#and then it was really hot so i was uncomfortable until my alarm went off. then i had planned to go to this little breakfast place

[ghostiexe]

Teacher!Wilbur x Teacher!Reader Part 2

hello friends & merry christmas to those who celebrate! my gift is chapter two of this haha. i might start doing a taglist, so please let me know if you want added!! cw: lots of awkward conversation (not uncomfortable topics wilbur is just shy), wilbur spills boiling hot coffee on his hand, i think that's it!

words: 3,831

also, welcome tommy to the stage everybody :)

part one here

On Monday, you find yourself waking up to the realization that your alarm never went off. A panicked sound slips past your lips, and you practically throw yourself out of bed. 

Okay, yes, a bit dramatic. However, you really don’t want to have to rush to get ready. You ended up having to go home before you were able to finish decorating your room, so you had been hoping to get to the school as early as possible and get it done. 

You start to root through all your clothes, still mildly panicked. You finally find something suitable to wear, shoving it on and glancing yourself up and down in your full length mirror on your closet door. You sigh softly and nod at yourself, a weak attempt to hype yourself up. Then you drag yourself to the bathroom and start to brush your teeth, staring at yourself blankly in the mirror before you lean down, spit out the toothpaste, and hurry to finish the rest of your routine. 

On your way out the front door several minutes later, you adjust your shoulder bag and sigh as you check the time on your phone. You don’t live too far away from the school, only a couple blocks, so you opt to walk. You don’t have a car, anyway– it had broken months ago, and you didn’t have the energy or money to get it looked at. 

So, walking it is. 

It only takes you about five minutes to get to the school, and when you arrive, you rush through the building to your room, shivering slightly from the walk. The school was mostly barren outside of a couple kids who were waiting outside and a few teachers you passed, though you didn’t know them. As you finally make it to your room, you reach for the door until you notice the sound of arguing a couple doors down. 

You probably shouldnt pry, but your curiosity gets the better of you and you slip down to the door, peeking inside to discover Wilbur bickering with some tall blonde kid with curly hair and bright blue eyes. Wilbur is standing with his back turned to the door, trying to hang up a map, while the (presumably) teen boy sits on his dark oak desk and chastises Wilbur on his “horrible placement skills”. You clear your throat and they both turn their attention to you.

The blonde kid just stares at you, but Wilbur smiles. “Oh, hello!” He greets you. You nod, eyes slightly furrowed as you take in his outfit. It’s quite old looking, but it goes perfectly well with his large glasses. 

“You look like you came straight out of the ‘90s.” You say instead of greeting him back, leaning on his doorframe. His face goes a bit pink and the blonde kid laughs loudly. 

“That’s what I told him!” He says gleefully, like he’s just won an argument. Maybe he has. 

Wilbur groans. “Tommy, go find your classes or something.” He grumbles, and you feel a flicker of confusion at the way the two of them interact. “Uh, and who is this, again, Wilbur?” You ask, pushing yourself upright instead of leaning and wandering further into his room. It’s a bit dark, the overhead lights are turned off. Instead, the room is lit by several lamps. You quite like it. 

“Oh.” Wilbur says, gesturing to the blonde kid. “This is my brother, Tommy. He’s 17, I’m technically his legal guardian.” He says, and you nod, not pressing for further information. Tommy chimes in. “I’m actually a very strong man.” He informs you. 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” You say with a laugh, starting to take in the rest of Wilbur’s classroom. “It looks nice in here, you’ve done a nice job.” You say, looking over at him. A playful grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Soot.” You add. Wilbur smiles bashfully. 

“Thank you. Tommy hates it.” He says, running a hand through his brown curls. You laugh. 

“Well, I don’t. It’s very cozy.” You say. Tommy groans. “Ugh, who cares about cozy? It needs some spice. Some danger.” Tommy insists, hopping off of Wilbur’s desk and sauntering towards the door. He salutes lazily to the two of you. “Anyway, have fun talking about boring teacher stuff, I’m going to go see if they have breakfast yet.” He says, then promptly walks away, sneakers squeaking as he goes. You and WIlbur both wince at the noise. 

“He does it just to annoy me.” Wilbur informs you as the two of you both stare at where he just walked away. Wilbur’s gaze flickers over to you, and you nod. 

“Little brothers.” You say, looking over and meeting his gaze. Wilbur cracks a small smile. 

“Little brothers.” He agrees. 

– 

Four short (or painfully long, you can’t decide) hours later, it’s finally lunch break, and you immediately slump down onto your desk, groaning as you rest your head against it. Your kids were pretty good, and it was pretty relaxed since it was only the first day, but you’ve already got an itch on which kids will be causing trouble. 

Tommy had ended up in your second period, and to your pleasant surprise, he was actually very enthusiastic about the topics you discussed teaching that year when you went through the class modules and he had very smugly told you to watch out for when he came back for your creative writing class later today. 

You actually quite like Tommy, and his friends. He told you he’s friends with everybody, but you can tell by the way that most kids avoid him that he was just saying that. He does have these two kids that he was talking to, though, a short brown-haired boy and a really (ridiculously) tall boy with a mask. You don’t remember most of the names of the kids in your class, which– yeah, you should probably work on that– but Tommy’s group seemed mostly pleasant, if a bit chaotic. 

Back to the present, you lift your head off of your desk and sigh as you reach for your tupperware with your lunch in it, dragging yourself to the teacher’s lounge to heat up your leftovers from dinner last night. When you get there, you see Wilbur hovering awkwardly by the microwave, posture a bit hunched as a small group of random teachers talk on the other side of the room. 

You walk up to Wilbur and almost tap on his shoulder, but you refrain. You don’t know much about him, after all, he might not be okay with casual touch. Instead, you stand next to him. 

“Hey.” You greet him, and he startles slightly, then his body languish shifts into something softer and less tense when he sees you. He offers you a stilted smile. 

“Oh, hello.” He says, reaching to open the microwave when it beeps. “How has your first day been so far?” He asks, pulling his food out and pushing his glasses up with his opposite hand. You hum as you think of how to word your answer. 

“Good, but exhausting.” You say after a moment, and he laughs softly, looking down at his food. 

“That’s fair. At least you’ve got the upperclassman, yeah?” He asks, stepping away from the microwave and gesturing for you to go ahead. You pop your food in and start it, then turn back to him, clearing your throat. 

“You’re right. Uh, how’s your day going?” You ask, and he cringes. 

“Uhh, I think okay? The kids certainly haven’t forgotten that I’m the boring teacher, though. Um, hopefully I’ll be able to get them interested, though.” He says, tapping his fingers against his food container. Your eyes drift down to them and you notice how calloused they are, but don’t mention it. 

“I’ll manifest it for you.” You say, smiling a little bit, and he laughs a bit breathlessly. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” He says, shaking his head and shuffling awkwardly. 

The microwave beeps and you pull your food out, looking up at Wilbur, who’s staring down at his shoes. 

“...Do you want to eat with me?” You ask, breaking the awkward silence. “Okay.” He agrees, looking back at you, then glancing around the teacher’s lounge. “Um, we can eat in my room.” He decides, then his gaze flickers back to you. “If that’s okay.” 

You nod, cracking a smile. “That sounds nice. Thank you.” You tell him, holding your food close to your chest. He smiles back, this time a little less awkwardly, and nods. 

“Okay, then. Um, it should be pretty quiet there. The only kid that really drops by is one of my brother’s friends, but I don’t know if he’ll be doing that a bunch this year.” He explains, and the two of you start the walk to his classroom, holding your respective tupperware containers. 

“Oh? The tall one with the mask, or the really short one? Or are there some other secret friends hiding around the school somewhere?” You ask, since it’s wholly possible that Tommy has more than just two friends. 

“Ah, the tall one.” Wilbur tells you, unlocking his door and holding it open for you. “Thank you.” You say, stepping inside and then letting him usher you over to his desk. He pulls over a comfy looking chair for you and gestures for you to sit, pulling over his own spinny chair to face you. 

The two of you sit, and you tap your fingers awkwardly on the lid of your container. He looks at you, then down to your hands, then he clears his throat and starts to tap his blunt nails against his desk. 

“Well.” He says, like he has something to say, but he doesn’t add anything after that, looking up to stare at you blankly. 

You blink slowly. “Well…” You agree, sitting back in the chair and crossing your legs. 

Wilbur takes the lid off his food and starts to poke at it with a black plastic fork. You set your food down in your lap. 

“The Front Bottoms.” You say, trying to break the silence. He looks up at you, looking mildly bewildered, then huffs out a breathless laugh. 

“What?” He asks, a bit of the tension melting away. You laugh too. 

“Sorry. I just meant… Um, you like The Front Bottoms. What else do you listen to?” You ask, and he smiles shyly, looking down at his food. 

“Oh, well, I like a little bit of everything.” He says, sounding a bit bashful. 

“Come on, lay it on me.” You say, waving your hand as if to brush off his shyness. “Okay…” He says slowly, clearly trying to think. “Well… My favorite band is called Los Campesinos!, they’re a seven piece Welsh band.” He explains, pushing his glasses up with one finger. You think it’s adorable. “But I also like Crywank, Arctic Monkeys, um… The Strokes, american poetry club, Modern Baseball…” He cuts himself off. “Sorry, I’m talking a lot.” He apologizes. 

“No, no, it’s okay! I asked, after all.” You reassure him, reaching over to pat his hand before pulling away and starting to poke at your food with your fork. “I know a couple of those bands, we have similar music tastes.” You say, lifting your fork and covering your mouth with your hand as you chew. 

He smiles at that. “Oh, yay!” He says, clapping his hands lightly. You swallow and smile. “What music do you listen to?” He asks, looking genuinely intrigued. You think for a moment, genuinely drawing a blank. 

“Oh, well, um…” You say, furrowing your eyebrows. He takes a bite of his food. “I- Uh, sorry, I’m not good on the spot.” You apologize, and he shakes his head. 

“No, it’s okay. We can talk about music another time.” He says, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right.” You agree, setting your food down again in your lap. “By the way, what’s with the outfit?” You ask, immediately regretting the way you worded it when he frowns. “I love it! Seriously.” You add hurriedly, reaching over and patting his knee. “Just curious.” 

He shifts slightly when you pat his knee and he crosses his legs, scratching his jaw as he thinks. “Uh, well… I’m not sure, I just like how it looks.” He says, gesturing to his outfit. “It reminds me of my favorite teacher from when I was in middle school. He was quite old, honestly, but he’s sort of my inspiration for becoming a teacher.” Wilbur explains, a light blush on his face. The soft ‘awww’ slips past your lips before you can stop yourself. “That’s… actually really sweet.” You say, smiling at him gently. “I kinda just assumed you were into the vintage fashion scene.” You say with a soft giggle. 

“Well,” he says with a short laugh, “that’s also true. I mean, the glasses should make that obvious.” He says, gesturing to his face. 

“Well, it suits you!” You say, smiling. “Seriously, I think you look very handsome.” You tell him, taking another few bites of your food before closing the tupperware and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He smiles. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it, usually the students just make fun of me and call me old.” He says with a soft laugh. “Well, clearly they have no culture.” You joke, gaze wandering from him to the bookshelf in the corner of his room. “Oh, do you mind if I take a look?” You ask, pointing at it. 

“No, of course I don’t mind.” He says, putting his hands on his knees and standing up. You follow the action, walking with him to the back of the room. “This side is all textbooks,” he explains, gesturing to the right side, “but the other is all books I’ve brought from home for students to borrow.” He says. You nod and trace your finger over the spines of some of the books, glancing across them. 

“I should do that, too.” You say, tilting your head to the side to read some of the titles. He hums. 

“Yeah, you are the English teacher after all. Don’t want to get caught lacking.” He says, and you roll your eyes fondly. 

After a few moments of comfortable silence, he speaks again. “You look nice, too, by the way.” He says. 

You’re confused for a moment. “Huh?” His face goes a bit pink. “You said I look handsome. Um, you look great too. Your style suits you well.” He explains, and it’s suddenly your turn to blush. “Thank you.” You say bashfully, brushing a bit of hair out of your face. “Yeah, of course.” He tells you, reaching to pull a book out of the shelf, but suddenly the bell is ringing. You jump slightly and huff, placing a hand on your chest as your heart races. 

“Fuck, I need to get used to the bell.” You complain under your breath, standing up straight. “Thanks for letting me eat with you, Wilbur, I seriously appreciate it.” You tell him. He nods. “No problem. I wouldn’t mind making it a habit.” He says, smiling at you. “Let me walk you to your classroom.” He tells you.

“And I wouldn’t mind that either.” You agree. “It’s only a few doors down.” You remind him. A couple kids start filing into his class. 

“I know.” He says. “Please?” He gives you his best puppydog eyes and you roll your eyes. 

“Okay, fine.” You relent, and he beams. 

The two of you walk out of his room and he walks on the left side of you as you make your way down the hallway. Once you make it to your door, he opens it for you and you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Why, thank you, Mr. Soot.” You say, bowing clumsily at him. He giggles. 

“Yeah, yeah. See you later.” He says. 

“See you later.” You agree, nodding and stepping into your class. You sigh as you walk over to your desk, watching the student pile inside. 

Time for your first creative writing class of the semester. 

– 

By the end of the day, you’re absolutely exhausted, and you feel like a mess. You probably look the part, too, seeing as Tommy gives you a weird look when he walks past you later in the hallway on your way to the teacher’s lounge on your prep period. You’ve been in there for probably twenty minutes now, just holding a mug of herbal tea and staring blankly at the floor. The ceramic mug is hot under your hands, a pleasant burn on the pads of your fingers as you space out. 

All in all, not an awful first day, just… wow, you need to decompress. You’re so thankful that you didn’t assign anything for the first day, God knows you can’t grade right now. You’re mostly alone there until about fifteen minutes until school ends, when Wilbur happens to walk in, bee-lining toward the coffee machine. His sudden entrance makes you snap out of it, and you look up at him, walking as he sighs and waits for the coffee, having not yet noticed you. 

After a minute of watching him in silence, he finally turns, holding his mug of coffee in his hands. Apparently he was not at all expecting anyone else to be in here, because he jolts slightly and a bit of coffee splashes out and all over his hand. He hisses in pain and sets the mug down, and you stand up. 

“Oh, shit.” You say, setting down your own mug and walking over to him, lifting his hand and examining it. You drag him over to the sink and turn on the cold water, guiding his hand under it and holding it there, your own hand also under the water. 

“This is embarrassing.” He mumbles after a moment, then laughs softly. “It’s fine. I’ve spilt boiling water on myself too many times.” You say, trying to console him. He hums in acknowledgement and you blink when you realize that you don’t need to be holding his hand anymore, pulling it away and wiping it off on your shirt. “Uh, you can take your hand out when it feels a bit better.” You tell him, walking over to the small table and grabbing some napkins. After a moment, the water turns off and you turn to hand the napkins to him. He dries off his hand and looks down, crumpling the napkins and tossing them into the trash. “Kobe!” You whisper shout, a habit ingrained into you from hearing teen boys do the exact same thing for years. He giggles and shakes his head, and you gesture for him to show you his hand. He lifts it obediently for you and you examine it before humming thoughtfully to yourself. “It doesn’t look bad, it’s only a first degree burn.” You tell him, letting go of his hand. “I have some lotion, it’ll help.” You say, looking up into his eyes. He nods, smiling shyly. 

“It’s okay, you don’t need to.” He says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Are you sure? It’ll soothe the burn.” You insist. He relents after a moment. 

“Okay. Thank you, I appreciate it.” He tells you, letting you lead him back to your classroom. You hum as you unlock the door and beckon him inside, taking his hand again as you lift your lotion from your desk and take a little bit of it, spreading it gently across his hand. He hums softly as you do so, and after a moment, you let go of his hand and spread the remaining lotion across your own hands. 

“Does that feel any better?” You ask him, and he just looks down at his hand before glancing at you again. “Um, yes, thank you.” He says, smiling shyly. “You’re too kind, really.” 

You both laugh softly and then you brush a bit of hair out of your face. “It’s no problem, Wilbur.” You assure him, smiling softly. “...we’re friends, right?” You ask, a little bit cautious now.

He seems surprised, but nods eagerly. “Yes! Yes, we’re friends.” He says, reaching a hand out to awkwardly pat your shoulder, but it is a bit comforting. You relax. “Okay, cool.” You say. “Cool.” He mimics. “Coooool.” You say, leaning forward slightly and smiling up at him. 

He giggles and tentatively pushes your face away. “No more cool.” He says, trying to sound firm, and you return his giggle. 

“Sorry.” You apologize, straightening up. “I’m glad that you’re my friend.” You say. “You’re pretty cool.” 

“I’m hardly cool.” He scoffs, but he’s smiling widely. “I’m glad you’re my friend, too.” He agrees. 

After you lock up your classroom and the two of you start going back to the teacher’s lounge to take care of both of your mugs. You both work in relative silence, only speaking again once both of you have finished. 

“I hope you don’t mind…” Wilbur says, breaking the silence and glancing over at you. “But is it okay if I could get your phone number or something? Just so we don’t have to only talk at lunch and during our prep periods.” He explains, running a hand through his messy curls. 

You ignore the way you have instant butterflies in your stomach, nodding. “Yeah! Yeah, of course, here, let me get my information pulled up.” You agree, pulling out your phone and smiling giddily to yourself before handing your phone to him. 

“Thank you.” He says, looking a bit flustered as he puts your contact in his phone, then hands your phone back. “Text me so I can save your number, too.” You instruct him, looking down at your phone expectantly. After a moment, a text comes in that simply says ‘hi :)’. 

You smile and send back an enthusiastic ‘hi!!!’ before saving his number as “Mr Soot >:)” 

He giggles when he gets your text, shutting his phone off and putting it in his pocket. The bell rings, and you both look at the door. 

“Well…” WIlbur says. “I look forward to talking to you.” He says, awkwardly extending his arm for a fist bump. You smack your fist against his and then unfurl your fingers as you 

pull your arm away, making an attempt at an exploding sound as you do so. 

“Text me whenever you want.” You tell him with a soft smile as you look up into his eyes. He nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets, smiling back at you. 

“Okay, I will. Thank you again.” He says. “You seem very nice, I’m glad that our rooms are so close.” He says, face tinged a bit pink. 

“I’m glad, too.” You say. 

You definitely don’t spend the rest of your evening at home waiting (im)patiently for him to text you, and you definitely don’t kick your feet and shove your face in a pillow when he finally does.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you #wilbur soot fanfic

[kiiwiigii]

Human

Jane x Fem!Reader

Summary: It was only supposed to be a tour of the castle, what harm could it do?

Warnings:

None?

Word Count: 900+

Requested?: Yes! Enjoy nonny!

litterly anything about jane im begging you my girl is so underated

A/N: It took me a hot minute to figure this one out. Special thanks to @alecvolturi for all your help!!

I had been studying in Italy when the invitation arrived. A beautiful creamy white envelope, with an intricate V embossed on the back, and my name scrolled in looping calligraphy on the front. It was a curious thing. I was in university for the study of history and symbols, and I had never come across this one before.

No, that wasn't entirely true. It took me a moment to remember.

I had seen it printed in a book once, a book on vampires to be exact. But the book had disappeared when I went back to the university archives to find it. And when I asked the receptionist, she said that the book was going to be auctioned the next month.

I had scoured the various auction sites that I knew of, and it never popped up. I had assumed that it had been sold at a private auction. It was sad, but ultimately I moved on, only coming back to it every now and again out of curiosity. I was never able to find anything.

But there it was on the back of this letter, extending an invitation for a private tour of the castle of Volterra. I had dived into research after that. There was barely anything known about the castle itself, it was off-limits to tourists unless invited. What were its connections to the V symbol, and why had I been invited?

My curiosity had gotten the best of me, and here I was, smushed in-between at least 20 or so tourists. Seeing the size of the group I didn't feel particularly special anymore. If anything I felt wary. You would think that the amount of people with me would make me feel better. But my mind kept going back to the book, the one that connected the symbol with vampires. And that's all I could think about.

"Right this way."

The woman's voice was melodic and it made me shiver. She was unearthly beautiful, to the point where it set me on edge.

What was her name again? Heidi?

The uncomfortable feeling only continued to grow and grow until my skin was stuck somewhere between numbness and prickling. Why had I ever agreed to this?

'Because you're a curious little shit.'

The woman strode forward, arms extending to push the double doors open wide. They swung open to reveal a stunning round room, black and white marble with tiled floors. I didn't have much time to really take it in before noticing something interesting. There was a drain. Directly in the center of the room.

My eyebrows furrowed. Was that normal in architecture from the period it was built? I couldn't remember.

"Welcome!" A man's voice rang out as he clapped his hands together happily. "Welcome to Volterra! We hoped you enjoyed your brief tour!"

What? There hadn't even been a tour at all. That's when I took in the other people who had already been in the room as we arrived. They were all stunningly beautiful. So beautiful that it hurt to look, but drew you in at the same time. I looked in between them and the drain in the floor, the blood draining from my face.

Vampires.

"Time for dinner." Heidi grinned.

Chaos erupted. Screaming and blood everywhere. So much blood. I could taste the metallic tang in the air, mixed with my tears. I was sure I would die of a heart attack any minute, which would be way more preferable to what awaited me. I crouched down in an attempt to curl up inside myself, but that was futile. It wasn't long before I felt a hand around my neck, pulling me up and over until I was on the ground, looking up at my attacker's face.

Warmth bloomed in my chest.

She was gorgeous. More gorgeous than the Heidi woman who had lured us in. Normally I would have considered red eyes to be alarming, but hers were like deep garnets, and had you asked me what my favorite color was at the moment, I would have said crimson. Her blonde hair was swept back into a neat chignon, and her black clothes accentuated the paleness of her skin. Her lips were full and pink, stained with just the tiniest bit of blood.

Well, if this was they way I was gonna go, I was okay with that.

But she just hovered there, eyes wide in disbelief and mouth slightly agape.

"Well? Are you going to kill me?" I whispered.

She shook her head in a daze, before slowly leaning in and placing her lips to mine. I gasped and deepened the kiss, my hands grabbing her arms as she wove her hands into my hair. She then pulled back a moment, taking in my face before licking away my tears and returning to my mouth.

I couldn't help but let out a small, confused moan.

That seemed to shake the girl from her daze. She suddenly disappeared, only to reappear on the other side of the room, looking angry and hissing at me. I sat up, completely disheveled and panting, doing my best to process what the hell was going on. And also, what the hell was wrong with me?

I realized then that the room was silent. There was no one else left alive. And now all the other vampires were looking at me, shocked.

"It seems as though Jane has finally found her mate."

It was an older-looking vampire who spoke, his tone bored.

'What??'

There was another hiss from the girl, Jane. My mate. And then she was gone, a door slamming from somewhere in the room.

"Don't worry." It was a dark haired boy who stood off to the side, a smirk tugging at his lips. "My sister will be fine. She just hates humans."

'Well, that's just great for me isn't it?'

That was my last fucked up thought before I passed out.

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#jane volturi x reader #jane volturi #volturi #reader insert #twilight #fanfic #ask and you shall recieve

[myreygn]

All's well that ends well

summary: Bachira is on a pranking rampage and Chigiri is collateral damage. That wouldn't be such a big deal if the day couldn't have gotten any worse already, but luckily Kunigami is there to get everything back on track.

an: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @giggly-squiggily AGAIN HERE IS YOUR BELATED BIRTHDAY GIFT! i'm hitting myself hard for not getting this out sooner but it's here now and i hope you like it! stay wonderful and next year i'll try the whole being on time things again <3

wordcount: 1969

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Practice was going great. At least Kunigami kept telling himself that over and over again, although believing it got harder with every missed pass, every flunked goal shot and every frustrated groan behind his back. They were all kinda off today and if it had just been that, he wouldn’t have minded as much. Of course having a bad day was annoying, especially when it seemed to be contagious to everyone else as well, but bad days were normal and they could easily be fixed by a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.

However, it wasn’t just a bad day. In fact, Bachira was having a great day. Apparently their dribbler had had a clown for breakfast and it showed; so far he had swapped Igarashi’s clothes with Iemon’s, put toothpaste under the door knob for Naruhaya to grab into, changed Gagamaru’s alarm to a death metal version of Baby Shark, and tied Raichi’s shoelaces together, twice. He was on a roll and while everyone was certainly on their toes, Bachira had yet to go on their very last nerve. Emphasis on yet.

A startled yelp caught his attention and Kunigami didn’t even bother watching as the ball flew past the goal, turning around instead. Chigiri held a bottle in his hand, the front of his shirt and his chin drenched in water. Looking a little closer, Kunigami saw that the lid had been unscrewed. Their resident team princess was apparently the newest victim of Bachira’s prank spree and he was not having it. Oh yeah, practice was going amazing.

“What the hell, Bachira!”

“Sorry, sorry! I thought this was Isagi’s!” In Bachira���s defense, he did seem shocked. Kunigami didn’t doubt for a second that he was telling the truth; Chigiri’s day had started off badly enough with his hair do loosening every ten minutes and after he had literally tripped over his own feet during warm up, face planting into the field at full speed, the team had unanimously decided to just leave him alone for the time being. And Bachira would never purposefully make a bad day worse, they all knew that. Unfortunately, Chigiri seemed to have forgotten about that in his annoyance.

“Amazing, thanks, that’ll definitely dry my clothes.”

“I know it won’t, I just-”

“You just wanted to test my patience, I get it! Because my day went so great up until now!”

“Chichi, I didn’t mean to-”

“Yeah well, you did! And don’t call me that!” The redhead’s glare made Kunigami go weak in the knees and it wasn’t even directed at him. “If you stopped playing these stupid pranks, shit like this wouldn’t happen! You’re not funny, just cut the crap already!”

“Woah, hey!” Isagi took a step forward as if to shield Bachira. “Chigiri-”, but Chigiri had already grabbed his things and stormed off.

