knew you were there.

The goblin king won't see you, will he? He won't recognize you, right?

Yeah, so, there was a time there where you worked freelance, having no assignments from The Brotherhood or anything to do, and you caught wind that the goblins of the Misty Mountains came across something desirable.

Something... shiny... and... possibly magical.

Your kleptomania went positively wild at the mere thought of finding something so pretty and sparkly in such a dreary and dismal place, so you set out for the Mountains, staked out around the entrances for a few days, and then snuck in and stole that 'thing'.

The 'thing' ended up being a radiant, beautiful ring stolen from some poor traveler more than likely. Whether they wiped out the kingdom or stole it in silence is unknown to you, but you didn't really care.

You snuck in at night while countless goblins went out to hunt and enjoy the evening, and then you swiped the ring from the goblin kings finger while he slept when day came about, hid in the tunnels until night once more while he flipped out in search of it, and made your escape the following night.

Only after you stole it did you find out that it was magical.

It morphed to fit your finger as soon as you fit it on, and granted you some enhanced senses.

The enhancements weren't vast or grand, but it was a very slight adjustment that helped to polish your already honed skills.

You could hear a little better, see a bit further, and increased your 6th sense for detecting others.

They probably went through numerous hardships to acquire such a useful item, and, now, it was all yours for free.

That day you spent hiding away in the tunnels, waiting for night so you could escape after stealing it in the day, was boring, but also a little frightening. The way the goblin king screamed and screeched about a thief and needing to find his prize made you briefly fear for your safety, but it didn't take long for you to realize they're too dumb to spot you.

You may not be the strongest in terms of physical strength and brute force, but your willpower and cunning got you through it almost effortlessly. And, if you did get into a physical altercation, your agility and reflexes would help you go down while taking them out with you.

Anyways, your point it that, he may not recognize your face since he never saw you, but if he sees the ring then it's over for you.

So, once you regain your rational thought after your daze, you slip it off your finger and shove it into one of the hidden pockets in your shirt. Who knows if he'll recognize the ring or not.

In no time you are being hauled up to your feet and dragged away with the rest of your companions, though you are a fair bit taller than all of them so it's harder for these nasty bastards to keep you under control.

No matter how vast or grand your skills are, you'd never be able to take on all of these guys; you're a stealth master for a reason after all.

The lot of you are taken down a series of paths to an audience with the horrendous Goblin King, and along the way you manage to kick quite a few of those grabby little monsters down into the dark depths below.

A minute or so passes that ends with all of you, ultimately, in front of the Goblin Kind and helpless.

"Who would be so bold as to come armed into my kingdom?" His voice booms in front of all of you, echoing throughout the caves, "Spies? Thieves? Assassins?”

Something like that.

You are, technically, all three, but none of you are there for him.

One of the small, ugly creatures steps forward and informs him of who you all are, "Dwarfs and a human, your Malevolence."

His face morphs into one of disgust and he practically spits out, "Dwarfs?"

"We found them on the front porch." The lacky confirms.

“Well, don’t just stand there; search them! Every crack, every crevice.” He cries, slamming his fist down which makes the wood tremble beneath all of you.

A bunch of words are traded and the Great Goblin exposes his knowledge about Thorin and the fact that his greatest enemy, Azog the Defiler, is still alive and kicking.

“Send word to the Pale Orc; tell him I have found his prize.” A twisted smile takes over his huge face and causes that skin beard to shift, a disgustingly entrancing movement, and he looks down at the searching goblins expectantly.

You've had a 3 of your knives tossed aside and your short sword has been stolen, but you're happy to report that some of your hidden weapons and the stolen goods are still hidden.

Suddenly, one of the goblins loses it's head and throws something in front of the group, screeching and screaming with horror.

The Great Goblin recoils and he hisses out fearfully, "I know that sword! It is the Goblin-Cleaver, the Biter, the blade that sliced a thousand necks."

Whips and nails, teeth and palms, the dwarfs are abused with every limb, weapon, and thing possible, and before you can even think on it, your voice demands the attention of them all.

"Wait!"

Silence, stillness, attention.

God, you hate it.

You slip the ring from your pocket and onto your finger and take a step forward unobstructed from the enraged goblins, slightly nervous but blank in expression.

"I cannot hide it anymore. Every second that passes weighs on my soul, for the desire to be recognized for my deeds is too strong."

"Speak your piece, human, what do you want?"

You raise your ringed hand and brandish the smooth metal off to him, "Do you recognize this? The ring I so cleverly stole from you all those months ago?"

"M-My ring!" He bellows, taking a step forward, "How- You thief! You were the one who stole from me? You?!"

You say nothing at first and betray no emotion in your face, lowering your hand back to your side. When you do speak, you push arrogance into your voice, "I took it while you indulged yourself in sleep, and then I hid right under your nose for an entire day, holding my prize and listening to your whining and petulant screams." The insults are all well aimed and meant to enrage him, for you're hoping to take his attention off of the dwarfs before he can have them all killed. "If I had known you were so pathetic and slow-witted, I would have taken it during the night and saved myself the time."

Someone calls your name, Thorin, and he hisses with confusion, "What are you doing?"

You ignore him.

If he weren't so pale and colorless he would've been red with anger at your taunting words. The Great Goblin is seething and spitting, his huge, clawed hands clenched into fists as he tries to form a coherent thought.

"You dare speak down to me? You will be punished!" He cries, pointing a long nailed finger at you, "Cut the ring from those thieving hands, and then take those hands as well!"

Your expression shifts when you're shoved forward and onto the ground on your hands and knees, taking on a more defiant look despite the hint of fear in your eyes.

It's not like you want them to cut off your hands, you kind of need those, but you're fairly confident that this groups luck will strike once again and save you from a life of picking things up with your feet and wrists (if they don't kill you, that is).

"No!" Someone yells from the group of dwarfs and goblins, followed by shouts and calls from others as well.

Unfortunately, the roaring in your ears is too loud for you to make out individual voices, but it's nice that they aren't apathetic towards your fate.

Before you know it you're being shoved face-first into the ground and your arms are being wrenched out from beneath you, stretched out and poised for being cut off. Your finger with the ring on it is pulled from your fist, and when you glance up, you see a sword poised above the head of a goblin, ready to relieve you of your hand.

There's lots of screaming and yelling, and at some point you squeeze your eyes shut since you're no longer confident in your assessment that you'll be saved in the nick of time.

Finally, right when your fate is about to finally be sealed, a bright light blinds you all and renders the goblins immobilized momentarily.

Gandalf the Gray stands there with his powerful staff in hand and an aura of white surrounding him, meanwhile you all just stare in awe.

“Take up arms. Fight. Fight!” He demands, slamming his staff on the ground which shakes your very souls.

You, and everyone else, require no more prompting.

In one swift movement you roll back onto your feet and steal the discarded sword aimed to take your hands, and then you jump right into the action.

You and the entirety of the group make a swift and action packed escape where you spend the majority of your time protecting the Durin's, sticking close to them and keeping the goblins away.

Everything passes by in a blur of limbs, blood, and violence, and it isn't until you've killed the Great Goblin and escaped back out into the light of the soon setting sun that you have a moment to breathe and think about all the things that just took place.

It's at this time that everyone finishes running and takes a moment to catch their breath that you all realize Bilbo is missing, and you immediately curse yourself for not keeping a closer eye on him.

A couple of the dwarfs begin to blame each other and there's some mumbling amongst themselves, but Thorin has another idea entirely about what really happened.

"I’ll tell you what happened. Master Baggins saw his chance and he took it! He’s thought of nothing but his soft bed and his warm hearth since first he stepped out of his door! We will not be seeing our Hobbit again. He is long gone."

You purse your lips but say nothing despite your disagreement with his words; arguing with the people 'paying you' isn't the brightest idea, so it's better to just keep your mouth shut.

And then, quite the peculiar thing, said hobbit steps out from behind a tree and states matter-of-factly, "No, he isn't."

There is varying amounts of surprise and shock that wash throughout all of your expressions. Hell, your eyes even widen slightly when he appears so suddenly. How did you not notice him even with your ring on?

"Bilbo Baggins! I’ve never been so glad to see anyone in my life!” The gray wizard exclaims with a grand smile on his wrinkling face.

Kili speaks next, informing the little hobbit that there was little hope surrounding him. "Bilbo, we'd given you up!"

"How on earth did you get past the goblins?!" Fili wonders.

"How indeed..." Dwalin sounds suspicious almost when he repeats Fili's question, but you're entirely worried about something else.

"Are you alright, Bilbo?" You chime in before he can explain himself, stepping closer to give him a quick once over.

You were hired to protect the Durin's, but you need all of them to get access to that mountain with ease.

Or, at least, that's what you tell yourself.

The hobbit looks up at you and offers a slightly nervous smile, "I am fine. Just a few bumps and bruises."

"I want to know...," Thorin's voice breaks through your conversation as he asks, "Why did you come back?"

A quick moment of silence passes as you look down at your feet and listen carefully, actually a bit curious yourself.

It isn't like you couldn't do his part of the job for him, though your assignment is something else entirely, and he expressed his desire to leave right before you were all kidnapped by the goblins... so why would he come back?

"Look, I know you doubt me, I know you always have," Bilbo begins with a slightly grim face, "And you’re right, I often think of Bag End. I miss my books. And my armchair. And my garden..." He trails off as a faraway look momentarily blurs his vision, probably imagining what he could be doing at home right now, and you all watch and listen carefully. "See, that’s where I belong. That’s home. And that’s why I came back, cause you don’t have one - a home. It was taken from you. But I will help you take it back if I can.”

Your eyebrows furrow together when he finishes speaking his piece, because his words are... greatly troubling.

He was ready to leave it all behind before, mere seconds away from leaving back towards The Shire and Bag End, but here he is now. He came back because he genuinely wants to help; he wants them to reclaim their home and find their wandering origins.

Everyone is silent as they think over the words Bilbo speaks, and while it awes most of them, you only feel more bothered.

Such a kind hobbit who you may likely need to kill.

"That's foolish." You find yourself saying that before you can even think about it, something that's been happening too often for your liking.

You get several shocked looks, hell, you're shocked yourself, but you don't take back your statement.

Where did this disdain come from all of a sudden? This disdain not towards the kind hearted hobbit, but towards yourself?

"You are not the person to be calling the actions of our Master Burglar, foolish." Gandalf scolds, eyeing you with a pointed look. "I know your taunting and teasing towards the Goblin King was no accident or arrogance driven necessity. And I also know that you could have easily broken yourself free before harm befell upon you. I brought you along to do a job, and do this job you have - much too well. I thank you for the distraction, but your methods may have proved to be a mistake had I not arrived on time."

You look back at the gray wizard with an unwavering stare, eyes slightly narrowed as you attempt to glare him into submission; only, he doesn't relent and stares right back at you.

