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hopesworlld · 2 months

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౨ৎ oh ! dear diary, we fell in love !

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — step!bro anakin x fem!reader

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — the aftermath of your stepbrother anakin finding your diary brings some unexpected results

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 5k

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — swearing, stepcest, smoking, shotgunning, mean!ani, smut ( making out, degradation, praise, pussy slapping, choking, panties as a gag, ani calls reader a slut and a bitch, nipple play, hair pulling, riding, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, stomach bulge, public sex, car sex, reader is a bit of an exhibitionist, biting, but also body worship, dry humping and soft soppy sex ) think that's all, wow

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — stepbro!anakin has my heart and my soul, also i had sm fun with this little mini series i'll deffo do more in the future !

part one part two masterlist

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the weeks of summer seemed to fly by after anakin’s post-sex confession, claiming you as his, it was a complicated situation with your parents being completely oblivious to the fact that anakin would now spend most nights in your bedroom buried deep in your pussy, hand covering your mouth to muffle the moans that fell from your lips. it was wrong, so so wrong, but how could you stop? how could you ever move on when you knew what anakin’s lips tasted like, what it felt like to have his dick imprinted on your cervix, the taste of his cum. you couldn’t, despite all the doubts you couldn’t move on.

“angel,” anakin called entering your bedroom with a silly smirk twisted on his lips, you span turning to face the boy eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

“ani, you’re home,” you grinned, quickly crossing the room to meet him in the middle, slinging your arms around his shoulders, anakin swept you up, arms twining around your hips and spinning you in a small circle making you giggle.

“promised you i would be back early tonight,” he murmured into your hair, carrying you over to your bed and setting you down on it, following after you and tugging you onto his lap, his back resting against the headboard.

“i know,” you said dragging out the w, “but usually early for you is midnight, it's only…” you leaned over grabbing your phone from your bedside table, “seven,” you gasped, “who are you and what have you done to my anakin?”

“your anakin?” the boy asked with a wide smirk, “oh baby i like the sound of that,” his words made you flush but you rolled your eyes, hitting his shoulder lightly making the boy chuckle, leaning down and planting a butterfly kiss on your neck. “but i’m back early for a reason, i finished your dad’s old car today and i…” you don’t let him finish, spinning around with a wide smile painted across your lips.

“you did? that’s so great, ani! why didn’t you tell me earlier when i saw you?” you asked him with wide eyes and the boy laughed again.

“if you would let me finish,” he scolded teasingly, “i would have told you but i wanted it to be a surprise because i’m taking you out tonight, so get dressed, we are going on a date,” your lips parted in surprise, gazing at anakin with stars in your eyes.

“really?” you asked him, “oh, ani, that’s so sweet,” you cried, planting soft kisses all over his face before finally meeting his lips. the kiss was soft and slow, nothing akin to the messy kisses you shared in moments of passion, no, this was sweet, a promise of something more as you shared a moment of intimacy.

“come on, angel, hurry up, we don’t wanna miss it,” anakin said pulling away from you regretfully and helping you up, swatting your ass playfully as you headed over to your wardrobe and began rummaging through your clothes.

“where are we going?” you ask curiously as you pulled out a yellow skirt and held it over your hips looking at anakin with your head cocked to the side but he simply grinned.

“it’s a surprise,” was all he said, before grabbing your diary from your bedside table and flicking through it, it had become your new normal that anakin would take your diary, a thing that you had got to expose your deepest darkest secrets, but now he had stripped you bare, seen every part of your soul, tasted the darkness upon your lips and embraced it. there was no way to explain it other than anakin was simply yours, your soulmate, your relationship was something real and tangible, you could feel it when he looked at you when his hands traced your skin. it was more than lust, more than some fucked up idea of romeo and juliet, this was it for you.

“i hate surprises,” you grumbled as you tugged a pink bando top from your wardrobe, it was ruffled with a little bow that sat between your breasts.

“i know,” anakin said, and you could hear the smile in his voice even if you were turned away from him. it didn’t take you long to get ready, pulling on your new clothes along with a pretty pair of pink kitten heels and fluffing your hair out, makeup from earlier still intact so with a spritz of perfume you were ready.

“if you are taking me to see that new horror film i will stomp on your dick and leave you there,” you told him, spinning around and slinging your purse over your shoulder, anakin blinked at you, looking a little dazed before shaking his head quickly and standing up, his shirt had ridden up revealing the little cluster of hickeys you had left on his v line a few nights before.

“such a way with words, angel,” anakin complimented, walking over and planting a kiss on your glossy lips.

“only for you, ani,” you teased with a grin, grasping his hand and letting him lead you from your bedroom and down the steps, it felt like only yesterday that anakin had cornered you on the landing, teasingly calling you out for your dirty thoughts and now here you were holding hands and being led on a date, you were practically giddy as anakin ushered you into the car, shutting the door behind you before heading over to the driver's side.

“ready?” he asked you and you nodded, the drive was short, only about fifteen minutes spent with you mindlessly singing along with the radio while anakin focused, driving down dirt roads until he pulled into a place you knew all to well.

“the drive in theater?” you asked, eyes glimmering as you turned to face anakin, a wide smile spread across your lips and anakin’s face flushed, a shy grin curling as he nodded, pulling into one of the spaces at the back and shutting the car off.

“they’re playing ‘cruel intentions’ and i know it’s one of your favourites,” anakin said bashfully, rubbing the back of his neck, you had never seen him like this, cheeks rosy and eyes bright and it only made your little heart glow brighter.

“anakin, this is amazing,” you told him, “no one has ever done anything like this for me before,” you confessed, watching as anakin’s lips pursed.

“i don’t wanna say good because you deserve to be treated like this always, but i’m also happy to be the only guy who knows how to treat you well,” and there he was again, your anakin, you rolled your eyes at him and leaned back in your seat.

“always the charmer,” you chided and anakin winked at you.

“anything for my girl,” my girl, fuck.

the ticket holder came around a few moments later and anakin flashed him the tickets on his phone and you two were left alone once again, you were pleasantly surprised when anakin pulled out a diet coke from the back of the car and handed it to you, taking a fanta for himself as the movie began. you tried to focus you really did, but you couldn’t ignore the fact that anakin was right there, only inches away from you, he wasn’t even touching you but every nerve in your body seemed aware of the fact that he was beside you in the darkened car. so when you saw him pull out a carton of cigarettes from his pocket and slip one between his plump pink lips, you couldn’t help it anymore.

“hey, ani…” you said softly and anakin tilted his head to face you, flicking his lighter on and inhaling deeply, lighting the end of the cigarette.

“yes, babe?” he asked curiously before taking another drag, you watched the tendrils of smoke curl from his lips and float into the air and your mouth went dry.

“can i… can i try?” you asked, gesturing at the cigarette balanced between his two fingers with the casual grace of someone who did this often.

“you wanna smoke?” anakin asked you with raised brows, “never took you as a smoking girl, baby,” he pointed out and you flushed, eyes flicking down to your hands before going back to anakin, holding his gaze as firmly as you could.

“i’m not,” you shrugged, “just wanna know what it’s like,” you said and anakin nodded in understanding, holding his hand out for you to take the cigarette from him, clumsily you pinched it between your thumb and forefinger, careful not to burn yourself as you tried your best to position it between your fingers as anakin had, trying to ignore the way he chuckled at you.

“come here, babe,” anakin said, reaching over and twirling the smoke between your fingers so that it was perched right, “you know what you are doing?” he asked you and you pouted defiantly.

“just suck, right?” you asked, scowling when anakin laughed once again.

“it’s not a dick,” he snickered, marveling in the way your flush grew darker, “it’s kinda like sucking, more just inhaling, just wrap your lips around the end and breathe in, and you gotta let it hit the back of your throat, okay, you just let the smoke in your mouth and it's gonna make you cough,” he instructed and you nodded at him, anxiety pooled in your stomach as you brought the cigarette to your lips, the tip was already slightly wet from anakin’s own lips so you did as you were told and inhaled, instantly you felt it, the burn of hot smoke searing your mouth and sweeping down your throat, you yanked the cigarette from your mouth and coughed, it wracked your frame, little gasps escaping as you tried to soothe the searing heat.

“easy,” anakin murmured, taking the smoke from your hand and rubbing your back.

“that was disgusting,” you spluttered, eyes watering.

“poor baby,” anakin cooed unapologetically and you glared at him.

“fuck you,” you groaned, “i didn’t think it was gonna be that bad,” you huffed, taking a large gulp of coke to try and rid your mouth of the vile taste.

“maybe we should have started you with a vape,” anakin chuckled as he took another drag with ease, “think this was a little intense for your little inexperience throat,” he crooned and your glare hardened.

“my throat is not inexperienced,” you hissed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“come on, i wanna try something,” anakin said leaning forward, you wanted to ignore him but curiosity got the best of you so you tilted your head to face him, watching as he grinned at you, “we are gonna shotgun, okay?” he said and you furrowed your brows.

“shotgun?” you asked curiously.

“yea, i’ll take a drag and then blow it into your mouth, it’ll soften the hit if i’ve already smoked it,” he said, gesturing for you to sit up like he was, you followed his actions, leaning over the controls and parting your lips, watching as anakin took a long drag, inhaling deeply before grasping your chin, and pressing your lips together, exhaling the smoke into your mouth, you inhaled, allowing the smoke to swirl down your throat, it still tastes gross, the bitter mix of smoke and tobacco but it wasn’t as strong and you were able to take it without choking. when anakin pulled away you exhaled, smiling proudly.