The silence in the hall dragged on for an uncomfortable five seconds before Gagamaru softly cleared his throat. “Let’s call it a day. Bachira, do you, uh…”

“It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but the dribbler turned away before any of them could comment on his quivering lip. “Sorry, I’ll just… I think I’m gonna lie down for a bit. Sorry, really.”

With that he was out the door and the rest of the team exchanged glances, then Isagi nodded slightly and quickly got up to go after Bachira. Iemon jumped upright as well, shooing his teammates away. “Alright, go and hit the showers, you reek!” The boys gathered their things and upon one last exchange of glances, Kunigami slipped out of the room to go and look for Chigiri.

—

He found the princess in the recording room, sitting in the corner that was the farthest away from the door, curled up with his head buried in his arms and just seeming overall miserable. On second glance, Kunigami noticed his shoulders shaking ever so slightly and he even caught a sniffle. Alright, approach with caution.

“Hey.” He quietly closed the door after himself, making the screens’ bluish shine the only source of light in the room, and carefully stepped closer. “Is this seat taken?”

Nothing, not even a huff of reluctant amusement and Kunigami felt himself deflate a little. Dumb jokes like this usually made Chigiri downright cackle, he had to be really upset if he wasn’t even gonna acknowledge it. Still, he also showed no signs of wanting to be left alone, so Kunigami sat down next to him, not touching him yet. “So… that was not excellent.”

No answer. The hero frantically tried to think of something to say that would get through to his friend when he caught a slight movement out of the corner of his eye. It was hard to make out in the dim light, but… “Are you in pain?”

A shivery breath was the only response he got, but he wasn’t just gonna drop this. Kunigami sat up straighter and put his hand on Chigiri’s which had tightened its grip on his bad knee. “Hey, Chigiri, look at me. If you’re in pain, you need to tell me.”

The most anxiety-inducing three seconds of his life later, the smaller boy finally lifted his head and relaxed his hand a little. “I’m not hurt.” Despite the tear stains on his face, Kunigami felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. Then Chigiri looked down again. “I was just scared I would be.”

Kunigami felt his heart clench a little at the quietness of his voice, but at least he was talking to him now. “What do you mean?”

“I was scared it’d start to hurt after I fell.” The redhead wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and Kunigami couldn’t help but feel a little good at Chigiri letting his guard down around him like that. “My knee is fine, I just… the entire time I kept thinking ‘What if it isn’t?’ and I got really anxious and I guess I kinda…”

Chigiri let the sentence trail off to silence and Kunigami nodded slightly. “You were tense and the thing with the water bottle was just the last drop.” That got him a quiet huff - still well below the average reaction, but he wasn’t gonna complain. A win was a win, however small. Next step. “That wasn’t okay, you realize that, right? I mean, I get it, but Bachira didn’t target you on purpose. And I think what you said really took a toll on him.”

Chigiri’s expression morphed into some kind of mortified guilt and Kunigami quickly put an arm around him, pulling him a little closer in the process. God, he was tense. “Isagi went after him, don’t worry. You obviously feel awful about this, I didn’t mean to make it worse, sorry. Just go apologize, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

The redhead nodded, drying the last remaining tears. “I wanted to do that anyway… I wanted to take back everything as soon as I left, but then I had to cry and I went here to calm down, but then it just got worse being all alone, and… thank you for coming, really.”

Kunigami smiled, softly caressing his teammate’s back. “Anytime, princess.”

“Shut up.” Chigiri flashed him a weak smile and sat up straight, stretching his arms. “Guess I should go apologize.”

“Oh no, not yet.”

“Huh? Why d- ehehehehey!”

Kunigami’s smile turned into a smirk at the way Chigiri immediately curled into himself as soon as he felt the fingers on his ribs, pressing his arms to his side and trying in vain to get away, but the taller boy just wrapped his free arm around him and pulled him back, not stopping the soft tickling of his ribs for even a moment. “You wanted to calm down first, didn’t you? You’re still as stiff as a poker, I can’t let you face Bachira like that.”

“Whahahahat dohohoes thahahahat hahahave toho dohoho wihihith tihihicklihihing mehehehe- aehehehe heheheherohoho!”

“Yes, princess?” He wormed his fingers under Chigiri’s arm and almost let out a giggle himself at the squeal that got him. He was careful not to be too rough however; he wanted Chigiri to relax, not perish. “Something the matter?”

“Yohohohou’re ahahaha jeheheherk, thahahahat’s the mahahahatter!”

“Tsk.” Kunigami gripped him a bit tighter and softly grazed a single finger over his knee, causing Chigiri to shriek and kick out. “I come here to cheer you up and this is the thanks I get? Such disrespect?”

“Kuhuhuhunihi, nahahaht thehehehe! Ihihihit tihihickles tohohoo muhuhuhuch!”

“That’s because you’re too ticklish, my lady.” Another soft scratch to the knee and Chigiri threw his head back, full on cackling now. “I’m barely touching you.”

“AEHEHE- heheherohoho, plehehehease!”

“Alright, alright.” Kunigami chuckled softly and released his teammate, softly wiping a laughing tear away with his thumb and caressing his back to help through the after-giggles. The tension had faded. Mission accomplished. “You good?”

“Yeheah… mahan, you suck.” Chigiri shook his head with a smile, then grabbed Kunigami’s extended hand to stand up with him. “Thanks again.”

“Of course. Now come on, let’s go. Make everything right again.”

—

Making everything right again was often a task easier said than done.

When they entered the room, Kunigami’s gaze immediately fell on Bachira’s futon. The dribbler said there with his legs crossed, slumped over and fiddling with his hands, not even looking up when the door opened. The ginger felt Chigiri tense next to him and he gently squeezed his hand, mouthing ‘You can do this’ at him when he was met with an anxious glance.

Chigiri took a deep breath and walked over to his friend slowly, then kneeled down in front of him on the floor. “Bachira? Can I talk to you?”

The dribbler looked up and expectantly examined the redhead, but he didn’t say a word. Kunigami felt himself grow slightly anxious now as well and he looked over to Isagi who was… smiling softly? Seeming relaxed? Curious. The ginger decided to just let things progress.

Chigiri didn’t catch the ease with which Isagi watched the scene. He was entirely focused on Bachira when he nervously grasped onto his shirt and began to speak. “I’m really sorry for what I said. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, I was just… I was feeling stressed and scared because of the fall and I shouldn’t have taken that out on you, especially when you didn’t do it on purpose, which, I- I know you didn’t, I shouldn’t have accused you of that, that was a shitty thing to do. Everything I did was shitty, I’m really really sorry. Can you forgive me?”

Bachira tilted his head and just sat there for a few seconds, then a smile began tugging at his lips. “You’re lovely, thank you.” He put a hand on Chigiri’s shoulder, squeezing softly. “I’m sorry for getting you caught in the crossfire, I might’ve gone a little overboard with all the pranks today. Forgive me too?”

“Of course!” 

Kunigami smiled softly when Bachira pulled Chigiri in for a hug and the redhead relaxed visibly. A look over to Isagi however showed him a mischievous little smirk on his lips and a realization dawned on him. This was still Bachira. Before he could warn Chigiri, the dribbler began speaking again.

“There’s one last thing though…”

Confusion showed itself on Chigiri’s face. “What thing?”

“Revenge.”

“What are you- wait, waitwaitwait, not agahahAHAHAHAIN-”

“Again? So Kunigami got his turn already?” Bachira grinned and grabbed Chigiri’s wrist, pulling it to the side for better access to his armpit. “Then it would be unfair to deny me mine, don’t you think, Chichi?”

Kunigami couldn’t help but chuckle to himself softly and he turned away to make himself comfortable on his futon. All’s well that ends well, he could let this go on for a little longer.

#rey writes #blue lock #bllk #tword fic #hurt/comfort #(if you squint) #ler!kunigami #lee!chigiri #ler!bachira #ticklish!chigiri #kunigami rensuke #chigiri hyoma #bachira meguru #slight kunigiri #rey's moots #squiggily 💙

[teejaysnow]

It’s 04:00, I’m on the nightbus back to Stockholm (where I will arrive at around 06:10) - and no, I don’t regret all of my life choices. Yet.

My plan for today was to get a hot chocolate at Kaffebrenneriet, do some shopping at Outland and Platekompaniet, and then head over to Dramatikkens hus to watch six scriptwriters from Den Norske Filmskolen “revive the art of theatre”.

Well, at least I got my chocolate - but the shopping spree at Outland was cut short because of a fire alarm, and I didn’t find anything I wanted at Platekompaniet. So the scriptwriters better be reviving the hell outta that theatre, thanks.

First off, I did find Dramatikkens hus after circling the place only once. (Without google maps, I’d probably still be looking for it - they don’t really advertise their existence, do they?) Also, it’s definitely not bigger on the inside - which was good since I’d forgotten to bring my glasses and is pretty much blind as a bat without them. Usually not a problem, my sonar system is pretty good - but for theatre performances I prefer to rely on my glasses, thanks.

So, we all got our hands stamped (well, when I say stamped…), a small program (well, when I say program…), and a lottery ticket - which I suspect was a scam (I mean, as someone with quite a few memories she’d like to forget, I had high hopes for that lottery prize) and were then set free to find a seat. I found a nice one by the wall and curled up to enjoy the show(s).

Anyway - from here on, there be spoilers:

The first play was the lottery one. As I said, I had high hopes for my I19 ticket, but… yeah, I’m pretty sure it was rigged… 😏

Anyway, it was a pretty interesting play. The lottery winner was adamant that she regretted nothing despite the host dragging up things like making her younger sister drink her own urine (thanks for that mental image). It wasn’t until the host talked about how she’d sexually abused someone that the winner started to get uncomfortable and denying it had ever happened. She would never. She wasn’t that kind of person. And anyway, he was a guy, guys wanted sex. Also, guys wanted her. Finally she accepted that she might have been guilty of abuse and asked to get her memory removed. After some further thought, she instead wanted the guy’s memory to be removed. And after even more thought she decided that they both should keep their memories, thus turning down the prize, because it would be weird no matter whose memory got removed.

There were no curtain calls between the sets (well, there was no curtain either, so 🤷🏻‍♀️), only some nifty stagehands moving and removing the few props each scene had. So for Bruduljen, they produced a table and two chairs.

I was looking forward to this one. I read and really liked Camilla’s photobook, which felt very stream of consciousness-y, so I was interested to see if she’d also use that style for script writing. (The answer was no, but I still liked the play a lot.) A teacher and the mother of a girl that had assaulted her were working on a report on what had happened. The mother was trying to soften the language - was it really an assault, wasn’t it more of an argument that got out of hand? Did she really punch you, wasn’t it more of a slap? Talking about how she has a picture of her five year old daughter with her face full of ice cream taped to the refrigerator, wondering what happened to that sweet girl who now colour her hair and have a… well, rather colourful language to match? The mother and the teacher got into a shouting match, then there was an actual fight where the teacher’s ptsd from the assault kicked in and she hid under the table, and then there was a sweet (and very funny) bit where the mother tried to coax the teacher out from under there. And then they went back to work on the report.

Stagehands in to exchange the table and chairs for a sofa with a… well, body, I guess? Enter my favourite play of the night.

The description of this one gave me a bit of Who’s Afraid of Virginia Wolf vibes beforehand. Afterwards? Yeah, I’m still sticking with old Virginia here. It’s really funny with some pretty loud arguments in between. As well as a whole cooked turkey thrown on the floor. Twice. I guess nothing says Christmas like a good family argument? Even if one third of the family is sitting dead on the sofa…

The play began with mum talking to her (very dead) hubby and offering him whisky. Which he - surprisingly enough - didn’t drink. She blamed it on it being cheap whisky - me, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have drank it even if it had been Talisker. Enter daughter, who complains about the smell. I wonder why 🤔 She also complains about rats. I wonder why 🤔 Exit mum to the kitchen to fetch the turkey - leading to my favourite joke of the night (that didn’t get a laugh - I wonder why?? 😠) where the daughter pours a glass of whisky, holds it out to her dad and with an absolutely perfect delivery says “Whisky?”. Anyway, enter the turkey, daughter throws it to the ground while yelling at her mother in english, picks it up, hands it to her mum, and apologises - only for her mother to throw it to the ground while yelling back, also in english. Then the doorbell goes off and her mum asks if the daughter had invited anyone. Which she had. People from the funeral parlour. Her mum still doesn’t want to let go of her dead husband, so the daughter agrees not to let them in and that they can all just sit and wait for death and then get buried together. Always look on the bright side of death, I guess.

Okay, so out with the sofa, in with… nothing? Except for two actors, that is. So this was basically my reason for going to Oslo. Well, this and Kaffebrenneriet’s hot chocolate.

Now, let’s start with the fact that the Bergen accent is not my friend, so… the struggle was real. I most definitely didn’t get all of the dialogue.

The play was about a seventeen year old drama student wanting to do a Chekhov play topless (but I’d say she definitely gave off more Shakespeare’s Ophelia vibes with the whole waif-y dancing and singing). Anyway, she baited the drama teacher about it and how she felt that Nina would definitely have her boobs out. The drama teacher didn’t fully agree, trying to argue that it was a school play and the sixteen year old boys watching would just see her boobs. The student argued that it would be Nina’s boobs they saw, not hers. (I think both me and the drama teacher doubted that the boys would make that distinction) The student kept provoking the teacher, calling him out about having liked to see her boobs. The teacher altered between confessing that he had and saying that he hadn’t and that he was being her teacher. It all finished with her dancing off the stage while humming an eerie melody, apparently off to drown herself in the river (as I said - Ophelia vibes) Between this and Kunsten er død, I have a feeling Tarjei is in his “exploring what art really is” era.

Anyway - no stagehands this time since we were getting another props free play.

This one was the age old story of boy leaving a party early because ex is there with her new beau, ex comes after him and calls him out on it, boy admits to it. Although a bit more complicated. (Don’t get me wrong, I did like this one.) So, boy and girl used to be a couple when they were younger. At seventeen, girl got pregnant. Girl then lost the baby, which led to the break up - apparently without the two of them really talking about it. Until now. Let’s just say there were some left over feelings still around and they kept skipping around the stage, getting closer and closer to each other. Until they got very close. And then her phone rang and it all crumbled into pieces. Boy is about to walk away, girl is waiting for her boyfriend to drive her home - and then we get a fifteen minute flash forward indicating that there will be an accident. Boy imagines asking (what we now know is future dead) girl to tell their unborn baby that he loves her. Sad now. (Also, all the actors were great, but I think these two were my favourites.)

And now the stagehands are back for the final play. Hooray! Enter a park bench and one actor - who is taking a magazine test on sexuality. S&M. Whips. Dogs. (I might have misheard that last one. At least I hope I did.). This is when actor number two arrives and starts going on about Will Smith and Chris Rock. (Both me and actor number one are of the opinion that it’s been years, just get over it.) Actor two talks about having sex with multiple people - which actor one quickly labels “poly” and - after a bit of explaining - actor two happily accepts. They continue to talk about the sexuality test and actor one goes full gossip girl and spills about how his girlfriend and a male friend got the same high score on the sadist category. They then do a bit of fuckboy sniggering until actor two shoves actor one hard enough for him to kick over his soda bottle. And that soda had cost him thirty crowns, thank you very much. So actor one tries to fight actor two over it. Very unsuccessfully. So actor one ends up lying on the ground moaning while actor two returns to the bench and starts up on the whole Will and Chris thing again. Actor one yells at him to stop (otherwise I’d have probably done it 😒), and actor two realises that actor one laying on the ground whimpering meant he’s masochistic - which is the perfect pairing for his sadist girlfriend. And then they all lived happily ever after.

The whole thing took about 90 minutes - which meant I had eons of time to catch my bus. I even had time to meditate a bit over the Opera House by night.

And now, here I am on a bus back to Stockholm, bum complaining about the uncomfortable seat, head complaining about the lack of sleep, stomach complaining about not enough food, and bladder complaining about having had too much to drink. And I’m still not regretting any of my life choices. Today’s been fun!

#tarjei #filmforfattere gjenoppliver teaterkunsten #that bergen accent is my villain origin story

[trashpoppaea]

Reflections in the Nile by Suzanne Frank, the worst book I've ever read

After entering an ancient chamber on an archaeological dig, Cloe Kingsley is sent back in time to the year 1452 B.C. to the Egyptian court of Hatshepsut and into the body of a corrupt priestess, where she is now forced to face her new environment and the challenges it holds. A first novel.

Dear Ms. Frank,

Back in 1997, you published Reflections in the Nile. That’s 23 years ago, and many things have changed since those days. However, in the romance world lately, there’s been a lot of re-evaluation of older books. In my opinion, this is perfectly valid, since even though many things have changed since the ‘90s, many things haven’t. We still struggle with racism, sexism and bigotry, and I believe it’s important to look at older works, evaluate or re-evaluate them, and see where we can improve. To quote a song from the Hairspray musical, we’ve come so far, but got so far to go.

So, with this in mind, I read Reflections in the Nile, a book I’ve always intended on reading. I wanted to like it. Unfortunately, and I’m really sad to report this, but I had a lot of issues with it.

You might ask, what issues did I have with it? Quite a few, as it turns out, since I discovered, there was much to unpack in this particular book. There’s the racism and the orientalism, the peculiar fanfiction-like aspects of it, and all the evangelical subtext. Like I said, there’s a lot to unpack.

Anyway, to make sense of it all, let me begin at the beginning.

Back in the ‘90s, I was a globe-trotting undergrad with an undying love for romance novels. No matter where I was in the world, I would find an internet connection and read the latest reviews at the Romance Reader. Meredith Moore was one of my favorite reviewers, and she wrote a glowing review of “Reflections in the Nile” that made me think I should read it too. After all, I loved time travel stories, romances, and ancient culture. Plus, I was a commercial artist, like the heroine in the book! What’s not to love?

Well. There was one thing in the review that alarmed me. This story set in ancient Egypt—according to Meredith— was all about Exodus. This was the last thing I wanted to see in a book with this setting, so I decided to give it a pass.

Anyway, I didn’t think about it for years, until I went into a used bookstore with some friends and I saw a used copy of Reflections on the shelf. While I reminisced about the Romance Reader, I picked up the copy and started thumbing through it.

And then I saw it. THE BIG SPOILER. My jaw dropped.

I couldn’t believe what I was reading. I told my friends in disbelief. I put it back, but I couldn’t forget what I had seen. I kept thinking about it, wondering why that was in the book, and could it possibly be justified in the context of the plot?

Finally, my friends asked me to read the book or shut up about it, so here’s my long-awaited review of the oddest book I’ve read for quite a while.

* * *

Reflections starts off with a first person POV chapter, introducing to us the heroine, one Chloe Kingsley, a red-haired, pasty-skinned Texan commercial artist with some military background, who’s currently visiting her Egyptologist sister Camille on vacation in Cairo. This is actually a banger of a chapter, in that it’s entertaining, fast-paced, and engrossing. There are a few uncomfortable bits here and there where Chloe thinks about how she’s only truly obsessed with her “roots,” aka her Southern heritage. This is especially uncomfortable given what happens next.

Anyway, the first person POV is not long for this world, as Chloe trespasses in the Luxor Temple and gets zapped back into ancient Egypt, to the time of Hatshepsut. And the book shifts to third person omniscient POV, which makes for a lot of distracting head-hopping.

But anyway, Chloe finds she’s not in her old red-haired pasty-skinned, Southern body: she’s in the body of a hot, curvy, brown lady named RaEmhetepet whose skin, we are informed, is like “café au lait.” However, this isn’t just any old body swap time travel romance. Chloe’s body has merged with RaEm, and she has brought her green eyes, her large feet, and last but not least, her hymen.

Yes, it seems that Chloe is a conservative baby-loving virgin with an ostensibly Protestant Christian background. On the other hand, RaEm, the ancient Egyptian POC priestess, is a promiscuous, ambitious woman who hates babies and loves S&M and hurting people. So… yeah. Let’s put a pin in that, shall we?

Anyway, Chloe is pretty unconcerned about RaEm’s fate. You’d think she’d think about her a little, given that she’s taken over her body like an alien parasite. At first I wondered if RaEm had gone, a la Get Out, into the Sunken Place, because sometimes RaEm’s psyche and personality intrudes into Chloe’s consciousness, and Chloe often refers to her as “the other.” But eventually we discover (on page 104 of the hardcover edition) that RaEm has actually gone forward to the future to swap places with Chloe. And we get this:

Her mind filled with hazy memories. She was watching herself with an Arab, their bodies laced together like ribbons, straining, seeking pleasure. Camille was in the doorway, shocked almost beyond recognition. The Arab man looked familiar as he covered himself. Chloe reclined naked and unashamed in the bed, her large brown eyes hostile and angry.

We only see RaEm one more time, and that’s to find out she died, and Chloe is stuck in the past. Let’s pour one out for RaEm: she got a raw deal. We hardly knew ye, RaEm.

Anyway, it turns out that RaEm is a super important priestess, and Chloe is sick from post time travel body swapping, so Hatshepsut sends her personal mage/doctor to tend to Chloe. And we are introduced to our hero, Cheftu! I assume he was named after the lead in the very good YA novel Mara, Daughter of the Nile (which I would rather have been reading).

At any rate, Cheftu is hot, bronzed, looks like Bernini’s David, and looks great in white kilts of linen. He’s also really nice and sensitive, which I think is why Meredith Moore of the Romance Reader liked this book so much, since the late ‘90s romance genre was filled with alpha assholes. I generally like beta heroes myself, but I had a lot of problems with Cheftu, which I will get to in a bit.

Anyway, Cheftu has a lot of bad feelings about RaEm, because she ditched him once. But—for some reason I couldn’t figure out—Chloe is mysteriously mute until page 119. I don’t know why. But there’s a lot of hanging out with Cheftu and Chloe crying after Cheftu is rude to her, along with a lot of ancient Egyptian medical remedies and descriptions of ancient décor. Chloe is not the most engaging heroine, because she doesn’t do anything. She just reacts. Not only that, but passive voice is rampant in this book.

But as dull as this is, it soon becomes infuriating, because the story segues into what is literally The Ten Commandments fanfic. We are introduced to Moses, and the plight of the Israelite slaves who are building all the monuments (which is not something that actually happened), and we launch into the whole plague storyline, superimposed on Hatshepsut’s reign. It becomes less like one of those lavish 1970s Egyptian-set romances written by Joyce Verrette, and it turns into something like an episode of that old Christian time travel Hanna-Barbera cartoon, The Greatest Adventure: Stories from the Bible.

Anyway, we get bloody water, frogs, locusts, darkness, and finally the death of the firstborn. And as they’re dealing with all the plagues, Chloe and Cheftu become closer and closer. Chloe figures out how to talk again (yes… I still don’t get it), and they actually have conversations. Cheftu falls in love with Chloe because she’s changed. She’s no longer like the old RaEm, who was “poison.” He finds New RaEm/Chloe “pure” and loves her “child-like wonder,” and finds her “beautiful and fragile.” Yuck.

And THEN they have sex, and when he breaks her hymen during sex, THAT is when he becomes convinced that she’s not the actual RaEm. That she’s a different person. A person he can love. How can she possibly still be a virgin after she miscarried another man’s child, a child she desperately wanted? (Yeah, that’s a whole plot thread here. I can’t even begin to get into it.)

But… it gets worse. And how does it get worse, you ask? Well, we get to the part which I discovered in the used bookstore. The part that blew my mind.

We get to the revelation of Cheftu’s true identity.

On page 204, Cheftu says to Chloe:

“You are so beautiful, both inside and out. RaEm had only physical beauty, though it took me almost to the marriage altar to find out.” His fingers traced her features, and Chloe looked at him, her eyes filled with tears. He caught a tear on his finger before it dropped and stroked the saline across her lips, his breathing becoming harsher. His gaze was intent yet calculating. He took another deep breath. “Also, because your eyes are different. They are so clean and fresh, like your soul. But they are also observant and appreciative … as green as the fields of ma belle France.” (page 204)

Yes. OH MY GOD. Cheftu isn’t Egyptian. He’s actually a cosplaying Frenchman from the early 1800s. What is his name, you might ask?

Chloe sat in silence. “Cheftu, what is, was, your Christian name?” From the muffling of his hands she heard “Francois.” He faced the wall and dropped his hands. “I left my time of 1806.” He turned to face her. “Do you know the name Napoleon?” “Of course. He was defeated by the British at Waterloo in 1815.” He glanced at her, not comprehending. She reached out to touch him, quiet the confusion in his eyes. (page 208)

A page later it is revealed he is the one and only Francois Champollion, the guy who deciphered hieroglyphics in the 1820s.

So why was this hidden from the audience before now even though we had dozens of scenes from this guy’s POV? It was only hidden from the reader to provide a TWIST! This was so lazy and manipulative I actually threw the book across the room.

Not only that, Champollion didn’t go to Egypt until 1828. In 1806 he was not only a schoolboy, but Napoleon’s Egyptian campaign had been over for years and Egypt was back under Ottoman rule. Also, this character in the story bears no resemblance to the actual Champollion, who was something of a cross between Indiana Jones and Enjolras from Les Miserables: he was an avid Bonapartist who hated the monarchy and led an uprising in his hometown of Grenoble, climbing the ramparts to change the white flag of the Bourbons to a tricolor. I’m not sure where this apolitical woobie doctor character comes from, but it sure as hell ain’t nothing like the original Champollion, who deserves to be the hero of a much better book.

But this asides, this brings up a huge problem with this novel. You not only have ONE white person cosplaying as an ancient Egyptian POC, but you have TWO people. Two of the whitest people ever, who are so much better and cooler than all the superstitious Bronze Age North Africans. After all, they ride horses. They’re not afraid of the dark. They can embrace change unlike all these static Ancient Egyptians, who hate and fear change. And most importantly, they believe in one God! It’s so gross, and this is literally the textbook definition of Orientalism. To quote the wiki entry on Orientalism:

In [Edward] Said’s analysis, the West essentializes these societies as static and undeveloped—thereby fabricating a view of Oriental culture that can be studied, depicted, and reproduced in service of imperial power. Implicit in this fabrication, writes Said, is the idea that Western society is developed, rational, flexible, and superior.