"You came in time." A weak defense.

"And if I hadn't?" He asks, voice raising slightly. Gandalf doesn't much like backtalk. "How far would you have taken it? Were you going to allow them to take your hands? To cut that trinket from your finger?"

This time you hesitate in replying, something akin to a pout tugging at your lips. "Of course not. I had faith that you would come, and you did...," you trail off, then add begrudgingly, "And if you hadn't, then I could have escaped quite easily."

Another silence filled by the two big egos facing off against each other.

Gandalf's ego wins, unfortunately.

You relent and look away, catching the troubled gazes of Fili and Kili.

Did your actions really bother them that much?

"Well what do you suppose I should do? Let them harm you all?" You wouldn't let that happen.

That thought that lingers behind your words makes your eyebrows knit together in confusion once again, and your gaze wanders away once more.

Now that you think about it, why did you do it? I mean, why did you really do it?

You knew they weren't actually going to die just like that, he's too scared of the pale orc to do that, but you did it anyways. The possibility of harm befalling upon these dwarfs actually... affected you.

Gandalf pauses and observes you carefully, then realization sparkles in those infuriatingly wise eyes of his.

"Well, no matter. I did not mean to scold you, for you are a very capable person, so I thank you for doing your job well and diligently." He lets those words hang in the air for a time, then he moves on, "Now, we must discuss where we are and where we must go."

"I say-" Thorin begins, only to be cut off by howls and the sound of a gravely voice speaking in another language. "Out of the frying pan..." He sighs with a weary face.

"And into the fire! Run! Run!!" The gray wizard snaps.

You all begin your hasty retreat down the mountain, and at some point the sun begins to set.

The sky turns all sorts of vibrant shades of orange, blue, and red, and the light delicately kisses the peaks of each tree, mountain top, and surface. The air smells fresh, as it usually does following a hard rain, and the grass and leaves glisten healthy because of the drink offered to them by the sky. It's a magnificent sight to behold, but none of you are able to appreciate it, for the beauty of nature is being darkened and tainted by the evil intent and fear.

Those nasty wargs chase you all down like prey, maybe that's exactly what you are, meanwhile your feet take you as far away and as quickly as they can.

You jog behind the two youngest Durin's, being as Thorin takes the lead as per usual, and keep a slow enough pace to avoid taking over them (they're not the fastest group of dwarfs, after all). You can't have them becoming warg food when you still need them to get you into that mountain...

"Pick up your feet more when you run!" You command, glancing behind you briefly to gauge just how close those bastards are.

They heed your advice and end up running just a bit faster, something that relieves you somewhat.

The land begins to thin out and the ground you run on narrows, thus forcing all of you onto a cliff filled with trees and a precipice topped with a leaning tree.

“Up into the trees, all of you! Come on, climb! Bilbo, climb!” Gandalf demands, jumping up to grab one of the low hanging branches and pulling himself up.

You stay planted firmly in place and wait for everyone to find a spot in a tree and climb to safety, and while everyone else, even Bombur, finds somewhere to avoid the bloodthirsty wargs, Bilbo is still running for the tree line.

A frustrated curse passes through your gritted teeth, but you waste no time in rushing forward and yanking Bilbo away from the jaws of an awaiting warg. You foot shoots up and crashes into the side of its face, successfully knocking it off course since you nailed it in the eye which gives you two enough time to sort things out.

"Quickly!" You hiss, leaning crouching down with your hands clasped in front of you, "I can boost you up, but you mustn't waste anymore time!"

The little hobbit nods his head and steps his big right foot into your awaiting hands, and, once he's secured, you launch him up and into the awaiting low hanging branches.

"Y/N!" Fili screams from above you, panic lining his voice.

Your gaze snaps forward just in time to see sharp teeth and brown fur, but right before those razor teeth can sink into the soft flesh of your neck, a rock comes sailing through the sky and nails the nasty beast right in the nose.

It whimpers and jerks its head off to the side, but you don't waste anymore time in watching it freak out and instead roll around to the other side of the tree and jump up to grab a branch and pull yourself further up so they can't get your feet.

You reach up to grasp another branch, but someone catches your hand instead and easily hauls you into another layer of the tree.

"I've got you." It's Dwalin, and he doesn't let go of your hand right away until you're secure.

"Thank you." You dip your head after voicing your thanks then do a quick once-over to make sure everyone is safe in the trees, only, you don't get the chance to finish that before those wild dogs begin to rip at the roots holding the strong pines into place.

One by one do each of the trees begin to lean and fall, creating a domino affect that forces all of you to hang vicariously over the edge of the cliffside.

A quick glance down shows you the imminent death that awaits you below, and, for the first time since this chase began, you fear for your and everyone else's lives.

"Catch!" Kili yells to you, tossing a flaming pinecone your way.

Where did they get flaming pinecones?

Gandalf of course, you should've known even before you looked up.

You turn your attention ahead once more and pull your arm back, poised to throw the pinecone with all your might, only to stop mid-swing when something, or rather, someone, gets in your way.

Thorin Oakenshield stands on the trunk of the sinking tree with his weight distributed to maintain balance, and just ahead is Azog the Defiler, staring him down with an arrogant, sick smile.

Oh Jesus... this dwarf sure doesn't make your job easy.

You throw the pinecone since the flames began to lick at your gloved fingers and move to stand up, but the branch you sit upon cracks and creaks, groaning under the sudden movement.

Shit.

If he dies the dwarfs may give up on the entire journey altogether and decide to leave the mountain alone, and then where will that leave you?

You don't even want to think about it.

Another attempt is made to pull yourself up onto the thick trunk, but this time the entire branch cracks and breaks, falling out from beneath you as it hangs by the sparsely attached strings of ripped apart wood.

You just barely manage to throw yourself into the trunk and hang off the side, feet dangling in open air with nothing to leverage yourself with.

Panic blooms in your chest as you completely loose control over the situation, unable to even swing your legs up because of the way your arms can't completely wrap around the trunk.

"No!" Dwalin screams just above you, catching your attention briefly despite your panic.

You look over to the side and see that Thorin has lost his fight against the pale orc. He lays on the ground, unmoving and defeated as another one of Azog's companions raise its' weapon above its' head to kill the dwarf king.

"Damn it!" You hiss helplessly, pawing uselessly around the rough bark in search of any sort of leg up. "Thorin!"

This is it. They're going to kill him and all of you are going to fall to your deaths, soaring through the sky for a brief time before you become nothing more than bloody splatters on the ground below.

The sound of metal hitting metal and the clashing of weapons draws your ear as you begin to slip further down the circumference of the trunk, but you can't even turn to look because there's nothing left for you to do.

The rest of your body drags your arms from around the tree and, in a last ditch effort to avoid the drop, you grasp the broken, hanging branch.

It snaps of as soon as your weight yanks it down, and then... you're free falling.

Someone screams your name (is that Bofur?) but you don't do anything.

You don't writhe or scream; you don't flail your arms or cry; you just stare up at the horror stricken faces and your partners in falling (Dori and Ori) as numbness overtakes your whole body.

Yes, your stomach drops as the feeling of falling sickens you, but in your heart, in your soul, you feel nothing.

It's not like you've led a particularly good life or anything, but still, you don't want to die. Even if there is nothing for you, no one that cares, you still don't want to go; because once you're dead, the only thing anyone will remember you as is a ruthless monster, a puppet of The Brotherhood.

You don't want to die.

Maybe you should've rejected the job in the first place; maybe you should've made better designs in general; maybe you should've allowed yourself to let those foolish dwarfs and sweet hobbit close if to just feel a moment of belonging.

Little do you know, all of these thoughts will prove to complicate your mission further, because this is, in fact, not the end.

One moment you're falling to your death while having an existential crisis, and the next you're being snatched out of the sky by one of the Great Eagles.

#the company x reader #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit #reader insert #thorin oakenshield #fili #kili #killer good looks pt. 2 #assassin reader #angst #bilbo baggins #kili x reader #fili x reader #thorin x reader #bilbo x reader #bofur x reader #dwalin x reader

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moonshade7 · 3 years

Text

Little Nightmare HCs Go Brrrrrrrrrrrr

Spoilers? Yep.

VLN:

-Kids are kidnapped and taken to the Nest by an unknown monster.

-Six got kidnapped while in the forest

- The Pretender's dolls have tape on their neck with the name of the kid they represent.

-RCG loves makeup *hint hint*

-RCG ends up becoming the Pretender in order to save her skin. That's her place in the loop.

-The Butler is paralyzed like the Craftsman, explaining why he doesn't walk anywhere and floats instead.

-The Craftsman likes sculpting but clay is too fragile for dolls so he works with wood instead.

-The Craftsman makes Porcelain dolls for the Teacher

-Six looks up to RCG and sees her as a Sister.

-Up until RCG locks her out of the barn

-Then Six loses trust in her until RCG saves her from falling off a cliff

-RCG's "death" hurt Six so much that she vowed never to trust anyone else again

Fair warning this get's REALLY long

LN2:

-Six comes back from the Nest but gets trapped in the school for a few weeks. She resolves to violence to survive there. There Six learns to get her stomach of steel.

-When Six escapes and goes back to the Hunter's shack she sees that the Hunter (Her father most likely) is not the same.

-The Hunter chases after Six thinking she's just another kid. (Which is why he shoots her when she's running away in the comics)

-When Six sees Mono he just escaped from that place (orphanage? Different school)

-They feel a connection but aren't sure why.

-When the Hunter sees Six he realizes who she is and takes her back to the shack, giving Six her old music box.

-The Hunter takes care of her (even if he is corrupted by the signals) and feeds her.

-Six starts feeling safe until Mono breaks in to "save" her.

-Six not wanting to get hurt again tries to run from Mono and then the game continues.

-The Hunter only wants to keep Six safe with him hence why he shoots Mono.

-When they got stuck in the shack six doesn't want to use the shotgun but Mono insists that its the only way (and e's right but still)

-Six leaves the shed quickly trying to run from the sick feeling in her stomach.

-Six introduces herself to Mono for the first time on their way to the school.

-Before they enter the School they play in the playground

-Some of the bullies in the school are actually nice and just want to stay out of trouble but are often peer pressured into bullying their peers.

-While in disguise Mono actually befriends a few of them briefly.

-Mono tries to break up that one fight between the three bullies but nearly gets his "head" knocked off so he just leaves.

-Throughout the entire School level Mono is inwardly panicking and blaming himself for letting Six get caught.

-When Mono saves Six she finally breaks down. Mono hugs her and hums the tune of her music box to make her feel better.

-Six jokingly suggests they chop the Teacher's head off and is surprised when Mono agrees.

-They play in the rain for a while until Six gets too cold and starts getting sick.