“i did it,” you chimed, “can we do it again?” you asked and anakin nodded, taking another drag of the cigarette and bringing your mouth back to his, it was strange to have anakin’s lips there but not kissing you, instead feeling him breathe smoke into your mouth, but something about it was strangely erotic as you shared a smoke, the bitter toxins that burned his lungs being transferred to you, it was stupid but it made your insides flutter as you pulled back only slightly and breathed out, a veil of smoke fluttering between you and anakin.

“ani…” you whispered, but anakin already knew, he tossed the cigarette from his window and crashed his lips to yours, the taste of smoke staining your lips as he plunged his tongue deep into your mouth, exploring every inch of you and you were more than happy to let him, hands coming up and threading in anakin’s hair, pulling him closer. the kiss was messy, teeth clacking as you tried to force yourselves closer across the console, anakin’s hands sliding down your hips, grasping tightly at the meat of your hips causing your skirt to ride up flashing your pretty pink panties beneath.

“these for me?” anakin asked, pulling away from your lips, gaze trailing down to your underwear, curling his finger around the string of your thing and tugging it, letting it snap against your skin, you moaned at the sharp sensation and anakin’s replying grin was almost animalistic. “my little pain slut,” he crooned, doing it again and watching as you shivered, thighs rubbing together.

“ani, i’m…” you groaned, pushing yourself up again and connecting your lips once again, anakin’s hands slid down your thighs, grasping them tightly, his thumb rubbing soothing circles and he bit down on your lip and sucked it into his mouth until your bottom lip felt swollen and tender, you cried out at the sensation, addicted to the dizzying mixture of pain and pleasure that he gave you.

“you are so responsive,” anakin muttered against your lips, hand trailing upwards to your clothed cunt, cupping it in his large hand, you bucked against him, desperate for some sort of relief, your clit burned against the lacey fabric of your thong and you wanted nothing more than for anakin to tear it from your body and force himself into your wet heat.

“only for you,” you replied and anakin chuckled, slowly beginning to drag the heel of his hand up and down over your cunt, pressing against your clit, you throbbed against him, hands tightening in his hair, you wanted him closer.

“my good girl,” anakin said pinching at the skin of your inner thigh with his thumb and forefinger, palm still working on your clit, “does whatever i want don’t you, angel,?”

“yes, yes, anything,” you agreed breathlessly.

“good,” anakin said flashing you a smirk, “cuz right now i want you to ride me okay, baby,” he commanded, your head darted upwards, as though suddenly remembering that you were in public, there were many cars scattered around but anakin had managed to pick a pretty secluded spot for the pair of you but still, if anyone were to walk by they would see exactly what the pair of you were doing and you couldn’t help the rush of adrenaline that trickled down your spine and the thought of fucking anakin right here, right now.

“now?” you asked wanting to confirm your suspicions and anakin nodded his head, so awkwardly you clambered over the middle of the car, stretching one leg to balance as you sank down over anakin, your hands coming up to cling to the headrest of his seat as you swung your other leg over and planted yourself on anakin’s lap.

“knew you would like this,” anakin chuckled, “my perfect girl, so desperate to get fucked she’ll do anything,” he teased, grasping the back of your neck and pulling you into a dirty kiss, all tongue and spit, you almost lost it when anakin wrapped his lips around your tongue and suckled on the organ, the sensation mixed with your desperation had you grinding helplessly on anakin’s lap, skirt now positioned around your hips leaving your panties fully on show, if anyone were to come over right now they would be able to see the wetness staining anakin’s black jeans as it seeped through your underwear. “fuck, baby,” anakin said, hand drifting back to your underwear, “making a mess all over me,” he grinned.

“why don’t you do something about it then?” you asked him, locking eyes.

“brat,” anakin hissed through his teeth, “got a lot to say when you’ve got nothing inside you, don’t you, angel, all switches up when you get my cock though,” he ground out, “please ani, let me come, please, please, please,” he mocked your voice with a silly high pitched tone that made your cheeks burn, pouting at him you shook your head.

“you’re not any different,” you argued, “always act so nice once you’re inside me, getting pussy drunk and telling me i’m yours” you scoffed and anakin growled, hand raising and wrapping around your throat and squeezing, not enough to cut off airflow. still, it was tight enough that you spluttered out a gasp for air and looked at him with eyes.

“wanna be a bitch and i’ll fucking treat you like one,” anakin growled, “think you own me? can talk to me like that? think again, babe, you are mine, my girl, my fucktoy, okay?” he asked, not letting you respond, instead using the hand on your neck to bob your head up and down for you. he let go of your neck, shoving you back so that your shoulders collided with the dashboard behind you, you hissed in pain but anakin only smirked, reaching down and tearing your panties from your body. literally. he tore the fabric like it was nothing while you could only watch in awe. “but this is what you wanted isn’t it? need me to put you in your place and deal with that slutty pussy,” he said, trailing his fingers down your sopping cunt and you whined, bucking your hips greedily, anakin rolled his eyes at your action and suddenly he was bringing his hand down, slapping you cunt harshly, you knew it was supposed to be a punishment, but the delicious mix of stinging pleasure on your clit and white-hot heat against you needy hole had you moaning loudly.

“holy shit,” anakin gaped, looking stunned, “you really are a pain slut, you fucking like this?” he asked with a scoff, slapping your pussy once again, watching as you cried out, mouth falling open and your eyes rolling back, he slapped you again, harder and you sobbed, tears rolling down your cheeks but you didn’t want him to stop. “tell me,” anakin hissed, “you wanna cum like this?” he questioned and you nodded. “speak,” he spat.

“yes, wanna cum like this, ani, i love it,” you cried out.

“fucking disgusting,” anakin laughed, landing another two consecutive slaps on your cunt gleefully. you were a mess, tears streaming down your cheeks, your body screaming in pleasure as you collapsed down onto the dashboard, legs spread on anakin’s lap, he reached up, tugging your top down and exposing your breasts and giving both your nipples a quick pinch before going back to your pussy, using one hand to spread you open for him as he slapped you again, this one ever more intense now that you were so exposed to him, a scream fell from your lips and anakin was quick to shove your torn panties into your mouth. “you trying to get us caught?” he spat, “shut up and take it,” and he slapped your clit once again, so hard that your body physically recoiled, but it was enough, the sensation was enough to send you spiraling, coming all over anakin’s lap, pussy dribbling cum as you sobbed into your makeshift gag.

“fuck, babe,” anakin said, gazing up at you, “did you even know you were into that?” he asked tugging your panties from your mouth and you shook your head, dazed as your cunt convulsed around nothing, still desperate to be filled even after just cumming. “so fucking hot,” anakin groaned, yanking you down to kiss him, “gotta be inside you, baby,” he said, hands fiddling with his jeans and you nodded frantically, as he pulled his cock out, it was rock hard and flushed an angry red, worked up after playing with you for so long.

“fuck me, ani, fuck me,” you pleaded earning a snicker from anakin.

“so fucking desperate,” he said, but he wasn’t complaining as he grabbed your hips and lined himself up with your entrance, and sank deep inside of you, you had never ridden anakin before and you could see why, you could feel him everywhere, as though his cock was literally deep in your stomach, it ached and you fucking loved it.

“oh, oh, anakin, fuck, you’re so deep,” you cried, slumping forward into his awaiting arms.

“yea, angel, right up in your guts aren’t i,” he sounded proud as he used your hips to guide you, bouncing you on his cock, you had thought anakin couldn’t fuck you any better but right now he was literally all you could feel, you looked down and sure enough you could see the bulge of his cock against your stomach.

“ani,” you gasped, pointing down to it, and anakin’s jaw slacked.

“holy shit, look at that,” he grinned, “literally got me in your stomach, angel girl, gonna pump you full today okay, babe, don’t have any condoms, wasn’t expecting you to get so desperate for my cock in a drive-in,” he said, thrusting his hips upwards, you helped him as best as you could, lifting your hips, swirling them slightly trying to find a good rhythm but everything felt so good. but anakin didn’t seem to mind, even from this position he was jackhammering into you, cock plunging into your pussy like it was made just for you, your head fell back, unable to hold yourself together, hands clinging desperately to anakin’s shoulders.

“i think i’m gonna cum again,” you gasped.

“you wanna cum again? go ahead, baby, come for me, want you to soak my cock,” he prompted rocking his hips against yours, you came harshly, dark spots appearing behind your eyelids, you were vaguely aware of anakin’s hand pressing over your mouth to silence your screams as he fucked you through it, but not stopping as you came too. his brow was soaked with sweat and you could tell by his furrowed brows that he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially as your cunt spasmed around him. “never met someone so fucking insatiable,” anakin groaned, thrusts becoming erratic.

“and you never will,” you murmured, voice weak as anakin continued his assault on your body but you wouldn’t let him stop, you needed him to cum inside of you, to fill you with his seed until it was seeping down onto the leather interior of the seats.

“fuck, no, you’re stuck with me forever,” anakin ground out, you could feel him twitching inside of you, you leant forward, kissing his neck, trailing down from his jawline to his sweet spot where his neck and shoulder met and bit down, anakin cried out, hips shuddering and he was cumming, thick hot cum spurting deep inside of you, claiming you as his, you gasped soundlessly against anakin’s neck as you both settled. “you’re insane,” anakin groaned finally after a few minutes.

“so are you,” you replied with a small grin and anakin nodded in agreement.

“wanna get out of here?” anakin asked you and you laughed.

“bit late for that now isn’t it, ani,” and he laughed along with you, running a hand through his messy waves.