Not only this, but our heroine is relieved her boyfriend is actually white. There’s a quote here on page 209:

It was comforting that the man she loved was not of a race and mentality completely foreign to her. He was European…

So… yes. I have no words.

In addition to the huge problems with racism, Orientalism, and othering, there’s also the weird fanfiction like aspects of this book. It’s not just the fact that this feels like Ten Commandments fanfiction, with Hatshepsut taking over the Yul Brynner role— Moses is also implicitly compared to Charlton Heston. Yet the fact that the ancient Egyptian hero is secretly a Napoleonic era Frenchman is so bizarre and out-of-left-field that it also feels like a poorly conceived self insert in an RPF (Real Person fanfic) story. I would have preferred if Chloe had just gone back in time to 1820s Egypt and met Champollion in his actual body , and whole plot aspect of “taking over the bodies of POC people” had been completely left out, but unfortunately that is not the book we got.

But last but not least, there is a huge problem with the evangelical subtext. How is that, you ask?

Well, after all the to-ing and fro-ing with the Israelites, “Cheftu” and Chloe depart from the Exodus narrative and end up meeting a wise old sage named Imhotep. After Chloe ponders that “the Bible was turning out to be a lot more accurate than she’d given it credit for,” we find out that Chloe’s true purpose in the past is to provide artistic PROOF (with her drawings of Moses etc.) for all those unbelieving people in the future that the Exodus did actually happen.

Chloe began pacing. “Aye, just illustrations. Everyone knows the stories,” she said, then stopped. “But they do not believe them!” Cheftu looked up, frowning. “Do not believe the Bible?” “Nay. Nor did I before”—she paused—“before this. Did you?” “Aye. Why would the Jews use a fabricated story on which to base their entire existence as a people?” Cheftu asked. “It is humiliating enough for them to admit to being slaves, but then the desert? The many times they disobeyed and God punished? Why would someone falsify that?” “Aye.” Imhotep chuckled. “You will never read of an Egyptian battle lost or a pharaoh falling short of his duties.” “That is it!” Chloe cried. “There is no other validation of the existence of Israel, or the Passover, or even who the pharaoh was! Even my sister thinks it was Rameses the Great, if anyone at all. This is proof! Cold, hard facts written on paper from the right period.” She sat down, flipping quickly through the drawings. Several of Alemelek’s were Egyptian style—one actually telling the story of Ramoses! With a shaking hand she passed it to Cheftu and Imhotep, who leaned over it, reading quickly. Chloe sat down. This was bloody unbelievable! (page 360)

After this, there’s a lot of discussion about the importance of believing in God. “Cheftu” extols about the might of God.

He turned, his eyes shining. “We have had the most, Chloe! We have climbed the pyramids, talked with pharaohs, seen the deliverance of God! He spared our lives, specifically, again and again and again! Think of it: we were not hit by the killing hail, we survived the desert, the soldiers, starvation, and thirst. If this is the price we pay, so be it!” (page 399)

A few pages later Chloe contemplates how her life has changed:

A year ago it had all been different. She’d been alone, looking forward to new things in life, and almost an agnostic. Now she stood with a man who was her soul, praying to a God she’d met, while soldiers swarmed through the city looking for them. (page 407)

Archaeologists have been searching for proof for Exodus for over a century at this point, and nothing has been found. It’s safe to say that it didn’t happen. Even as a lapsed Catholic, I still personally believe in God, and I’m not too concerned if the Exodus happened as described or not. I was really puzzled as to why the author was so intent on making us believe that it happened exactly as written in the Bible, when an ex-evangelical friend on Twitter pointed out to me that evangelicals are “really interested in ‘proving’ things that can’t be proven” and (in the opinion of my friend) “their standards are ridic bad. Like– they found a city that was mentioned in the Bible, so therefore the whole Bible must be true.”

What’s even stranger to me is that an ex-Catholic French revolutionary like Champollion is turned into an evangelical mouthpiece, but this book is baffling on many levels.

I’m not even getting into the issue of how appropriative this book is of Jewish identity and culture. And just the very idea of a white woman taking over the body of a POC woman so she can become a white savior and play out an evangelical redemption narrative so the whole world can begin to believe the Bible is so many levels of awful.

In regards to the ending of this book, I’m not going to summarize the rest of the plot, because the plot continues to baffle and confuse, and at any rate it just ends on a strange cliffhanger. I’ve glanced at the end of the series, and it also seems to end in a bizarre and unsatisfactory way. Ms. Frank has suggested in the past that she will continue the series, and I’m not sure what to think of it.

My main takeaway is that I would love to see more books about ancient Bronze Age Egypt, or more books featuring Napoleonic French heroes, but I don’t want to see any more books that try to do both in a very muddled way. I also would prefer not to read about POC people ousted by white people from their own bodies, and I would also like not to be exhorted into believing in the Bible by the fiction I read.

Anyway, praise Sekhmet! This book is over. I did enjoy the first chapter, but I’m sorry to say that it went downhill from there. With its deeply problematic ideology and racism, Reflections in the Nile gets an F.

Originally posted to Dear Author in February 2020

#suzanne frank #reflections in the nile #book reviews #formerly posted to dear author #dear author #time travel #ancient egypt #this book was unadulterated garbage omg

[britishassistant]

Hi and Happy Belated Birthday! I was wondering if I could formally request the special addition of that time Jamil had the Reporter stuck in an hourglass and had to get them out himself? The very idea of it had me cackling in my chair, it seems like such a hilarious scenario! Quite possibly my favorite one in the entirety of your brilliant Supervillain AU.

Thank you for the ask, dear anon!

“Is this really necessary?”

The question’s enough to make Kalim look back, nervous. But Jamil sets his shoulders, tilts his head to the the side.

“Well, if you can’t be well-mannered enough to be trusted to remain tied to your chair, reporter,” Snake Charmer hisses, “Then you shouldn’t be surprised when we resort to extreme measures.”

The aforementioned reporter has the nerve to look indignant as they’re pushed into the top half of the hourglass.

“See if I save you from a dunking next time then!” They fume, pouting in a manner that’s both distracting and likely exaggerated to try and throw Jamil off his game.

He leans against the control panel, pretending to rub his “beard”, but being careful not to actually smudge it. “Unfortunately for you, reporter, there isn’t going to be a next time. Water Boy?”

“All set, Ja—Snake Charmer!” Water Boy chirps obnoxiously, slamming the glass door shut like Jamil’s told him not to dozens of times and scurrying down the ladder and clear of the mechanism. It always means it gets wedged too hard, leaking sand and being a royal pain to open later.

Jamil tries not to sigh too obviously, and instead takes pleasure in pressing the button that activates this particular trap.

The reporter stumbles as the half of the hourglass they’re in begins to tilt, trying to balance on the slick glass before tumbling, quite literally, arse over teakettle. They end up uncomfortably sprawled on their shoulders with their knees over their head and groaning softly by the time the rotation is finished. The brown lining on the inside of their neat little blazer clearly visible.

The seat of their jeans also appears pleasantly full, thanks to this position.

“…mer? Snake Charmer?”

Jamil doesn’t quite start at the sound of Kalim’s voice, but it’s a near thing.

“Hm? Ah-a-ahem!” He recovers admirably, if he does say so himself, walking around to sprawl against the control panel with the kind of artful carelessness that it’s taken him months to perfect. “As you can see, Mx. Radcliffe, you have until the sand fills the bottom of the hourglass to beg for mercy and repentance, and swear to tell me everything you’ve learned about my…esteemed colleagues during your time with them, and I may take pity on you. If not…”

The reporter rolls into a crouch, scooting away from the stream of sand that’s begun to pour down to cover the floor of the hourglass.

The defiant glare they shoot him makes something curl warm and satisfied in his gut.

“I suppose you’ve got a little under half an hour to reflect upon your regrets.” He leans closer to the glass, amused when they pointedly don’t shift back or look away. “How about it, reporter? You’ve spent so long uncovering the foibles of others—care to share a few dirty secrets of your own?”

There’s a flash of suppressed alarm in their eyes that sends goosebumps over Jamil’s skin.

He feels his own eyes growing hot as he opens his mouth—

“Not so fast, snake!”

It’s only years of experience dodging Kalim’s assassins that allow Jamil to fling himself back and away from the hero who has so rudely interrupted. It’s that same experience which allows him to stifle an irritated groan.

There, dressed in his absolutely ludicrous tiger-themed costume that Jamil still can’t quite believe he allows himself to be caught dead in, crouches Namir al-Asim. Kalim’s second-eldest cousin, who went into heroics to bolster the Asim reputation and work off his aggravation at not being Kalim. (Not entirely successfully, if his latest lawsuit is anything to go by).

The control panel Snake Charmer was leaning on now has large chunks swiped out of it and is sparking dangerously.

Jamil tries not to imagine what would’ve happened if he hadn’t gotten out of the way in time.

“Ah, Asim.” He lets his tone drip with all the venom he usually has to keep under lock and key. “So gracious of you to drop in.”

“I’ve told you,” Namir growls, nails lengthening into claws, “it’s—!”

“I don’t care.” Snake Charmer cuts him off. “Are you here on behalf of the important members of your family, or is this a social call? Either way, as you can see, I’m already entertaining.”

Namir actually does a double take at the sight of the reporter, as though he hadn’t even noticed they were inside the giant hourglass. He growls, “I told you to stay out of this!”

“I didn’t even do anything this time! He’s the one who kidnapped me!” The reporter’s retort sounds tinny and warped through the glass. “Also if this is what you call ‘entertaining’, Snake Charmer, then I’d hate to see what you do to bore people. At least Royal Flush gives me snacks.”

Snake Charmer feels a competitive grin curl over his face, and bows with a flourish. “My deepest apologies Mx. Radcliffe. Though perhaps you’ll revise that opinion once you see our aquatic performance? It’s said tigers are good swimmers—let’s put that to the test.”

Which is all the warning Namir gets before Water Boy unleashes the tidal wave he’d been building up since his cousin arrived.

“Sorry!” He yells, which makes Jamil roll his eyes behind his mask.

At least Kalim hasn’t accidentally alluded to the familial relationship between him and the hero again.

Yet.

They’re just lucky that Namir’s never been known for his listening or critical thinking skills. It makes it so much easier to have one of them play ‘bait’ and attract his attention, while the other preps a trap for the hero to fall into or call for reinforcements.

Snake Charmer does both.

Admittedly the pit traps and buzz saws aren’t quite enough to really slow Namir down that much, what with his enhanced reflexes. Neither are Asp, Adder, Boa, Krait, Ikeheka, or Python, regardless of the fact that Asp and Boa run a capoeira dojo together in their civilian guises, Adder used to box professionally, and Krait, Ikeheka and Python are in consideration for national-level synchronized swimming.

To be honest, Jamil wouldn’t be entirely comfortable betting on himself or Water Boy being able to overcome his cousin one-on-one— Kalim’s still got a streak of soft-heartedness in him that all the trials of his and Jamil’s childhoods hasn’t been able beat out of him, while Namir’s got a chip digging into his shoulders that seemingly is only alleviated by inflicting assault and battery on dubiously guilty members of the public. Jamil himself is good, as a Viper he’s had to be, but he’s not “take on a raging powerhouse face-on and emerge unscathed” good.

But all together? All at once?

Then Snake Charmer is very confident that if they can’t defeat this jumped-up figurehead of a hero, they can at least beat him within an inch of his life and make him think twice before he sets foot into this particular nest of vipers again.

At some point during the frantic rush of trying to direct machines and people and improvisations to slow Namir’s efforts to break everything Snake Charmer has built for himself, Jamil becomes aware of an odd thudding noise, that isn’t quite following the sounds of battle.

He ducks away from a potentially nasty blow from a flung axle to chance a quick scan of the room.

Oh. The reporter’s begun throwing themself at the wall of the hourglass.

The bottom-half of the hourglass, which is now just over half full of sand. The aforementioned sand is now covering the reporter’s shoulders and rapidly reaching higher. And despite the reporter’s best efforts and their increasingly panicked expression, the glass holds firm against their attempts to brute-force an escape.

As it would, it’s reinforced to hold a person’s weight, and will take more than unarmed blows to put a crack in it. Jamil should know. He paid for it.

Which. Is fine? Not ideal, certainly. By his reckoning, Namir should’ve freed the reporter from the trap by now, even if it was just to dump them in a barely defensible corner and get back to fighting. That he hasn’t is…mildly disconcerting, but. No matter, surely? It’s a victory for him if they die in the hourglass, right?

Sure, it’ll be a pain for him if they die before he can pump them for information on Royal Flush, King, Leviathan, and Octo Dealer’s weaknesses. Rather a disadvantage actually, given all the trouble he’s gone through to kidnap them and bring them here only for Namir to interfere. If they die now…

No, no, focus, Snake Charmer, focus. You can’t risk everything over a reporter. You’re overreacting. Namir will be saving them at any moment now.

Right?

Namir doesn’t seem to have noticed though, doesn’t even seem to care in his mission to inflict as much bodily harm on Snake Charmer’s minions as he possibly can. If it wasn’t for the way the ears on his ridiculous costume twitch with every weakening thud, Jamil would think him genuinely oblivious. As it is, he clearly is just bad at prioritizing.

Water Boy keeps shooting Jamil and the hourglass worried glances when he really should be paying attention to the battle, even foolishly attempting to bait his cousin into accidentally hitting it by placing himself in harm’s way. Luckily Ikeheka and Adder are focusing on their primary directive of ensuring no permanent harm comes to Water Boy, but it’s beginning to interfere with Snake Charmer’s meticulously improvised defense.

Fine. Fine! If you want a job done right…

Under the cover of two pit traps under each of Namir’s feet activating simultaneously, alongside Asp and Boa’s impressive offensive, Snake Charmer slinks around to the back of the hourglass.

Honestly, it’s just a good thing he thought to install a door that can be unlocked from the outside on—!

The door is jammed.

The door is jammed.

No matter how often he flicks the lock or how hard he tugs on the handle, it won’t budge. A thin trickle of sand is all that escapes, but that’s it. The door’s wedged past its own frame. It’ll take ages to release it, requiring the entire hourglass to be flipped the other way and careful unscrewing of the hinges.

That’s time the reporter doesn’t have, even without taking into account the fact that Namir destroyed the control panel that could flip it back upright.

Jamil glances up frantically, to check how much time Yuu Radcliffe does have before he needs to start panicking.

Just in time to see the reporter’s head disappear under the sand entirely.

Shit.

“Swarm that hero!!” Snake Charmer almost doesn’t recognize his own voice as he yells.

The whisper he’d implanted activates in all the minions aside from Water Boy. Their attacks become more relentless, driving Namir into a corner, with no recognition of pain or injuries they sustain. He’ll need to give them all bonuses in addition to compensation later, not to mention ensure they have the appropriate time off to recover, but for now—

“Water Boy!” He commands, “The Forget-Me-Stick!”

It takes a moment but Water Boy’s eyes eventually light up in realization. “Ah—Right!”

Snake Charmer was not expecting Water Boy to lob the Forget-Me-Stick at him rather than actually hit the hourglass himself like he is perfectly capable of doing, but what else can he really expect out of him?

At least it means Jamil has a reinforced weapon to hand capable of freeing the reporter.

The first hit just fractures the glass rather than truly cracking it, hairline webs of lines that are more accusatory than helpful, not even breaching the interior.

Jamil grits his teeth and puts his back into the next two swings.

It isn’t until the fourth blow that the glass finally shatters and gives way, spilling sand and shards out across the floor.

Even then it takes some digging to actually locate the reporter’s body and drag them free of the debris, ensuring this suit will need a through dry-clean in the process.

The reporter’s worryingly still, eyes shut, sand encrusting their features.

He’s not entirely sure they’re breathing.

Jamil pinches their nose and blows air into their mouth before starting chest compressions. He’s practiced this hundreds of times, had to just in case Kalim ever needed it, but never on a genuinely unresponsive person before. Are his compressions hard enough? Should he be working to dislodge something from their airway instead? He leans down again—

They cough. And keep coughing as he draws back and helps roll them onto their side, moaning softly as they spit out sand, their breathing juddering and unsteady.

“Sn-Sna-ake?” Their eyes are unfocused as they flutter open. “Ow. Wh-wha…?”

Jamil can’t quite help the way he deflates in relief.

“Yuu!” Kalim’s shout rings out and brings with it awareness of the battle raging on behind him. “You’re okay!! Hey look, Namir, Yuu’s okay!! Isn’t that great?!”

“GET OVER HERE SO I CAN RIP YOUR ARMS FROM THEIR SOCKETS, VILLAIN!!!” Namir roars back.

Jamil has officially reached the end of his willingness to deal with this. He strips off his jacket with business-like efficiency and folds it up so it can function as a somewhat passable pillow under the reporter’s head. Then he rolls up his sleeves as he stands and pulls his whip back out.

His minions have done an admirable job of temporarily subduing Namir, even if it’s clear he’s on the verge of breaking out of Adder and Krait’s holds.

Snake Charmer’s whip flashes out and wraps itself around the moronic upstart’s throat, yanking him around to look directly into the supervillain’s eyes.

“Snake Whisper.”

It’s almost satisfying to watch the dawning horror cross Namir’s face before it drops in dopey, slack compliance.

“You will actually fulfill your role as a hero,” Jamil orders. “And take Mx. Radcliffe to the nearest hospital for treatment. By the time you arrive at that building, you’ll have forgotten the location of this lair entirely. Understood?”

At Namir’s blank nod, Jamil clicks his fingers.

With muttered curses and pained grunts, his minions come back to themselves and don’t quite let go of Namir so much as fall over on jellied muscles that have been pushed to their limits. Water Boy immediately scuttles over, muttering small reassurances and frantic questions of how’s everyone feeling, do they want any water, a hot compress, a cold compress, some crackers?

Namir shambles over to where the reporter lies curled up, and scoops them up with a gentleness that could only come from external control. As he turns and begins to bound back over and up through the hole in the ceiling he burst in through, Snake Charmer’s eyes catch Yuu Radcliffe’s.

Their gaze is wide, stunned, almost reverent. Like they don’t understand what’s going on, but desperately want to.

And then they and Namir are gone, vanished into the sunny afternoon.

Snake Charmer heaves a heavy sigh, collects his jacket and tries his best to shake the excess sand out of it. He does not think about how it smells a little like Yuu the reporter. He certainly isn’t briefly smacked in the face with the intrusive thought that their lips were actually quite soft, weren’t they?

“I need a nap.” Jamil grouses as he stalks out. “Get someone in to clean this up.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #supervillain au #jamil viper #snake charmer #kalim al asim #water boy #twst yuu #twisted wonderland yuu #jamil x yuu #namir al asim

[pbandjesse]

It was way too humid out and I got way too overheated at times but had a good day.

James's phone being broken meant that they couldn't turn their alarm off so they have to restart their phone but I don't remember it going off so I was able to sleep. And when I did wake up I felt pretty good.

At times today my neck would hurt really bad but overall it seems to be doing better. And when I got up I decided that I needed to accomplish a few things but mostly today would be pretty chill. So I got dressed and I did a little cleaning around the apartment. I cleaned the kitty litter. Swiffered and vacuumed the floors. I also decided that I wanted to bake today.

To do that though I had to leave the apartment. I walked out side and went over to the shopping center. There was a lot of old women sitting on the corner today. It's usually old men so I don't know where these ladies came from but it was nice to see them. They were all very nice to me. People get tell me how pretty I was today too which was very nice and I got to the save a lot and started looking for the items that I needed.

I got the milk I needed and I went to go get the brownie batter box and a very nice man was in there trying to figure out which syrup was the best syrup. I explained to him that the one is actual maple syrup and that's why it's $10 and the other is maple flavored corn syrup and that is why it is $1. We decided that he would get the butter pecan maple syrup that is $2. And I hope that it came out good for him.

I also bought a bag of horchata. Always really liked horchata but you don't see it very many places around here. You might closer to highlandtown where it's a more Hispanic population but we're trying to just fun and so I got a bag of powdered mix. I'm going to wait until it's a little cooler before I have it but that would be pretty cool to be able to make it home kind of like I've been able to make Thai tea.

And then I went home. I got really hot. Was very very warm today. Originally was supposed to storm all day and then the rain went away on the forecast and then the sky turned black tonight so I don't know. But it was humid and pretty uncomfortable. But I was determined to make my brownies.

This did not go well. I preheated the oven. At least I thought I did. And then I mixed everything and I put it in the baking tray. I put caramel drizzle and sea salt on top cuz I wanted them to be fancy. And the oven wasn't hot. So I did all of our tricks to get it to kick on. Because the light is on underneath you would think that it would be getting hot but it is not. So we tried on tricks and nothing was happening.

So I just put the tray in there and hope that it would kick on and I would just check on it periodically. I finished cleaning the floors and did a little bit more picking up and then I was very sweaty so I took a shower and when I got out the brownies were still cold. The oven had not gotten hot yet.

I continued to try all the tricks but then I just felt like the apartments smelled like gas and I was very anxious about it so I turned on all the fans. And I kept checking and coming back and was just getting very frustrated. I made a sandwich and tried to just chill but it was very hard because I was feeling some kind of way about it. We need a new oven I think. So I messaged James so that they could let our landlady know that it was a problem and now we just wait to see if she gets back to us about it.

This was all after I gotten out of the shower so my hair was all wet because I decided to wash it and I was getting overheated again already so I laid in bed with my fan in the bed with me. I didn't want to have the air conditioner because I thought with my wet hair would make me uncomfortable. But laying there cooled me down and made me feel a little bit better. Even if I just kept checking on the brownies and they still were not cooking.. very frustrated.

I would have a pretty productive afternoon though. I worked on some more sewing. I finished the first set of frogs and I finished fixing a couple bears and then I got into fixing some of my larger bears that I don't bring to market right now but I will now that I have a whole basket. And I had to cut off two of their heads to give them shorter necks because they looked insane. And honestly they don't look that much better. The one does but the other one still has a lumpy head. But they're a little improved and I don't feel embarrassed putting them out anymore. Though it did look very violent chopping their heads off. It was cosmetic surgery for sure but I think it will improve their quality of life.

I also texted with Celia today about going to the State Fair next week and I chilled for a while. I read for a bit. And it was a nice day even if I was too hot.

Soon James was home. Still no new phone. Even though they paid $30 for it to be delivered today it did not come. Hopefully tomorrow. But it was really nice to see them even if they were very sweaty. And then they told me that Dante had to cancel his visit for next week and it was clear how upset that made James. Would have been nice to have somebody come down to visit and I think it's just one of those things were like a lot of friends are not making the effort when both me and James make the effort to come up to Philly all the time. Nobody else seems to and it just kind of hurts their feelings. Hurts my feelings too. But I understand everyone's busy and it's one of those things you just kind of deal with as you get older.

But I decided to take it into my own hands and text Dante that we need to make a new plan if he can't come next week. And so him and his girlfriend Allie are going to join us camping and I really excited about it. Unclear if they will actually camp with us or spend the night in a hotel but we're still very excited to have them regardless of their choice.

James would work on trying to get the oven to turn on for me and they sorted the laundry. They also took out the trash and I really appreciated that. Eventually they went and took a shower because they were dripping wet and very gross. And then we spend some time hanging on the couch together.

Eventually though we moved to working on our own projects. I would move to the studio to continue selling and James would work on editing their podcast. And that's when, about 4 hours later, the oven finally turned on and we were able to bake the brownies.

James would come in the studio with me while they were baking and they would help me buy stuffing the frog stuffed animals that I was working on and helping to flip their legs. Which is difficult and they struggled with so eventually I took that over and they worked on stuffing the legs for me. And now I have lots of rugs to sew the legs onto tomorrow and I'm really pleased. I was hoping to have more done for the market but that's okay I'm more done than I would have if I did not have the help. I love James so much for helping me all the time.

Elizabeth texted me and apparently she had texted seven other people before she texted me but she asked if it was an all possible for me to come in and help on Monday with the high school group and I honestly was a little bored at home today so while I don't want to work on Mondays because I want that day to be my day off with James I still said yes because I think it will be fun and she seemed super thankful so that was nice. Glad I could help.

We had our brownies on the couch. And watched a video. Spent some time just being together. And now we are getting ready to go to sleep. They are still without phone so they're doing their Spanish lesson online on their computer. And I'm going to go brush my teeth. Tomorrow We go to the market and then I don't know what I'm doing after that. I hope that it is a nice day though. I hope that you guys all have a good night. And let's hope that the bike race that is happening downtown doesn't completely scrub the entire day I make everything terrible because of traffic reasons. Good night everybody.

[jacobsnsfw]

thighs, sapnap

MINORS DONT U HAVE PAW PATROL TO WATCH? FUCK OUTTA HERE.

PAIRING cc!sapnap x afab!gn!thick thighed!reader

WARNINGS somnophillia, praising, vaginal penetration, slight degradation ( the word 'slut' a few times ), thigh fucking.