-Six puts on the raincoat as a homage to RCG and because it's raining.

-Mono has spare paper bags (and his head is probably cardboard :/)

-In the Hospital Mono and Six play with the X-ray and Stuffed animals for a few hours.

-Mono lets Six keep her duck but Six leaves it behind.

-Mono breaks down after the mannequins and Six (having the social skills of an agoraphobic lobster) repeats what he did for her as best as she can

-After seeing how badly Mono reacted to the Mannequin hands she grabs one and tortures it as revenge.

-Mono: Pogchamp Six. Pogchamp

-Mono burns the doctor alive because in his eyes the Doctor forced these people to be horrific abominations. Also for petty revenge

-Mono and Six warm up by the fire and take a good long nap.

-Six gets scared every time Mono goes into the TV's because she's afraid he'll go in and never come out.

-When Mono released the Thin Man Six tried her best to try and bring her with him but he kept fighting her every time she touched him so she left him in tears.

-When the Thin Man is released, he is "freed" from his form of escapism and tries to kill Mono but takes Six because she looks familiar

-When Six realizes Mono has the better hiding spot she tries to run to him but trips and calls out his name desperately.

-Six has flashbacks of RCG abandoning her like Mono.

-When she screams when she gets caught, she's screaming Mono's name.

-Mono traverse's alone blaming himself and at one point nearly jumps off the roof.

-Mono huts himself repeatedly because of his cowardice. Leaving a bunche of bruises on his face.

-The Thin Man walks toward Mono in an attempt to seem non-threatening because he's gotten over his initial anger and is now trying to save Mono from the world

-When Mono breaks his ribs on the train Shadow Six appears and tries to encourage Mono and make him feel happy again

-In the fight between Mono and the Thin Man, the Thin Man speaks in a different frequency that Mono can't hear.

-Mono literally, twists and bends the Thin Man to death (as in he snaps every bone and breaks every vertebrae).

-Monster Six is blissfully unaware of what she turned into but remembers Mono.

-She acts like a shy puppy around him

-Mono cries and blames himself for what happened to Six.

-They stay there for a while as Mono figures out what to do to get Six out (She doesn't want to leave but he doesn't realize that)

-Mono breaks the Music Box out of desperation

-When they run away Six is processing everything that happened, feeling the same rage the thin Man felt.

-We were safe here. I was safe here and you ruined it. You ruined everything

-Six drops Mono on impulse and immediately regrets it.

-The Eyes act like caretakers for Mono, trying to distract him from remembering Six and raising him to be a gentleman.

-Mono's ideal escapism is one where he can't feel pain.

-But to avoid pain you must also avoid happiness.

-Now Mono doesn't feel anything at all.

-Mono turns into the Thin Man and when Mono releases the Thin Man all those emotions basically sucker punch him in the gut (So he's pissed off and depressed at the same time.)

-Six starts feeling hungry because of all those years stuck in the tower OR because her soul is out of her body

-Shadow Six glares at Six but realizes they both need to survive to come back and save Mono. Shadow Six gestures to the picture of the Maw...

LN:

-Since the Lady has everything she wants the Mirror Monster tortures her by showing her what a monster she is.

-The Lady speaks only Japanese and doesn't like loud noises (which is why she almost never leaves her residence)

-Roger cares for the kids and tries to take care of them the best he can but he's blind is kept in the dark of what happens in the Maw.

-The Twin chefs both have problems. One can't taste and one can't smell.

-If the Twin chefs were humans (or could leave) they would try and start a cooking show.

-The reason the Twin Chefs cook/kill Six is that they think she's a rat. (Can't see very well with those masks)

-The Bellman isn't seen in the game because he's loading the Guest's suitcases into their rooms.

-The Ferryman brings kids to the Maw because he wants to save them from the world outside.

-The Maw only starts using kids when they begin to run low on supplies. The Lady doesn't care though. She used to at one point...

-Six hugs the Nomes because they remind her of when Mono wore the Nome cap.

-Six starts forgetting more and more of her life, only remembering vague things.

-The kids around the fire are all eaten by leeches or caught by the Janitor

-Shadow Six is Six's soul/child spirit. She'll want to play with the Nomes and she resents Six for dropping Mono.

-When Six's hunger gets worse Shadow Six starts dissipating more and more.

-Six never learns that RK becomes a Nome and doesn't know they're human.

-Six stopped and listened to the Lady's humming for a moment because it sounded familiar.

-When Six eats the Lady Shadow Six is at her weakest state.

-Six kills the guests so that she can free the other kids. But realizes the Maw is the safest place for them.

-Six hires a blind Janitor without even looking at how he looks and the Bellman has to clean up the mess she left behind.

-Six starts forgetting more and more of her past. Until she wakes up one day and sees a child. She turns them into a Shadow kid to feed her hunger.

-Shadow Six is nowhere to be seen at this point.

-Six pisses off the Mirror Monster and he starts torturing her.

-Then Six starts putting on a mask that she felt looked...familiar.

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thgreatestblue · 3 years

Text

false god [part III]

➜ pairing: kokushibou x fem!reader ➜ warnings: smut, fluff, manga spoilers, angst, no happy ending. ➜ words: 7.8k ➜ a/n: the third and final part of this fic is finally here! it brings me a lot of joy to know that there are people out there that like my work even when my english isn't perfect. thank you to everyone who waited and supported this fic, i really appreciate it. this chapter is looong but i hope you enjoy it! ➜ ao3

➜ false god [part I] / false god [part II]

summary: Then, you look at him, really look at him. Past those six eyes, beyond the black, the red and yellow; for who he once was. Maybe in another life you would be graced with the luck to meet him again, under different circumstances, being able to love him for the person he truly was.

After so many years of living in the dark, the idea of enjoying the night as much as you enjoyed the day was still foreign. As the day shifted, you looked forward to watch the curtains of the stage closing for the sun, so the moon would have its chance to perform another beautiful night; stars twinkling and dancing between clouds, glowing in the dark — it was now an endless battle for your favoritism.

There was something about the moon; its form so intrinsic and majestic. You would watch from your window how bright and graceful the celestial body moved around the sky. How it would cast a dreamy gleam as the night went by. The quiet sounds of the animals; crickets and owls filling the silence with their everyday songs.

It was a beautiful phenomenon on this side of the world. Or at least, on this side of life you were finally experiencing. Counting stars to sleep, the gentle but cold breeze of the night, the fragile silence that seems untouchable even with the nocturne activity. It was peaceful, and that’s what you’ve wanted for so long that everyday was a day to enjoy life by itself.

Or maybe partially, because some nights the last thing you did was contemplating the moon in the sky. Instead, you would be contemplating another one; right on earth, at the touch of your fingers. At Kokushibou’s mercy, you would give him anything he wanted — and you were, oh, so willing to provide. Even though you had a job to do, now most of the time, you would find yourself making your way to his bedroom, only getting out of it hours later.

Kokushibou fucked like he fought. It was raw and rough, borderline animalistic — which you suspect was just his nature acting under his lust, he was a Demon after all. You didn’t mind though, you actually really liked how carnal and real the act felt. And mostly, how everytime after sex you would lay down, feeling good and satisfied. Soon enough you were craving for his touch, counting the hours, the days so you could taste him again.

After some time, you learned all his preferences, all his favorite spots. You liked to see the hunger on his face when you changed things in bed, trying something new; just the greed on his eyes was enough to get you aroused. You loved the way he devoured your mouth, how he imprinted his desire on your flesh; carving you with kisses and teeth.

Not only were your neck and shoulders marked; but you could find purple and blue spots on your back, down to your breasts, inside your thighs and even on your ass — He clearly was making it difficult for you to cover up everything. At some point you stopped trying to hide the marks he left on your skin.

The other servants probably knew about your activities with him anyway, so it wasn't a secret you needed to keep. And the way Kokushibou glanced at your exposed, and pretty much marked skin for the first time while you were working still gets you all worked up — He was, without a doubt, a possessive man.

Soon enough, you started to spend more time in his bedroom than anywhere else. And because you didn't know how to explain to the servants that you’ve been having sex with him for the past few months, you choose to not talk about it at all. Pretending that nothing was happening was easier than trying to explain something that didn't really have an explanation.

Or maybe it did. And it was quite simple. You liked to be fucked by Kokushibou, and he liked to fuck you. That was all.

When it came to having sex, it was something you could do without thinking; your body moved on its own, knowing exactly what to do and what it wanted. How to pleasure both of you, something that Kokushibou seemed to like — A contrast to the old days, because he wanted you to feel good, wanted to make you come screaming his name. Which was something you were very pleased about because you couldn't take one sided relationships anymore.

However, when it came to simple interactions; like talking about the day, about the weather, or even dancing with him — another thing Kokushibou seemed to take a liking other than having sex — You were a mess, never knowing what to do, where to look at. It would make you laugh at how much those basic things left you blushing more than having his cock down your throat.

The night was prettier by the lake; the water was almost still, saving from the small bubbles from the fishes that popped on the surface from time to time. It reflected the full moon on its surface, mirroring the beauty from the sky. The wind hits your exposed legs, and even though it isn't cold, you shiver slightly.

You were wearing only a kimono and your undergarments. It wasn't an ideal way to dress when going out of the house; but sooner or later you were going to be naked, so why make it difficult to undress? When Kokushibou invited you to come see the lake that day, it was more than obvious that he didn't want to only show you the place.

“May I ask you a bold question?” You shyly say, glancing at him from the corner of your eyes.

You pick one grape from the bunch you had brought and eat it to distract yourself from the nervousness on our stomach. Kokushibou didnt say it was a picnic, but you decided to make it one. The towel that you extend was soft under your skin, the food was inside a basquet and even though the man wasn't eating anything from it, you knew he would still have his meal before dawn.

“You may.” He’s sitting by your side, eyes lingering on your fingers. The warmth of the proximity was nice since you weren't wearing many clothes.

“How old are you really?” You ask hesitantly. You knew it wasn't your position to ask personal questions; yet, you couldn't help wanting to know more about the man, wanting to dwell on his deep waters; wanting to find treasures no one had the chance to see.

“Why do you want to know that?” Kokushibou blinks, eyes opening and closing in a perfect rhythm.

Although it was rude to stare, the movement would always catch your eyes, watching how even his blinks were perfectly synchronized. You once had the opportunity to watch him train, and you wanted to imprint every single minute of that day on your mind, forever carved on the brain. You had never seen someone moving so beautifully yet dangerous; how impeccable the katana cut through the air, every single muscle exposed as he shifted from a position to another — And heavens, the way he fucked you after that left you sore for the rest of the week.

“Because I'm curious?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to sound casual.

You were still working your nervousness around him when you two weren't having sex. It was a territory probably neither of you knew much about, Kokushibou taking too long to answer, and you hesitating to continue. You pick another grape, this time making sure to suck your finger in the process.