“fuck, i can’t believe we just did that,” he said, glancing around, luckily he couldn’t see anyone lurking around but he wouldn’t be surprised if you were loud enough to have caught someone’s attention.

“you were mean,” you murmured.

“yea, and you fucking loved it didn’t you, angel,” anakin grinned and you bashfully buried your face into the crock of his neck, heart fluttering as his big arms wrapper around you and held you close, “you know i don’t mean it right, you are perfect, just like seeing you get all riled up,” he said, lips pressed to your ear, his words like the confession of a sinner to a saint.

“i know,” you hummed against his neck, parting your lips and sucking the skin there gently, giggling when you heard anakin groan.

“brat,” anakin groaned, “i am not fucking you in this car again its gonna take me forever to get the cum off of the seats,” he sighed, grasping your hair and tugging your head back so you were looking at him, faces only inches apart.

“take me home then,” you said, pressing a kiss to anakin’s swollen lips, savouring the taste of salt and smoke before be pulled away with a smirk, so utterly beautiful even in the cover of darkness.

“you got it, baby,” he winked, helping you into your own seat before throwing the car into reverse and speeding out of the drive in.

arriving home you headed back to your room while anakin cleaned the car up, you quickly changed into one of anakin’s t-shirts before slipping into bed, burying yourself beneath the blankets as you waited for anakin, flicking through your phone, you had just began to doze when you heard your bedroom door open and in anakin walked clad in only a pair of grey sweatpants that hung dangerously low around his hips, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead. he didn’t say anything, simply getting in beside you and wrapping his arms around you, you rolled over, laying your head on anakin’s chest.

“i got you something,” anakin said after a few moments.

“you did?” you asked, tilting your head up to face him, he leant down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“it’s…” he murmured, “it’s kinda sappy i just… here,” he was nervous, it made your heart flutter as you sat up, taking a small box from him and opening it up, inside was a delicate silver locket shaped like a heart, your lips parted as you picked it up, it was cool against your skin, as you looked closer you could see something engraved and your heart soared.

“ani, these are our initials,” you said, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“yea, i… uh, i did it myself in the garage, i found the necklace at that antique shop in town and i just thought…” anakin fell silent, awkwardly shuffling on the bed, tears welled in your eyes as you held the necklace up, it glimmered in the dim lighting of your bedroom. “you hate it,” anakin snapped, reaching out to grab the necklace but you shoved his hand away.

“don’t be stupid,” you told him, “i love it, ani, so much,” tears trickled down your cheeks and anakin’s face softed, he reached out cupping your cheek, brushing away the crystalline tears that stained your face, “help me put it on,” you asked, holding the jewlery out to him and anakin accepted, unclasping the chain, you span around, holding your hair up so that he could loop it around your neck. it rested just above your breasts, the cool metal making you shiver as you turned back to look at anakin.

“what do you think?” you asked him with a small smile and anakin melted, leaning in and pressing his lips to yours. it was soft, easy and his lips glided across yours, gentle pecks that lead way to longer, deep kisses and soon his tongue was sliding across your bottom lip, begging for entrance and you gave it easily, arms coming up around anakin’s shoulders. sweetly he twisted you in his hold, rolling over so that you were pressed against the plush pillows, body sinking into the mattress as anakin hovered atop of you.

“i meant it, you know,” he said, pulling away from your lips and trailing kisses down your neck, “you are my girl, i don’t just say it because i wanna fuck you, you mean so much to me, angel,” he tells you and you nod, running your fingers through his hair.

“i know, i know, ani,” you say before his lips are back on yours, you can feel the promise on his lips as his sinks deeper into you, so close you could feel every inch of his body on yours, his chest pressed against yours, your legs twined and lips meeting, you loved it, loved him more than anything and you knew that now.

“baby,” he cooed, “baby, i’m gonna make love to you, okay,” anakin said, pulling back with flushed cheeks, “wanna treat you right, okay, i can’t find the words, i gotta…” he stumbled over his thoughts, eyes flashing with desperation as he looked down at you, eyes falling on the locket and he exhaled deeply, reaching out and taking it between two fingers.

“it’s okay,” you reassured him, cupping his cheek, “show me, ani, want you too,” you pleaded and anakin nodded, connecting your lips once again, it was still slow, innocent brushes of lips but anakin’s hand sunk beneath your t-shirt, tugging it up, you helped him pull it over your head leaving you bare for him.

“so pretty,” he whispered, trailing his fingertips along the valley of your breasts, leaning down and kissing them both adoringly, you shivered beneath his touch, “my gorgeous girl,” he said, cupping your breasts, circling his thumb around your nipples eliciting a soft moan from you, your necklace glittered where it lay on your chest and you could tell anakin loved seeing it, maybe even more than when he would mark you, because while the bruises would heal, this was permanent, a solid reminder that you were his and he was yours.

“ani,” you said, and his eyes flashed to yours, so full of love that it made your heart weep and your core ache, “need you, ani, please,” you begged and he nodded, grasping the bands of his sweatpants and revealing his half hard cock, tip already sticky and shiny, you ushered him up the bed and pulled him in for a hard kiss, hands tracing the muscles on his back, drawing him in, closer, closer. his cock settled against your core, cock head bumping against your clit and making you shudder.

“gonna take it slow, okay, angel?” anakin said, kissing your cheek, grinding his cock against your cunt, soaking it in your juices, you moaned but nodded, allowing anakin to do what he needed as he gently pumped his hips against yours. “wanna stay like this forever,” he hummed breathily.

“sounds perfect,” you said, swooping down and dropping kisses along anakin’s collar bone, finger’s still drifting down his spine as he reached down and grasped his cock now fully hard and lined it up with your entrance. you locked eyes and anakin waited until you smiled at him, a beautiful thing, like the first rays of sunlight before he eased himself inside of you. you would never get used to how full anakin made you feel, completely filling you up and leaving your body swelling with warmth. his thrusts were slow, sliding all the way into the hilt before pulling out leaving you gasping, whiney moans slipping from your lips.

“baby,” anakin rasped, “fuck, feels so good,” he said.

“ani,” you breathed, “don’t let me go,” you pleaded, as anakin’s thumb came down, swirling around your clit in swift but delicate motions, coxing you to an orgasm.

“never,” he promised, you stayed like this, lovingly locked together, body’s connected and lips locked until you both came, you gasped and whined, legs locking around anakin’s hips, keeping him there even after he had finished, not ready for him to leave yet and he was more than happy to stay buried between your thighs as you came down together, twin flames burning in a miracle high.

“i love you, anakin,” you whispered, voice stark against the silence and anakin’s returning grin made it all worth it.

“i love you, angel girl,” that was all that needed to be said, you had fallen but it was okay, because anakin was falling too, keeping you safe in his warm embrace as the world fell away.

/ anakin said he loved me today, well i said it first be he said it back, not love you too or same or whatever, he said i love you. this was so wrong when it started but now, how can there be anything wrong with love? this is forever, i know it now, and i’m never letting it go.

/ anakin came to me today, he’s going to transfer uni’s to one a few states over and he wants me to do the same, that way we can be together and no one will have to know. we can be a normal couple, go on dates and not have to worry. we will have to tell our parents eventually but for now this is what we have and i couldn’t be happier.

/ me and ani moved in together today, our own little flat, i think this is the start of something beautiful, a new beginning. just me and ani forever, i like the sound of that.

/ forever sounds perfect, angel girl

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wow what a journey this has been ! this will definitely be the last part of the ‘dear diary’ stepbro anakin series but dw i will be writing more for him i love him sm ! but thank you all sm to the all of the people who have been reading this and enjoyed ! and as i said in my last post feel free to send me requests as i am home for easter atm and need some entertainment !

tags: @johnbassplayercutie @srry-notsorry @hemmoxloser @evilnight07 @astarionsgirl @nyaaaaa008 @secretly-tumb1r @st4rfckerz

#anakin skywalker #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker x reader #hopes fics !#anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x you #star wars #star wars fanfiction #anakin #anakin modern au #anakin smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #darth vader x reader #star wars anakin #stepbro!anakin #sam monroe #hayden christensen x reader

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permanentswaps · 2 months

Text

Fit Into His Soul

Since childhood, Bill possessed the unique ability to manipulate souls at will. He first found out in the 4th grade when he accidentally found himself in his teacher’s body. At first, he only used his power discretely, shifting his own soul into the minds of friends and even bullies for a couple minutes while staying silent. However, as the years passed, Bill's concern waned, and he began swapping souls more regularly.

As an adult, Bill shared his power with some new friends: Tom, Mike, and Frank. Initially, they would swap with or possess one another, but over time they eventually got bored with each other’s aging bodies. That’s when Bill had the idea of taking turns having his friends possess his son, Ezra. As a fitness influencer, Ezra was the perfect opportunity to let these men re-experience their youth in one of the hottest bodies possible.

With the plan in motion, Bill informed Tom, Mike, and Frank that each of them would have a day inside Ezra's body. Tom and Mike had already indulged in relatively mundane activities, such as hanging out with friends, reliving youthful experiences, and partying at clubs. Now, it was Frank's turn.

As Frank lay in his bed, a sense of anticipation filled the air. Bill prepared to extract Frank's soul, leaving his body in a dormant state for the next day of possession.

"Bill," Frank hesitated, carefully choosing his words, "Are you sure Ezra's okay with this?"

Bill chuckled dismissively. "Why wouldn't he be? And anyway, it's not like he really gets a choice."