SONG REC pillowtalk, zayn

WORD COUNT 859

NOTES pls don't read if you're uncomfortable  with the topics above<3 he has a tongue piercing in this because i said so

wattpad ao3

     THE TWO OF YOU laid cuddled up against each other, you were in a peaceful dreamland while sapnap's hips rocked slightly in between your legs, silently trying to get himself off without waking you. it was around five forty-five in the morning, you had a scheduled stream at nine and you'd be getting up soon, but his hand just wasn't cutting it for some reason tonight. his mind wandered to the time you told him to in your own words "fuck me in my sleep", but he decided your plump thighs would be enough.

you stirred slightly and his hips came to a stop watching your face contort as you mumbled about something in your dream most likely. when your body stilled again and the babbling that escaped your parted lips ending, he continued thrusting his clothed erection against your bare thighs, sleeping in panties might not have been your first choice, but god was sap happy you chose them.

your thighs were pillow-like sapnap always found himself admiring them, when you walked they would jiggle. he didn't know why, but they just were so hot to him, he daydreamed about being in between them all the time. he knew if he told you how he felt you'd slap his chest with that smile that never failed to make his cheeks turn pink in a matter of seconds, the smile that was present whenever you would mention something lewd, you'd shoot at him, or when you called him 'daddy' jokingly and he looked at you shocked it was always there.

his head fell back and an unintentionally loud moan spilled from his lips that made him clamp a hand over his mouth in not only embarrassment but, in fear he'd woken you up. your eyes blinked a few times adjusting to the tiny bit of light that peeked through the blinds when your hips moved and your legs stretched out sapnap flitched. "you okay?", it was a simple question, sapnap had no clue how to answer, he hummed and pulled himself further from your touch, that made you frown in confusion, your bottom lip poking out in a pout as you shimmied your body closer to him.

something was pressed against your leg, you both knew exactly what it was too. "why's your dick out at.." you glanced at the small black alarm clock on your nightstand that displayed it was five fifty-seven am, "almost six am?" you weren't trying to make him uncomfortable, that was never the goal but what the actual fuck, was he really beating his meat right next to you, you've had sex (the best you ever had was with him) before many times, but the bathroom wasn't far at all or he could've just asked you would have gladly sucked him off.

he stuttered trying to think of an explanation, but his mouth was just spewing out words, "slow down" you spoke your hand coming up to cup his cheek with a knowing smile. sapnap sat up from how he was laying, leaning against the headboard, and pulled you into his lap, "you just looked so pretty before bed and i didn't want to wake you up, baby", his words were soft-spoken, his calloused hands came to your thighs palming the flesh.

your lips met his in a kiss, that you intended to be short and sweet but when you went to pull away his hand met the back of your head pulling you back into him.  his tongue danced around your bottom lip, asking for permission to shove the muscle in your throat. you obliged allowing him to explore your mouth, your teeth clanked together almost like he's in a rush. the cold metal of his tongue piercing brushed against the roof of your mouth.

sapnap smirked at the dazed look on your face, "you look so fucked out and i've barely touched you, baby" he pouted kissing your forehead. his hands sat on your hips and your thighs pushed together trying to gain any amount of friction you could, his shoulder muffled the disappointed whine that escaped your throat. your hand wrapped around the base of his cock, desperately trying to get him to fuck you, to ruin you until you were a babbling mess, you had no idea where this sudden burst of horniness came from, but sapnap was liking it, a hell of a lot.

the red lacy panties you had fallen asleep in were disregarded by sapnap, with a simple lift of your hips, they were on the bedroom floor soon to be joined by yours and sapnap's still worn garments. your lips met again in a kiss that was more heated than the last one. his head lolled back slightly when your fingers danced over the tip of his cock, and an almost inaudible 'fuck' passed his swollen lips. 

the thing is, he didn't want to come in your palm, definitely not, he wanted to fuck his cum deep into you so deep that you were able to feel it for hours or maybe so much as days, his hand came to stop your quickening actions with your hands, to lay you down onto the bed underneath him, and positioned himself between your thighs, his cock brushed into them smearing pre-cum onto the soft skin, making a shiver run up your spine and goosebumps arose onto your body.

he ran his fingers down your soaking slit, fishing for a reaction of any sort from you, when his fingers play and pinched your puffy clit, you practically keened and threw your head back into the pillows, "oh- sap-! please fuck me~" you ask and you shall receive i guess. in a quick motion, his cock was being pressed into your clit as he teased your wet cunt.

he stopped his movements, clearing his throat, and calling out to the alexa on your bedside table, "alexa," he paused thinking of an artist "shuffle songs by chase atlantic". the robot replied saying something about how she was shuffling the songs on his apple music. one of yours and his favorite songs played through the speakers at around level seven, 'slow down' to be exact.

his cock continued teasing you when the song lyrics started, running his hands along your thighs again, and squeezing them. his tip tapped against your pussy, pushing himself into you ever so slowly, your legs quivered from the stimulation of his skilled fingers and his dick pressed into you. your pelvises were both pressed together in no time, he had worked you through the stretch, despite having sex on numerous occasions, it still slightly hurt when he was fully settled inside.

when you glanced down at your lower stomach you could see how deep his cock was inside, he spoke up with immense amounts of pride in his tone, "can you feel me right here, baby? hm?" sapnap pushed his hand against your belly, watching your face contort in pain, pleasure, and how you were quick to try and push his hands away from the area. "my little cock slut, yeah." it wasn't a question, it was in fact a statement and true one at that.

"open", you did exactly that, and he pressed his thumb against your tongue, that you swirled around his finger treating it like how you'd treat his cock. his thrusts were slow and so fucking deep, you had barely been awake a few minutes ago, but here you are getting slowly railed to chase atlantic at six o' clock in the morning in your lover's best friend's house

you felt like you were floating on the euphoria of his hips meeting yours not too fast and not too slow. every little thing he had already done in the last few minutes or so, continued to play in your head like some broken cassette tape that was stuck on a loop, the thoughts of him playing with your pussy, him trying to fuck himself against your thighs, that and his continuous slow, antagonizing thrusts had you moaning embarrassingly loud and arching your back off the bed.

sapnap grabbed your hips and lifted them, a whole new chapter of feeling bursting throughout your entire body, just a few more thrusts into that exact spot deep within your velvety wall would have you spurting onto his cock in absolutely no time. "right there?" he asked, you couldn't get the words to leave your mouth, so instead you nodded squeezing his cock so tight that you could feel the veins and ridges on it.

he kept on brushing his cock against that spot waiting for- "cumming-! i'm coming " yep, those words, sapnap felt his release inching closer and closer, you could feel his cock twitch deep inside your walls, as he came inside, he barely moved for a few moments just groaning into your neck about how much of a good slut you were for him.

a pat on his shoulder made him sit up, and you attempted to walk to the bathroom, but as soon as you stood up your legs felt like they were going to collapse right under you. sapnap just laughed, kissed the side of your neck, pulled on a pair of boxers and old basketball shorts, and walked out the room to get you some water and a washcloth. you laid back down onto your side of the bed staring at the ceiling and thinking about you were going to cancel your stream today, maybe they'll believe the whole "i have laryngitis" thing.

#sapnap x reader #sapnap smut #mcyt smut #dreamsmp smut #sapnap x you #cc!sapnap #sapnap x reader smut #mcyt x reader smut

[babyboibucky]

Don’t You Worry (Your Pretty Little Head)

Pairing: Guitarist!Bucky x Reader

Summary: You agree to spend twelve hours with Bucky whom you just met.

Word Count: 9.1k

Warnings: THE LENGTH lmfao, soft smut??? Nothing vulgar and it’s sorta implied

A/N: I am honestly nervous about posting this piece because idk, aside from it being fucking long, I was never satisfied with how this was written lmfao. I literally rewrote this like idk 5 times??? And the fact that I made a mood board for a oneshot lmfao only means I poured my heart out into this shit and I’m really hoping y’all would enjoy this as much as my other works 🥺

MAIN MASTERLIST

Your idea of a fun Friday night involved your couch and Netflix playing in the background as you scrolled through your phone with a glass of wine in hand. This was your definition of pure bliss, something that Wanda violently opposed to.

So here you were, seated in the front of a music bar while Wanda’s favorite band played.

“See? This isn’t so bad, right? Better than wallowing in your apartment alone.” She teased as she leaned over to you, needing to amp up the volume of her voice so you can hear her.

“The fact that we can’t even hear each other properly makes wallowing alone sound so much better.” You told her, not even bothering to repeat yourself when she didn’t understand what you said over the loud music playing.

Her favorite band introduced their last song for the night and as they did, you checked your phone for the time. It was barely past ten in the evening and you were already dying to get home. You’ll bid goodbye after this, you promised yourself. Just one last song and you’re out. Before the band could even finish their last song, you’d already decided on what pizza to order and which wine to bring out.

That was until the next band came up on stage to prepare for their performance. You were leaning over Wanda already, about to tell her that you were heading home, when one particular guy caught your eye. Something that Wanda noticed when she saw you gawking at the stage.

“Oh my god. He’s definitely your type.” Wanda said when her eyes landed on the bassist.

He had dirty blonde hair and a clean-shaven face that looked a little too innocent for someone to be in a rock band. Your exact type— one with the boy next door appeal, someone you’d want to bring home to introduce to your parents. Wanda was so sure you were crushing on the bassist but as soon as he followed your line of sight, she almost choked on her own spit.

You weren’t eyeing the bassist, instead, you were completely focused on the lead guitarist. You were so enamored by this guy that you failed to notice Wanda gushing over the fact that you were enamored by someone who was the complete opposite of your type.

It was the lead guitarist who caught your attention. The one with long hair tied into a low, messy man bun, his stray locks framing his perfectly chiseled face. It wasn’t only the hair that made you look at him, it was also his left arm— it was covered entirely with tattoos. And then he started playing the guitar and good god, his fingers were something else.

It was rare for you to have certain thoughts, the kind that would make you sweat in church. And thank fuck for Wanda finally snapping you out of your filthy trance because if she hadn’t, you would’ve seriously drowned in your not so pure thoughts.

“I can’t believe you’re attracted to that guy. This makes me so excited, honestly.” Wanda squealed.

“Huh?” You played dumb of course. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Wanda snorted out loud, “I just witnessed you drool over the guitarist for a good five minutes. Stop denying.” She said.

You rolled your eyes, “Maybe I did. And so what? It’s not like I’m gonna act on it.”

“You have to fuck him.” Wanda casually suggested, making you choke on your drink.

You weren’t a prude but you didn’t like the idea of hooking up with people, most especially strangers. You weren’t going to lie though, it did cross your mind. Obviously, the way his fingers moved on his guitar really threw your brain down the gutter. Sure, you might have wondered what it’d be like to have those fingers on you but again, would you act on it? Hell no.

“It’s just one night. Live a little, come on. And you getting attracted to someone like him? That’s once in a blue moon, all the more you need to bring him home.” Wanda said.

“One night stands don’t really work well for me and you know that. The first time I tried that was also the last time because I ended up getting attached. And how did that end? Terrible. So no, thank you. Never again.” You told Wanda.

Fortunately, Wanda stopped bugging you about fucking the guitarist. It wasn’t really a big deal, it was nothing but a moment of admiration. You were hell-bent on going home anyway, well, maybe after his band finishes their first song. Besides, he wouldn’t notice you so why bother staying?

“Oh my god, he’s looking at you!” Wanda almost screamed, slapping at your arm until you turned to the stage.

And holy fuck. He was really looking at you. Why though? You even looked behind you to make sure it was you he was staring at and when you turned back at him, he smirked and threw a wink at your way.

“You know what, I think I’m gonna head home.” You said, not knowing how to act.

Wanda pulled you back down when you stood up, “Oh no, honey. No one’s going home this early.” She said. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?” She quickly added, tipping her head towards the stage.

When you looked up at the guitarist, he was still looking at you as he played. This time, he was actually pouting, as if pleading for you to stay. You quickly avoided his gaze and although it was dimly lit in the bar, you still bowed your head to hide the blush creeping up to your face.

You managed to survive the entire setlist of the band despite the flirty smiles and winks that the guitarist gave you. Wanda was ecstatic about it, it made you wonder if she was actually the one crushing on the guy. As soon as the last song was done, you excused yourself and hurried into the bathroom to compose yourself.

It was the first time that you experienced such attraction towards a guy like him. You always went with the good boys, so why were you so drawn to this guy who looked nothing but trouble? You were in denial, this was totally out of your comfort zone so you shook the thoughts away and promised yourself (again) that you’d head home this time. For real.

“There you are.”

You gasped out loud when you stepped out of the bathroom, quickly colliding against a solid chest when you heard his voice. It was low yet gentle, soft-spoken but sinful.

“I’m sorry?” You sputtered out, bowing down your head to avoid the lead guitarist’s gaze.

“I thought you left already.” He said. “I’m Bucky, by the way.” He introduced, extending his left arm for a handshake.

Your eyes landed on his tattooed arm, despite the ink covering it all up you could actually see his veins.

“And I’m going home.” You quickly shook Bucky’s hand, ignoring the electricity that ran through your veins and brushed past him, eyes scanning the bar for Wanda.

Bucky jogged ahead of you, blocking your way and chuckling to himself. “Don’t I at least get a name?” He asked.

You were internally screaming, but you managed to mention your name just so he would leave you alone. Sure, he was hot and he was actually flirting with you. But your fear of the unknown outweighed your attraction. You weren’t ready to step out of your comfort zone. Yet.

Bucky trailed behind you as you looked for Wanda, cursing to yourself when you couldn’t spot her anywhere. You took out your phone and called her immediately.

“Wanda? Where are you?” You hiss into the phone.

Bucky watched you with amusement and it was making you uncomfortable. He was just staring at you with a grin on his handsome face. And now, you just discovered that Wanda left you.

“What?! But why?! You’re my ride home! Come back and pick me up!” You exclaim into the phone, unable to believe that Wanda just ditched you.

“You can’t— hello? Wanda? Hello?” You groaned in frustration when your friend ended the call.

“I’d love to offer you a ride home but it’s too early, so how ‘bout I just buy you a drink?” Bucky asked, flashing you a charming smile that made your knees weak.

Part of you wanted to give in and just say, fuck it, let Bucky do whatever he wants with you. The reasonable part of your brain though, highly opposed to this and pulled on the alarms. This guy probably just wants to get you into his bed and although it doesn’t sound that bad, you worried more for what could happen afterwards. You weren’t ready for a repeat of the past. You were too emotional, you had too many strings and they get attached way too quickly.

“No, thank you.” You told Bucky and headed outside the bar, deciding to book an Uber instead.

Bucky was persevering though and followed you out, blocking your way into the sidewalk and snatching your phone away.

“Hey, give me my phone back!” You exclaimed.

“The night is young, c’mon. Why are you so aloof anyway?” Bucky asked.

“Because I don’t know you?” You responded.

Bucky chuckled, “Have you ever heard about making friends? I mean, pretty much everyone you meet starts off as a stranger. And it’s not like I’m a serial killer or anything. I’m not gonna rob you but I most certainly won’t give you your phone back until I convince you to stay a while.” He said and god, he was too charming for your own good.

He made a good point about making friends. You couldn’t even remember the last time you made a new one. Bucky could see the gears in your head working as you stared at him, cheeks flushed and lips parted in deep thought.

“So, what do you say? Stay a while? Keep me company. It’ll be fun.” Bucky insisted.

“Why me?” You blurted out.

It wasn’t that you were insecure, but you were way too different from Bucky. You didn’t seem like his type, but then again, he wasn’t your type either. Until the moment you saw him on stage.

“Why not?” Bucky responded as if he couldn’t believe you just asked him that question.

“Do you ask that every time someone flirts with you? Besides, it’s not everyday that someone like you stared at me like that.” He teased.

Fuck, so he noticed you drooling over him. Quick! Think of a way out, you told yourself.

“Someone like me? What did you mean by that?” You asked, sounding offended.

Bucky’s eyes widened and shook his head, “I didn’t mean for it to sound like it’s a bad thing. I mean, you come in here wearing a chiffon blouse and a pencil skirt and expect me not to notice? I’m actually flattered that a girl, no...a woman...was ogling me. Definitely piqued my interest.” He explained.

That was a compliment, right? The sirens in your head grew louder at the way Bucky was easily throwing you compliments. He must be used to flirting his way into women’s panties, huh? 

“I wasn’t ogling you.” You defended even though you were, looking away from his eyes.

“Sure, you weren’t.” Bucky teased. “Loosen up, will ya? When was the last time you had fun anyway?” He asked.

“Depends on your definition of fun.” You retorted.

“You know what I mean.” Bucky sighed.

“Well, my idea of fun doesn’t involve a guitarist getting me into his bed for a one night stand.” You blurted out, mindlessly.

Bucky made a face and clutched his chest, “Ouch. You went hard on that judgment, I’m not gonna lie, that kinda stings.”

Okay, now you felt bad for jumping to conclusions. Bucky did look like he was hurt from your brash statement. Fuck, he probably thought you were one of those stereotypical bitches! It wasn’t entirely your fault, right? You were just being careful. Were you? Or was it purely overthinking? Your brain was moving all too fast but Bucky quickly distracted you when he took your hand and placed your phone back onto your palm.

“You know, I think I get it why you said that and I honestly can’t blame you. A band dude flirts with you just like that, understandable why you thought that I wanted to get into your pants.” He explained much to your relief.

“I’m sorry, it was tasteless for me to judge you like that.” You quickly apologized, genuinely feeling like a terrible person.

Bucky smiled at you, “Nah, you had every right. I’m sorry if I was too forward but I do really want to spend some time to get to know you. So how about a little proposal?”

There was a glint in Bucky’s eyes that made your heart flutter and your brain go into overdrive. You knew it was a bad idea to give in to Bucky. Someone as charming as him might really be up to no good. Sure, you felt bad for judging him based on his looks. But something in your gut tells you that he was trouble.

“What proposal?” You asked curiously.

“Spend the next twelve hours with me.” Bucky suggested.

You frowned, “What?”

Bucky took your phone again, but only to check the time. “It’s a little past eleven now, I promise you’ll be home before noon tomorrow. Come with me, let loose for once and let’s spend the entire night together. Twelve hours, that’s it.” He said excitedly.

“And I don’t mean have sex with me.” Bucky explained immediately.  “We’ll just hang out, it’s a wholesome proposal. But if you do want to have sex with me, I’m not gonna turn that down. I’m just saying, it’s not my motive but I won’t be saying no to it either.” He reassured.

You felt hot all of a sudden at how Bucky casually talked about having sex with you. It made you feel feverish and for someone who wasn’t really a sexual person, it made you feel like you were about to commit a major sin just by listening to Bucky talk like that.

Bucky beamed at you cutely, waiting for your response and honestly, with how his doe eyes were looking at you like that, was it even possible to say no? Despite the continuous alarms in your head and your inner prude begging you to stay within the confines of your comfort zone, you decided to do something for a change.

So you said yes.

You were spending the next twelve hours with Bucky and you could only hope that you wouldn’t regret it.

-

The night started off slow, thankfully, with Bucky ushering you back into the bar for a couple of drinks. You had to remind yourself to still be alert for any red flags that might show up sooner or later. You knew you were being a bit paranoid, but to hell, it would be better that way than to make mistakes tonight.

“Where do you work?” Bucky asked before calling the waiter.

“I work at a bank.” You told him.

The waiter arrived and took your orders, a tall glass of mojito for you and a rum and coke for Bucky. He asked you a couple more things, where you graduated, your hobbies and what you often did during your weekends. All of which you had pretty boring responses to. Bucky listened though and he didn’t seem bored too, what a relief.

“Are you really sure about spending twelve hours just like this?” You asked, taking another sip from your second glass of mojito.

Bucky snickered, “We won’t be talking the entire night, did you really think I’d ask for your twelve hours just to talk?” He asked.

“What are you planning then?” You asked nervously.

Bucky offered you an amused smile, “Nothing illegal so stop worrying, pretty lady. I can see the gears in your head turning.” He said and leaned forward to smoothen out the crease in between your brows with his thumb.

“Come on, time to have fun.” He said and got up, offering you his hand.

You haven’t even recovered from how gentle Bucky was when he touched your forehead. And now here he was, standing over you with his tattooed arm extended, waiting for you to take his hand.

“I don’t bite.” He stated.

Letting out a sigh, you finished up your drink and stood up, slipping your hand into Bucky’s. He smiled at you, lifting your hand up to his face and pressing a kiss on it before winking.

“See? I told you, I don’t bite.”

You cleared your throat and pursed your lips, biting back a smile as Bucky tugged you as he walked out of the bar, keeping your hand in his the entire time. Maybe he wasn’t so bad after all?

“Here.” Bucky said, handing you over his helmet.

It was then that you realized that he was about to give you a ride. On his motorcycle. The sirens in your head went off once again, bringing you back to your usual tensed state.

“Oh, no. Look, I know I said yes to your proposal but I’m not going to ride on that.” You disagreed and took a step back.

Bucky looked disappointed but shrugged anyway, placing the helmet back on the bike. “Fine. I’ll let you off this time, just because I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. Come with me.” He said and took your hand in his again as the both of you went back inside the bar.

He brought you towards the booth where the rest of his band were staying at. They all looked at you with smirks on their faces when Bucky introduced you to them.

“That’s Nat, our vocalist. Sam here is our drummer and Steve the bassist.” He said.

You gave them a polite smile and a quick wave. Bucky threw his keys over at Steve, who was supposed to be your type. Wanda thought so and you were just weirded out that you happen to be drawn towards Bucky instead.

“Hey punk, switch your car for my bike? Just for tonight.” Bucky said.

Steve looked so done with his request but shook his head in defeat as he fished his keys out of his pocket. He pointed at Bucky threateningly, “Don’t mess up my car, jerk. You know what I mean by that.” He said before throwing his own keys over at Bucky who caught it with ease.

“I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you. Thanks, pal!” Bucky bid goodbyes and pulled you again before you could even say your own goodbyes to his bandmates.

Now, you were inside Steve’s car with Bucky and you were nervous as fuck. Although you did find it considerate of Bucky to borrow his friend’s car to make things comfortable for you. You were going to admit that, but it made your heart flutter. You mentally snorted at yourself because fuck, the bar is set pretty low alright.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Bucky asked, noticing how you tensed up all of a sudden.

“Do we have rules?” You asked.

“This night is all about letting loose and the first thing you thought of are rules?” Bucky laughed.

“I’m about to spend the next twelve hours with a complete stranger, of course I’d be worried! What if—“

“Okay, calm down!” Bucky said, turning in his seat to face you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“If it’ll make you less tense then fine, I’ll come up with rules. Number one is to stop worrying.” Bucky said, rubbing your arms up and down and you were supposed to feel uncomfortable with the intimacy but you didn’t.

There was no malice to it and it made you panic all the more because ugh, Bucky was making you all soft and vulnerable around him. You could hear Wanda inside your head, commanding you to just calm down and go with the flow. You took in a deep breath and composed yourself.

“You gotta learn to trust people. I promise you, we won’t be getting in any trouble. I’ll take good care of you.” Bucky said, letting your arms go and tipping your chin so you’d look at him.

“Rule two, no what ifs. Just focus on the present, okay? If you keep worrying about what could happen, you’ll miss out on the now. Trust me, you wouldn’t want that.” Something about the change in Bucky’s eyes when he said that made you curious.

He was on to something, like he really meant it. You wanted to ask him about it, hell, you should start asking him for more information. If he wanted to get to know you better then you should attempt to do the same to him too.

“Last rule is to just enjoy. Like I said, I won’t let anything bad happen to you. You trust me now?” Bucky asked with hopeful eyes.

The alarms in your head still kept going, but as you gazed back at Bucky, the softer they were becoming. You could feel yourself start to give in and you know what? It actually doesn’t sound so bad anymore. Maybe this would help with your attachment issues? This will probably teach you how to have fun with no attachments. Take things for what they are and just enjoy.

“Hey, will you trust me?” Bucky asked again.

“Yeah, yeah I will.”

-

1:15AM

Bucky took you to a hole in the wall open mic bar. It was a small place and everyone there seemed to know each other. And when Bucky arrived, everyone just greeted him and welcomed you there.

“You seem pretty popular here.” You told him as he led you to one of the seats near the makeshift stage.

“I spend a lot of time here.” He said and called over the guy by the bar.

“Hey Happy! Wanna introduce you to a special friend.” He said. The man approached your table and greeted you with a smile.

“Must be really special, you never bring anyone here.” Happy said, making you blush uncontrollably.

Bucky bit his lip as he turned to you, “Do you sing?” He asked.

You quickly shook your head, “Oh god, no. I don’t have the talent.” You said.

Happy chuckled, “That wouldn’t be a problem, trust me.” He reassured.

Bucky lifted an eyebrow at you, “Wanna go up there and sing with me?”

“Bucky, no.” You laughed, shaking your head. “I’m not doing that.”

“Come on, no one’s gonna judge you. Let loose, remember? And if anyone here laughs at you, I’ll be the first to punch them in the face.” He promised.

You thought for a while, keeping your eyes on Bucky. Fuck this. You called Happy and requested for a shot of tequila.

“That’s my girl! Just needs a little bit of liquid courage, huh?”

You snorted, “Oh that’s not for me. That’s for you. You’re gonna need it if you’ll be hearing me sing.”

You never performed in front of a crowd, well, back in high school maybe for some school plays. But hell, you were never the center of attention and whenever you had to be, you always experienced a panic attack. But now being on stage with Bucky behind you, playing the guitar as you sang (screeched actually), you’d never felt more alive and relaxed. True enough, no one cared about how off tune you were. In fact, you got a lot of cheers from the crowd.

2:45AM

“You hungry?” Bucky asked.

You couldn’t believe it, you’ve been singing on stage the entire time at the bar. You’d like to believe that it was probably the alcohol running in your veins, but you weren’t that drunk. Tipsy, maybe but definitely not drunk. It was fun, you were surprised at how much you enjoyed singing with Bucky and everybody else. You made a couple of new friends aside from Happy, talked to them and even exchanged numbers with a few. This was the most sociable you’ve ever been.

“I could use some carbs right now.” You laughed, wiping off the sweat on your forehead.

Bucky reached out to fix your hair, moving away the sweaty strands sticking onto your cheeks and tucking them behind your ear. He flashed you that oh so charming smile again and good god, Bucky was truly something else.

“Let’s get you something to eat.” He said.

Bucky drove to a 24-hour food truck somewhere. It was close to 3am but you didn’t feel exhausted, which was shocking given that you’ve been dying to go home a few hours ago before meeting Bucky and agreeing to go on an escapade with him. You could already hear Wanda squealing over the phone once you tell her everything.

The both of you ordered some soft tacos and sat on one of the benches beside the food truck.

“Enjoying so far?” Bucky asked with interest.

You nodded enthusiastically, your mouth full of food as you devoured your tacos. “Very much.” You admitted.