Kokushibou shifts his gaze to the lake. A beautiful swan floated around, alone in the big body of water. You watch the bird as well, the gleam from above making the white of his feathers shine under the moonlight. Silence fell between you two, but it wasn't uncomfortable. You wonder if Kokushibou was thinking about his past life, if he was trying to remember all those years he had lived.

“485 years.” He finally says.

You gag on the grape, coughing a little bit in the process. You had a suspicion that he was old, but 458 years? You look at the lonely swan again. Time must be a different concept for someone like Kokushibou, to watch seasons changing the landscape from a year to another, from snow to summer rains. People borning then dying. Heroes rising then sinking. Wars, Marriages. Life, Death. It was such a heavy number that you couldn't even fathom the idea of living for so long. Alone.

“Isn't lonely? Living for that long by yourself?” You genuinely wanted to know.

Kokushibou turns his head to look at you, bringing his hand to your face. He touches tenderly your cheek and you immediately incline your head, seeking the warmth of his skin. It was moments like this you allowed yourself to dream, just a taste of what it could be if this was another reality. You briefly close your eyes, kissing the palm of his hand.

“Sometimes it is,” His eyes hover over your face, then over your almost exposed breasts. The only thing keeping your kimono together was a sash around your waist; which was poorly tied. “Sometimes it is not.”

Truth be told, he had become bolder with his actions in the past few weeks, not restraining his touches for only the bedroom. You had a hard time trying not blushing furiously while he fucked you on the kitchen counter one night; the fear of being caught turning you on more than it should — or when he kissed your hand in front of the servants the other night after inviting you to dance.

That’s why when you got ready you thought it wouldn't hurt being bold as well. And by the way he was looking at your legs, the hem of your kimono sliding over your thighs, it was working quite well.

In a swift motion, he grabs your wrist, pulling you into his lap. You don’t fight against it, letting your legs straddle his thighs, gasping as your pussy rubs against his crotch, and you can feel he’s already hardening in his pants. You wrap your arms around his neck, throwing your head back to show off your neck — that it never has time to recover before having his mouth all over it again.

Kokushibou doesn't waste any more time; his hand is already tangled in your hair, yanking in sharp tugs while biting and sucking the tender but still bruised skin of your collar. The other hand is untying the knot of the sash in a quick motion. You arch against him, bucking your hips into the friction.

As soon as the kimono falls open, his mouth moves from your bruised neck down to your chest, leaving a trail of electricity at each kiss, lighting up all your body and forming a hot pool on your lower belly. He sucks one of your nipples and you roll your hips harder against him, moaning softly at his touch.

“I didn't know you liked to play with dolls, Kokushibou-dono.”

You literally jump on his lap as soon as your mind registers the voice, squealing as the embarrassment of being caught washes over you. Kokushibou is fast on his movements though, quickly grabbing the hem of the kimono to cover your breasts. You hold your arms in front of your body before taking a look at the owner of the voice.

“What are you doing here, Douma?” The cold and sharp tone of his voice is enough to cease all of the fire and lust that was still lingering on your body.

The man was standing a few steps away — at least he didn't have the audacity to come so close — His hair was so pale that it seemed silver under the moonlight; almost as long as Kokushibou too. His skin was also pretty pale. But what caught your attention was his eyes; An array of rainbow pastel tones coloring his iris; it is different from anything you’ve seen, and you'd find it pretty if it wasn't for one detail.

He was definitely a Demon. And you had to curse yourself for, more often than not, forgetting about the fact that you lived amongst them. It was so easy to forget about problems like that when all you did was house work and sex. When there was no one in sight and no real danger to remember you that the world was actually a cruel place.

You notice that Douma, as Kokushibou called, is looking at you. At this point you should’ve already been used to Demons studying you with their hunter eyes, but it’s impossible to get used when every glance was different, if Kokushibou glanced at you with desire, then Douma looked at you as his next prey, ready to rip your head off.

“Oh, I’m sorry for interrupting, it wasn't my intention!” He looks almost apologetic, but there’s something about the way he moves his features, as if it’s all mechanical; rehearsed.

“What do you want?” Kokushibou's voice cuts the night like a knife, it makes your shoulders tense. You had never heard him this angry before.

You quickly get off of him, tying up the sash of your kimono again. Your legs tremble over the stare you’re receiving. It’s cold and sadistic, the smile spreading on his face is creep, making you remember why you had to stay away from Demons in the first place.

“Hmm, I was feeling sad for losing three of our friends in such a short period of time.” He dramatically sighs, wiping away fake tears from his eyes, “I came here seeking your comfort but it seems like you have already found someone else.”

He glances at you again, and this time you can taste the danger and perverse intentions exhaling from him. You quiver slightly under his gaze, fear feeling your veins. In some way, it reminds you of Muzan; even though he never hid his intentions, somehow, having a Demon that did that on purpose was even scarier.

“If you look at her ever again I’ll cut your head off.” Kokushibou warns, getting up from the spot, his back muscles are tense, the hand around his katana is tight.

“Oh, Kokushibou-dono, you’re no fun! I was just teasing!” He laughs, putting a hand over his chest, “She’s indeed a fine piece of human, it would be a waste if something happened to her.”

It’s a lie. And both you and Kokushibou know it. However, the Demon doesn't look at you anymore, showing how important Kokushivou's position was amongst the Demons, his status turned him into a God, old and powerful. You honestly don't know if it should calm you, or make you even more alarmed.

“Y/N, wait for me in my bedroom.” He commands, walking towards the other Demon.

“Yes, Kokushibou-dono.” It’s the only thing you can say, turning around and almost running back to the house without looking back.

VI.

As the minutes ticked by, you could hear your own steps padding across the wooden floor, never stopping moving. You’ve tried to occupy your mind reading one of the books that were by the table, but the words didn't seem to make any sense, all blurry and twisted, the anxiety growing on your chest didn't make it easy either. You bite your nails again, feeling the fear creeping into your mind.

For how long have you been walking in circles?

The still lingering feeling of Douma’s predatory eyes spreads goosebumps all over your skin. He represents a different type of danger, if Muzan was violence and Kokushibou was dominance, the blonde was something as cold as ice, the type that burns your lungs when you try to breathe. His smile was just a facade; you wonder if people even believe in it — they definitely did.

However, you knew that the Demons didn't walk in groups, and they were mostly too narcissistic to even have friends. To have one coming in Kokushibou’s house was definitely a bad sign. Well, a bad sign for them. You had caught the servants whispering a few humors around the house but never paid any attention to them. Maybe you should’ve. Because now the idea of leaving this place, leaving Kokushibou, it didn't sit right in your mind — nor in your heart.

The sound of the door opening brings you to the present, immediately making you come to a stop. You hold your hands on your back, still feeling anxious about the situation — your gut telling you that something was definitely off. Holding your breath as Kokushibou steps in the room, you notice his eyes are a shade darker, jaw clenched tightly.

You anxiously wait for him to say something, however, Kokushibou doesn't even look at you. Instead, he makes his way to the table by the corner of the room, quickly pouring himself a glass of his favorite beverage. You press your lips together, feeling the tension that has spread through the room starting to suffocate you. Something was definitely wrong, but you suspect Kokushibou wasn’t going to tell you, so you don’t bother asking.

He swallows down the entire liquid in one single gulp, setting down the glass with so much force that it makes you jump by the violence of the act. Kokushibou was angry. Your mind, for the first time in months, turns on the sirens that had been long forgotten since you started being intimate with the man. They are loud in your head and you can’t ignore the way your body starts to shake slightly.

You hated the taste that it left in your mouth, hated the way your body stiffened when he moved to pour himself another drink. Hated to remember that no matter what, your life wasn't normal. It was moments like this that made you rethink everything that you’ve done up until this point — if you even had made the right decision. You take a glance from the corner of your eyes, Kokushibou is holding another empty glass staring at the wall, the muscles on his arms are tensed at a point of breaking the glass.

“I’ll leave you alone, Kokushibou-dono.” It comes out weak and hesitant, your body building up a tension that goes down to your nerves.

Kokushibou dosen’t say anything, doesn't look. And somehow you feel small, betrayed. Pressing your lips together, you close your eyes for a moment. It wasn't unusual that neither of you knew how to have a conversation, but this was just too much. You could sense the pressure of his hostility, taste the blood in your mouth. Whatever Douma told him it wasn't good news. You just hoped he wouldn't lash that angriness on you.

The thought makes you shiver, memories flooding your mind as the sound of the glass against the wooden table makes you jump again. This is bad, this is so bad. You thought you were safe; that those men and their angry fists and mean words were left behind — that they couldn't reach you here. Your heart beats faster in your chest, breathing starting to come out unseasy. You can’t go through that, not again. As anxiety starts to take over, you walk towards the door in quick steps.

“Stay.”

You stop by the door, hand holding the handle. Sweat runs down your forehead and you can’t bring yourself to look at the man. There’s a tiny chance that if you do, you will want to run, to put as much distance as you can between you and the predator Kokushibou actually is. You hesitate for a moment before letting go of the handle — even though you wanted to leave, he was still your lord, and you had to do whatever he asked.

In a blink of an eye he’s standing right behind you, hands resting on your waist. You stiffen even harder as you feel his hot breath on your neck. It was so easy to get lost in the moment, to look at his face and not find anything strange, to continue to live your life in peace when the outside world was dipped in chaos and cruelty; molded by the hands of the same man who touches you so intimately.

Your breath is caught on your throat when he kisses your nape, but the shuddering that takes over your body isn't good; it leaves you feeling cold and weird, caged by his hands and the door. There’s nothing you can do but try to fight those sensations from rising — the last thing you want is to make Kokushibou even angrier.

“Y/N,” Kokushibou calls your name, and you hate the way you flinch; the blatantly display of fear makes you even more tense.

Kokushibou holds your elbow, motioning for you to turn around. As you shift your body, your eyes fall to his chest, locked in the pattern of his kimono. Staring at him right now isn't a good idea, the reminder of your situation written all over his face. He studies you for a moment before speaking.

“I’m not angry with you,” He says gently, slowly raising his hand, “I don't think I could ever be angry with you.” His touch is tender, the back of his fingers caressing your cheek so gently you find yourself relaxing under his touch.

The coldness of the room melts away as the warmth of his words hits your heart. The sirens come to a stop, leaving your head in complete silence. You lift your eyes to stare at him, and even if Kokushibou was hard to read sometimes because of the amount of eyes instead of skin, the look on his face was definitely softer, and you could swear there was a hint of smile on his lips. Your heart throbs with the sight.

Kokushibou has never treated you like a whore. He wasn't like those men.