Frank remained unconvinced, a hint of uncertainty lingering in his expression. Yet, his eagerness to relive youth overshadowed any reservations. "I'll pull you out at midnight. Until then, enjoy yourself," Bill assured, just before Frank felt his soul detach and soar towards the other side of town.

---

As Frank woke up in an unfamiliar room on the other side of town, he looks around. The soft morning light filters through the curtains, revealing a room meticulously decorated with framed sports and movie posters. He looked down at his hands, wrinkle free, but with pronounced calluses formed around his grip. A smirk plays on his lips as he runs his fingers over the now firm biceps.

"I could get used to this," Frank thinks to himself, reveling in the newfound strength that courses through his rejuvenated body.

"Don't get too comfortable," a voice echoes in Frank's mind, surprising him. The voice is distinctly young, and it takes a moment for Frank to realize it's Ezra's consciousness communicating with him.

"Ezra? You're awake?" Frank replies, a hint of disbelief in his voice.

Ezra's consciousness chuckles, a distant presence within the confines of his own mind. "I'm here, but I can't really do anything about it. My body is yours for the day I guess."

Frank furrows his brow, absorbing the surreal nature of the situation. "I really thought you’d be dormant in here"

Ezra's voice carries a resigned tone. "Nah, but I’m used to this. My dad used to take over whenever he thought I was being annoying, or if he wanted to relive his college days, which was often."

Frank is taken aback by this revelation, realizing the extent to which Bill had used his son's body as a vessel for his whims. "And you're okay with it?" Frank inquires, a mixture of concern and disbelief in his tone.

Ezra's consciousness sighs, "I don't have much of a choice. Although I must admit, lending my body to strangers isn’t the best."

Frank rises from the bed and begins to explore the room. He's drawn to a full-length mirror, where he takes a moment to admire his reflection, appreciating the youthful features that stare back at him.

“Well, I’m not really a stranger anymore, am I? Name’s Frank,” he says, continuing to stare at his reflection.

---

Deciding to fully embrace the experience, Frank decides to follow the familiar routine that the others had taken during their time in Ezra's body. He heads to the gym, eager to see what this younger, fitter body is capable of.

The atmosphere in the gym is charged with energy as Frank lifts weights, feeling the strength and vitality coursing through the well-toned muscles. As he works out, Frank can't help but appreciate the youthfulness of his borrowed body. Every move, every flex, feels invigorating.

Meanwhile, within the recesses of his own mind, Ezra's consciousness simmers with resentment. He watches, powerless, as his body is showcased and celebrated by others, the very essence of his being now controlled by someone else.

In the gym, people start approaching Frank, impressed by the dedication they perceive in Ezra's workout routine. "Hey, man, your form is incredible! What's your secret?" one admirer asks, while another nods in agreement, expressing admiration for Frank's apparent fitness expertise.

Frank, embracing the charisma of Ezra's social media persona, responds with a casual grin, "Consistency and dedication, my friend. It's all about the grind."

Later, in a quieter corner of the gym, Frank takes a break and pulls out Ezra's phone. He scrolls through social media, marveling at the number of followers that come with being a fitness influencer.

"Guess being Instagram famous has its perks," Frank mutters to himself, an amused expression crossing his face.

Driven by a sudden surge of confidence, Frank moves toward the gym's mirrored wall. In a display of vanity, he flexes his newfound muscles, tracing the contours with his hands. The reflective surface captures his image, and he takes a series of pictures, each pose carefully curated for maximum impact on Instagram later.

---

Later that evening, Frank, now totally immersed in Ezra's world, hits the local nightclub. The pulsating music and flashing lights create an electric atmosphere, and Frank's presence, enhanced by Ezra's sculpted physique, immediately draws attention. Men and women alike gravitate towards Frank, complimenting his physique and expressing admiration. Reveling in the attention, he confidently maneuvers through the dance floor.

Suddenly, Frank locks eyes with a handsome guy and they start chatting and laughing. Ezra's voice resonates within Frank's mind. "Frank, this is Gabriel. I've been crushing on him for a long time. Don’t be weird, okay?" Ezra's words carry a hint of vulnerability and a twinge of jealousy.

As the conversation deepens, Frank discovers that Gabriel recently went through a difficult breakup, and genuine sympathy crosses his face.

"That sounds really tough, Gabriel. Breakups suck," Frank empathizes, momentarily allowing the true essence of Ezra's feelings to shine through.

Gabriel appreciates the genuine connection, opening up further. "Yeah, it's been hard. But I guess life goes on, right?"

Frank, however, can't resist the allure of the moment. Flirting even harder, he leans in, with a sultry voice. "Absolutely, and sometimes new beginnings are just what we need."

Gabriel chuckles biting his lip, “You’re funny Ezra, what kind of new beginnings did you have in mind.”

As they dance, Frank's confident moves and Ezra's unspoken feelings collide in a complex dance of emotions. The nightclub's vibrant lights cast shadows on their faces, accentuating the intensity of the moment.

Ezra's voice echoes with a sense of desperation, "Frank, please, don't take advantage of this. I never thought Gabriel would be interested, and now you're complicating everything."

Frank, caught up in the whirlwind of the night, responds with a wry smile, "Ezra, my man, you worry too much. Let's enjoy the night and worry about the consequences later."

With a shared, unspoken understanding, they lean in closer until their lips meet in a passionate kiss.

Breaking away, they share a breathless gaze, the air between them heavy with unspoken implications. Gabriel, a mix of surprise and exhilaration in his eyes, speaks in a hushed tone, "Ezra, this is... unexpected, and I'm not sure I want it to end."

Frank responds with a playful yet enigmatic smile. "Who said it has to end, Gabriel? Tonight's full of surprises."

---

The pulsating beats of the club still echoed in Frank's ears as he arrived at Ezra’s apartment with Gabriel. In the dimly lit living room, Frank pins Gabriel down to the couch and continues their passionate make out. Ezra, fueled by an overwhelming jealousy and longing for Gabriel, begins to fight back against Frank's control. The shifts in Ezra’s body go unnoticed by Gabriel, who says lost admiring Ezra’s muscular body.

"Frank, I can't stand this. I want to be with Gabriel," Ezra's voice echoes in Frank's mind, a desperate plea laced with bitterness.

"Ezra, I'm just enjoying this night. Don't ruin it for me," Frank retorts, a hint of frustration seeping into his thoughts.

"I won't let you have him," Ezra says, gaining strength.

In a last-ditch effort to maintain control, Frank attempts to wrap himself in the essence of Ezra's consciousness. But to his surprise, this only fuels Ezra's strength, making him more resolute in reclaiming what is rightfully his.

With a distinct "pop," Ezra regains control. A triumphant grin crosses his face as he looks into Gabriel's eyes and pulls him in closer for another kiss.

However, not a minute later, the clock strikes midnight, Bill’s deadline for the possession.

In an instant, Ezra is violently ripped out of his body, leaving Frank alone in his borrowed vessel. Confusion washed over Frank’s face, prompting a concerned “What’s wrong” from Gabriel.

“It’s nothing” replied Frank, smiling before eagerly diving back in.

---

The next morning, Ezra and Frank awoke to find themselves in each other's bodies on opposite sides of town. Frank, still in Ezra's body, stretched with a sense of excitement, admiring his sculpted arm, which was draped across Gabriel’s chest.

Meanwhile, Ezra, waking up in Frank's body, found himself in a state of panic. He gazed at his own reflection in horror, grappling with the realization that he was trapped in a body that wasn't his own.

Ezra rushed to his dad’s house to unravel the perplexing situation. Knocking frantically on the door, he was met with Bill’s groggy face.

"Frank? What's going on? Why are you here so early?" Bill asked.

Ezra, still frazzled, recounted the events of the previous night. "Dad, something went wrong. I think you pulled me out instead of Frank. I woke up in his body, and he's probably running around in mine right now!"

Bill looked at him confused. "What do you mean?” he muttered, “are you saying you’re Ezra?”

Bill and Ezra made their way across town to Ezra’s apartment. Frank stood in the doorway shirtless in Ezra’s body, seeing out a properly disheveled Gabriel.

“That was a lot of fun. I’ll text you.” Frank said, slapping Gabriel’s ass as he walked out.

Meanwhile, Bill and Ezra walked up to the door.

“Hey Dad, what’s up” Frank said, flashing a brief but knowing smirk at his former body, which he could only assume was being controlled by Ezra.

"I can't believe this, Dad. Frank's probably trying to steal my body," Ezra lamented, a hint of frustration in his voice. "I knew he was up to something yesterday, he was just too into being me."

“What are you talking about?” said Frank, “I didn’t steal anyone’s body.”

Bill looked at Frank and Ezra inquisitively, saying “well, there’s only one way to tell the truth.”

Closing his eyes, Bill focused his power, drawing forth their ethereal forms. As their souls materialized, he carefully observed the energies that defined their true selves. Frank looked down at himself and saw a muscular form that looked just like Ezra’s body.

"Hmm, they look like how they're supposed to," Bill remarked, his brow furrowed in concentration as he popped them back into their bodies.

Ezra, trapped again in Frank's body, felt a surge of panic. "Dad, you have to believe me. I'm Ezra! Frank's lying!"

Unbeknownst to them all, Ezra’s fight to regain control of his body had more severe consequences than anyone could’ve imagined. You see, when Frank took on Ezra’s essence during the struggle and let go of control, he was giving up the dominant spot in his body. At that time, the dominant spot was held by Frank. Which means, Ezra and Frank not only changed the balance of the possession, but they had also accidentally swapped souls. Now, in the astral plane, Frank appeared as Ezra, and vice versa.