Bucky’s eyes crinkled as he laughed along with you, obviously pleased that you were enjoying yourself. Not long ago, twelve hours seemed a bit too long. Now, they felt too short. You could feel your brain begin to overthink what would happen once the the twelve hours are over, but you quickly shook them away and followed Bucky’s advice to focus on the present.

The two of you continued to talk as you ate. You discovered that Bucky and his bandmates go way back and that they’ve been performing since their days at the university. You also found out that Bucky’s last relationship ended six years ago and that he hasn’t dated anyone since then. You found out a lot of things about Bucky, most of which were far from your first impressions.

“Why’d your friend leave you at the bar?” Bucky asked, taking out a cigarette and putting it in his mouth.

You watched him with hazy eyes as he lighted the cigarette, puffing out a thin line of smoke with ease. You were always drawn to Bucky’s fingers and initially, it was because of the impure thoughts they made you think about. But more than that, they were the gentlest you’d ever seen.

“Probably to get me to have fun.” You responded, looking away timidly when Bucky noticed you staring at his hands.

“She’s gonna be very proud of you after this.” He said.

You nodded and breathed out a chuckle, “Oh, for sure.” You said before turning to Bucky. “Can I try?” You asked, motioning towards his cigarette.

“I haven’t smoked. Ever.” You admitted.

Bucky grinned and passed you the cigarette. “Go on.” He urged and kept his eyes on you as you brought the cigarette up to your lips.

The way Bucky watched you was intimidating in the sense that it felt intimate. It wasn’t like he was eye-fucking you or anything, his eyes were just too...expressive? They held a certain softness to them, a bit of sadness too when you look at it closely. They were the bluest, most beautiful color you’ve seen and they were captivating.

You ended up in a coughing fit from that first drag. Bucky chuckled and took the cigarette from your hand, patting your back as you continued to cough.

“Definitely not for me.” You frowned and took a sip from your iced tea.

“At least you tried. I’m proud of you.” Bucky said, the gentle pats on your back slowing down until his hand remained still.

“You good?” He asked again, sliding his hand lower until he reached the small of your back, but not low enough to make you uncomfortable.

You nodded, “What else is up in your sleeve?” You asked with interest.

“Well, I really wanted to take you on a ride on my bike but I guess that’s for next time.” Bucky confessed.

“Next time?” You asked and you tried not to be hopeful.

“Yeah, next time. We’ll do that next time.” Bucky said and he sounded so sure that you began to worry.

Will there really be a next time? At this point, Bucky could read you like an open book because he chuckled and pressed his thumb against the crease on your forehead again.

“You’re doing it again, whatever you’re worrying about just forget it for now.” He said, soothing out your crease before pinching your nose.

You scrunched your nose making Bucky lightly laugh. He checked the time on his phone and let out a sigh.

3:43AM

“Can I bring you back to my place?”

-

If you told Wanda that you ended up in Bucky’s place, she would freak out and ask for all the details. But no, you didn’t come home with Bucky for that reason. As he promised, it wasn’t his motive to get you into his bed and he seemed to be genuine about it.

Bucky lived in a small studio-type loft. It wasn’t the penthouse kind with the floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. It was simple and minimalistic, with just a few pieces of furniture. What Bucky owned were a couple of guitars— different kinds of them, and an electric keyboard.

“It’s not much and I don’t even have a bed frame, I hope you won’t judge me for that.” Bucky said, scratching his neck as he led you inside.

“No, not at all. It’s very cozy in here, actually.” You said, looking around and taking in your surroundings.

Bucky had a lot of indoor plants, you definitely didn’t think of him as a plant guy. As you let your eyes wander, something white zoomed past your vision. A cat.

Bucky also owned a cat.

“This is Alpine.” Bucky said, picking up the feline and carrying it onto his shoulder.

As if Bucky and his plants didn’t make him attractive enough, he really had to own a white cat. You could feel yourself internally screaming about how you haven’t been seeing any red flags. If any, you’ve been seeing green flags pop out every now and then that it was pretty alarming. Strangely, the sirens in your head died down as if they’ve given up on warning you.

Or maybe, there was really nothing to warn about Bucky.

The cat purred and nuzzled its nose into Bucky’s neck and you couldn’t believe that you got jealous for a brief second. Oh, to be cat against Bucky’s chest.

“Feel free to look around, I’ll get you water.” He said, bringing Alpine with him into the kitchen.

You walked around his place and observed the surroundings. He was very organized, more than you actually. You could hear Bucky talk to Alpine and it was the most adorable thing you’d ever seen.

A couple of picture frames that sat on Bucky’s bedside table caught your eye. They were photos of him with his mom you assumed, and three more girls.

“Those are my mom and younger sisters.” Bucky said, appearing behind you with a glass of water.

You thanked him as you took the glass and sat down on his bed, “Where are they?” You asked before drinking.

Alpine jumped into your lap and purred, making Bucky laugh with delight as he sat next to you. His parents were back in his hometown together with his sisters. Bucky told you everything about his family and how close he was to his sisters, how they were supportive of him when he decided to become a musician. Then Bucky went on to showcase his guitar collection, telling you the lovely stories behind each of them. You could see how passionate Bucky was for his craft and it was a wonderful thing to witness. You were envious how Bucky pursued his passion, how he took huge risks to get to where he was now.

“And this is my favorite one.” Bucky said, taking a black electric guitar with him as he went back to sit down next to you.

“First one I bought with my own money. It’s old and doesn’t sound as nice as my newer ones, but I love it.” He said and started plucking at the strings.

Alpine hopped off from your lap and went to sleep onto his tiny little bed beside Bucky’s couch. You focused on Bucky’s fingers as he played the guitar. It took you back to the moment you saw him onstage, how those fingers made you wonder about certain things. They moved gracefully against the cords, plucking with ease producing the most wonderful music. You really needed to snap out of your filthy thoughts.

Bucky played the guitar for you, singing some lyrics once in a while. You noticed his tattoos again and stared a bit longer, trying to decipher each design wrapped around his arm. Some were huge, some intricate more than the rest. They were all of different designs but molded together so perfectly.

You had to admit, you didn’t find tattoos attractive before. But on Bucky, it looked like a masterpiece. He himself, was a piece of art with his chiseled jawline and steel blue eyes that made you feel at home.

“I’ve been meaning to ask...” you softly trailed.

Bucky hummed in response, his attention focused on his guitar as he continued to play.

“Your tattoos, do they mean something?” You asked.

“I got them to cover up the scars from an accident.” Bucky looked up at you.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” You quickly apologized.

Bucky smiled reassuringly, “It’s fine. It was a turning point for me.” He said, setting his guitar aside.

“It really puts things into perspective you know. I crashed my bike one night, I wasn’t drunk, mind you.” He chuckled. “It was pretty bad, my left arm suffered the most. I almost got decapitated but here I am. I got scars all over, really ugly scars so I had them covered up with a tattoo sleeve.” Bucky explained, extending his left arm and looking at it.

“For a while, I wasn’t able to play music. And I hated every second of it. Hated seeing the scars on my arm and how they reminded me of the accident. But you learn to live with it. At least I did, I learned to turn the negative into something positive.”

Now that he said that, you could actually see some of the scars beneath the ink. Bucky shrugged and continued with his story.

“The doctors said I was lucky that I didn’t die. Living my second life now, I realized that I gotta make the most out of it. Focus on the present and enjoy what comes your way. Take risks. Do what scares you.” He explained and now you understood.

You understood why Bucky appeared to be so laid-back and carefree, why he doesn’t worry a lot about the future. He almost lost his life so now he was living it to the fullest. He was living in the present, enjoying every second of it.

“Every time I see my tattoos, I get reminded of my second chance at life and how I shouldn’t waste it.” He said.

Bucky saw the look in your face, how guilty you looked from judging him right away. He took your chin in between his thumb and index finger, tipping it up to make you look at him.

“So when I noticed that bored pretty office girl in the audience checking me out, I didn’t waste the opportunity to get to know her. See where it goes, who knows if I’d still be alive tomorrow but at least I shoot my shot.” He said, making you chuckle.

Everything went still in that moment, your usually noisy mind included. Time seemed to have stopped as you gazed into Bucky’s eyes. Biting your lip, you gave in and totally let down your walls.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Bucky asked, doing the same thing with his thumb, soothing the crease in between your brows.

This time, he didn’t take his hand back and allowed it to rest against your cheek before sliding down to your jaw and neck. His thumb began to caress the spot beneath your ear, waiting for you to respond to his question.

What Bucky got was more than just a simple response.

“Fuck it.” You whispered before pressing your lips onto Bucky’s.

All your life you played it safe— from your college course to your choice of career. You weren’t one to take risks either and whenever you needed to, they were always calculated. You did things carefully, making sure that you’d get the results you were expecting to save you from disappointment. The unknown scared you and so does uncertainty. You liked staying in your comfort zone but as much as you’ve been denying it, it was starting to get boring.

You also said you weren’t one to entertain a stranger, let alone hook-up with one. But then Bucky comes along with his long hair and tattooed arm, looking like trouble but bringing you none. You’d think that he just wanted to get into your pants but as he showered you with gentle kisses and feathery touches, you realized that Bucky might be different and that he was so much more than just the hot lead guitarist of a band.

Bucky’s calloused fingers perfectly contrasted the smooth expanse of your skin. They felt rough but remained gentle as they moved along your chest, as they danced along your back, as they stroked your inner walls. And his lips, they were tender and soft; they whispered nothing but promises and praises against your ear as your bodies moved in unison.

His eyes remained on you, taking all of your nakedness in, literally and figuratively. He watched you closely, with those blue eyes of his that always made you blush. Bucky’s eyes were truly mesmerizing, no matter how much you wanted to look away from embarrassment, you couldn’t. You felt trapped in those eyes, and you never want to leave.

And his left arm— you could feel the ridges of his scars as you let your hands feel his skin. But they weren’t ugly, didn’t feel weird against the pads of your fingers. His arm offered nothing but warmth and support when you reached your high and came crashing down. His arms caught you and protected you, his embrace was reassuring and it made you feel safe.

5:58AM

The city was quiet and the sun was barely up. Alpine was still curled up on his bed, sleeping. You were exhausted but satisfied and comfortable as you laid on your stomach, head turned and facing Bucky as you listened to him talk.

He was talking about his band’s first performance in college, laughing when he said that he almost threw up from being so nervous. Bucky had the softest voice in the wee hours of dawn, you loved listening to him. Lucky you, Bucky had been talking about anything and everything until the dark skies began to change its hues. He shared his dreams and his secrets and you admired him more and more.

“You should come to our rehearsals.” He suggested, letting a hand trace patterns on your bare back.

“Sounds nice.” You yawned, blinking your eyes in an attempt to keep them open.

“What do you want for brunch?” Bucky asked, almost mumbling from being half-asleep.

You hummed, “By the time we wake up, it might be close to dinner.” You joked.

“Breakfast food is way better during dinner. Want me to cook for you?” Bucky said before yawning.

Your eyes were lidded as you took in Bucky’s form. He was laying beside you, long hair messed up and lips swollen pink from kissing. He looked unreal as a sliver of sunlight managed to peek through his curtains, embracing his body with its warm glow. The sun was now fully up, witnessing the tender aftermath of your intimacy with Bucky as he reached out to brush his knuckle along your cheekbone.

“I’m surprised you can cook.” You said softly, close to falling asleep.

“I’m pretty good at it.” Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“I’ll cook for you when we wake up.” 

Bucky’s soft lips against yours was the last thing you felt before sleep took over.

-

12:24PM

A soft purr paired with soft paws on his face stirred Bucky awake. He groaned at Alpine when she meowed right into his face. Must be feeding time, he thought.

Bucky gently moved Alpine aside and turned, only to be met by a cold, empty space beside him. He sat up on the bed and rubbed his eyes before quickly scanning his apartment for you.

You were gone.

And judging by the cold sheets on your side of the bed, you’d left hours ago. Bucky sighed in disappointment as he got up, putting on his boxers and quickly checking the bathroom. He hoped you’d be there, but you weren’t.

You didn’t even leave a note.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He wanted to cook for you, really. He wanted to bring you to his band’s rehearsals, maybe even write a song for you.

He wanted more than twelve hours with you.

-

Wanda had been on your ass for days now. When you told her about your twelve hours with Bucky, she was happy and proud. By the time you got to the end of it, she was fuming and was close to actually physically hurting you.

She wouldn’t stop bugging you about it, demanding you to at least look Bucky up on Facebook or Instagram. Wanda believed that what you and Bucky shared that night was special, something real and not just a one-time thing.

You woke up that morning, feeling sore but happy. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach when you opened your eyes to the sight of Bucky sleeping peacefully beside you. He seemed to be dreaming, his brows creased and lips pursed.

Reaching out, you did what Bucky kept on doing to you whenever you were worrying. You pressed your thumb against his forehead, soothing out the crease as gentle as you could so as not to wake him up. Bucky stirred in his sleep and unconsciously took your hand in his, pressing a kiss onto your palm before falling back into his slumber.

And that’s when it started; the alarms in your head went off and they were the loudest they’ve ever been. You were almost deafened by it, your logic drowning beneath your panicked thoughts as you got up from bed. You dressed up in a hurry, grabbing your things and phone to book yourself a ride home. Alpine woke up and ran over to your legs, purring as if begging you not to go.

You refused to look back and went straight for the door.

One and a half week later, here you were still feeling like the most terrible person on the entire planet. You had searched for Bucky online, of course. You just didn’t tell Wanda that but it was the first thing that you did upon going home. There were instances when you were tempted to send him a DM, or add him up on Facebook but you never did. 

That one night with Bucky changed everything, it changed you. You immediately filed for a resignation, realizing that you were no longer happy working for the bank. It was a spur of the moment decision but you knew it was the right one. You didn’t even know where to apply next or what career to pursue. But you weren’t worried like you had expected to be.

Bucky taught you to take risks, to not fear the unknown because things will eventually fall into place. You felt good though, that you were slowly learning to step out of your comfort zone. But something was amiss and you knew what it was. Or who it was.

You just weren’t ready to admit it yet.

-

It was around nine in the evening when you went to the grocery store for a last minute shopping decision. Wanda was coming over for a movie night and apparently, you didn’t have any snacks left.

Finishing your list, you turned at the corner of an aisle and collided with somebody. Your apology died on your tongue when you looked up to see a familiar face.

Steve.

“Hi.” You softly greeted, wondering if he would even remember you.

He frowned at you and you were surprised that he remembered you and actually knew about that night.

“Why’d you leave Bucky just like that?” He asked right away.

You swallowed and avoided his gaze, “It was...it’s not a big deal. It was a one-time thing anyway.” You lied through your teeth.

Steve scoffed, “It didn’t seem like a one-time thing when Bucky came to our rehearsals the next day feeling bummed out.” He explained and sighed afterwards, shaking his head.

“Look, I’m in no position to interfere. I don’t know you and why you did that so who am I to judge? But I know Bucky. He isn’t what you think he is.” Steve said.

“I know.” You whispered.

“Then why’d you leave?” Steve asked again but didn’t wait for a response.

“Bucky may come off a little too strong, he’s straightforward and passionate. He gives it his all and that night with you...he gave everything. He was really hurt when you left.”

You were unable to speak because fuck, you messed up big time. You didn’t know that Bucky was going to feel that way when you left. You got scared and ran away even when there was nothing to be afraid of. Steve must have noticed your guilt and placed a hand on your shoulder.

“We’re playing tonight at the music bar. You have the chance to make things right.” Steve said and offered you a small smile before leaving.

You stood in the grocery store while in deep thoughts. Again, your mind was all kinds of messed up and your thoughts were fighting for dominance. There were sirens going on and off and fuck, it was all driving you insane. Your heart began to race when you felt an impending sense of doom wash over you. You were panicking and you were fighting so hard to calm your nerves.

And then you remembered Bucky that night and how he was quick to silence your brain with a simple yet comforting gesture.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

A thumb on your forehead to soothe your worries. Those steel blue eyes providing you comfort, and that charming smile that never failed to reassure you.

You quickly called Wanda.

“Movie night is cancelled!”

-

The dimly lit music bar welcomed you with a sense of familiarity. It had been more than a week since your encounter with Bucky and yet it felt like it was only yesterday.

Smiling to yourself, you remembered how tensed you were when Bucky first approached you. You were so defensive, you had your walls built up high but Bucky managed to bring them down. It didn’t even take him the full twelve hours to do so.

The music bar was full with no vacant spot near the stage. The current band just finished their song and was preparing to exit. You squeezed your way to the front, ignoring the complaints of people you slightly pushed away. A familiar voice greeted the crowd a good evening before introducing their band.

Your breath hitched when you spotted Bucky onstage. His hair was down and he was sporting a little bit of scruff. You watched him play his guitar but something was different. He wasn’t as passionate as he used to be, like he wasn’t focused. He almost looked like he didn’t want to be there. And his eyes, they were empty and void of any emotion. No mischievous glint in them, no nothing.

It broke your heart seeing Bucky like this, especially that you knew you were the reason for it.

It took a while for Bucky to look up and scan the crowd and when he finally did, his eyes immediately met yours.

Just like the first time, you felt your face heat up from the eye contact. Bucky was surprised to see you, you saw how his eyes widened at the sight of you. He was quick to recover though, he looked away and focused on playing the guitar instead.

As soon as his band exited the stage, you wasted no time to approach them. Steve greeted you with a nod before calling for Nat and Sam, asking for them accompany him to the bar to give you some privacy. Bucky refused to look at you as he gathered his stuff, preparing to leave.

“Can we talk?” You asked.

“I’m heading home.” Bucky curtly responded and brushed past you.

The tables have turned with you walking ahead of him to block his way.

“The night is young, stay a while and keep me company?” You used his line and Bucky was having none of it.

He scoffed and shook his head, “I’m surprised you remembered what I said. I mean, after you just disappeared I assumed you’d completely forgotten about that night.”

“I didn’t.” You told him. “Can we please talk?” You pleaded.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, I really wanna go home.” He said.

Your hands balled into fists at your sides, “Give me twelve minutes.” You offered.

“Just twelve minutes of your time. Please, Bucky.”

-

The two of you stepped outside the bar for some silence. Bucky walked over to his bike, leaning against it as he looked at you coldly. Those eyes used to gaze at you with warmth, but now they were blank and cold.

“Time is ticking.” He said when you kept mum.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disappear like that.” You said, looking down at your feet.

How else were you going to say your piece? You had practiced your speech on the way to the bar and now that Bucky was in front of you, you couldn’t even look at him from shame.

Bucky scoffed, “You asked me for twelve minutes and that’s all you’re gonna say? You’re sorry? Just that?” He bitterly chuckled, running a hand over his scruff.

“If you didn’t mean it then why did you leave? You left me without any warning. I honestly thought there was something between us. After everything that happened, how could you just walk away like that? You led me on, didn’t you?” Bucky angrily asked.

“I didn’t! I swear, I didn’t but I got scared!” You admitted.

“Scared of what?” He asked. “Scared of me? Because I’m not the kind of guy you usually go for? You really couldn’t get rid of that first impression, huh?” He said and turned around.

“That’s not the reason why. Everything scared me because that night was something else. You were too good to be true, Bucky! That’s what scared me!” You told him.

Bucky turned around, his brows creased, “What?”

When you woke up that morning, everything seemed perfect. The past twelve hours you had spent with Bucky were wonderful and you loved every second of it. You enjoyed too much and the thought of it being a one-time thing really broke your heart.

You had attachment issues and you thought that giving in to Bucky would help you learn to enjoy things as they were. But it didn’t and made it even worse because you got attached, so fucking attached.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of ending those twelve hours with a permanent goodbye so I left. You suddenly talked about next time and tomorrow and it was...it was overwhelming for me. My fear got the best of me because that night was too good. You were too good.”

Bucky’s expression softened after hearing your side. Now you felt stupid for overthinking things. It was selfish on your part to assume that those twelve hours meant nothing to Bucky.

“I’m sorry.” You apologized softly. “That night meant everything to me, Bucky. I just wasn’t ready to find out whether it meant the same to you.” You confessed with a sigh.

Bucky stayed quiet after your confession. You could feel your bile rising, you wanted to throw up. Hell, you wanted to just faint and forget about everything. If Bucky wouldn’t give you a second chance, you’d understand him. You did a pretty shitty thing to him anyway.

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

You lifted your gaze upon hearing that line. Bucky’s eyes had their warmth back and his expression was no longer stoic. He pushed himself away from his bike and approached you, reaching out to soothe the crease on your forehead.

“It’s not everyday that I find myself in the company of a stranger who made me feel things. I’ve always been a traditional one, I take things slow and I’ve been very careful. When I felt something during those twelve hours, I was caught off guard. I never felt so strongly for someone I just met and it was all new to me and I panicked.” You confessed.

“You were out of my comfort zone and I didn’t know how to handle it. I didn’t mean to disappear like that, Bucky.”

You were met with pure silence after your admission. When you looked up at Bucky, you couldn’t read his expression. Thinking that he wasn’t buying your explanation, you let out a bitter chuckle and shrugged.

“I guess that’s it. Twelve minutes. No more no less. I just wanted you to know that, Bucky. And I’m really, really sorry.” You said and slowly backed away, ready to leave.

“Hey.” Bucky called out, approaching you.

“If I asked you to spend the next twelve hours with me again, where would you go after?” He asked.

Was this a test? You didn’t know how to respond and Bucky seemed to have caught up on that and let out a breathy chuckle.

“Will you stay until the morning this time?” He asked. “‘Cause I was pretty disappointed when I woke up to an empty bed. I had our brunch planned out, you know?”

The mischievous glint in Bucky’s eyes was back. You bit back a smile when Bucky cradled your head into his palm, thumb circling the skin on your neck.

You timidly nodded, tilting your head up to meet Bucky’s lips in a searing kiss that promised you another twelve hours together. And more.

“No more running off in the morning.”

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42 @sunflowerbunny2 @unmagically @okiegirl24 @sugarpunch-princess @enlyume @vvipgotbb @slimeyderp @lyoongx @just-deka @nobody-will @jaziona92 @elisebuitron @dpaccione @suvikamahes98blr @buckybarneshairpullingkink @earthtonav @x-judyjude-x @nani-kenobi @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @belladonnabarnes @iloveangstposts @weenersoldierr @asemistablehundredyearoldman @reidbuck @lizzarooni @girlfriday007 @bonkywobble @lost-in-the-stars03 @its-yasbxtch @whoth3hellisbucky @5-seconds-of-mendes​ 

#bbb writes #oneshots: bucky barnes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x you #bucky barnes smut #bucky smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff #sebastian stan

[connorsslut17]

Night Off (Connor x f/reader)

Summary: You were enjoying your night off until that familiar android knocks on your door to ask you something...

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD

***

You looked up from your book as you heard a loud knock at your door. You put the book down and glanced at the clock, the hands pointing to 10:47 pm. It’s a little late for someone to be showing up, you thought to yourself. You were just trying to enjoy your night off. You took one more sip of your red wine as the knocks came again, this time more urgent.

“I’m coming, Jesus.” You mumbled to yourself, standing up and walking over to the door. You peered through the peephole, seeing a familiar android standing outside. Your heart jumped, rather confused about why he was at your apartment, even more, confused as to how he knew where you lived. You ran your fingers through your hair quickly and glanced in the mirror to check your appearance, not that he would care, but you did it anyway. Unfortunately, you were only wearing sweatpants and a large t-shirt. Pushing the thought from your mind, you unlocked the door and swung it open.

“Good evening, Y/N.” He spoke softly, his mouth twisting into a subtle smile. He was wearing his usual android attire.

“Hey, Connor. What’s up?” You asked casually, pretending not to be at an utter loss for why he showed up at your place. “I found something rather alarming on Hank’s computer today, I didn’t know who else to talk to.” He looked down in thought, and you opened the door wider for him to come in.

“What do you mean?” You questioned as Connor entered your apartment. You closed the door behind him as he scanned the room, his blue LED blinking as he did so. You walked past him and sat down on the couch, beckoning for him to sit down as well.

“Well,” He began to say as he took a seat, “I was looking for some files on Hank’s computer, and I came across a video of two people… being intimate. I wasn’t sure exactly what they were doing-”

“You found Hank’s porn!” You laughed as you brought your hands up to your face to hide your reddening cheeks.

“Porn? That word doesn’t seem to be in my database.” Connor looked down, you assumed to scan his database again. You reached over and picked up your wine glass, downing the rest of it.

“Okay, well, do you know how humans reproduce?” You asked, realizing this was going to be really hard to explain.

“Yes, but that didn’t seem like they were reproducing.” Connor looked back up at you. You choked back another laugh as you pondered what kind of porn Hank had.

“So, humans tend to do stuff like that for fun, without the intent of making babies,” You hesitated, “because it… feels good.” You looked away as you tried to block out your memories of you touching yourself to the thought of Connor.

“Hm. Why would they film it? And why was Hank watching it?” His face was full of confusion.

“Jesus, Connor, for an android you sure don’t use Google very often do you?” You rubbed your face with your hands. The both of you sat in silence for a few seconds.

“Have you done that?” Connor asked abruptly. You almost choked on your own saliva.

“Wait, do you mean have I filmed porn, watched porn, or had sex?” You questioned.

“All of them, I suppose.”

“Um, no, yes, and yes.” You said quietly. You glanced over and saw his LED turn yellow for a brief second.

“Are you alright, Y/N? Your heart rate has increased rapidly.” He put a hand on your shoulder, causing you to tense up.

“No, I’m fine… Is it hot in here or am I insane?” You stood up, fanning yourself with your hands. Connor’s LED started blinking.

“Your apartment has been at a solid twenty degrees since I arrived.” He said, standing up. “You seem to be experiencing anxiety. Did my question make you uncomfortable?”

“No, I just need some water.” You power walked over to the kitchen. You poured some water into a glass and turned around, leaning on the counter behind you.

“I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. To be honest, I came here because… I wanted to see you.” He looked down. Your heart jumped.