For your surprise, it’s you who move first. Wrapping your hands around his neck and bringing him closer. You brush your lips against his while inhaling his musk scent. Kokushibou pulls you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist and holds you in a tight grip; it’s almost suffocating the way his firm body presses on yours — almost as if he’s afraid that you’re going to leave. But you quickly discard the thought.

Kokushibou is never afraid… Right?

You lean closer, forehead tenderly touching in between the first row of his eyes. You get lost in the heat of the moment; the act is so intimate you have to close your eyes. His breath dances around your face while your fingers rub gently his jaw, easing the tension that had settled there a few minutes ago. He hums with the touch, and if you didn't know any better, you would say you effectively calmed him down. But you don't have that kind of effect on him, do you?

The kiss is chaste, almost innocent. It was a first time for you, kissing someone this way, wearing your emotions on your sleeve without even noticing. And you decide that it feels good, taking your time to savour each part of him without worrying about the next step.

And he lets you kiss him as much as you want, only tilting his head so you have better access to his mouth. You had never kissed Kokushibou so calmly before, without second intentions. It overflows you with feelings you didn't know that even existed, it was more than desire, more than lust. However, you push those thoughts for another time, now you were too focused on the flavour of his lips.

He holds you tight, hands traveling down your back, slightly squeezing your ass in the process, and you breathlessly moan in his mouth, “May we continue what we started?” Kokushibou asks, leaving small trails of kisses along your jaw.

And just like that, all the hesitation leaves your body. He was asking you, like the first time months ago. It’s a strange feeling, knowing that on some kind of level, he actually cared about you; about what you wanted. As you stop to think about, he never forced you to do anything you didn't want to. Sometimes you would hesitate, yes, but the final word was always yours.

You nod, letting him guide you to the futon. And maybe the reason why you trusted him so blindly was because he cared enough to listen. Something that no one has ever done before. Althought it was terrible that you could excuse murder for just a tiny bit of Kokushibou affetion, you couldn't help but feel good in his arms, stability in his words.

This time you decide to stay on top, straddling his thighs as soon as he sits on the futon. Kokushibou doesn't seem to mind, seeking your mouth instead of aiming for your neck. And you lose yourself in his taste, letting his tongue travel around your mouth, sliding against your own. You softly moan as he grinds against your pussy, his erection getting harder as you rock your hips forward.

Kokushibou quickly unties the knot of the sash, and you let the kimono fall on to the floor. The heat on your lower belly starts to boil, building you up deliciously slow. Then, his mouth is on your left breast, biting and sucking gingerly while you grind on his crotch, pussy pulsing already. Your fingers curl on his hair, tugging harder as he pinches the other one.

“Aah, Kokushibou,” You throw your head back, intense hunger taking over you, “I need you, now.”

Kokushibou growls with your request, devouring your mouth like a man who hasn't eaten for days, and you take his carnal need with delight, sobbing when he bites down your lower lip. Suddenly, the tender atmosphere shifts, red fills your vision as he thrusts his hips upwards, grinding on your pussy, and it doesn't take long for you to become a mess of moans.

His clothes are quickly discarded, and you immediately wrap your hand around his cock, feeling each vein and muscle as you start to stroke him. You liked the weight and the build, the way it twists in your hand when you turn your wrist just right — only you could do this to him, and somehow it fills you with pride.

You wanted to suck him off but right now you were taken by a need to have him inside you. It leaves you drunk with him; his scent clouds your head, and all you can do is feel every inch of his strong body against yours, rubbing on your hardened nipples. Sweat runs down your back and you’re so sensitive that even the brush of his finger on your clit makes you shudder, pulsing for something more.

You take the opportunity to kiss his neck while you run your hand down to his balls, he groans as you continue to stoke him, hands gripping your hips so tight it might leave marks; but you were already used to those — and strangely enough you want them more than ever. Positioning yourself above him, you hold one of his shoulders for balance while the other guides his cock to your entrance.

Kokushibou holds your hips as you go down on him, groaning while watching you take all his length in one swift motion. You roll your eyes when his cock hits the deepest part of you, filling you up the way you most liked it. He stops you from moving though, taking his time to enjoy the feeling of your walls clenching around him.

“You’re so good,” He praises, “So perfect for me.”

Tears prick at the corner of your eyes and you don’t know why you are so sensitive today. A realization sinks on your stomach as you watch him behind heavy lids, his mouth red and swollen from your kisses, his hair was a mess, the once perfect ponytail now was in a disarray; the sight makes something itch under your skin.

You reach for his face, involving his neck with one hand while the other tugs free the piece that holds his hair together. Kokushibou doesn't protest, doesn't move. Rather, he watches in amusement as you take a good look at him for the first time with his hair down. Your breath gets caught up on your throat.

He was the one who was perfect.

“You’re so beautiful, Kokushibou.” It leaves you speechless. It wasn’t fair how astonishing his beauty was, almost from another world.

You could stay like this forever, staring at him like he was a God — worshiping him as if it was your only salvation. His hair falls on his back, and somehow he looks way younger like that, it frames his face flawlessly; and you have to suppress the desire to run your fingers through his hair for the rest of the night.

Then, you look at him, really look at him. Past those six eyes, beyond the black, the red and yellow; for who he once was. Maybe in another life you would be graced with the luck to meet him again, under different circumstances, being able to love him for the person he truly was. Love. Your mind freezes as the word appears from the deepest part of you.

Kokushibou smiles softly, leaning closer to kiss you. And you take his mouth like a gift from up above. You run your tongue over his lips, his teeth, drinking him up like the most delicious wine you could ever taste. For now, you were more than satisfied with what you got.

You can feel his cock throbbing inside you, but instead of moving, you pull back from his mouth. Right now you just wanted to give everything you could, wanted him to feel everything you would never be able to say. You hold his face, lifting just a little to reach the first eye.

Softly, as if you were holding something fragile, you kiss his eyelid. And then the other, then the other. You make your way down his face, putting devotion on each touch, each kiss carrying a different type of emotion. It makes him sigh every time your lips meet his eyelids. It was still too soon to say anything, but if the words appeared in your mind, then maybe it wasn't impossible.

After all his six eyes received their deserved attention, you leave another chaste kiss on his mouth. But Kokushibou doesn't let you go far away, pulling you for an open mouth kiss that leaves you breathless. He devours your mouth with such a hunger you think you might come just from that. He’s desperate on his touch, savoring you as if you were going to disappear. You do your best to match his rhythm, trying to tell him that you weren't going anywhere, that your place was here, by his side.

His cock throbs inside you again, and you take that as a cue to finally start moving. It starts quite slowly, you move your hips lazily, riding him while breathing heavily through your nose, eyes rolling to the back of your head as each drag of his cock makes you see stars. Kokushibou holds your hips, guiding you to keep moving; he watches you so intensely it makes you blush furiously.

“You take me so exceptionally,” He bites down on your earlobe, “I could watch you ride me all day.”

You moan from his words, they were making you feel hotter than normal. Maybe you did like when he praised you, when he would let his guard down. It showed that he liked and trusted this arrangement as much as you did. Perhaps it wasn't impossible then, love.

Kokushibou kisses you deeply between muffled moans, picking up the pace. He wraps his arms tightly around your waist and thrusts harder, pounding his cock inside you with enough force that you feel yourself hanging on your sanity by a thin thread.

“Oh—nnh, Kokushibou!” You cry out, “Bite me, mark me.”

You don’t know where that need came from, however it spreads through your body as quickly as fire spreads through a forest. Realization hits you as he moans on your neck, you wanted to be owned by him so badly — and you would have laughed about how head over heels you were for this man if you were lucid enough.

Kokushibou bites down on your shoulder. It breaks your skin but it doesn't sting. Rather, it sends shivers down the impossibly heated pool on your lower belly. Then he bites down again, and again. You desperately moan louder each time — Kokushibou wanted you to be his too, and it sinks down into your bones, down to your core.

Your nails scratch viciously at his shoulder, slicing red marks into his skin. He sucks and lickes all the bites, and even though you can feel blood running down your back, you’re happy. Somehow you were his, and that’s all that matters.

“Come for me, Y/N.” Kokushibou whispers, hungrily kissing you.

Your whine on his mouth, and even though you didn't want the moment to end, you felt like you were going to explode if you didn't come. Feverishly, your pussy tightens around his cock, your mouth opens but no sounds come out of it.

Your orgams runs trought your body like a lighting, igniting every single nerve just to come crashing into you in a wave of relief. Kokushibou follows right after, growling in your ear. He thrusts deeper, coming inside you hot and heavy.

Kokushibou pulls you with him to lie on the futon, you whimper as he slowly pulls out of you with a wet sound; his come drips down your pussy. You try to catch your breath, the afterglow lingering in your body so deliciously you can’t bring yourself to move. He rubs your waist with his thumb while you nuzzle his neck with your nose, hands caressing his chest.

It feels different this time, the way his fingers brush your skin, how tender and fragil the air around you two feel. It fills you with joy, having him touching you like that, taking care of you after sex. As if you were something more. As if he liked you.

You kiss his neck, then his shoulder, spreading small pecks along his collarbone. Blame the afterglow, blame the bubbling feeling in your chest, blame whatever you want. Damn it, you were happy. Kokushibou hums, stroking your back affectionately; definitely content with your pampering.

Something crosses your mind, and before you can stop the words from coming out of your mouth, they are already out.

"What did Douma want?” You suddenly ask, feeling him tense under your body. Well, maybe you shouldn't have said anything, what a nice way to mess up a perfect moment.

“Go to sleep, Y/N.” Kokushibou dismisses, you feel guilty when he stops stroking your back.

“Is everything alright?” You try again, the need to have an affirmation that nothing was going to change takes over your soul.

“I told you to go to sleep.”

You fall silent, biting down your lips to prevent from saying anything else. You knew you shouldn't mingle in his business. However, you couldn't just ignore the fact that he was on the verge of snapping when he entered the room. The excruciating feeling creeping in your guts wouldn't let you sleep, you needed to know.

You hear Kokushibou sighing before speaking, “Muzan-sama is summoning me, I'll be back in a few days, that's all.”

You turn your head to look at him. His eyes are closed but there's a hint of uneasiness in his features. Muzan was a tough person to deal with it, you knew that very well. However, you couldn’t stop thinking that there was something more between the lines. You would’ve to talk with the servants if you wanted to know because the man clearly wasn't going to tell you.

In a gentle motion, you cup his jaw with one hand, only two of his eyes open with the gesture, watching you behind long lashes. Kokushibou’s hair is spread in the sheets, a pool of dark hair surring him like a dark aura; with hints of red on the tips. You ran your hand through his long and beautiful hair, it’s silk and smooth to the touch; just like you expected. He goes back to stroke your back, and you don’t fight the tiny smile from forming on your lips.