Frank, still in Ezra's body, seized the opportunity to further his ruse. "See, Dad? I told you, I have no idea what he’s talking about.”

The room fell silent as Bill, convinced by the visual evidence in the astral plane, turned the anguished Ezra. "I can't believe you would lie to me like this Frank. If this is how you repay my kindness for letting you borrow my power and my son, then maybe we shouldn't be friends anymore.”

Ezra felt a profound sense of betrayal and desperation. "Dad, please, I'm telling the truth. You have to believe me!"

But Bill, his trust shaken by the apparent evidence, remained resolute. "No, Frank. I need some time to process all of this. Just go.”

“And don’t come back you creep” Frank shouts after him, standing tall as he realizes these muscles are now his for good.

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sherewrytes · 1 month

Text

T. A. R (Time, Appreciation, Respect)

(I'll always want you part 2)

Synopsis: Ony was calling Y/N constantly these days, trying to always reach out to talk and say his piece. Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready for it.

C.W. Angst, Black coded reader, Drug use (weed). Song links used as reference.

Fanfic inspired by the following song.

Solange: Cranes in the sky

Link for part one here

Time had passed since your confrontation with Ony on that fateful night. The sting of betrayal still lingered, casting a shadow over your every thought and action. You still find herself unable to shake the memories of everything that took place between you and Ony and the raw emotions it had unleashed.

It's 2:30 AM. You lie awake, replaying the conversation with Ony in your mind. A part of you acknowledges he may be right, yet you find it impossible to converse without being overwhelmed by emotions.

You heard Annie out on her part to play in all this but not Ony. You didn't have class until 2pm today so you had enough time to sleep some more if needed. You got out of bed, stretched, went to your desk to journal to clear your mind.

You lit the candle on your desk, opened your journal and poured your feelings into it. The pen felt heavy in your hand, similar to how your heart felt in your chest. You wrote about the confusion swirling within you, torn between the logic of Ony's words and the ache of betrayal that still lingered deep within your soul. Memories flashed through your mind of happier times, of sad times and every moment in between. You knew you should hear him out but, you couldn't decide if you were ready or not.

You closed the journal and texted Sasha to see if she was awake. You needed someone to talk to. Sasha responded almost immediately saying she's in the area, so she'd be over in a few and she has Connie and Eren with her.

You sighed and responded. You went to your kitchen to make a quick midnight snack for you and your quests. 15 mins later, at your apartment is Sasha, Connie and Eren.

Connie: "Is it okay if I smoke in here. Between Uni, my music shit and other shit. I'm stressed out."

You: "It's cool. I do smoke sometimes, well used to with Ony. Speaking of Ony. He's been calling my phone nonstop.

*Turns to Eren* He said you've been on his ass about me. Eren the fuck you on boy.

Eren sighed "Look I'm just looking out for him. Ony is taking this harder that I've seen him take anything. Him and I go way back. Ony only shows up to class, messages me for some weed well hella weed. He aint even in the studio much either."

You knew Eren, Connie, Mikasa and Ony were music majors at Paradis University which you all attended. Eren was the lowkey producer type that makes beats to rival the greats. Connie is a rising hip hop artist and Ony is a cross between Trap Soul and Rap. Mikasa was the soulful girl with a beautiful voice. You knew Ony never missed studio time for nothing, so you knew he was struggling.

"When last did he show up." Y/N asked Eren with some concern in her tone.

"Probably 2 months ago before that it was 3 months before that. Look you don't have to force yourself to talk to him or bear his wounds or help him heal from the mess he made on his own. It ain't your job to, What I'm asking is if you can hear him out even if its 5 minutes if you can't then Imma tell him to drop it."

You sat in silence for a bit truly wondering what to do, so you turned to Sasha. "Honestly I want to hear him out, I do but I need more time. I know everyone thinks I forgave Annie so easy, but Ony and I had something deeper than Annie and I had even with our years of friendship. Ya we were fighting and at odds that time but..I know I'm being dumb cause Annie is just as responsible as he was. I just need to clear my head some more."

Connie took a toke of his joint and passed it to Eren then Eren to Sasha. Sasha pulled out her phone and connected it to the speakers in your apartment and started playing L.E.S by Childish Gambino. They all passed the joint around the room you took a few hits here and there. Eren was mindlessly scrolling through his IG to see Ony posted a 15 sec video on IG with a link in the caption to his YouTube to his latest track Amphetamine.

Eren blurted out with a bit of shock, "What the fuck, Ony just dropped a new song. It looks like he changed his artist's name from Ony to Soro. I mean he mentioned the change last time he came in the studio. Yo Sasha disconnect real quick lemme listen to this real quick."

Sasha disconnected her phone to allow Eren to pull up the track. " The song is almost 8 mins WTF is Ony on" Eren says.

The beat kicks in with this smooth, laid-back vibe that immediately hooks you in. Everyone's silent giving the track a listen.

" It's like an amphetamine, how it marinate on my mind (stuck on me, yah) Got no doubt I'll be alright, if I just make it through the night."

You can hear, almost feel the range of emotions in the song. You can hear Ony's voice pouring out his feelings. The beat changes around 2:48 seconds in giving a whole different vibe to the song.

"Shawty cold as December, I still fold her, no Manila B-b-b-brr wit me baby, I hibernate, smoke the lettuce."

Everyone was vibing with the song until they heard Mikasa's voice drop on the track around 4:28 Everyone a bit surprised since Mikasa doesn't easily do features even if it's with her friends. Connie laughed a bit "He got Mikasa on this with him. Damn he really went all out. Aye Eren aint this the same beat he said he didn't want around 5 maybe 6 months ago?" Eren laughed thinking back to when he played this beat for Ony, and he said he hated it. Ony owed him big time for this, but he'll circle back to it. As the song finished. You sat with your eyes full of tears. You thought to yourself that you could feel every emotion Ony sang about in the song. The loss of their relationship, his struggles with his mental health and so much more.

Connie was the first the chime in when the song ended "Damn that was.... deep." "Yah it was Ony really flipped the script on this one." Eren chimed in.

Eren got a notification that Ony was live on IG. He clicked on it. He saw he was talking about his just dropped song and other usual shit that's going on in his life.

Ony's eyes were the newfound usual shade of slight bloodshot red from smoking and hardly any sleep. He was reading off a comment asking him who inspired him to write the song. he responded with "Someone but also no one."

Ony's voice flowed through the speakers in your apartment causing Eren to disconnect his phone to watch the live a bit easier.

He commented saying "Fire track man, wish you'd let me know you were droppin a song man."

Ony read the comment out loud and smirked and said "Sorry man. I wanted it to be a personal project, but I owe you one big time for the beat."

Ony and Eren were engaging in their usual banter in the comments of Ony's Instagram live. You were deep in thought when Ony read aloud a comment from someone claiming his song was inspired by his ex-girlfriend. Ony and you had a semi-public relationship, which is due to his rising fame as a Trap Soul/rap artist.

Ony sighed, his mind drifting back to the last time he saw you in person, when you came to return his belongings from your place. He had seen you around campus since then, but it simply wasn't the same. His response was "It was inspired by pain. Pain of loss, loss of love, loss of hopes, loss of dreams. Loss of self. She's part of something I lost in my life."

Ony paused, his gaze drifting off as he recalled the bittersweet memories. He took a deep breath, trying to push away the ache in his chest as he continued, his voice laden with emotion. "So yeah, she's part of what I lost, but 'Amphetamine' is also about finding myself again. It's about reclaiming my voice, my truth, and pouring it all out into my music."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though sadness lingered in his eyes. "Maybe one day she'll hear this song and understand. Understand that she's not just a memory, but a muse who ignited something within me, something I'll carry with me forever."

With that, Ony concluded, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. The live disconnected indicating he ended it abruptly.

As the live session ends abruptly, the room falls into a heavy silence. You, sits with a mix of emotions swirling within yourself. Ony's words echo in your mind, resonating deeply with your own conflicted feelings. You can't shake the sense of nostalgia and longing that his music and words evoke. Sasha breaks the silence, her voice soft yet determined. "Y/N, are you okay?" she asks, her concern evident.

You took a moment to collect your thoughts before responding. "I don't know, Sasha," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sasha nods understandingly, her eyes reflecting empathy. "I get it. It's hard to hear someone express their pain so openly, especially when it's intertwined with your own." Eren chimes in, his tone reflective. "Yeah, but maybe that's what he needs right now. It's better than him bottling it up and tryna smoke it all away."

Connie exhales a puff of smoke, his expression contemplative. "True, but it's also a lot to unpack. Y/N, you don't have to rush into anything. Take your time to process everything, to figure out what you need and want. What Ony did was messed up"

You nod, grateful for your friends' support. "Thanks, guys. I think…I think I need some time alone to sort through my thoughts."

With that que, Eren, Sasha and Connie left your apartment. you walk through your apartment heading to your room, the melody of Ony's song still echoing in your mind. Your emotions even more confusing than when you talked to Ony earlier. You looked at the time. It was almost 5 am. You decided to shower and head back to bed, hoping to get some rest before class.

Your mind was restless, torn between Ony's latest track and his words during the IG live, you were conflicted. On one hand, you acknowledged missing him, but on the other, infidelity was something you could never condone in a relationship. You recognized a desire to listen to his explanation, yet you feared your heart might not endure his version of the events.