“What do you mean, you wanted?” You asked. He had never said anything like this before. Was he starting to deviate?

“I know I’m not supposed to want things, but I can’t stop thinking about you… I scanned myself multiple times for malfunctions or viruses, but there’s nothing.” He walked closer to you, a pleading look in his eye, almost as if he wanted you to tell him something was wrong with him.

“And when I saw that video- I felt this weird sensation in my chest and I immediately thought of you-” Before he could say another word, you walked up to him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. You lingered for a moment, and then pulled away. Your eyes opened and you saw that his LED was now a solid yellow, not changing back to blue. He looked shocked. Your mind started racing, thinking that maybe he didn’t like it. Before you could process what was happening, his hands came up to the sides of your face, pulling your lips against his once again. You inhaled from shock, and your hands went to grab onto his shirt to pull him closer to you. His hands were slightly cold, but you weren’t surprised because he was an android after all. It struck you again that he was an android, and you pulled away.

“Are you sure you wanna do this? You’re technically a deviant now…” You smiled lightly, only half-joking. He brought his hands down to your waist, resting them there gently. You felt butterflies in your stomach as you stepped even closer to him, so your bodies were completely pressed against each other.

“Please… I want to know what it feels like.” Connor whispered, his lips lightly brushing over yours. Your cheeks heated up once again. You didn’t even feel like this was real.

“I’ll show you.”

Read the rest on my AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30457698

#connor #dbh connor #dbh connor x reader #smut #dbh smut

[oro-e-diamanti]

Quiet Music: Scherzo (Chapter Six; Part One)

In collaboration with @bethanysnow

Dreams turn into reality on smokey breaths. Inner turmoil melts away with the touch from warm skin. Promises make the evening decisions go from complicated to deliciously easy.

Content | Fluff, slight smut warning, tw soft drugs (marijuana)

Pairing | fem!Reader x Damiano

Word Count | 4421

Taglist | @damianodavide @lizstans @unitersmoonshine @its-afucking-mess @ethaneskin @dont-let-me-drown-in-you @vampirtet @lividisuigomiti @juststalking @tabi-toast @ethan-torchio-angelo @cheese-toastie-11 @thewitchinthemountain @ethanesimp @sofckinelectric @man3skin @daddydamiano @finelinejpm @superchrystaldrug @ginny-lily @everythingisdefinitelynotfine @nientedaridere @rainbowmarta @tiaamberxx @shaunthesheesh @enjcltaire @rocketqueen @aleksanderwh0r3 @damianodavidhands @megann-duff @teatrodellavita @coven-daddy  @till-you-scream-and-cry @solasullabarca @fanfictionandfluff @makapaka11 @slave4yourlove @geklutst-ei @marriedwithmarktuan @bookish0918 @mehrmonga @kanevill @butterfly-skinnylegend @lidiyabest @killerqueen1985 @ccweasley @bluscryn @deluxeplanteater @ohtorchio @messyhairday-me @bidet-and-legolas @maybanksslut @katyldamusic​ @fuckim-so-gay @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @petit-poussin @fedorable-killjoys​ @luvbadass​ @buttercup-beeee​ @navs-bhat​ @etaerealboyv​ @tryymebitch​ @mell-bell​ @fenhakwe​ @solacestyles​ @softforlukescurls​ @vicsangel​ @theimpossiblehologramtree​ @alina-exe​ @cherricola66​

***

Soft skin against his fingers. A hand running down his chest to his pants. Heavy breathing filling the room. The flesh underneath him felt warm and welcoming, hot to the touch and begging for more. Her perfume filled his senses as she pulled him close. Nails running down his back. Whispers of "amore mio, just like that", "keep going,” “cara mia, vita mia, please".

A “Dami, fuck” leaving her lips as his hand started gripping her thighs. Running between them, as she threw her head back, fingers tangled in his hair, pulling on it. Biting her neck. Coaxing more moans out of him, on a mission to make him lose his mind. She was heaven on earth. Supple breasts moving with every breath as he let his mouth descend on them, one at a time, desperate to consume all of her. Kissing every inch of her, exploring her until he knew about every curve, every ridge, every little spot of her body. He wanted to know all the secrets she ever had. Drawing noises out of her that he wanted to keep hearing for the rest of his life. Her hands on his shoulders, on his back, on his arse. Pulling him further into her. Letting his mouth wander lower, getting wrapped up between her legs. She looked at him with dark eyes, nodding, and he was ready to suffocate in between her thighs.

Wait, was he actually suffocating on her thighs?

Damiano woke up with a start, face pressed deeply into the pillow, restricting his breathing in a way that was much less sexy than the one in his dream. A circle of drool had escaped his mouth and dropped onto the pillow. Well, that's embarrassing, he thought to himself.

He was in the middle of pushing himself up and out of bed, highly aware of the situation in his boxers - only to be interrupted when a knock on the door startled him. Trying to wrap the sheet around him, suddenly overly self-conscious of his state, he hastened to the door, almost tripping several times on the way. When he finally unlocked and opened it, he just about let his head appear in the opening, awkwardly hiding between the door still. Y/n’s face was painted in confusion. He forgot how stunning she really was, his brain not even coming close to painting her image in his dreams.

“Yes, hi, good morning, I’m up! I’ll be down in an hour!” He was rushing to finish his sentence, not giving her a chance to reply before he let the door fall back into its lock. A deep breath out. Her face instilled in his mind like a photograph, unable to be separated from the extremely vivid dream he’d just had. He felt bad. He had essentially slammed the door in her face while wrapped up in a bedsheet. Not a very good impression considering he liked the woman behind the door. This was going to be such a long day.

***

“Why are you so awkward?” Victoria nudged Damiano as they had settled on a couch on the bus. He had been looking off since she had first seen him that morning, which was odd. Especially considering he was usually more of an early bird than the rest of them. “Sleep badly? Bad dreams? Good dreams? Or did you scare Y/n away again with another morning wood incident.”

Damiano’s face burned up as if suddenly ignited, making Victoria gasp.

“Oh my god, did you?!” She smacked his chest with her hand as she let out a gasp.

“I wasn’t even aware you knew about the first time,” Damiano mumbled, slumping down deeper into the seat. Crawling into the shirt he was wearing. Anything to get out of this conversation.

“Word travels fast on tour, you should know that by now,” she giggled, repositioning so she had her legs spread across his thighs. “So what happened?”

“I’m not going to talk about that with you,” he scoffed. Victoria’s grin only spread further, though. She was loving this side of Damiano more than she would like to admit - shy, awkward, unsure of himself. He was one of the best people she knew, an amazing frontman, a talented musician, a loyal friend. Yet with one little addition to the team he had turned into a quivering mess.

“You know I’m just going to ask Y/n what happened, right?”

“Yeah good luck with that, she didn’t even notice. At least I hope not.”

“Wait - so you hid your boner from her? I mean, at least you didn’t traumatise her again. What happened though, did you have some good times before the wake-up call?” She once again nudged him obnoxiously, loving how uncomfortable she was making him. “Did you have a wet dream? Did- Oh my god, you’re blushing, you did have a wet dream! Tell me everything! Was it hot? Did she go down on you or something? Did you see her tits?”

“Fuck off Victoria, I’m not telling you anything, now stop! It’s no like-”

“Hi! Attention, everyone! I know it's early and everyone is probably still asleep. But - announcements! That includes you Thomas,” Y/n said pulling the curtain of the guitarist’s bunk back so he could listen too.

Victoria noticed how their assistant didn’t seem spooked by Damiano’s presence at all - it seemed like he had been right after all. She hadn’t noticed a thing. If only those two would stop playing cat and mouse and finally do something, anything, she thought.

"Now, I know we're all excited about going to Amsterdam today, and I'm not looking at anyone in particular here," she explained as she shot a pointed look at Damiano that no one missed. "But I have one ground rule: no weed before the show. You got tomorrow off, so whatever you do after the performance tonight is none of my business. But god help you if I find you with a joint in hand any time before that."

She smiled, but Victoria had no doubts she would be deadly serious if it came to it. Y/n passed out a map of the local area, highlighting the Leidseplein in the middle of town, and in red circles were the venue, the hotel they were staying at, restaurants, and several coffeeshops, all within easy walking distance.

“Do with that what you like,” she concluded. ”As long as you do it after the show.”

***

The band had gotten to the venue straight after lunch, excitedly discussing some new covers they were thinking about playing that night. Soundcheck consisted of a number of conversations all at once, trying to figure out how to change the setlist. Damiano found himself participating less, instead, staring down at Y/n sitting in the audience. She was busy writing in her notebook, the seats next to her taken up by her bag, folders, and laptop. He knew she needed a break. They all worked extremely hard all the time, so it wasn't difficult to spot the signs of a fellow overworked person. He made it his own personal mission to get her to go out with them that night. Spend some time outside of work, see the city, anything that made her put her phone down.

As day turned to night, the concert loomed on the horizon. As soon as they hit the stage, it was clear it was going to be a good night. Amsterdam was the best kind of crazy. Going from Zitti e Buoni into Billie Eilish's Bury a Friend, the crowd went wild. Damiano noticed with amusement that Y/n was absentmindedly dancing along from her spot on the side of the stage as well. His attention had only been diverted towards her for a second, he was sure, but it was enough to suddenly feel something hit his head. Soft, red fabric.

"Was wondering when the first of those would come around," Damiano chuckled into the microphone in between songs, swinging the bra around a few times, before draping it across his mic stand.

Yet as much as the energy of the audience rubbed off on the band, all of them felt like collapsing after the show, feeling like they'd given it more than their all. A perfect chance to unwind for the night, in a way only Amsterdam really knew how. It was legal, after all.

***

“I am absolutely not getting high with you lot.”

Everyone was gathered in Y/n’s hotel room more or less uninvited. It seemed like they were dying to drag her along on what was supposed to be one of the best nights out on that tour. After getting ready, they had simply stormed in as soon as she had opened her hotel door. Now they were perched on her bed, her desk, and her armchair, trying to convince her.

“I gave you all a map to see where you could go. I, for one, would like to stay in my room, just me and my bed, and sleep till my alarm in the morning. That sounds like a brilliant time in my book.”

“Boring!” Thomas shouted, hurling a pillow from the bed at her that she quickly caught and threw back with much less force.

“If you come out with us, we’ll be ready before your wake-up call for the rest of the week!” Victoria tried to bribe.

“If you come out with us, we’ll have breakfast ready for you every day!” Y/n shot a look at Thomas, knowing fully well this was not going to happen. The idea alone made her laugh.

“If you come out with us, you can keep me company while the other three go crazy?” Ethan finally offered. She knew she was close to giving in, no matter how wrong it seemed to blur the lines between working relationship and friendship. She barely even agreed to drinks when she was on the job, and technically, she considered herself to be on the job 24/7. Yet these four had grown close to her heart so much more than anticipated.

Out of nowhere Damiano appeared next to her, slinging his arm around her shoulder. The way his fingertips brushed her neck as he did so left goosebumps. “Come on, darling, I promise I’ll take care of you.”

It turned out, that was all she had needed to hear.

***

The coffeeshop didn’t differ much from the usual pubs and bars; people stuffed in every corner, a low murmur of talk with the occasional loud laughter over the music playing in the background, tables full of glasses and bottles. Only the smoke lingering in the air, its distinct smell, and the relaxed atmosphere let on that it was a slightly different kind of place. Y/n made short work of weaseling through the crowd and securing a table at the far end of the place, just enough space to accommodate all of them, as the others went to order.

“Do you want one as well?” Damiano asked as soon as he had let himself fall onto the couch next to her, already preparing to roll a joint.

“I think I’m getting a second-hand high just sitting here. Maybe take a puff of one of yours, but I won't be able to finish one myself."

Damiano nodded, licking the inside of the blanks as he prepared his joint. Victoria came bouncing in like a tidal wave - her usual fashion - and crashing into the others already sitting down. As soon as Damiano was happy with his creation, she snatched it out of his hand, making short work of lighting it and taking a drag.

“Hey, that was mine!”

“Make another one,” she grinned, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into his face. Rolling his eyes, Damiano quickly prepared another one for himself, everyone now happy and content with their smokes, until only Y/n was left holding at a glass of water.

She preferred to observe the scene from her little advantage point in the corner like she so often did. The mellow music in the background was loud enough to underline the atmosphere but quiet enough to easily talk to everyone around you without having to shout. She liked this much better than loud bars in the evening. Most people were minding their own business, in small groups or pairs, some on their own. Victoria was quick to start chatting to a pair of girls sitting at the table next to them. She wasn’t going to lie - while not her usual spot, she didn’t exactly feel uncomfortable.

A hand appeared in front of her face, seemingly out of nowhere, and it took her a second to realise it was Damiano, trying to pass her his joint. She hesitated - still not convinced whether she should be smoking at all, but one look into his eyes only proved to her that she was weak to his suggestions. Parting her lips ever so slightly, she let him push the blunt between them, his fingertips grazing her. She took a drag, careful not to breathe in too much too quickly, before releasing the joint. Damiano pulled it back towards himself immediately, putting it back between his own lips, and she felt hypnotised. The moment came to an abrupt end when a cough took hold of her.

“Easy, easy,” Ethan soothed from the other side, his hand on her upper back. “Breathe.”

Everyone around the table seemed to be looking at her now, but she quickly got her composure back, holding up her hands in a gesture that was meant to signal she was fine.

“Fuck,” Y/n choked, taking a drink from her glass to wet her throat. “This is why I don’t smoke.”

“Wrong,” Thomas threw in. “This is because you don’t smoke!”

Y/n shook her head, giggling at the guitarist and the know-it-all look in his eyes.

“Up to try again?” Damiano whispered in her ear as the attention had finally ceased to be on her. She found herself staring into his eyes once again, a fluttery feeling erupting in her stomach at having him watch her so intently, at being able to capture his attention so easily.

The look on his face was enough to get her to try again. And again. And again.

She couldn’t tell how much time had passed, but for once, she genuinely didn’t care. The people around them had changed, old ones leaving, new ones arriving, but the music stayed the same. She wasn’t quite sure what the joke Thomas was telling them was about, but she found herself giggling along nonetheless. This was the best she had felt in forever.

Unaware of what she was doing, she leaned back, finding Damiano’s arms carefully wrapping around her, holding her softly. To her own surprise, she was sinking into him.

“Having fun?” He asked in a voice so low she barely heard it. A voice so soft it made her heart melt. She nodded, slightly twisting around in his embrace to look at him again. She couldn’t get enough of his face. She’d stay and study it for all of eternity if he let her.

"Have you ever seen brown zircon?” She suddenly asked out of nowhere. “It's a gemstone that looks like they made sparkly salted caramel bonbons from rock. They mine it in Tanzania, I think? Your eyes sparkle just like that." She grinned at the man beside her. "I can attest to that from this angle at least. It’s like the one scene in Aladdin! 'She's got these eyes, and this hair and…’ Ah oh god, what am I doing?" She couldn’t help but laugh at how ridiculous she was being. She found her face resting on his shoulder, completely content. His eyes never wavered from her face, listening closely to what she had to say.

Then Y/n watched her hand brush Damiano’s hair to the front, attempting to style it in a slightly different way. “Did you mean to look like Eren Yeager or was that some sort of subconscious coincidence? Not that it doesn’t look good, of course.”

“You watch Attack on Titan?” Dami looked down at her with surprise.

“No I don’t, but my friends do. So you learn the names of the people they yell at through the TV screen very quickly,” she laughed, remembering the way her friends would huddle in the living room, shouting at whatever the characters were doing wrong in their opinion.

“The more I get to know you, the more I’m convinced you’re my kinda woman, you know?” he mumbled, a smile grazing his lips. The more she looked at him, the more she felt her brain shutting off and her heart taking over. Or was it the high? She wasn’t interested in trying to differentiate.

Once again, he pushed the joint between her lips, holding the eye contact and it felt so much more intimate than it should have. It felt like her nerves were on fire. When he pulled his hand back again, she wanted to grab onto it, keep him in place, keep the moment.

I could stay in this forever, Y/n thought to herself.

"Also, I'm not religious by any means, but whatever God was responsible for creating you sure took their sweet time doing it…" The words spilled from her mouth before she realized she was talking, eyes flicking back and forth between his. "You know?"

She caught herself looking at his lips. A small blush grew on her face as she looked away. Staring out into the room, out at the people sitting next to them at other tables. Something distracting to take the rising heat off.

***

Damiano could feel his defenses wearing away. All ideas of staying away completely vanished into the smoke that lulled them in as he was holding her in his arms, her back leaning against his chest. He could feel her breathing, giggling at nothing at all, or maybe something Victoria had said but he hadn’t heard.

“If anyone’s been made by the angels, it’s you, amore,” he mumbled more to himself than anything, but she had heard him. Another chuckle running through her body. The atmosphere was fogging up his brain. He watched in amusement as he let a finger run up her arms, from her wrist to her upper arm where the fabric of her shirt began, and goosebumps appeared as if standing tall in a row. He tried it again on the other arm, getting the same result.

“What are you doing?”

She was turning around in his arms, just enough to look at him without removing herself from his embrace. He wondered if it was the dim light or if she was always this radiant. His hands travelled to the elastic that was holding her hair together and carefully removed it, eyes on her. Her hair fell around her face, framing it beautifully in its typically wild manner.

“I…” Her eyes seemed to twinkle as the light of the bar reflected back at him through them. “I don’t know.”

He looked away, suddenly insecure. What was he doing? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he couldn’t keep his hands off her, now less than ever. He wanted her. Wanted her all to himself. Wanted to keep holding her like this forever. There was no denying that.

“You’re sweet.”

Her voice took a second to get through to him, but as it did, he turned his head as if in slow motion. All he had wanted to do was look at her again, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her lips were on his.

***

All Y/n had done was lean forward to press a kiss against his cheek. Now their lips were meeting and she didn’t know how she had gotten there. She wanted to pull back - no, actually she didn’t. But she thought she should. Though the spirit was willin - to pull away, that was -, the flesh was weak. Delving deeper into his arms, she found herself kissing him like she meant it. Her hands found his chest, feeling the rising heat from his skin. Being closer to him than ever before was driving her crazy. His soft, warm lips against hers. Just the tiniest movements, as if he was afraid of breaking her. She let herself enjoy it. For a moment. That was all her brain allowed before switching back to the rational part. She pulled back in surprise.

She moved out of his embrace, stiffening at the contact. All of the twinkling lights of romance that had just appeared around them now popped as the kiss ended.

I just kissed my boss. I just fucking went and kissed Damiano! I am so, so fucked.

Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted to kiss him again. And again, and again until they ran out of air to breathe. She looked back at him and the expression on his face said it all. His lids lowered, a small smile appearing on his face. Eyes twinkling in the soft light. He hadn’t wanted the kiss to end either. Either that or the weed was affecting him more than she had thought.

But as cold air started to seep in between them he blinked a couple of times, only now noticing that she had pulled away.

"Sorry - about that. I was trying to- I wasn't trying to kiss you. Well, I was - but not on the mouth. That would have been very forward of me. I would never. That's not me. I don't know how that happened - sorry." Y/n rambled on, unable to stop talking.

Damiano smirked, pecking her cheek. "Y/n, it's fine, you're fine. I turned my head and we kissed. It happens." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. As if this was some sort of common occurrence. As if she was panicking for nothing. Was she?

***

Damiano desperately tried to hide the turmoil inside of him. It happens?! Damiano, what the hell are you thinking! Not the right thing to say in this situation! Now it just looks like you’d kiss anyone, great. He looked down at his hands, fumbling with his rings. Trying to get his breathing back under control. He needed to be cool.

"I mean - not that I didn't enjoy it. You kiss good!"

You kiss good? What the? That wasn’t even English. He was well and truly losing his mind.

***

Y/n took a deep breath, sitting back in her seat, making sure not to be as close to Damiano as she had been before. Victoria and Thomas had migrated to get more drinks and Ethan was deeply entrenched in some conversation with a man next to him. Luckily the rest of the band hadn't seen what just happened. Grabbing her glass once more, the cold wet condensation gave a stark contrast to her warm skin.

The kiss still left a tingly feeling on her lips. Quickly looking at Damiano, she met his eyes. He had not looked away yet, it seemed. She watched as he bit his lip in contemplation. Whatever was playing on his mind, Y/n didn't know. His words left her believing he wasn’t quite as put together as he tried to pretend. He certainly wasn’t making much sense. Although, she wouldn’t dismiss his compliment of her kissing abilities. She wondered if he would think similarly if they did it again, or did more than that…

Her wandering thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a loud crash. The culprit was quickly spotted. The middle of the coffeeshop, which had been empty of people until then, now had Thomas lying on his front, surrounded by liquid and broken glass.

Y/n didn’t hesitate, jumping up to offer her aid. The worry only lasted for a second though, until Thomas turned on his back, giggling maniacally. She barely managed to kick some shards out of the way before he could roll onto them.

She let out a deep sigh at the state of the guitarist, before quickly apologizing to the people at the bar.

“Everyone help me grab Thomas, I think this is our sign to call it a night.”

***

Y/n thought she’d have an easy time going to sleep. The effects of the joint were lingering, plus, the day had just been plain exhausting. Yet, as her head hit the pillow, she felt restless. Her mind kept circling around Damiano. The way he had looked at her. The way he had looked in general. She had seen him basically naked at this point, but she still thought about how it would be different up close and personal. She wished she had been able to read his eyes more. Had he been thinking about the same things she had? Had he wanted to kiss her again and again, get lost in that bubbling excitement of finally being close, finally let his hands wander to new places? She wanted to pull his hair. See what kind of sound would leave his mouth when doing so.

She wanted his hands and his lips, all of him really, badly. She wanted to know what he felt like when he really kissed her. What his fingers would be able to do to her. Biting and moaning. She desperately needed some release, wishing it would come from him, but knowing there was no chance, at least not tonight. Her hand wandered between her legs as she let her mind run wild. Imagining it was him instead, letting his fingers run along the inside of her thighs, exploring every inch of her. How he would treat her just right, hit all the right spots, do so much better than her own fingers ever could. The words he’d whisper in her ear, seducing her with his mother tongue, breath fanning her skin. How he would kiss her senseless. Feeling the rhythm of their bodies take over. Watch his tattoos start to glisten with a sheen of sweat from what they would be doing.

She found her release almost embarrassingly quickly, burying her face in her pillow. Her body felt more at ease, although her heart was still craving something more. She had almost calmed down, getting her breathing back under control. In a moment of clarity, she checked her phone to see when she had to wake up the next day, when the sound of a moan caught her attention. One that definitely wasn’t her own, but seemed to come from the room next door.

Damiano’s room.