You look at him, but nothing comes out of your mouth. It's on the tip of your tongue, begging to be freed from its cage. It’s an overflowing feeling that fills your chest, padding each hole that life had once torn it open. It’s delicate, like your chest is filled with an intense light that shines through every pore.

Rather than speaking, you lean closer, capturing Kokushibou’s lips once again and diving in for a kiss. His lips feel soft on yours, still wet from the previous activity. He kisses you with vigor and you’ve to heavily breathe through your nose to not break the kiss. You wanted this to last as long as it could.

There’s no tongue, only your lips meeting his in a soft and very intimate act. It feels pure somehow, how your hand caresses his jaw as Kokushibou sucks slightly your bottom lips. And you decide that you should kiss him like this more often from now on.

You pull away, breathing heavily. If the smirk on his face was a signal that he understood what you wanted to say, then it was enough. Snuggling your nose on his neck, you close your eyes, getting lost on his scent as fatigue starts to take over your body.

”Good night, Kokushibou."

"Good night, Y/N."

VII.

You should’ve known something was wrong when Kokushibou kissed you in front of everyone before leaving. His hands cupped your face, kissing you so tenderly that you sighed as soon as he retread, missing his touch already. The gasps and shocked looks from the rest of the servants didn't bother you; what did bother you was the dread feeling eating you from inside out. You watched him go, disappearing in the distance until you couldn't see his silhouette anymore.

The moon shone bright in the night, the flowers swung with the wind. But the air was tense, carrying an intense trepidation that left you shivering on the spot. Your gut ached with apprehension.

You should’ve known something was wrong when that same night you weren't able to sleep, nor the other ones. Without his warmth, without his body, without him. You haven't realized until now how you had become dependent on the man. You also weren't eating, dark circles adorned your eyes, and even when the servants asked for you to at least drink some tea, you couldn't find the strength. Not even their voices you were able to register, caught in a dark void that inebriated all your senses.

Not one, nor two, but three weeks passed and there was no sign of him. You would sit in the front of the house every night, waiting for his return.

But Kokushibou never came back.

You knew something had gone wrong when you saw the banner of the Demon Slayer in the distance, moving so painfully slow that you could count your heartbeats in the fraction of time they took to make their way to the entrance of the house. Someone shouted, there was the sound of something crashing on the wooden floor, you sensed someone touching your shoulder, speaking enthusiastically, motioning to the group of people that were now crossing the yard with huge smiles on their faces.

Suddenly, it was winter.

Your body starts to shake violently, the air that enters your lungs is suffocating, like sharp knives stabbing your body repeatedly. You shook your head, holding your hands together in a prayer. Please, let my gut be wrong just this time. For all those weeks you never allowed yourself to think about a scenario like this; never allowed the dread feeling to take over your mind, the trepidation ran in your veins but you didn't let it poison you.

This couldn't be. No, it was impossible. Kokushibou wasn't… Although, deep down you already knew the answer. Denying it was what made you tolerate the way the moon and the sun change places in the sky; the cold nights, the tasteless food, the insufferably voices of the servants. It was what prevented you from collapsing completely — however, now there was nothing preventing you from finally stepping to the edge of the cliff.

Someone touches your hand, it takes a few minutes for you to process who it was. The old lady holds your hands in hers, her smile doesn't settle right in your stomach, it sickens you instead.

“You are free, honey. He will never use you like that anymore.” She says in a sweet tone but it’s too sugary, too much for your palate.

“What...” Your frown, feeling your skin crawl underneath her touch.

“It’s okay, Y/N. We all knew what he was doing to you…”

“No, you’re wrong,” You shout, face twisting in a scowl. You retreat your hands as if she had burned them, the implication of that phrase cutting deep to your bone, “I wanted him, I loved him!”

You can’t process what you just said, you can’t process that it took this long to say something so simple. The old lady looks at you with pity, as if she understands how you were feeling better than yourself, as if she knew you. She tries to hold your hand again, saying something you can’t comprehend, her touch is sickening, it feels wrong.

“Don’t touch me.” You warn, stepping back. Your heart is in your throat, it burns to speak, it burns to breathe.

The other servants stop their chatting to stare at you, some of them look disgusted; as if you had become a Demon too. There’s a nauseating silence but you can read each one of their thoughts, you don’t notice when your hands start to clench on your sides. You can’t stand it anymore. Panicking, you run to the only place you knew they wouldn't follow; his bedroom.

You’re trembling, knees almost giving in when you arrived at his door. No air enters your lungs; they are on the verge of collapsing. It hurts, it hurts more than any punch you’ve ever received, it hurts more than all the wrong decisions you had made in your entire life. It cruelly crushes your heart — tore it apart as if it was just made of paper — it wasn't strong enough to endure another change.

Impulsively, you find yourself opening the drawer where he kept his clothes, grabbing the beautiful piece of purple kimono he was always wearing. You run your hand through the fabric, the simple pattern brings a sense of melancholy; the taste of memories is so bitter on your tongue that you can’t keep standing. Your knees hit the ground in a loud and painful thud.

You bury your face in the fabric, screaming to the world, to the universe. Screaming until your voice was gone, until you couldn't hear anything but your own agonizing sound, lost in a sea of excruciating pain. You were drowning again, but this time there was no one to save you — misery corrodes your foundation, making all that you’ve built up until this moment come crashing down on you.

Life was never going to give you an option, was it?

His scent was still strong in the bedroom, on the kimono. You take a deep breath, trying to hold into something, anything. However, it does the completely opposite. It fills you with memories, shooting through your mind like bullets. They hit you countless times, each one more painful than the other. A broken sob escapes your lips.

You remember his touch, his voice, his body. But mostly, you remember the feeling of being with Kokushibou. It has always been peaceful, it has always felt good. In only a few months you were able to finally begin to be yourself, to finally dream. You remember his tiny smile, the way his hair swung when he walked, the way he touched you, the way he looked at you.

You loved him. You really loved him. And even if Kokushibou didn't feel the same, he still gave you everything you wanted, a house, a peaceful life you always fought for, and the most important thing; he gave you affection. He took care of you when you thought the entire world was against you. You were selfish for wanting him to live forever, for wanting a Demon to continue to live, you knew that, but your heart didn't; it screamed for him to come back.

Nothing lasts forever, so why did you think he was an exception?

It was an illusion that this could go on until you died. Another broken sob comes ripping your insides until it escapes your lips. It was all false. The tears come in large drops, dripping down into his kimono as you continue to scream. They crash and burn, making your body quiver with the intensity.

Kokushibou was gone. He wasn't coming back to sleep by your side, to take care of you. He wasn't coming back to run his finger through your hair, to kiss you when you needed it. He wasn't coming back to touch you and love you.

For days the sky felt dull, as if an eclipse had settled in front of the moon and the sun, leaving you in an eternal twilight; the long nights and the colorless days. It aches your soul, the deep cuts were torn open, and now were bleeding nonstop, and you feel like dying from those injuries.

When the night comes, you’re still crying. Everything feels false, your hands, his scent, reality. You can feel your body, can’t feel your face. You try to walk over the window by the corridor, trying to find some form of comfort, anything to put the pain to a stop. But it breaks your heart all the same.

Tonight, there was no moon to gleam over the darkness of the night.

#kokushibou #kokushibou x reader #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #sometimes i write #i can't believe i actually finished a multi chapter fic #i guess there's a first time for everything #i'm proud of myself #for once ndklsnd

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cdyssey · 3 years

Text

Exit Strategies

Summary: Before they break Alexei out of a maximum security prison, Yelena convinces Natasha that they should rest, that they need to.

A/N: I finally got the chance to see Black Widow today and ugly sobbed through almost half of it. Natasha and Yelena deserved so much more—oh, my GOD, it's not fair.

AO3 Link

—

It’s only when the gas needle edges precariously below a gallon that Natasha frowns, the stark cut on her lower lip curving like a bow just begging to snap.

“We need gas,” she breaks the long silence between them. Yelena glances over at her sister’s profile, sharp and distinct even in the semi-darkness, slightly tinted blue by the BMW’s luminescent dashboard. Her angular jaw. The ribbon-like strands of red hair plastered to the side of her face. The bruises beginning to feather the column of her neck from their recent fight.

And the purple shadows beneath her visible eye.

The lines.

“No shit, Sherlock,” Yelena quips because it’s easier than being sincere, easier than dealing with all of the effed-up history between them. They used to snuggle in the same bed, wrists crossing wrists. Mere hours ago, they came close to strangling each other to death with curtains.

“We also need to rest. Can’t go taking down a multinational child soldier complex on zero hours of sleep, y’know.”

“Mmm,” comes a noncommittal reply, short, patronizing. “You sleep. I’ll drive.”

Yelena simply stares at the older woman, searching, incredulous, and frankly, a little miffed. Has she always been this much of a martyr? She interrogates her own memories—the ones from her childhood are the clearest she has—and surprisingly concludes that, yes, she’s always been this way.

Natasha would get into fights on the playground when older kids tried to bully Yelena.

And she was good with her fists.

She would always win.

“Don’t be stupid, Natalya. You’re not superhuman. Let’s pull off at an exit and get a motel room.”

“We don’t have time for that. My contact’ll be at the rendezvous spot at twelve tomorrow.”

“A few hours tops,” she promises, wheedling, glancing at the car’s central display. It’s 2:07. There’s plenty enough time for them to get some sleep and make it back to Norway, especially with how fast Natasha drives. They’ve never been under eighty-five the entire time they’ve been on the freeway. “C’mon. I stink. You stink. We both need showers and a vodka shot.”

“I don’t stink,” Natasha wrinkles her nose disdainfully. But even as she says it, she lets off the pedal and eases into the right lane. The speedometer slowly sinks from over a hundred to ninety… eighty… seventy…

“You do,” Yelena snickers, mischievous, triumphant, a little kid again teasing her older sister about a hopscotch victory. She arches a smug brow. “You smell like shit.”

“Asshole.”

“Bitch.”

But she watches, with fascination, as the corner of Natasha’s mouth twitches, the cut on her lip quivering too.

—

They get gas at a twenty-four hour station and buy a few necessities inside—some snacks, a bottle of cheap vodka, gauze, painkillers, a pack of Skittles for Yelena.

It’s been a long time since she’s had Skittles.

They’d once been her favorite candy.

Natasha had always preferred chocolate bars.

And behind their mother’s back, their papa would indulge them.

Hush, my little kittens. He would raise a conspiratorial index finger to his mouth. Don’t tell Mama now.

“Jesus hell,” the clearly sleep-deprived cashier says, taking in their haggard, bloodstained appearances.

“We just got back from fight club,” Yelena supplies cheerfully.

“Do you got change for fifty euros?” Natasha asks.