The weight of Ony's words hangs heavy in the air, suffocating your mind with intense thoughts. Alone amidst the dim glow of your bedside lamp, the words "Maybe one day she'll hear this song and understand." taunt you with the possibility of reconciliation and closure. You thought to yourself "How could I ever hope to understand the depths of his pain when my own wounds still bleed with the memory of his betrayal?"

Finally entering your room, you sink onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in trembling hands, desperate to silence the cacophony of thoughts threatening to consume you.

"Take your time to process everything, to figure out what you need and want." Connie's words echo faintly in her mind. With a trembling sigh, you rise from the bed, your steps faltering as you make your way to the bathroom. The steady stream of water cascades over your trembling form, washing away the tears that stain your cheeks.

"It's 5 am. I should try to get some rest before class," you think to yourself. Climbing out of the shower, your limbs feel heavy. Wrapping yourself in a towel, the fabric offers a feeble shield against the lingering chill. You dress slowly, abandoning your usual routine for the simple comfort of bed, seeking to calm your mind. Eventually, you drift into sleep, the confusion in your heart, perhaps even greater than before.

*Slight Time Skip*

You finished up her class for the evening, your Textile Science class drained your mind. you run into Eren, Connie, Armin and Pieck in the courtyard chattin it up.

"Yo, Y/N!" Armin hollered, his grin wide as he motioned for her to come over. You gave a small nod, casually strolling over as they kept chattin'. It helped take your mind off things for a sec.

"So, y'all ready for tonight?" Armin asked, his eyes sparklin' with excitement. "Tonight?" you echoed, feeling a bit lost.

Armin leaned in closer, speakin' low like it was a secret. "The party, It's goin' down at my place. everybody's rolling through." You thought about if Ony was gonna be there since going Armin's parties was one of their go to things as a couple.

You shifted uncomfortably, tryna come up with an excuse to bail but before you could say anythin', Sasha and Mikasa slid through, bringin' a burst of energy to the scene. "Hey, y'all!" Sasha greeted; her smile infectious as she pulled you into a hug.

Mikasa gave a nod, her expression serious as she peeped Y/N with concern.

"Y/N, you gotta come through tonight," Pieck chimed in, her voice smooth and persuasive. "You never show up to the parties, and it's gonna be lit." Y/N hesitated, caught between the comfort of being alone and the fear of missing out on the squad's vibe.

Just then, Ony strolled past, casting a shadow over Y/N's mood. She felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside, memories of their messy situation flooding back.

Armin, clueless as ever, turned to Ony with a hopeful grin. "Yo, you coming tonight, Ony?"

Ony glanced at you for a sec before turning back to Armin, his face unreadable. But before he could answer, you spoke up with fire in your voice. "I ain't showing if he's gonna be there," you stated, pointing your finger at Ony with a fierce look.

The air got heavy; the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/N's heart raced as she waited for Ony's response. But instead of coming back at you, Ony just nodded quietly, his eyes holding a hint of regret before he dipped out.

You caught the concerned glances of your friends. You knew your emotions were a bit confusing being torn between wanting to hear him out, missing him then not wanting to be around him. Even though almost much time had passed, her emotions still felt raw.

You looked around to your friend group who was gauging your reaction to seeing Ony. Each stare, felt like a trap a push to make a decision you weren't ready for.

"I can't do this," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you took a step back, your eyes darting between your friends and a mental escape route. Sasha's hand on your arm stopped you in your tracks, her grip firm yet gentle. "You can't run from this forever, Y/N, you're gonna have to address this or find the will to move on" she said softly, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. You stared at Sasha's face trying to gauge her facial expression and reaction "I know, Sash I know." you whispered hoarsely, your voice cracking with emotion. "But I'm not ready to face him, not yet. I don't know if I ever will be."

With that said you turned and left them there, briskly walking back to catch an uber back to your apartment.

----------------------------While you left-----------------------------------

Eren stared at Armin, scoffing with annoyance "Bro, how you gonna forget they ain't together no more? Ony straight up did her dirty with Annie."

Armin sighed and took a step back. "I know but they're both my friends and I want them both to be happy and come out more. guess I messed up by asking them out around each other. It's just that we hardly get to chill with both of them around, you know...it's tough."

Eren shook his head, his frustration evident in his furrowed brow. "I get that, Armin, but you gotta realize it's not just about them being happy. Ony really hurt Y/N, man. And seeing him around just brings back all that pain."

Armin's shoulders slumped in defeat, his expression reflecting the weight of his guilt. "I know, Eren, I know," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just... I don't know how to fix this mess."

Sasha, who had been listening quietly, spoke up with a sympathetic tone. "Maybe there's no quick fix, Armin. Sometimes all we can do is give them space and time to heal, you know?"

Connie nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "Yeah, sometimes the best thing we can do is just be there for them when they're ready to talk or when they need us."

Armin sighed; his gaze heavy with regret. "You're right," he admitted, a sense of resignation settling over him. "I just hope they both find their way through this, somehow."

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#aot angst #aot onyankopon #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black y/n #ony x black reader #ony aot #aot x black reader #aot x you #aot x reader #black reader #black tumblr #sherewrytes #connie springer #sasha blouse #eren yeager #eren jaeger

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python333 · 8 months

Note

Hello!! I absolutely adore your 141 platonic fics, I litterlay giggle and kick my feet when you post new storys about it. Especially since they're always gender neutral! Litteraly always check to see if youve posted a new fic, but anways!

I'm a really big sucker for found family mental health fics, especially when I'm experiencing rough times. If your comfortable with it, I was wondering if you could make the 141 catch Reader self harming or maybe just seeing the self harm on their arms accidentally and comforting them. Always love a comforting found family fic on cold nights.

If it's easier, I really love really any of your hurt/comfort type 141 fics with all my soul and eat them up anytime you post them. Especially since there isnt much gn!reader and TF 141 platonic hurt/comfort fics. So if you aren't busy than that's another option I would love to see!!

If your uncomfortable with it then that's fine and you can just ignore this post! Make sure to take care if youself aswell author. You're absolutely amazing! 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

self-slaughter — python333

— — — —

synopsis reader is a medic and is caught harming themselves by the 141 in the medbay!

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & gn!reader

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 6.6k

warnings self-harm [specifically using a scalpel], self-harm scars, dark thoughts [nothing too bad, but thoughts of pulling off your skin and harming yourself], painful wound cleaning [with iodopovidone], 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note hello anon!! i too am a big sucker for found family mental health fics, and completely understand this request, and i will happily write it for you!! a lot of this is based on my own experiences with this, so i hope that's okay and that you enjoy the fic!! as well as this request, i'll use this fic as an excuse to write a few prompts on my bad things happen bingo card, which will be displayed at the end of the fic! the prompt used will be: painful wound cleaning! expect wayyyy more angst after this LMAO. also, if this feels like glorification or anything else inappropriate for a fic like this, then please let me know! since it's mainly based on my own experiences, i assume it wouldn't feel *too* much like that, but still!

It gets kind of old after so long of doing it.

Almost like it’s a chore—as if stealing glances at your medical equipment, tools meant to save the lives of others, and wishing that it were being used to draw blood from your body was just an inconvenience. You complain about it in your head like you used to about school, like it was nothing more than some homework that was due a minute before midnight.

Right now, you’re alone in the medical bay. It wasn’t often that you were, typically two bumbling idiots would stumble in every few minutes talking about how they got injured while sparring, but for the past thirty minutes it’s been silent. While you appreciated the break from the constant explanations of why the soldiers you were to tend to had gotten injured, with the silence came very unwanted thoughts.

And with nobody to focus on came your unwilling lingering stare at the sharp scalpel on the small metal equipment cart that was just a few feet away from where you sat. It didn’t help that you felt oddly guilty today, either.

Well, the guilt wasn’t odd. You knew where it came from. It just felt odd, considering the cause for it happened a week ago.

The cause had been on a critical mission last week, where you were responsible for carrying medical supplies and ensuring the team’s well-being and general health. The medical equipment wasn’t particularly expensive or hard to get, but it was still incredibly important.

However, on that same mission, right towards the end of it, you’d been caught in the midst of an intense gunfight. Distracted by the heavy enemy fire, you dropped the small bag you’d been using to carry the medical supplies, and hadn’t noticed you did until it was too late. By the time you and the others were out and heading back to base, you had just realized you left behind the medical equipment.

All week, your fellow task force members had reassured you that it was okay and that it wasn’t that big of a deal, considering nobody got hurt. Still, even a week later, you’re hung up on it. Had someone gotten injured, what could you have done? You didn’t have any supplies to help them, so what would you have done then? Just the thought of that possibility makes you shudder.

The scalpel looks so tempting.

It’s not like you hadn’t used it before—you have the scars to prove you had, ranging from small lines that could be mistaken for cat scratches to tiger-stripe length cuts that make your thighs look as though they’d been mauled by a large animal. As elegantly as you describe them in your head, the visuals of them aren’t nearly as pretty. With the help of that scalpel, a few sharp needles, and some medical scissors, you’d successfully made it look as though a bear had tried to attack you and tear your legs off.

Ironic, isn’t it? A medic harming themselves?

Your job is to literally save the lives of others, and here you are, staring at the closest thing you have to a knife in the medbay. It’s become as easy as blinking for you—which is scary, honestly, the way you’ve developed a tolerance for cutting yourself and stapling your skin back together if you’ve cut too long or deep.

It’s no longer enough to just scrape something sharp across your skin and watch blood bubble up from the broken seams of your flesh, no, now you have to cut even deeper to actually feel anything. You have to feel the scalpel being buried to the hilt in your flesh, and you have to see the way blood spurts out of the self-inflicted wound after you pull out the tool.