#maneskin fiction #damiano david imagine #damiano david x you #damiano david x reader #damiano david fiction #maneskin imagine #maneskin x you #maneskin x reader #quiet music #bethanysnow #mywriting

[artzee-bee]

You love me? | Lucifer Morningstar x reader

Fandom: Lucifer (Netflix)

Request: “ I was wondering if I could make a request where the reader is Lucifers best friend and can always cheer him up. One day (maybe after something with his brother happens) he is really upset and no one can communicate with him so the reader comes over worried sick. I thought that maybe they could have a moment after but that’s entirely up to you if you would like to write this! If you are uncomfortable or you just don’t want to write this let me know! “

Genre: a good chuck on angst but fluffy ending

Warings: nothing besides some arguing

A/N: This turned out very differently than what I was initially going for but I hope it’s somewhat good

~~~

You were more than aware of how everyone saw Lucifer: eccentric, sarcastic, over the top, at times an insufferable ass. You couldn't exactly disagree with any of those, but somehow you and the handsome gentleman got to be an inseparable duo. 

You met him at Lux while out with your friends. His good looks caught the eye of mostly everyone inside the club, you included. He was attractive but you were stubborn. You weren't going to go out of your way just to talk to him, no way! Plus, you weren't exactly looking for a relationship or anything like that, so what was the point? You were only there for the drinks and the dancing, except you ended up being quite disappointed in the drinks department. The barman was slow and alcohol was a lot more expensive than you were anticipating.

You were waiting for your drink when he approached you. He was trying to get away from a girl that was freaking him out. He made a comment about being “so irresistible” and you replied with a joke about the crappy alcohol. One thing led to another and before you knew it, you had been chatting with him for hours!! Your friends had gotten sick of waiting around for you to be done with your new pal, and left early, not that you minded much. You knew they were probably under the impression that you were trying to get in bed with him and they were mostly excited about how well it was going for you, so they weren’t mad and you were enjoying yourself.

After that night, you and Lucifer became more or less inseparable. Almost every night was now spent either at Lux or in his penthouse, chatting and drinking liquor. Lucifer would visit you at work every now and then, when a case he was working on would get on his nerves. He would sometimes drag you to the station to “keep him company”. You were, in other words, his moral support.

This position came with a lot of wild adventures and incredible stories, but also with a lot of difficulties. Lucifer wasn’t the easiest to talk to when his emotions got the best of him. He had a tendency to shut down and avoid real life at all costs. You’ve been with him through that many times before and you were convinced that there was nothing he could do to shock you anymore.

Late in the evening, you got a call from Mazikeen. She was fuming and screaming over the phone about how Lucifer was in a mood and he went off on her for no reason and that you better get to him and figure it out because she was over it. You’ve received many phone calls like this, so you weren’t alarmed but as soon as you entered the penthouse and saw the mess that was covering every square inch of the place, you began to question your judgement.

“Lucifer?” you asked but he didn’t reply. You called out to him a couple more times, until you finally found him tightly tucked in bed. 

“Luci?”

“Yeah…” his voice was muffled by the blanket and his eyes were shut

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing at all darling, I was just going to sleep”

“It’s 8 pm”

“Yeah, well, tough day at the station today. Not easy solving crime, you know?” “Oh really?” you questioned, to which Lucifer nodded slightly “Funny thing, I talked to Decker not too long ago actually. She hasn’t seen you all day.” Lucifer’s eyes stayed shut

“Don’t lie to me Lucifer” finally, you got his attention. He stood up with an exhausted sigh and rested against the bed frame

“What happened?”

“It’s just...Amenadiel…”

“What about him?”

“Always so curious, aren’t we Y/N?” he got up from the bed and headed towards the bar in the main area with you following close behind

“I’m trying to help you” “I don’t recall ever asking for it” his tone was harsh, but you’ve heard worse from him

“That never stopped me before”

“It never does any good either and yet here you are”

“Yes it does, you always tell me I’m a huge help” Lucifer frowned at your words, knowing full well you were right. He poured himself a drink, choosing to stay silent “I can’t help you unless you tell me what’s bothering you”

“It’s a fight between brothers, just like many others we’ve had before and we’ll keep on having for the rest of eternity probably”

“You’re really bothered by it”

“I am not!” his tone was firm. For just a second his eyes flashed red.

“It’s ok to feel upset”

“I am not upset!” he screamed, his face all of a sudden red and hot.  His devil face. Blood red eyes piercing your soul, a threatening smile displayed his sharp, yellow teeth . You’ve seen this side of him before. You could say you were even somewhat accustomed to it, except you've never seen him do this. Use it as a weapon against you. To threaten you, to push you away. That, more than anything, was what scared you. You’ve seen him so angry at times and yet not once did he change out of rage. You stepped back, almost tripping and falling back in the bed but Lucifer reached out and caught your hand. He held it softly, as if you were made of sand. As if you would slip from his grip any second

“Y/N?” when you looked back up to him, his face was back to normal “Y/N, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I mean, I didn’t realise I-”

“I’m just trying to be a good friend Lucifer”

“I know you are”

“I didn’t deserve that Lucifer” his eyes were full of sorrow and regret. You could see tears threatening to spill and you almost felt this man crumble in the palm of your hand. You pulled him into a tight hug and as soon as your arms went around his waist, Lucifer nuzzled his face in your hair and began to sob

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you, I didn’t mean to do that…”

“It’s ok Luci”

“You didn’t deserve that”

“Yes but you’ve apologised, I forgive you. Everything is ok” Lucifer pulled away slightly, just enough so he could look into your eyes without leaving your embrace. His face was red and stained with tears.

“How do you do that? How can you always forgive so easily?” he asked as you wiped away some of the tears with the sleeve of your shirt

“Well, with you it’s quite easy. I care too much about you to stay mad.” Lucifer rolled his eyes, as if he didn’t believe you “Plus, I know you. You are kind and caring and would never do anything to hurt me. You have a hard time managing your anger sometimes, sure, but you are working to improve.” You cupped his face with your left hand and Lucifer immediately leaned into your touch

“I’m doing my best.” he said

“And I’ll be here for you. No matter how much you dislike it sometimes!” you giggled, but than Lucifer whispered something in your palm

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Luci.”

“No, I love you Y/N” he took a step back as he said that, the closeness between you two suddenly too much to bear. You looked at him with glossy eyes, scanning his features as if you weren’t sure you heard him right and each look made Lucifer want to crawl back into the pits of hell because he was not worthy of you and he knew that.

“I’m sorry, it wasn’t the right moment, I should have just-”

“Lucifer” your voice was warm and welcoming which only made the devil feel worse. You were trying to reject him nicely, he just knew it!

“Yes?”

“You love me?” when he didn’t reply, you took a step closer, asking him again “Are you in love with me Lucifer?”

“Yes” he was crumbling once again under you. He was the devil and he’s known no weakness but somehow, someway, you managed to bring him to his knees with a single glance and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Did I get the devil to fall in love with me?”

“Perhaps..” you looked him in the eyes. You were once again standing close to him and Lucifer felt weak

“Good” you said, before grabbing onto the collar of his shirt and placing your lips on his, kissing him hard. Lucifer didn’t realise at first what you did, boldness wasn’t exactly your thing, but then, almost naturally, his arms went around your waist, pulling you into him. He felt his worries and tears fade away with every second that he felt your lips on his. He swore in that moment that no matter what, he would never ever push you away again. You were way too important!

#lucifer netflix #lucifer morningstar #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer morningstar angst #lucifer morningstar fluff

[blownbybakugou]

hey can you please do one where y/n and bakugou was roommates and you liked him and one day he catches you humping his pillow then he fucks you?

Yes! This sounds like something I’d write ngl.

warnings: degradation kink, pillow humping, nipple play, humiliation kink, voyeurism, mentions of cum eating, spanking, unprotected sex, pussy slaps, FEMALE anatomy.

pairing(s): Bakugou x GN! Reader (No pronouns used)

word count: 1.1k

request status: open

matchup status: closed

prompt status: closed

You knew it was a bad idea, but the thrill of it all left your head woozy from bliss, the friction of your roommate's pillow against your clit erupting a whimper from your throat. "B-Bakugou..." Your hands bunch up in the delicate fabric of the white sheets of his bed, feeling your orgasm approach at an alarming rate. "Gonna cum," You say to yourself, your eyes rolling back. "That's right, cum." Your hips falter, your eyes slowly drifting up until they meet with the vermillion ones you've learned to love. Your face heats in embarrassment, the dampened pillow of his you were using suddenly feeling very hot and uncomfortable. Your gaze falls down to the ground in shame, that is until you spot something that makes your cunt throb, and your hips squirm. Bakugou was clearly palming himself, getting off to you being flustered. "Why'd you stop? I thought I said to cum." Katsuki's calloused hands grab your jaw firmly and pull your head back up to face his searing stare. "What? Too fucking embarrassed to cum now that I caught you humping my pillow like a whore?" Your whole body was practically burning from arousal and humiliation at this point, even with the sight of your long-term crush palming his bulge through his sweats. Seeing as you weren't making any moves to continue pleasuring yourself, Bakugou struck your outer thigh as a reprimanding way to encourage you to continue. "I thought I said, cum." Katsuki repeats, his intense glare making more of your slick soak into the material of his pillow. Your hips begin rocking again by his command, the pleasure amplified just from his gaze alone. Your orgasm began to creep up on you again, your jaw-dropping and your eyes crossing as you feel the overwhelming euphoria wash over each and every nerve in your body. Your toes curl when the sensation doesn't stop, a hand reaching in between you and the pillow and pinching your clit teasingly. A surprised yelp leaves your mouth when Bakugou grabs your ankles and hooks them around his waist, his sweats now long gone. His grey boxers had a darkened stain in them from his precum and your mouth started to water at the thought of lapping up the white nectar. "Oh? Dirty slut wants my cock, huh?" You look up at him with pleading orbs, the need to have him inside of you churning in your stomach. "Pretty please, Bakugou." You whine, trying to push your naked slit up against him. "That's the wrong name." A growl leaves his throat when he leaves another harsh slap on you, this time on your exposed ass. "It's Katsuki to you" He redirects, tightening the already bruising hold he had on your hips. "Yes, Katsuki." Once his given name leaves your pretty lips, he was quick to silence you with a rough kiss that made your mind swirl in anticipation. He pulled away with a smug expression, examining your breathless appearance. You pulled at the rim of his boxers, gifting him desperate eyes just to convince him to fuck you already. "Good whores don't beg unless asked to." Katsuki grins, pressing the pad of his thumb against your clit, which was still twitching wildly from your last orgasm. "But, I think I'll allow it this one time." Your cheeks flush, the implication that he wanted to do this more than once causing your heart to flutter and warm in happiness. "P-Please Katsuki, really want y-your big cock i-inside!" You try to squirm, but Bakugou holds you in place. "Inside?" Bakugou lets his thumb trail down to your wet and contracting hole. "Here?" You frantically nod, pushing your hips back in an attempt to let the appendage sink inside you, but just as his thumb almost went completely in, he yanks it back out. "I thought you wanted my cock?" Bakugou hums, licking your arousal off of himself. "I do! Please, I really do, I'll be r-really good!" Katsuki lets out a grunt of approval, unhooking your ankles to slide down his tight boxers and let his fully erect dick spring to life. You held your legs up by your thighs, your eyes hazy in lust, and your cunt was dripping your essence down onto the already sweat-soaked sheets. Bakugou nudges your clit with the head

of his leaking cock, the feeling sending you into a frenzy of want, your hips bucking into his member to let it glide across the sensitive ball of nerves. Katsuki stops you immediately, pushing into your pussy and relishing in the feeling of your tight walls pulsating around him in unison to his rapid thrusts. "You like it when you're stuffed full of cock, huh whore?" Bakugou matches his words with a timed rough slap to your rear, which automatically sent a jolt to your cunt. "I can feel you shaking, slut. Cumming already?" His dark laughter rang through the sex-filled air, but you were too entranced in your own bliss to notice that he was mocking you. Bakugou lets one of his hands off of your hip and lays a slap down onto your engorged clit, which sends an excessively loud moan out of your mouth to grace Bakugou's ears. "Ha, such a dirty bitch, getting off to your little cunny getting slapped." Katsuki repeatedly smacks the small nub, watching and listening complacently as your neared your second release of the night. "Come on, cum for me." Your body convulses as a powerful mind-wrecking orgasm surges throughout your body, igniting every nerve in your body and causing your back to arch off the mattress in complete and utter euphoria. Bakugou keeps up his harsh pace until his hips begin to stutter, pulling out and shooting his cum out onto your stomach and tits. Bakugou keeps his gaze locked onto your overstimulated pussy, pinching your clit one last time to watch you clench around nothing. "You did good, or whatever." Katsuki rests his head on the pillow doused in your slick, which makes you jump up. "Oh my god, Katsuki I'm so sorry, let me go grab one of my pillows-"

"Shut up, I want to sleep on this pillow, dumbass."

#bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou imagine #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo imagine #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou x gender neutral reader #bakugou x self insert #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #katsuki x reader #katsuki smut #katsuki scenario #mha x reader headcanons #mha x reader #mha smut

[rebrandedbard]

3 for Jaskier×Geralt please

3. “Please, don’t leave.”

tw: heat stroke

wc: 1706

Rain Rain Go Away

Geralt takes on a contract to resolve tensions between an angry nymph and the farmers who insulted her. Jaskier doesn’t do well in the heatwave she sends in retribution. Light angst ensues as Geralt learns why Jaskier hid his struggle.

-

Above them, the sun blistered. Geralt had walked astride Jaskier, the sleeves of his shirt rolled above his elbows. Though he ran hotter than humans, his body adjusted well to heat, and a bit of sweat went a long way to keeping him cool. As usual, Jaskier had elected to accompany him. He carried with him only his notebook, tucked in the hem of his trousers. This contract required no fighting and Geralt had been happy enough to leave his armour behind at the inn. Despite his initial reservations, he knew it would have been more uncomfortable to wear it in this weather, and if things took a wrong turn, his signs would be enough for such a simple confrontation. The humans hadn’t angered anything particularly powerful.

“Can this heatwave really be the work of a nymph?” Jaskier quietly complained. He tugged at the front of his shirt, fanning air inside. The hair stuck to his forehead was almost black, being so saturated with sweat. The bottom of his shirt had long come untucked and hung loose around him. He was talking to himself, the words breathy. Even now he was beginning to lag behind.

“They complained of the rain,” Geralt replied. “She sent it as a blessing for their crops. Until I can make their apology formally known, this is how things will be.”

Jaskier grunted and said no more. His feet dragged on the dirt path. Now and then he took a deeper breath and paused, braced on his knees. He would then compensate by jogging up to Geralt, though in a matter of minutes he would fall behind again.

The third time, Geralt turned back and said, “You’re slowing me down.”

“Nonsense!” Jaskier said, perking up performatively. He straightened his back and fluttered a careless hand in the air. “You just keep pace and I’ll catch up when I catch up. In the past you’ve made your position perfectly clear on the subject—you don’t have to wait for me. Besides, it can’t be much farther. Then again, ah, how far is it to this nymph’s hideout exactly?”

“It’s there,” Geralt said. He pointed to a small grove beyond the last farmer’s field.

Jaskier slumped, following his finger. “That’s … not so very far. Except that it is. Quite far. I thought you said that was the last hill just now and here we are, about to climb another. I may walk everywhere we go but—phew!” He paused to pant. Talking only seemed to make his face redder with effort. He sighed and sat in the dirt, head lolling forward. “Fuck, Geralt. It’s bloody hot. I’ll get blisters in this heat.”

“Go back and wait it out.”

“It’ll be twice as long going back as going forward. Besides, I doubt the nymph is keeping her grove as hot as the village. My blood would boil in the deepest basement there, but the grove … it’s probably … very cool.” He groaned and lay back on the ground, one arm over his eyes. “Damn heat. Can barely—well, you know. The thing I do.”

He flapped a hand above his head like a little mouth, opening and closing.

“Talk?” Geralt surmised.

Jaskier pointed a finger at him. “That, yes, thank you.”

Geralt sighed and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. “Come on. We’ll be there in ten minutes if you keep walking.”

“Right. I’m up. I’m—oh.” He wobbled on his feet, pitching forward. Geralt caught him with one arm, but found he needed two to keep Jaskier upright, taking the full weight of him. Jaskier groped at his shoulder, his eyes unfocused. “Stood too quickly,” he said. “Just give me a moment, I’ll … I’m alright.”

He pulled out of Geralt’s arms and marched deliberately forward, following the path downhill. He made it two steps before swaying once more and stumbling to his knees. The momentum carried him and he rolled sideways, sliding on his back in the dust.

“Jaskier!” Geralt rushed down the hill and held him upright. He could hear his heart racing unnaturally. “Jaskier, how long have you been pushing yourself?”

Jaskier looked at him, confused. He patted his ear, brow furrowed as he focused. “I can’t hear you,” he whispered. He looked at Geralt in alarm, patting his ear still. “I—I can’t … can’t hear … what … ” His eyes lost focus once more, then his eyes rolled back and he went slack.

“Jas—Jaskier? Hey!” Geralt snapped in front of his face, but Jaskier made no response. “Fuck,” he hissed. He ought to have been more concerned when Jaskier stopped talking before. He scooped Jaskier up, draped over his shoulders, and hurried along the road. They needed to get somewhere cool fast. He only hoped Jaskier would be right about the grove.

“Idiot complains about a pebble between his toes but never thinks to take off his boot,” Geralt grumbled. Jaskier wasn’t the most pragmatic when it came to problem solving, preferring vocalization to action. “Now he keeps his mouth shut. Still doesn’t take off the boot.”

It was a struggle to jog without jostling Jaskier. He made for an awkward bulk, tipping Geralt’s balance on a few steps. Geralt had carried him before, but it was always a surprise to him how much more Jaskier weighed than expected. He was no easy burden.

It troubled Geralt that Jaskier had not taken steps to keep himself cool, or even to give any hint of his condition. He’d never been one to suffer in silence. Surely he would have noticed that something was wrong; he could not be so blind to his own circumstances.

When he reached the grove, he was relieved to find it was cool. He carried Jaskier into the center and set him under the dark shadow of a tree to keep him out of the sun. Carefully, he stripped him of his shirt and trousers. To help him cool off, Geralt wet the hem of Jaskier’s shirt with his water-skin and dabbed it on his face and chest, letting the air do the rest. Tilting Jaskier’s head back, he poured water down his throat, then left the remainder with him, just beside his hand.

The nymph found Geralt not long after he started his search. It was just as well that Jaskier had fainted, for he likely would have fainted had he been awake to learn that the nymph recognized him. She had heard his songs from the men who passed through her grove, humming and singing on their way to work, and from the children who sat in its shade. It happened that she was quite the fan of his music, and she was horrified that he’d become a consequential victim of her ire.

As the hot winds died down, the clouds were once more permitted to gather. The sun was hidden away and a light drizzle rained down over them. She wove Jaskier a fan of grass and twig, tending to him until his skin returned to its usual color. Geralt sat with her and made the apology as promised, though she’d long forgotten her anger in her distress over the famed bard. She lingered until he had sufficiently cooled, then went to inspect the villagers’ fields.

By the end of the hour, Jaskier began to stir. Geralt helped him sit up against the tree and would not allow him to try his feet. He passed him the water-skin, made him drink, and folded the shirt behind his head to keep him off the bark. When he was sure Jaskier had recovered enough, it was time for his scolding.

“What did you think you were doing?” Geralt quietly demanded. He saw the way Jaskier started and adjusted his voice. He sighed and took to folding Jaskier’s trousers more neatly, keeping his eyes lowered, giving him space. “If you were struggling, you should have said.”

Jaskier twisted the cork of the water-skin nervously. “I … didn’t want to be left behind,” he replied. His voice was weak, no more than a huff of air with each word. “I thought if I just kept going, I would learn to adjust. I would just get used to it. And I did, up to a point.”

“Why would you think—” but Geralt stopped himself. Jaskier had every right to believe it. Geralt had threatened to leave him behind if he ever lagged behind when they first met. Jaskier had been slow at the start, and over the years he had adjusted well to life on the road. Until now, he’d kept up. But Geralt had never slowed down.

“I didn’t want to be a burden,” Jaskier concluded.

Geralt placed the trousers in Jaskier’s lap. The movement startled Jaskier and he seemed to notice for the first time where he was, and under what circumstances. While he struggled with mixed feelings toward his current state of modesty, Geralt switched the empty water-skin with a second. He picked up the fan and waved it between them.

“You’ll always be a burden,” Geralt said. He handed Jaskier the fan and leaned over to adjust the shirt behind his head before it could slip down. “You’re a burden,” he explained, “but I don’t mind carrying you. You’re not so heavy. And even if you were, I’d … if you were, I’d adjust.” Though it was not as eloquent as the feeling he meant, it was the best Geralt could do to say it.

Jaskier stared at him in astonishment, the water-skin limp in his hands. Geralt opened it for him, helped him to drink it, then made him lie down once more. The contract was complete, but Jaskier needed rest still.

Geralt retrieved the empty water-skin and turned. A river ran nearby, and Jaskier would need more water when he rose. But as he turned to stand, Jaskier caught his arm. He looked up at Geralt with uncertainty in his eyes.

“Please, don’t leave,” he whispered.

And Geralt sat down once more. He put a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder, gave it a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll stay, Jaskier.” He would always stay, as long as Jaskier asked it of him.

-

Send me drabble prompts!

#my fic #drabbles #witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #heat stroke is NOT fun #I've had it #all the blood rushed to my legs and I swore they would explode #I fainted every few steps I took trying to get to the bathroom so I could strip off as many layers as possible sitting on a public toilet #I passed out so many times in under an hour #drenched in sweat #I honestly felt like I was dying #now I get dizzy in under 15 minutes of strong sunlight #wear a hat and drink lots of water kids heat stroke doesn't fuck around

[theladyofdeath]

Life As We Know It {Chapter 6}

Summary: After the sudden deaths of Nesta’s sister and Cassian’s best friend, they gain guardianship of their nephew, Nyx.

Based on Life As We Know It (2010) and a prompt sent in by anonymous for our Nessian fanfic contest. This is a modern au.

Instead of doing a tag list for this story, we have decided to have a set posting schedule. Chapters will be posted weekly on Mondays and Thursdays. Chapters will be posted on both my and Shelb’s blogs! >> @snelbz​

Life As We Know It Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist

The week had passed by in a blur and by the time Saturday came, all Nesta wanted to do was sleep in. 

But she couldn’t.

Sleeping in wasn’t possible anymore. 

Her alarm had been set for seven, but she woke up with the sun peeking through her curtains at 6:45. She looked at the baby monitor on the nightstand. Nyx was still sound asleep in his crib.

With a groan, she covered her head with her pillow and tried to shut out the light, but it was no use. 

She was wide awake. 

May as well enjoy a cup of coffee before Nyx wakes up. Nesta tossed her legs over the side of the bed and tossed her robe over her pajama shorts and tank top. After pulling her long, golden-brown hair back, she was tiptoeing through the hall and down the stairs.

Once she reached the bottom of the stairs, she could hear noise coming from the kitchen.

The sizzling of bacon being dropped into a skillet.

She had expected it to be Cassian, of course, but what she wasn’t expecting was what he was wearing.

Or, she supposed, what he wasn’t wearing. 

She wasn’t sure if she should go back upstairs, to give him privacy. But he was the one who had chosen to come downstairs like this, in one of the common areas of the house, so Nesta went ahead and walked into the kitchen. She aimed straight for the coffee pot, grateful to see a fresh pot already in the carafe. “Good morning.”

He turned towards her, that broad, muscular chest on full display, thanks to the white towel wrapped around his hips being the only thing he had on. “Morning, Nes. Hope you want breakfast.”

She continued to make her coffee, which was usually easy, considering it was one spoonful of sugar in black coffee, but she was having a distinctly hard time focusing on what she was doing.

She had seen Cassian without a shirt in before, at the few times they’d both been over to swim in Feyre and Rhysand’s pool, but there was something distinctly different about seeing him wearing a pair of swimming trunks and that towel. That towel that was sitting so low on his hips, she knew there could be nothing underneath it.

He didn’t even seem to notice, didn’t even seem to think about her reaction to him standing nearly nude in the kitchen, making breakfast. His hair was still wet, although the ends seemed to be drying. 

She wondered if this is what he looked like in a towel, what he would look like in the shower.

She quickly shook the thought away, even though it couldn’t help but linger in the back of her mind.

“I’ve got eggs, bacon, and toast,” he said, his back to her. She watched his muscles expand as he moved pans around and turned off the burners. “Simple, but it’ll fill you up. We’ll need all the energy we can this morning.”

Nesta cleared her throat and gave him a nod as he turned to face her. It was true, and Nesta was unexcited about it. The two of them would spend their day trying to find a part-time nanny for Nyx for the days that the two of them were both at work at the same time.

They’d had plenty of applicants, some of whom seemed promising. 

Nesta had her fingers crossed.

A plate was set down in front of Nesta, and for a moment, all she could do was stare at it. There was a smiley face made out of a bacon mouth and egg-eyes. Another plate was set in the middle of the table, piled high with toast and jam. 

“What am I, two?” she asked, gesturing to the breakfast face in front of her.

Cassian chuckled. His plate was piled high with bacon and eggs. No room for faces. He sat across from her and leaned on the table with his elbows. “A little smiley face never hurt anybody.”

She said nothing, just picked up her fork and cut into the eggs. She hadn’t even told him she liked her eggs over-medium, but she was glad she did as the semi-runny yolk spilled out onto her plate. Nesta thought about starting something about it, about asking about food preferences before he assumed something, but it was too early and she hadn’t gotten to enjoy nearly enough of her cup of coffee. It was too early to fight. So instead she picked up a crispy piece of bacon and used it to pick up some of the egg, before popping it into her mouth.

Her eyes slipped closed and she tried not to moan.

How could a simple breakfast taste so damn good?

When she opened her eyes again, she assumed she hadn’t been completely successful in stopping her appreciative noises, because he was smirking at her as he brought his own coffee to his lips.

“Told you I make a mean breakfast,” he said, reaching for a piece of toast and slathering it in blackberry jam.

Clearing her throat, she ignored him and continued eating until her plate was completely empty. Just as she was about to get up to rinse it off, he stood, adjusting that damn towel to fit more snuggly around his hips, and picked up both of their plates. She tried her best not to watch the muscles shift in his back as he rinsed the plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Tried her best, but found herself staring as she sipped from her coffee cup, but snapped herself out of it and got up as well, making Nyx a bottle for when he woke up.

As she shook the formula up, she asked, “Will you be putting clothes on before the applicants get here, or should I warn them this is going to be a clothes-optional interview?”

He glanced at her over a shoulder, as he began to clean the pan he’d cooked the bacon and eggs in, but turned right back to the sink. “Does my nakedness bother you, Nes?”

Damn him, she could hear the smirk in his voice.

“No,” she snapped. “And stop calling me that.”

“So, you like me in a towel, then?” he went on, turning the sink off as he put the final plate in the drain rack.

“You’re exhausting, you know that?” she asked, turning to face him full on.

He turned to her then, one brow raised as he ran a hand through his nearly-dried hair. “I’m just saying, if it bothers you, I’ll be sure to dress before I come down to slave away for you over the stove. But, if it doesn’t bother you, I have to admit that I like to completely dry before I put on clothes.”

No, it didn’t bother her.

No, she didn’t mind having her breakfast with a view.

No, she wouldn’t mind reaching out and feeling just how hard and defined his abs really were.

No, she would never admit to that.

Instead, she raised her chin and said, “I should wake Nyx up so he’s ready before the first applicant arrives.”

“So formal,” he grinned. “And here I thought we were having a nice, pleasant morning.”

A soft cry came from upstairs and she was immediately in motion, all thoughts of those abs and whether or not water from his shower would well in the defined divots of them gone. Snatching up the bottle she’d set on the counter, she turned and headed for the living room and the stairs beyond. “Put some clothes on,” was all

she called back to him as she hurried for Nyx’s nursery.

*

Nesta shut the front door, falling back against the wood, listening as the final interview made her way down the cobblestone walkway.

She sighed and made her way into the kitchen. She needed a glass of wine.

A bottle of wine was more like it, but a glass would do for now.