—

At 2:40, they finally pull into a motel, a dingy, little dump far away from the main part of the city. The stolen BMW looks out of place against the worn-down building, all sleek and shiny and new. This is the kind of establishment that most people settle for, not actively choose—unless, of course, said people are two Russian killers trying to evade detection from a militant Taskmaster.

Yelena and Natasha are silent as they creep into the motel room that had been designated theirs by the scruffy faced twenty-year old working the night shift at the front desk, handguns drawn as they flick on lights and canvas the room as they had both been trained to do.

Two queen sized beds.

A boxy TV that looks like it could have been at home in the nineties.

A musty smell in the air.

A spluttering air conditioner in the window.

A framed painting on the wall of something that looks vaguely phallic.

“Clear in the bedroom,” Yelena calls after she checks under each bed.

No monsters under there.

“Bathroom’s clear too.” Natasha walks out of the side door, replacing her Glock in her thigh holster. “If the front door gets blocked, our exit strategy’s the window in the bathroom. Leads out into some woods. We can climb a tree and pick threats off from a decent vantage point.”

Again, Yelena stares at the woman in front of her, trying to reconcile her bruised and scratched face with the kid from twenty-odd years ago, the one who used to make shadow puppets on the wall for her to laugh at, who’d comb her wet hair at night when Mama was working.

There’s so little light in her eyes left, the particulars of her voice perfectly calculated to be distant.

Yelena wants to pull her hair out, wants to stomp around a little, wants to throw a tantrum and scream.

They lived together for three years.

They were sisters.

And Natasha… Natasha is distant.

“Do you always have an exit strategy?” Yelena blurts out a little stupidly. Of course she has an exit strategy. They’re trained fucking spies for God’s sake! Hell, Yelena even has a tentative exit strategy!

(She's just gonna crash through the window and start shooting.)

But she is and really isn’t asking about exit strategies.

Even as her lips formed the words, she knew this. Even as the words fell from her tongue, she felt their insufficiency and knew the depths of her own vulnerability.

Is that all you can look me in the eye and talk about, Natalya?

Exit strategies?

This is our first night together in twenty-one years, and you can stand here and tell me that the trees are the best place for blowing people’s brains out?

Natasha shrugs a single shoulder before limping over to the side table, where they’d placed their singular grocery bag.

“Go take a shower, and make sure you get all the dirt outta your wound.”

Yelena’s eyes flick downwards at her bandaged arm and then back to her sister again.

“You’re such a mom,” she repeats herself numbly as Nat draws the vodka bottle out of the bag, untwisting it with a deft motion and taking a long, practiced drag.

“Shower,” she exhales once she’s done, swiping the back of her hand across her mouth. “We’re leaving in six hours.”

—

Yelena takes a quick shower, ten minutes to the dot, and feels a little like a human again, even though the water was only lukewarm at best, and she has to put on her sweaty clothes from the day before. At least her hair and face are clean, the grime beneath her nails all scraped off, her wound cleansed of dirt. After she towels her hair off, she doesn’t put her jacket and tactical vest on just yet, remaining stripped down to just her undershirt and pants.

She’s slept with her gear equipped before.

On most nights, really.

Tonight, though, just for a few hours, she doesn’t want to.

(She knows she doesn’t have to—her older sister is here.)

As she hangs her damp towel on the nearby rack, she notices that the window behind the dinky toilet has been cracked open about an inch, propped up by one of motel’s washcloths.

A handgun has been strategically placed on the back of the toilet.

A Glock-22.

An exit strategy.

When Yelena enters the main bedroom again, she sees that Natasha is sitting on the bed closest to the window—(the most vulnerable position, she briefly thinks to herself)—shirt off, tenderly probing a nasty-looking laceration just below her ribs.

The dried blood blooms across her stomach like a flower.

Crimson.

Replete with thorns.

“Damn,” she breathes, and Nat quickly looks up, eyes wide, brow furrowed.

“It’s not deep,” she says immediately. “Just long.”

“It’ll scar,” Yelena shakes her head.

Wounds like that always scar.

“I’m no stranger to scars.” A proffered grin—slight, elusive, wry. And no sooner than she says it, Yelena spots the long, telltale surgical incision where the hysterectomy had been performed, and to the left of her belly button, there’s a scar that had once clearly been a bullet’s entry point. “I collect them everywhere I go.”

It’s an innocuous enough statement, but the contents of it jog her memory.

She's reminded of what that their mama said long ago in a military camp somewhere in Cuba.

Pain only makes you stronger, remember?

Yelena has always drawn vague comfort from the words—usually when she’s nursing her own sundry wounds, doing her best to recover from them.

But tonight, looking at Natasha’s body—which surely mirrors her own—she can’t help but think that those words might’ve been bullshit said by a poor, dying woman.

Sometimes, pain can only hurt.

“Your turn to shower,” she says, jerking her thumb emphatically at the bathroom door.

A half-smile.

Her lips are dry and cracked.

“Make sure you get the dirt outta that wound.”

“Asshole,” Natasha chuckles, the sound low and hoarse, and maybe even a little painful because she winces at the end, her bloodied fingers involuntarily drawing themselves up her ribs.

“сука,” Yelena returns, throwing herself unceremoniously onto her bed, hiding her own laughter in a pillow.

Bitch.

—

When Natasha returns some thirty minutes later, she’s already twisted her damp hair into a messy plait, and she’s fully clothed, dressed like an armed gunman is going to burst through the curtained window at any moment.

Yelena had already flicked off the lamp and bunched the stiff blankets up to her nose in an attempt to get comfortable… but she hasn’t fallen asleep yet.

Waiting.

She watches, ever observant, as her sister lithely winds through the room without making so much as a sound, the graceful ballerina that the Red Room tortured her to be. She’s similarly silent as she slowly lowers herself onto the other bed, gingerly propping herself up against the headboard, angling her torso towards the door.

But this is apparently too sudden of a movement for her body to currently handle.

A hissing noise escapes past her clenched teeth.

“You should sleep,” Yelena croaks aloud, having seen enough, having heard more. “I’ll take the first shift.”

Her sister’s hawklike stare finds her in the darkness.

“What? No. Go to bed,” she snaps, obviously annoyed. “You were the one who wanted to stop for the night.”

“Yeah, because I looked over and saw that you looked like death warmed over!” She retorts haughtily. “However much you might pose otherwise, you’ve gotta have needs too.”

This quiets Natasha.

At the very least, it makes her look away.

She shifts (very incrementally) on her bed.

She plays a little with the end of her braid.

“An hour,” she says, so quietly that Yelena almost thinks she’s saying “an oar” for some bewildering reason.

“Чего?” What?

“An hour,” Natasha repeats emphatically. “Wake me up in an hour. It’s… all I need.”

“Okay.” Yelena sits up abruptly, eager to please, desperate to show that she still cares.

It’s a bit sickening, really—the woman practically abandoned her.

She got out and never looked back…

“I mean it.” Her sister doesn’t quite lay down, but she does slouch a little more comfortably against her pillows. “An hour.”

“Yah.”

—

Yelena isn’t a woman of her words, though.

She lets her sleep for two.

“Dammit, Yelena,” Natasha groans, pulling her fingers hard over her eyes. “You told me you'd wake me up."

“Don’t be so dramatic, Natalya,” she yawns, finally slumping her head against her pillow. "It didn't kill you to get a little more beauty rest."

"Asshole."

As the dark takes her away, she smiles.

Bit—

—

A soft hand on her shoulder, a gentle shake.

Yelena blearily opens her eyes to see Natasha standing over her, staring at her with that same inscrutable expression—complicated… and utterly unreadable. It gives her the impression of being pierced through all over, analyzed and deconstructed.

Even though she’s quite clothed, she feels naked.

Seen.

“We gotta get moving,” she says matter-of-factly. “There’s coffee on the nightstand. Once you wash your face, I’ll change your bandage again.”

And then, stepping away, she disappears from view. From the sounds she’s making, she’s clearly cleaning the room, thoroughly removing all traces of their less than six hour presence in this motel in the middle of practically nowhere. In mere minutes, it will be like they had never been here at all.

And so it goes for Red Room operatives.

So it went in Ohio.

When Yelena sits up to stretch, blankets that she hadn’t fallen asleep under cascade heavily to the floor.

She glances to her left.

Sees a bed that’s been all but stripped clean.

—

In the bathroom, the gray light of dawn leans against the partially opened window. Yelena sits on the side of the half-bath as Natasha makes quick and expert work of cleaning her wound and bandaging it up again, snipping the excess gauze off with her penknife.

“Looks better today,” she simply comments as she replaces the knife in her utility belt. “Might not scar if you’re lucky.”

Unspoken between them but nonetheless understood, neither of them have really been lucky.

They were orphans abandoned by their mothers.

They were children who were trained to kill.

And now they have so much blood on their hands.

Red dripping from their ledgers.

Scars on their bodies, so many wounds on their souls.

Yelena’s not even thirty yet.

(Her life has given her plenty of reasons to suspect that she might never be.)

“Pssh,” she snorts derisively as her sister finally yanks the washcloth out from the window.

It closes with a smart snap.

A decisive finality.

Yelena is just bending down to lace her boots up when Natasha suddenly speaks again, apropos of absolutely nothing.

She could have just left.

She shifts her weight from foot to foot.

Gripping the washcloth loosely in one hand, she stays.

“There was... this S.H.I.E.L.D. guy,” she says, her voice reluctant, full of clear misgivings, “who used t’complain all the time that I never had an extraction plan. No exit strategies either. I’d just go in… complete my mission… and it’d be up to my enemy’s aim if I made it out intact.”

Yelena looks up to see that her sister’s back is turned to her, her back stiff, the sharp ridges of her shoulder blades jutting visibly through the black fabric of her shirt.

Somehow, even in a bathroom barely big enough to admit the both of them, she seems strangely small.

Young even.

She curls her fingers around the nearby towel rack like a kid gripping the monkey bars.

“I used to think that maybe that was the best way to atone for everything I’d done,” she continues, her voice ever distant, so perfectly controlled. “To be so reckless with my life that if I died during a mission, someone might actually call it heroic.”

A laugh, short and humorless, entirely disaffected from the horrible words that the same voice just spoke.

Yelena wraps her arms loosely around her stomach.

And represses the primal urge to shudder.

But wish though she could, she can’t look away from Natasha Romanoff.

Mesmerized.

Horrified.

Concerned.

She should hate this woman.

For all of these many years, she has loved her unconditionally.

“But then I got with the Avengers, you know, and I was suddenly in the public eye, tasked to save people, to try and protect my team…”

A violent pause.

Natasha lets go of the towel rack rather abruptly but neatly folds the rag over the top of it.

“It’s different when you’re on a team,” she finally shrugs. “You start making exit strategies because it’s not just your life on the line anymore.”