You continue to stare at the scalpel, sure that you look like you’re in some sort of trance right now.

It looks so tempting. You can remember the last time you used it—three days ago, the longest you’d gone without it in a while. Similar to cigarette-addicts, you often tell yourself that you’re able to stop whenever you’d like—that you’re able to quit at any time. It’s a lie, and you know it, but you still like to pretend that it’s true.

You’re still staring at the scalpel.

Its sharpened edge reflects the overhead light, creating a bright glow that strains your eyes when you stare at it for too long. The metal of the handle is worn down from use, even though it’d only been in the medbay for maybe a few months—something nobody had questioned yet, thankfully. The clean blade, replaced just yesterday, had no traces of filth or grime on it, making it even more tempting.

You blink. You hadn’t noticed the burning of your eyes until you forced them away from the small knife.

You move your gaze to your lap, where you fiddle with your fingers, gently tugging at a hangnail that’s been lingering on your thumb for the past few minutes. As you pull on it, you feel the sting that it brings, though that sting now feels dull compared to the other things you’ve done to yourself.

It almost feels like a small pinch compared to the ways you’ve mutilated your thighs on certain nights that didn’t allow you the energy to do anything else, or the ways you’ve carved apologies in the forms of lines into your arms to try and gain forgiveness for your thoughts and temptations.

You pull the hangnail off completely and watch the miniscule droplets of blood bleed through your flesh and meet your skin and nail. Before you only had the energy to do your job and harm yourself, you would’ve hissed at the sting pulling off the small bit of skin caused you and grabbed a bandaid immediately, but now, all you can think about is how it isn’t enough.

About how much better you’d feel if you pulled all your skin off. If you could feel every inch of your skin stretched to its limits and torn off of your body, because God knows you deserve it.

The thought makes you wince. That is… disgusting. Why am I thinking about that? You shake your head in hopes that it would shake away the dark thought, but instead the action makes it rattle inside your brain and break off into tiny bits in pieces, small unwanted thoughts of wounding your flesh rolling around your mind.

Similarly to Sisyphus and his boulder, you try to push those thoughts out of your mind, your hands starting to curl into tight fists, but you just can’t. Every time you push a thought back, it comes rolling back to the forefront of your mind, the momentum it gets from being pushed back so far only to get rocketed forwards making it even more unbearable to think about.

The fists your hands have formed become tighter.

Each thought that gets pushed back only jumps forwards once again, ricocheting around your brain, the effort of trying to ignore them making your ears ring.

Before you realize it, your gaze snaps back to the scalpel.

You don’t even notice the blood that begins to spill from your palms from how deeply your nails cut into your skin.

Every thought tries to be louder than the other, creating an unholy cacophony of sound; a terrifying harmony that only grew louder every second that passed. You stare at the scalpel. It continues to reflect the bright gleam of the overhead light, and it continues to make your eyes strain the more you look at it, but you can’t find it in yourself to be all that bothered about the eyestrain.

You unclench your fists and stand up, walking the short distance over to the metal medical cart where the scalpel lays, and you grab the handle of it with shaky hands. You look over at the door for a moment, and stay there for another few seconds.

Once you see that nobody’s coming in, you rush yourself to one of the beds, sliding open the curtains in front of it and sliding them back so that they’ll obscure anyone else’s view of you using the scalpel on yourself.

You sit on the bed and although the scalpel almost slips out of your hand because of the blood from your palms, you manage to keep held in your tight fist, holding it like you would a pencil; tucked under the base of your thumb, and going through the gap between your index and middle finger.

With your hands still trembling and your breath uneven, as well as a bustling mind that only grew louder as the scalpel in your hand grew closer to the skin of your forearm, you made the first incision. Almost immediately, your mind quieted, and your headache dimmed.

Quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of a clear head, you lift the scalpel from your skin, not waiting to watch the blood bubble up from your open wound like you usually would, instead opting to make another incision right next to it.

Being a medic, there was nothing you could really do to stop yourself from thinking about how deep each incision was, and how deep you were cutting into your flesh—so while you cut yourself, a train of thought begun.

Half an inch deep, You push the scalpel deeper, Now a full inch. Should take a month or two to fully heal. Wouldn’t scar.

The thought of it not scarring should make you happy, or at least, neutral, but instead the thought makes you frown. Some odd hunger that comes from the indefinite pit in your stomach craves evidence for the malice you’ve shown towards your own skin, something that would prove your self-hatred.

So, you go another half inch deeper. Scarring would be possible, but not as high of a chance as if you went another half inch. With that thought, you go the last half inch. There we go.

You slide the scalpel blade through your flesh, the blade cutting through it like it would a firm fruit like a pear. It’s easier to cut through skin when the skin is pulled taut, You think, If only I had an extra hand.

You pull out the blade and repeat. You feel less guilty already.

All that worry about fucking up during your last assignment washes away, like the wave of guilt that overcame you earlier receded and pulled back that worry with it, lowering the tide of shame and self-reproach within you. In fact, the tide lowers so much that it almost completely disappears from your mind—like it never existed in the first place.

Reminds me of a tsunami, You repeat your actions with the scalpel, When the tides get low, so low that the ocean floor shows and you could walk where you’d originally have to swim, it’s because a tsunami is building up.

You look down at your work. Your forearm is a bloody mess, crimson red dripping down to your fingers and threatening to drop onto the stark white sheets of the bed you’re sitting on. You sigh tiredly and get up from the bed, putting the end of the scalpel’s handle into your mouth—ignoring the voice in the back of your head that reprimands you for not thinking about bacteria or contamination—and biting down to hold it whilst you slide the curtains in front of the bed to the side, walking out of the small resting area.

You grab the scalpel and set it onto the metal medical cart by your desk, grabbing the gauze on that same cart, opening the small box it’s kept in with your non-bloody hand. It’s a struggle, but you manage it open, and you shake the roll of gauze out onto the cart.

In the middle of you attempting to pull the end of the gauze off of the roll so that you could begin to wrap it around the red lines decorating your forearm, you hear loud footsteps walking near the medbay. You freeze in place, the gauze roll in one hand, your eyes burning holes through the door with how intensely you stare at it.

There’s a knock. Then another.

The door handle twists.

You stare at the door, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion for a second.

The door opens.

“Hey, dae ye hae any—” Soap walks in, the sergeant taking one look at you before cutting himself off with a confused and immediately worried, “Holy shit, whit happened tae yer arm? Are ye alright?”

He rushes over to you and takes your bleeding forearm into his hand. You almost immediately rip it away from his grip.

“Nothing! Everything’s fine! Just an accident,” You lie, holding the blood-covered forearm close to your chest, “I was just about to clean it up.”

“Dae ye need help wrappin’ it, an cleanin’ it up, or anything?” Soap asks, eyebrows furrowed and his expression beyond worried.

“Nope,” You insist, “It’s fine. All good here.”

“... Ye sure?”

“Uh huh,” You nod your head, “All good. Don’t worry about it.”

“‘kay then,” Soap tilts his head and crosses his arms, “Whit happened?”

“Just a little accident with some of the equipment,” You nod down to the bloody scalpel on the medical cart, “That’s all.”

It must be obvious you’re lying, because Soap sighs and says, “I think we baith ken that that’s a lie.”

You stay silent for a few moments, before Soap speaks up again, “Ye ken if ye dinnae tell me, I’ll jist jump tae conclusions, richt?”

You take a deep breath before mumbling something under your breath. When Soap’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, you repeat louder, “I used the scalpel. On myself.”

“Ye whit?”

“I used the scalpel on myself,” You look away, and rush out, “and I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t help it, it’s not like— like a normal thing or anything, it’s just this once, I swear, and— and—”

“[c/n], calm down,” Soap quickly uncrosses his arms and sets both hands onto your shoulders, furrowed eyebrows now taking a more concerned shape, “It’s okay.”

You take a deep breath and look at him, looking at his nose instead of his eyes because you don’t think you could handle eye contact right now, “I’m really sorry.”

“Why would ye dae that tae yerself?” Soap asks, voice soft and almost pitying, which makes you want to curl up and die.

You shrug, not wanting to answer verbally.

“Dae ye— dae the others ken?” Soap questions.

“No.”

“I’m—” Soap looks conflicted for a moment, “I hae an assignment… I’ll get Gaz tae help ye, aye? An’ I’ll check in wi’ ye as soon as possible?”

You hesitate, but end up nodding in agreement, thankful that Soap offered to get Gaz rather than one of the others. The others seemed so oddly scary right now that you don’t even want to think about how they’d react to this whole situation. It’s all gone by so fast—one moment you were sitting on a hospital bed, the next you’re found out by Soap of all people—you’ve barely had time to think about the others.

“Okay. Okay, okay,” Soap repeats the word under his breath like a mantra, thinking to himself for a second before sighing and looking down at you again, “Jesus, fuck, okay. I’ll go get him, ye stay here, aye?”

You nod again, this time your vision begins to get more blurred.

“Ye’re gonnae be okay, okay?” Soap tries to reassure you. You nod once again, sniffling a little bit, making Soap’s gaze soften.

He takes his hands off of your shoulders and gives you one last sad look before turning around and rushing out of the medbay, his thundering footsteps growing quieter as he gets closer to Gaz’s location—most likely his sleeping quarters.

You wait a moment and when you hear no footsteps, your gaze goes back to the blade. It’s not like it’ll hurt to do a few more. I’ll stop when the others arrive.