She found Cassian already standing behind a chair at the kitchen table, the resumes of each applicant spread out before him. “So,” she said, reaching into the fridge for the bottle of chilled, white wine. “What did you think?”

He blew out an equally exhausted breath, before shaking his head. “There was…a lot of variety.”

He was right. There was a woman who had to be in her seventies, who had brought an entire notebook of lesson plans, with her goal to have the one-year-old fluent in French before his third birthday. Then there was the thirteen-year-old who had lied about her age on the application, but promised she could ride her bike the mile and a half from her house every day they needed her. Just not until after three on school days.

“Too much variety,” she agreed. “That last woman was so boring she literally put Nyx to sleep.”

It was true. Nyx was currently sound asleep in the middle of his playmat in the living room, surrounded by his toys. 

“I didn’t mind the retired librarian,” Nesta said, filling her wine glass to the brim. 

Cassian scrunched his nose. “She smelled weird.”

Nesta scoffed. “I don’t think Nyx will be minding her smell. She was smart and was obviously good with him.”

“So was Viviane,” Cassian said, picking up an application off the table.

Nesta blinked. “Viviane?”

“Yeah, Viviane,” he said, showing her the application. “Smart. Bachelors in early childhood education. Lives three miles down the road.”

“Young, blonde, hot,” Nesta added, taking a drink.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. “So you do remember her.”

“I remember that she didn’t have near enough experience and she only listed one reference,” Nesta replied, taking the application and resume from him. She looked it over again. “She can’t be more than twenty-two years old.”

“What does her age have to do with it?” He asked, leaning down on the chair and looking at her. “She’s got good qualifications and Nyx loved her. She was one of the few he actually laughed and wanted to play with.”

It was true, he’d been extremely uncomfortable around most of the applicants. He cried the second a couple of them looked at him and had even spit up on one of them. But he had giggled with Viviane and genuinely seemed to like her.

“She hasn’t worked at a legit daycare or anything, but she’s been a one-on-one nanny before,” Cassian pointed out, as Nesta was reading the same thing on her copy of the resume. “And she said she could get us the numbers of her previous families. She just didn’t want to give them out without asking permission.” He smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sounds like she’d respect our privacy, too. But go ahead, keep thinking of reasons she’s not a good candidate.”

Aside from her perky tits and ass, I can’t think of any. The words almost came from her lips, but Nesta ground her teeth.

“We have to agree on someone, and Viviane can start immediately,” Cassian continued. 

Nesta stared at him for a moment.

He stared back, watching as she sipped from her glass. “I swear to the Mother, Cassian, if you fuck the nanny-.”

Cassian barked an unamused laugh. “You think I have absolutely no self control, don’t you?”

“I think you’re basing this choice off of what you want, not what Nyx needs,” she said, not breaking their eye contact.

“She may be hot, but fucking her would be a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” he admitted. “And Nyx is half Rhys. Don’t forget that. He liked to appreciate pretty things just as much as I do, and I’m sure Nyx will, too.”

Scoffing, Nesta set her glass down and went into the living room to get Nyx. “He’s a baby, not a grown man, with raging hormones. You’re disgusting.” She picked him up, still fast asleep from hearing about the nuances of the differences in a sitter and nanny from the old crone they’d spoken with last. “Call Viviane, let her know she starts tomorrow at eight.”

Cassian met her on the stairs. “I don’t work tomorrow, I can watch him.”

Nesta shrugged, but continued up, carrying a drooling Nyx to his nursery. She hadn’t noticed how close to his nap time it had gotten. “Think of it as an exercise in self-control then, and a test run. See how she does with Nyx and see if you can keep your dick to yourself.”

“I’ve kept it from you pretty easily, haven’t I?” 

Nesta refrained from responding as she carried Nyx into the nursery and laid him down, cracking the door open behind her as she left. Walking back downstairs, she retrieved her wine, purposefully ignoring him, though she felt his eyes on her the whole time. She wouldn’t answer his question, was doing her best not to think about it, especially compounded with memories of him this morning.

She had no idea the muscles leading down by the hips could really be so defined. She thought the illustrious V that dragged your eye downwards on most male models was photoshopped in. Cassian, though, very much proved it not only existed, but that it was as distracting as she’d imagined it could be.

“I’m taking a bath,” she announced, heading back for the stairs. “Let Viviane know she got the job, but she can start whenever you want. If you’ll be off tomorrow, we don’t need to pay her to be here.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, and was in her room with the door shut a few seconds later. She took her time filling the bathtub with the things she found under the counter. There were oils and salts and bubbles and soaps, and by the time Nesta settled into the bubbly, warm water, the entire bathroom smelled like a spa. She sipped her wine, refusing to let her mind wander back to Cassian that morning, but by the time her glass was empty, her head was swimming and the water had begun to go cold.

She got out of the tub, watching as the water swirled down the drain and began toweling off.

And then, she had an idea, to give Cassian a taste of his own medicine.

She grabbed a clean, fluffy, white towel and wrapped it around her chest. And then she headed down to the kitchen for a refill.

Cassian was lying on the couch, one arm tossed behind his head, the other using the remote to flip through the stations on the TV.

He caught Nesta the moment her feet appeared at the top of the stairs.

Nesta’s heartbeat a little bit faster with every step she took.

“This is a new look for you,” Cassian said, simply, even though his voice had lowered an octave since the last conversation they had. “Especially considering you took the master bedroom so that you had your own private bathroom to avoid such run-ins with me.”

Nesta tossed her long, wet hair over her shoulder. “I figured it was okay since you’ve made it perfectly clear that you have no desire to crawl into bed with me. I deemed it safe territory.”

The glass still dangled between her fingers and she heard the couch creak as she turned the corner into the kitchen. She may have grabbed a towel that wasn’t quite as wide as the rest of them, one that didn’t quite come as far down her thighs. But if he wanted to prance around in nothing but his skin, she could do the same.

They were both adults. She had no interest in sleeping with him - so she told herself, at least - and he’d said he had no interest in her.

She poured what was left of the bottle in her glass and threw it into the trash with a clunk. She hadn’t realized she had so little left, but was fairly sure another bottle was in the wine cabinet.

Which was in the living room.

When she re-entered the living room, the volume on the TV was nearly silent and Cassian was sitting up, rather than laying down. One arm was draped across the back of the couch and the other still clutched the remote.

She could feel his eyes on her and she took another drink before reaching around the back of the cabinet for the key and unlocking it.

Not only did she grab another bottle of her favorite wine, but also a good bottle of whiskey, too.

“Planning on getting wasted?” He asked, quietly. 

“Just stocking up,” she replied, locking the cabinet behind her. “Care for a glass?”

Cassian looked around the room, as if she would be talking to anyone else other than her. “Sure.”

“Whiskey, I assume?” she asked, going back into the kitchen for another glass. 

The television was a little bit louder when she returned, but not by much.

She sat on the opposite end of the couch, and set the glasses on the coffee table in front of them. After retrieving the glass bottles, she poured.

Cassian remained perfectly quiet as she did so. 

“Is this a truce?” he asked, as Nesta held the glass out toward him.

“This is a celebratory drink to commemorate finding a nanny today,” Nesta said, although her voice held no warmth. “No matter how young and inexperienced and doomed-to-fail she is.”

She held up her wine glass.

Cassian snorted as he clinked his glass against hers.

She wasn’t paying any attention to whatever he had playing on the TV, and she had a feeling he didn’t either, not as she could feel his stare burning into her. Enough so that she crossed her legs, unintentionally causing the towel to raise even higher attention on the outside of her thigh. It almost exposed her entire hip, which she wasn’t anticipating, but she had made the decision to come down here, to tease him by showing him what he had done to her. She wouldn’t let him see how much his gaze was affecting her.

Even if it was just the wine.

Or so she told herself.

She was just about to stand, to make some excuse for going upstairs when he set his glass down on the coffee table and cleared his throat.

“New house rule. Clothes are required in the common areas. Kitchen, living room, dining room,” he said, ticking them off one by one. “Bedrooms and bathrooms are the only places where this is allowed.”

He gestured towards her, without looking, to make sure his point was understood.

“Why?” She asked innocently, and then she threw his own words back into his face. “Does my nakedness bother you, Cass?”

“Quite the opposite,” he admitted, adjusting himself.

Nesta pretended she didn’t notice.

“I thought you had no issue keeping yourself in check with me,” Nesta said, her voice low. “I thought you weren’t some untamed male with raging hormones.”

“I’m not,” he said, reaching to refill his glass. “At least, not until a beautiful woman is sitting a foot away from me, soaked, in a towel, pouring me whiskey.”

“I’m not soaked,” she said, without thinking it through. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

When Cassian looked at her, he grinned, but his eyes were dark. “I meant your hair.”

Nesta knew her plan had immediately backfired, either that or she’d had far too much to drink, so she simply nodded and stood heading back for the staircase.

“Nes?”

She turned back to look at him, halfway up the staircase.

He was smirking, that glass of whiskey resting on the arm of the couch. “If you ever do find yourself soaked, you know where to find me.”

She was up the stairs and slamming her door in a flash, trying to ignore his quiet laughter.

#nessian #LAWKI #collab #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #nesta #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #fanfic #fanfiction #sjm #modern au #movie au

[americxn]

Welcome to the Cortez

James Patrick March x GN!Reader

《 as a detective, the reader attempts to infiltrate James’ life at the hotel for information regarding several disappearances centred around the Cortez 》

requested by @just-some-lesbian - the original request asked for smut, it is likely that I will write a part two and incorporate smut into that but this scenario seemed too heavy and inappropriate for smut. (I’ll write out the headcanons you requested too, I just really liked this idea and wanted to turn it into a full fic!)

wordcount: 3.8k warnings: swearing, blood, violence, gore, death

Your stomach leaped as James opened the door, a mere second following the last rap of your knuckles against the hard wood. Dressed in his usual finery, his appearance sucked all moisture from your throat, your fingers betrayingly stiff as you expected the hand he held out to you. You had been meeting twice weekly with the man, your nervousness in his presence seeming to only grow with each dinner you were subjected to; this evening, your nerves were at an all time high. This wasn’t a scheduled meeting. Several hours ago, Mr. March had instructed Miss Evers to invite you for an impromptu meeting that evening, which could only mean bad news for you, an undercover detective that had been secretly prying into the several recent disappearances at the Cortez, Mr. March being your prime suspect.

“Come in, dearest. You look wonderful.” He drawled, leading you into the all too familiar room, full plates of food and tall glasses of wine already ornamenting the long dining table. You thanked him, allowing him to lead you through the twice weekly routine: pulling out your chair, pressing a swift kiss to your temple and offering you a cigarette before skirting around the table to his own chair, the brush of his fingertips on your shoulder a cold, lingering touch as he moved away from you. “So, why did you call me here?” You enquired, taking a deep drink of your wine in the hopes that it would quell your nerves, your words presenting a feigned confidence. “Not that I mind, of course.” You adding quickly, causing James to smile softly as he glanced down at his food. Your own stomach growled quietly, the fragrance of the food beckoning; James never ate in your presence and out of caution, you didn’t dare touch the food either. “I just wanted to see you again, my apologies for any convenience.” He’s lying. You smiled pleasantly, looking down at your plate in faux flattery. “No convenience at all, James. You know I always look forward to our dinners.” Now who’s lying? You silenced your inner voice, taking another sip of your drink, utilising the opportunity to scan the room over the rim of your glass, looking for anything out of place that could potentially raise alarm. James never did anything without ulterior motives. That was something you had learned very quickly; he always had a reason for everything. James matched your easy smile, taking a swig of his own drink, some sort of liqueur. Strong liqueur, if the smell of it was any indication; he was always drinking but you had never seen the alcohol hold any effect over the man. You had always just written it off as high tolerance, but watching him now as he drained the remaining liquid from the glass before immediately filling it back to the brim, the ice softly clinking from within, it tugged at some part of you, willing you to question why. The room fell into awkward silence, your eyes flicking back to James as you lowered your glass, setting it gently back onto the table. He was already staring right at you, his eyes dark and gleaming with something you couldn’t place as they searched your face. You blinked at him, shifting slightly on your seat, his intense gaze unsettling. The corners of his mouth rose, almost as if he knew he was making you uncomfortable and took pleasure in it. “So, uh, you were telling the me other night about those hotel renovations. How are they going?” You took absolutely no interest in whether or not James recent renovations to the Cortez were going successfully or not, but asked anyway, if other to clear the awkward tenor of the room. “Progression is slow, but I suppose that perfection can’t be rushed.” He responded mildly, his eyes still trained on you. Clearing your throat, you nodded, your spine prickling in warning. Leave. There was no ignoring the voice whispering from the darkest pocket of your mind, not as James cocked his head, predatory intent settling over his pale features. Your stomach tightened to the point of pain, your eyes dropping in a vain attempt to avoid his vindictive scrutiny. “Well James, I appreciate you having wanting to see me this evening but I’m feeling kinda tired. Do you mind if I go back to my room? Sorry, I know I haven’t been here for long.” James’ mouth quirked upwards at your timid explanation, taking another long sip of his drink before leaning forwards, his eyes flicking down to the fist you had laid on the table before you, your fingers tight with stress. “Yes, I do mind.” Your mouth went thoroughly dry, your mouth parting in surprise. “I dismiss you. And I’ll be damned if I let you leave so soon.” All coherent thought cleared from your mind at his statement, his dark eyes filling with utter amusement at the mask of alarmed surprised that slipped over your features. “What do you mean?” You ventured, your feet shifting beneath the table, soles pressing firmly into the floor, readying to flee from the man if this interaction grew any more worrying. He seemed to blindly track the moment, his self-satisfied smirk only growing. “I mean, I’m not permitting you to leave yet.” He spelled the words out for you, taking pleasure in employing a condensing tone into his voice. Your spine straightened, your eyes flicking around the room to ensure that there was no one hidden within the dark corners of the space; James was an odd, eccentric man, his energy charged with a strange humour. But even for him, this situation was uncomfortably disarming. “You don’t get to ‘permit’ me to do anything.” You breathed, pushing back your chair slightly as you readied to stand, wanting nothing more than to be out of this room and away from the man before you. James sat back, his eyes twinkling in the light of the candles scattered across the surface of the table between you. Pulling the small silver case from his breast pocket, he flicked it open with a thumb, surveying you darkly as he took a cigarette and tapped it on the lid. A lighter appeared in his other hand, a spark flashing before a small flame sprung up; James lifted the cigarette to his lips, storing it between his teeth as he brought the flame up, a swift inhale lighting the cigarette. “You’re prying around my hotel. I would be inclined to argue that I can permit you to do as I please.” His words clanged through you. Prying.| Taking a glance to the side of the table, your eyes landed on the smaller wooden table beside the one you dined on; several platters, their contents spilled on the plates before you and James, resided on a silver tray atop it, but you didn’t miss the gleaming slice of the edge of a knife, almost completely hidden from your view behind a large bowl full of untouched buttered vegetables. Flicking your eyes away from the knife, careful to keep your possible intentions hidden from the sly man before you, you focused all of your attention on his predatory scrutiny, not daring to so much as shift under his stare. “I want to leave.” You stated firmly, growing increasingly anxious as to the real reason he called you here, and having absolutely no intention of staying in his presence long enough to find out. “You don’t get to leave until I dismiss you.” “Then tell me why you actually called me here.” You threw your words across the table at him without hesitation, every nerve in your body attempting to recoil from his dark gaze as his eyes widened with glee. “I have a sneaking suspicion that you already know full well why I called you here... detective.” You were on your feet the moment he uttered the first syllable of that condemning title, your chair falling onto the floor as you reached over the dining table, your fingers straining to reach the knife winking at you from the silver tray. The carving knife was as long and cruel looking as you had hoped it would be, a cool weight in your palm as you pushed away from the table, twisting towards the exit and preparing to step over your fallen chair. You squealed in surprise when, instead of meeting open air, you slammed into a hard, suit covered body, the knife in your hand tilting and driving up into his stomach; it was a reflex, a terrible, terrible reflex and your mind emptied as you stared at the hilt in your hand, already slick with hot blood, the blade fully submerged is his gut. Your eyes were wide as your gaze travelled up his body, his own already trained on your face, his head tilted to the side with what you could only describe as curiosity. You recoiled in horror, the edge of the table hitting the backs of your thighs as you released your hold on the knife, his blood running in hot rivers down your hand and wrist, dripping onto the tips of your shoes as James’ mouth curled upwards in a slow, predatory smile. “That was one of my favourite shirts.” He mused, gripping onto the simple handle of the carving knife and drawing it from his abdomen with a flourish. You gaped at him, rooted to the spot as the sharp intruder was removed from its burrow, expecting him to collapse to the floor as a torrent of blood spurted in wake of the knife. A multitude of questions formed on your lips as you watched him take a step towards you, frozen as he chucked the knife onto the table behind where you stood motionless with a loud clatter, his hand bloody. All words dissipated into the cold air as James reached up, looking right at you as he pulled his signature neck tie away from his throat, the fabric immediately drinking in the thick coating of blood on his pale fingertips. Ripping open the top button on his neatly laundered shirt with one hand, his smirk turned positively feral as your eyes widened, your jaw falling slack as you beheld the fleshy chasm marring the base of his pale throat, sinew and torn tissue exposed in a deep slice. “An admiral effort, darling. But you can’t kill the dead.” You lurched to the side, stumbling over the long legs of the capsized chair as every nerve in your body bleated in terror, urging you to put as much distance between you and the ghost leering before you as possible. The floor swooped towards you as you lost your footing, only just managing to recover before your body slammed into the soft carpeted ground. It took a matter of seconds for you to cross the room, your palms slamming into the surface of the door as you ran at it, unable to slow your momentum as you reached for the handle, wrists creaking at the impact. Pulling the door open, you threw a sparing glance over your shoulder, your racing mind slowing as you beheld James standing motionless where you left him, his bloodied neck tie discarded on the table as he placed another cigarette between his lips, watching you with an amusement disposition as he coaxed a flame from the lighter. Time seemed to slow as you turned back around, Sally appearing before you on the threshold of the room, her lipstick-smeared smile teary as she reached forwards, taking ahold of the side of your head and slamming it into the wall to your left with a savage force, hard enough to cause the world to slip away into blackness. 

Reality presented itself to you in throbbing waves, light infiltrating your lightly shut eyelids, coaxing you to stir with a small groan. Your allowed your eyes to open, trying to pull a hand to your throbbing temple; in your dazed exhaustion, your inability to move your hand failed to register as you forced your eyes open wider, the dim light of the room aiding in the slow process of pulling your mind back to full consciousness. James surveyed you from across the room as you stirred, the artful pleasure he took in having you at his disposal evident in the neatly tied ropes that secured your wrists to the centre of the dining table you had sat at hours earlier, your torso stretched to the edge of the table, your legs dangling freely off the side. He walked slowly to you as you turned your head, your eyes alight with terror as the brutal seriousness of your situation settled over you. James smiled warmly as you beheld him, hot, unrestrained tears already sputtering from the corners of your eyes as you watched him near, dressed in a fresh shirt, another necktie neatly secured around the base of his throat. You moaned in defeat as he paused by your head, taking a long pull on the old fashioned pipe clutched in his pale, slender fingers. You jerked away from him as he dropped his cold gaze to your face, physically recoiling from his stare and shifting on the surface of the table as far as the ropes would allow. “I’ve spent a long while thinking of what, exactly, I wanted to do to you.” You felt physically ill at his words, the pounding headache racking your temples doing nothing to soothe the sudden roils of nausea.  “But then I realised,” he began, his mouth quirking to the side as he leant down, running the tip of his finger down the side of your wet face from your ear to the sharp angle of your jaw, “why should I have to choose just one scenario?”  You willed your mind to fade back into unconsciousness, your mouth turning utterly dry as his finger completed its journey down the side of your face.  “You knew.” You groaned quietly, James’ eyes flicking from the exposed length of your throat to your lidded eyes.  James didn’t need an elaboration to know what you were talking about. “Of course I knew. I was made aware of your prying intentions from the moment that you stepped foot into my hotel.” His face blurred through your gathering tears, pouring down the sides of your face and disappearing into the wisps hair just above your ears. At your silence, he sighed, withdrawing his finger from where it rested on the line of your jaw, ensuring that his nail scraped against your soft skin as he did so. You flinched, looking up at his harsh face. “Aren’t you curious to know what I’m planning to do with you?” Your chin wobbled at his question, the hesitant shaking of your head in response worsening the pain radiating through your skull; your very scalp felt tight, with pain or fear, you could’t tell. Perhaps both. James tutted in disappointment, moving to sit on the table just above your head, your eyes straining to follow him as your chin lifted slightly, terrified to take your eyes off him for so much as a second. “Well, I suppose I can let you in on my plans. It’s not as if you have anywhere else to be.” He winked down at you, malicious cruelty twinkling in his eyes. He was toying with you, taking twisted delight in watching your eyes shutter with terror. “Cruel bastard.” You hissed quietly, shrinking away from him once more in regretful fear as soon as the words were spoken. “Yes.” James mused simply, taking another puff on his pipe, directing the exhaled smoke down at your face. “Yes, I suppose I am.”  He closely tracked the movement in the column of your neck as you swallowed thickly, a dim ache glowing in the back of your throat as you fought to keep your cries contained, a wave of sobs trying to claw their way out of you, threatening to spill over. “As I was saying.” He continued, his eyes locking with yours as he explained with brutal simplicity: “I intend in killing you first.” The air caught in your throat, your worst suspicions confirmed with condemning simplicity. But James continued, elaborating further: “As I’m sure you have come to realise, no one really dies in this hotel. Therefore, once I’ve taken your life, you will be unable to leave these grounds and your eternal punishment will begin.” The fruitful information that he had just provided you regarding the supernatural nature of the hotel fell deaf on your ears as his final statement settled over you. “No, James! Please. Please, I’ll leave. I’ll leave this hotel and not say a word, I swear.” He smirked in response to your frantic words, pulling a short, slender blade from his breast pocket. You shrieked, bringing your legs up onto the table and twisting your torso away from him, your eyes squeezing shut as his cold grasp settled on your wrist, holding your trembling arm still as he cut the rope securing you to the table in one smooth motion. One of your eyes cracked open hesitantly as he did the same with the second coil of rope, the two of you moving in synchronisation, anticipating one another’s next move as you pushed yourself upright, lurching forwards; James’ arms wrapped tightly around your torso, pulling you back to him before your toes could so much as skim the deep red carpet. A sob bubbled up from your chest as your body collapsed into his, your arms clawing at the hands he had secured around your waist in savage desperation, his lips moving to your ear. You stilled as his warm breath settled over the side of your face. “Plead all you want.” He sneered, his voice a low growl in your ear. “In fact, I prefer it.” You clenched your teeth, lunging forwards in his hold with a cry of indignation; it was an attempt made in vain, his hold was too strong. “Are you familiar with my black closet?” He crooned, taking immense pleasure in your futile struggling. Groaning despairingly, your head fell forwards as more tears built and spilled, staining your hot cheeks with salty streaks. “Let me show you. And then you get to make a choice.” James slid off the table, taking you with him, forcing you to stand and heaving your body across the room, through a small archway set into the wall and depositing you in the large room that served as James’ personal bedroom and living space. With a harsh kick to the back of your calf, he forced you deeper into the room, spinning you around to face him and gripping onto your jaw, forcing your head up and exposing the flesh of your throat to him. You reached up, hitting at his chest and clawing at his face. In his other hand, a cruel, curved blade was summoned into his grip, the metal cold as he pressed it to your throat. You froze, your breath catching as your eyes searched his, pleading silently with him. “It’s your choice.” He grunted, eyes bright with perverted excitement. “Choice?” You repeated on a stammering breath as he pressed the wickedly sharp blade further into he soft flesh of your neck, itching to rip into skin, to spill blood. James’ eyes flicked over your shoulder, an exalted smile curving his lips upwards as he applied even more pressure to the knife at your skin, his other hand coming to grip the back of your neck, pulling it towards the instrument at your throat. Small scarlet beads of blood appeared around the sharp edge, igniting a pyre of utter dread within you. You took a step back, James closely mirroring your actions, closing in on you. Heart hammering at his close proximity, you stepped back, again and again, your eyes frantically searching his, his own glowing in building excitement as he backed you to the wall. Your back bumped against the edge of the room, cruel amusement slipping onto James’ face. The wall behind you gave way slightly as he pressed you even further into it. “Excellent choice.” He uttered darkly, eyes flashing before he allowed the knife at your throat to fall to the floor, his hand coming to rest on your chest. Your brows furrowed, your relief at the removal of the blade at your throat short lived when he gave your chest a sharp shove.  The wall behind you parted entirely, James quickly driving you into very small, dark room, the air suffocatingly stale, his force on your chest causing you to stumble back. A blinding pain ignited in your lower back and you cried out, straining to push away from whatever was causing the pain. But James’ body proved an impenetrable barrier and he gripped onto your throat with both hands, driving you even further into the room. An ungodly scream ripped from your throat as the pain worsened, your insides bleating as they were unforgivingly torn through, bone splintering, skin ripping and stretching. James’ face was alight with perverted satisfaction, your shoulder blades hitting the wall behind you. Pain like you had never know radiated outwards from your centre, your hands falling to your stomach as more burning pain grew from the front of your abdomen, akin to the one at your back. James landed a harsh kick to the front of your thighs and with a sickening crunch, your full back collided with the wall, your mouth parted in a silent scream as the world spun, dangerously close to pulling you under.  You prayed that it would, begging the darkness to quell the unbearable pain radiating through every nerve of your body. Your hands fell onto something hard and slick with warmth. In the dark, it was almost impossible to make out what it was and the sickening spinning of your pain fogged mind only made it more difficult to decipher what you were touching. James watched on in eager delight, releasing his constricting hold on your throat, allowing your head to fall forwards. The world tilted on its axis as you beheld the impossibly thick wooden stake running straight through your stomach, your blood running off the dull end, it’s surface marred with deep gashes and bumps; it pried your flesh apart, your hands completely covered in the blood that ran in torrents down its length, dripping from the blunt tip and pooling around James’ feet. James leaned in as the corners of your vision began to fade, your body beginning to slump around the stake that held your upright.  You felt utterly numb, the pain dimming as the world was swept away. “Welcome to the Cortez.” He whispered, pressing a sickeningly sweet kiss to your temple before every sense of life slipped from your limp grasp, consciousness and feeling fading into blissful nothingness.

taglist: @kitwalker02 @three-eyed-snail @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @liandav @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @tatelangdonsupremacist @ikkleroniekins

#american horror story #ahs #american horror story fanfiction #ahs fanfic #american horror story fandom #ahs fandom #american horror story james march #ahs james march #ahs hotel #american horror story hotel #hotel #hotel cortez #james march #james patrick march #james patrick march x reader #james march x reader #evan peters #evan peters ahs #evan peters fanfiction #evan peters fandom #evan peters james march #jpm #american horror story season 5 #ahs season 5