“So that’s what we are, huh?” Yelena can’t stop herself from asking. Her voice drips its own sarcasm; it relishes in mockery; she hopes it’s enough to hide her hurt. “A team?”

They’d once been family.

Every night, Natasha told her that she loved her.

Every night, Yelena replied just the same.

And in all the years afterwards, there was always a small part of her that hadn't lost hope that her big sister was going to come back for her one day, that she was going to bring the Avengers and rescue her—rescue all the Widows—from Dreykov.

She got out.

Thousands of girls didn't.

“For now,” comes the quiet reply. “C’mon. Finish getting ready.”

Natasha doesn’t look behind her when she walks out.

Yelena is starting to think she never does.

#natasha romanoff #yelena belova #black widow #mcu #black widow spoilers #reginianwrites #f: mcu #I HAVE SO MANY GD EMOTIONS

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aww-writing-no · 3 years

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For @winterhawkbingo Round 3, Square G1: Eddie Brock

Ao3 Link

Changement de pieds:

They were halfway through the Act III of Spiderman and final act of the performance when Eddie came spinning offstage and grabbed Clint’s arm as he went past. Clint held up his hand for a high five, but Eddie just sagged against him, sucking in deep gulps of air.

“You okay there?” Clint whispered, giving him a concerned look. “You don’t look great.”

It was hard to tell under all the stage makeup, but Eddie was looking paler than usual. Clint pressed a hand to Eddie’s forehead, realizing how useless that was after the fact. Of course he would be hot and sweaty after the performance he just gave.

Eddie looked up at Clint, desperation in his eyes. “I’m so fucking dizzy,” he whispered.

Clint raised his eyebrows in concern. Dancers got desensitized to getting dizzy while spinning at a young age, so if it was enough for Eddie to be mentioning during a performance it must be really bad. He glanced across the stage where Bucky, as Spiderman, had called up his army of spiders. The chorus was doing a bunch of chasés across the stage and Clint looked around to see if he could spot a stage manager.

“Can you keep going?” Clint asked, making sure to keep his voice low.

Eddie closed his eyes and leaned over further. Clint could feel him start to shake as he clutched Clint’s arm for support.

“I have to, right?” Eddie said, putting more pressure on Clint’s arm.

Clint continued to look around for a stage manager. Eddie looked like he was either going to puke or pass out, and he didn’t think it would be a great idea for either of those things to happen onstage.

It was almost time for Clint to stumble across the stage in a comedic moment to join the rest of the chorus of spiders, but he still couldn’t see any of the stage managers. It looked like something was really wrong with Eddie and Clint panicked.

“Give me your costume,” he demanded, ripping off his wig and running his fingers through his hair to flatten it out the best he could. They were just going to have to have a blond Venom in the second half of the act tonight because Clint was barely going to have time to put on Eddie’s costume, much less his wig. He started rapidly unlacing his tutu as Eddie unzipped his unitard with shaking hands.

Venom was also going to be in pointe shoes, Clint realized as he yanked the unitard on over his tights. He had about eight more measures before Eddie was supposed to be onstage, and he was just praying he remembered all the choreography from when he was doing that extra practice with Bucky.

“What is going on here?!” a stage manager hissed, finally appearing in the wings. Clint didn’t have time to answer her before he leapt on stage, but he heard Eddie throwing up and figured that should be enough of an answer.

Bucky’s look of shock as Clint appeared on stage was more realistic than artistic. “The fuck?” he mouthed when he was facing upstage away from the audience.

Clint gave him a tiny shrug before going into a fouetté jeté.

He lunged at Bucky, and Bucky jumped back, bringing his arms up to mimic shooting webs at him. Clint danced back, weaving as he went.

They repeated this a couple of times before Clint backed into the waiting arms of two of the other dancers. They lifted him up, and he beat his legs in the air. They lowered him down enough for him to kick off the floor and toss his legs backwards over his head. Thank goodness Wade and Junjie were there to guide his jump, because he’d forgotten about the pointe shoes and almost lost his footing on the landing.

Clint flung his arms back and the two spiders released their grips. He raised his arms and stalked towards Bucky, getting ready for the big finale. Bucky continued to mime shooting webs at Clint, who grabbed Bucky’s right wrist on one beat, then his left wrist on the next. Bucky twisted his hands to grip Clint and swung himself between Clint’s outstretched legs. Clint pulled Bucky back through, using the momentum to lift him in the air. As he came down from the lift, Bucky wrapped his legs around Clint’s waist and they dropped hands so Bucky could do a backbend. Clint held his waist and guided Bucky into a handstand.

From there Bucky flipped upright, facing Clint and raised his arms, flicking his hands towards Clint. The chorus surged to surround Clint, holding hands as they did a series of pas de chat in a tight circle around him. It wouldn’t have been so tight, Clint thought wryly, if he’d been in their number like he was supposed to.

As they formed a dome with their arms over their heads, Clint dropped to one knee. Their arms pulsed in time to the music, and Clint curled up on the ground, face pressed into his knees and arms wrapped around his legs. The music swelled and the circle of dancers opened to reveal Clint, who stayed curled in the fetal position. He hugged himself tightly as two of the spiders dragged him off stage before running back for their victory dance. It would be uneven without him, and he briefly considered putting his tutu back on to join them for a very late entrance before he looked up to see a pair of angry stage managers standing over him.

“What was that?” one of them whisper-shouted, shaking Clint’s abandoned wig in one hand.

“Eddie looked like he was dying and I couldn’t find either of you,” Clint explained as he got to his feet. “Is he okay?”

“He’s on his way to the hospital,” the other stage manager grudgingly admitted.

“That was still incredibly stupid and dangerous!” the first one continued to whisper-shout and shake his wig.

“Uh huh,” Clint said, raising an eyebrow. “Can I get my wig back?” he asked, holding out his hand so the stage manager would stop abusing his poor wig.

He handed it back to Clint, asking, “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah, but I’m not seeing what other options I had,” Clint explained. “It was either switch places with Eddie or go on with the chorus and have Eddie try to push through and throw up or collapse on stage. I think I picked the better option.”

“You’re not even the Venom understudy!” he said, glaring at Clint. “You or Bucky could have been seriously hurt!”

“The Venom understudy is Marcello, who was already onstage,” Clint protested. “Neither of you was here to tell me what to do, so again, I’m not seeing what other options I had.”

The stage manager was prevented from answering by the flood of chorus members streaming off stage. They were greeted by a bevy of quiet “what the fuck”, “what happened”, and “where’s Eddie”.

Before anyone could answer them, the chorus was running back onstage for their bows. Clint watched them go before turning back to the stage managers with a raised eyebrow.

The calmer of the two rolled her eyes and said, “go ahead,” with a deep sigh.

Clint shoved his bedraggled wig back on his head, and ran out for Venom’s bow after the audience slowed their clapping for Steve’s Mary Jane. The crowd roared as he came out, taking a deep bow before stepping back to hold hands with Junjie on his right.

Bucky waited a few beats after the applause died down before slowly walking out to take his bows. After he stepped back to join the rest of the company, he gestured down to the orchestra pit, up to the crew, and then took hands with Steve and Clint to lead the bows as a company.

The second after the curtain dropped, Clint found himself surrounded by Trocks demanding to know where Eddie was (Steve), why he’d taken over as Venom (Marcello), and was he trying to give him a heart attack on stage (Bucky).

Clint threw up his hands in a futile effort to stop the torrent of questions. “I don’t know what happened with him, he’s on his way to the hospital, and I didn’t know what else to do,” he blurted out.

“The hospital?”

“Is he hurt?”

“What happened?”

“Did you shank him?”

“Which hospital?”

“Are you sure you didn’t shank him?”

Clint put his head in his hands as the questions continued. “I don’t know guys,” he told them again. “I saw him for like two minutes and he said he was dizzy and looked like he was gonna pass out or puke, so I made him give me his costume so we could finish the show. I definitely didn’t shank him, what the hell Wade?”

The buzz of questions continued as the company trooped down to the dressing room. Most of them had just finished changing out of their costumes and washing off their makeup when the artistic director stepped into the room. The room slowly went silent as they all turned to look at her.

“As I’m sure you all know by now, Eddie had to be taken to the hospital after being unable to finish his performance as Venom tonight. He wanted everyone to know he’s going to be fine, but is being admitted for an emergency appendectomy. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it if you all keep him in your thoughts during his recovery.”

The room burst out in a heated chatter at her announcement, but Clint whipped out his phone instead of joining in.

“Dude, did your appendix burst onstage???” he texted Eddie.

The text notification popped up a few minutes later.

“No but it was close/ Thx for going on/ Everyone ok?”

“NP, we’re fine, but HOLY SHIT MAN/ glad you’re gonna be okay”

Bucky walked over and peered over Clint’s shoulder. “Is that Eddie?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Clint said, tipping his head back to knock gently into Bucky’s.

“What the fuck?” Bucky exclaimed. It took Clint a second to realize he was reading the latest text from Eddie, not commenting about the head bump.

“Yea, after emergency surgery and a bunch of antiparasitics to kill off the tapeworm that was blocking my appendix” he’d written.

Clint squawked before texting, “THE TAPEWORM!??!?!?!” and a bunch of scream emojis.

Eddie replied with four sweat-smile emojis before writing, “guess I ate some undercooked meat” with a shrug emoji. “guess that’s why I was feeling shitty and losing weight too”.

“Oh my god,” Bucky groaned, beating his head against Clint’s shoulder.

Clint turned to face Bucky, who was looking absolutely miserable. “Hey, what’s with that face?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you’re having tapeworm appendicitis too.”

Bucky shook his head. “No, it’s just… he was my partner for how long and I didn’t see this? Was I that self-absorbed that I didn’t notice my dance partner’s declining health? The whole reason I kept doing all those extra practices with you was because Eddie kept saying he was too tired for the extra practices.”

Clint laid his hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “Hey, we’re professional dancers. We hide everything under a thick layer of pancake makeup and a smile, you know that. Besides, if we hadn’t done all those practices together I probably would have dropped you on your head tonight.”

Bucky gave him a wry smile. “Yeah, I guess that’s true. You probably wouldn’t have dropped me on my head, though.”

“Well, not by accident at least,” Clint joked, sticking his tongue out. “Hey, you wanna come with me to buy Eddie a get well basket and fill it with gummy worms?”

#winterhawkbingor3 #ballet AU

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spideymarvelws · 3 years

Text

Repost cause of stupid tags😔

Taking fucking like rabbits to a whole different level lmfaoo

I really hope i did this justice

Main Masterlist

Warnings : SMUT! (dom!peter, sub!peter, face slapping, choking, oral [fem rec], innocence kink?, master kink [at the end tho and its like only mentioned once], excessive use of the word bunny)

Word Count : 1.5k

My Little Bunny

Dom!Peter Parker x Reader