You grab the handle of the blade, and as quickly as you can, akin to an addict scrambling for substance, you slice through the skin of your non-mutilated hand. You make several quick and deep gashes before dropping the scalpel onto the medical cart again, breathing heavy, the cuts this time actually hurting. It felt like fire was running rampant through your nerves, all stemming from the self-induced wounds, and you winced at the new pain. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but still.

When you hear footsteps again, you can tell they aren’t Soap’s.

The door clicks open and in walks Gaz, already looking very worried—presumably from what Soap told him about your… situation—with another person in tow. Right behind him, Price walks in, expression neutral so far.

Gaz looks over at you, his eyes widening as he sees the bloody gashes in your forearms. Without a second thought, he rushes over to you, his hand reaching for your forearm. Before you can stop him, he grabs your bloody forearm and pulls it up a bit so that he can look at it closer. You flinch, and Price quickly walks over to you two before Gaz can even utter a single word.

“Let’s not, okay?” Price’s version of ‘knock it off’, “I’m here, I’ll take care of their… thing. You hand me what I tell you to. Understood?”

“Yup— Yes, sir. Captain,” Gaz corrects himself quickly, making a slip-up that in any other situation would’ve made you at least chuckle, but all you can do now is stare at the pair as you hold your bloody arms to your chest.

Price looks back over to you and nods over to one of the many empty curtain-surrounded beds and says, “Go sit over there and wait for a few seconds.”

You nod, not knowing what else to do or say, and immediately walk over there. It’s the room furthermost to the right, the one that’s also the closest to the door and the one you’d coincidentally gone into to cut yourself.

You slide the curtains to the side and sit down on the white bed, and just a few seconds later, just as Price said, he walked in as well. He sat next to you, Gaz in tow, the latter carrying a jar of cotton pads and balls as well as a bottle of Betadine.

Betadine—or iodopovidone, whichever name you preferred—was a sort of antiseptic that was generally used for cleaning cuts and wounds. Maybe not ones as deep as yours, but it would still work just as well.

Despite it not being alcohol-based, or really having any alcohol in it, it still hurts the same as rubbing alcohol would, which you were… definitely not looking forward to.

“Sergeant,” Price takes the jar and bottle of Betadine from Gaz, “Go and grab the skin stapler for me.”

“Yes, sir,” Gaz nods, walking out of the room once again. Price sets the jar and bottle of Betadine onto the bed beside himself after he leaves.

With you and Price now in the room alone, he turns to you and holds out his hand with his palm faced up for your arm silently. You carefully put your forearm onto his hand, watching as he gently pulls it closer to him, looking a bit closer at it before sighing through his nose and using his free hand to open the jar of cotton pads.

“How did this happen?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Soap didn’t fill you in?”

“No.”

You think about what to tell him for a moment. What’s too straightforward? What’s too vague? How do I not overstep? How do I not sound like I just want attention?

Eventually, you settle on, “I was— … I saw the uh… scalpel, and I just… decided to use it a little bit. On myself.” Definitely not the best you can do, but what else could you say? ‘Oh, I cut myself with a scalpel because I felt guilty and if I didn’t I probably would’ve had a panic attack or a mental breakdown’?

“…” Price pauses for a moment, eyes twitching for a split second before he continues his movements to grab a cotton pad and questions you, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“You know what I’m asking, [c/n].”

He’s asking why you did it. There’s not one simple answer you could give him—sure, you could tell him that you felt guilty and it was a bad habit that you’ve told yourself you could stop but never tried to, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth.

You can’t fully express or dictate why you do it, you just do. It’s like when you cut slits into bread before baking it. Without those slits, the bread would crack and split at the seams on its own, but with them, the splitting and expanding of the dough is controlled.

Except, with you, it’s like you’re cutting yourself before the tension building inside of you makes you burst at the seams. Taking a blade to your skin has given you a sense of control—maybe that’s why it’s so addicting, You think, it’s the only way I’ve been able to control my feelings.

But you can’t just say all of that. Well, you could, but did you want to? Fuck no.

Instead, you opt for shrugging, which doesn’t satisfy Price one bit.

“I could see you thinking about it,” He sighs, “I know you at least have some sort of real answer.”

Well, fuck. “It’s a long answer.”

“I never said it couldn’t be.”

He doesn’t move to grab the Betadine at all, instead waiting for you to talk.

You purse your lips and think for another moment before finally talking again, “I was feeling really guilty and tense, and I guess it just got too much, so I just kind of… had to. Like I felt like I was gonna fuckin’… I dunno, have a nervous breakdown or something. And honestly, it’s a really stupid reason, because the thing that I’m feeling guilty about happened like a week ago, but still—I’ve been feeling really guilty about it. It—It’s not like I can’t stop, if I tried I could, I swe—swear, and I just— it’s been really easy to just— you know? I— honestly, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Hey, hey—” Price brings a hand to your shoulder and softens his voice, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“I ju—st… I’m sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Price reassures you, quickly bringing that same hand up to cup your jaw, “You’re okay. You don’t have to say sorry.”

“But I—”

“Shh.” You hadn’t even noticed how frantic your breathing had gotten during your small word vomit. And to just make things worse, there’d been tears gathering at your water line, well on their way to spilling over and creating tear tracks down your cheeks.

You can’t help but let go of all the tension in your shoulders the moment Price starts gently rubbing his thumb back and forth over your cheek. The moment he does that, it’s practically game over for you.

Those tears spill out from the corners of your eyes and you can already feel your next breath get caught in your throat, leaving you to just let Price gently guide your head to lean forwards against his chest, letting out small hiccups and trying desperately to hold back the sobs you want to let out.

It all happened so fast, you don’t even know how you got here. One moment you were doing a good job of somewhat keeping your guard up, the next your resolve was crumbled completely by the gentle and oddly caring touch of Price’s hand.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door, then someone walks in while you’re burying your head further into Price’s chest—Ghost. You can tell it’s him by the way he walks. He has long strides, he never drags his feet, and the moment he slides the curtains to the side to see you, his footsteps stop. They start up again a moment later, and he sits by your side, opposite of where Price is sitting—to your right instead of your left.

Gaz must’ve let him in while he was looking for the stapler, You think, sniffling against Price’s chest. Normally, you would’ve felt some sort of shame by now, but given the current situation, you didn’t find much room to give a shit.

You feel Price’s head move up slightly, and judging by the way he occasionally nods and sometimes moves his hands a bit, you can only assume that he’s having some sort of nonverbal conversation with Ghost right now. This conversation goes on for about a few minutes longer before you’ve managed to control your breathing a bit more.

Price can tell, and he asks just for confirmation, “Is it alright if I clean your cuts now?”

You nod and sniffle once before taking your head off of Price’s chest, looking down at your lap, simply holding out one of your blood-crusted arms to him. You can see Ghost stiffen up behind you almost immediately at the sight of it.

Price grabs a cotton pad from the jar he was handed earlier, as well as the bottle of iodopovidone, and soaks the cotton pad with said iodopovidone. Once it’s soaked with the antiseptic solution, he hesitates before pressing it to your bloody arms.

Almost immediately, you inhale a sharp breath and feel tears stinging your eyes again.

“It’s okay,” Price tries to calm you down, seeing the tears forming in your eyes again, “You’re okay.”

You sniffle and shift on the bed, trying to blink away tears that threaten to spill over your water line. Ghost, sitting by your side, puts a gloved hand over your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your shoulder. His eyes twitch as you bite the inside of your cheek to muffle another sob while Price presses another Betadine-infused cotton pad to your self-induced wounds, and although you can barely see him, out of the corner of your eye, you still catch the glint of new tears gathering at the corners of his eyes as he watches you.

Gaz slips back through the curtains in front of the bed, this time with Soap in tow, and hands a skin stapler to Price. Seeing the skin stapler, something you used fairly often—often enough that the others knew how it worked and how to use it—automatically made your stomach turn.

“Told ye I’d come back for ye,” Soap murmurs, kneeling down to get about eye-level with you. You huff out the smallest laugh at his words and he gives you a small smile that makes you want to go lock yourself in a room with a scalpel and repeat what you’d done earlier all over again, his empathetic expression paining you more than taking a blade to your arm.

As a matter of fact, the expressions that you wish were pity coming from everyone around you hurts more than anything you could’ve ever done to yourself. Their concern was so unexpected—not that you don’t think they care, but you never thought they cared this much. You didn’t think that, if caught in the act, you would receive empathetic looks and solemn smiles, rather thinking that you would receive reprimanding. That you’d be punished for punishing yourself.

Price thanks Gaz silently with the curt nod of his head before turning back to you with a solemn expression that in all honesty makes you more guilty and disappointed with yourself than before. He holds the skin stapler like he would a hot glue gun, looking down at the open wounds in front of him, and holds your forearm closer to him so he can see the edges of the cuts better.

"Keep your arm like that," He murmurs, to which you respond with a nod and stiffening your arm so that it stays in the air where Price positioned it. He uses his now free hand to gently pull the edges of the cut you'd made closer together, aligning them the best he can before pressing the metal staple dispenser to the cut and pushing down on the trigger, stapling the two edges together with a click.

He holds it down for an extra second before releasing and pulling the stapler away from your skin, and although the process only took around three seconds, you'd never get used to the feeling of getting your skin stapled. You make a small, pained noise that has Soap wincing as well--as though he can feel it too--and Price looking more solemn than earlier.

“Finished with this one,” Price mutters as you swallow down another sob, holding his calloused-but-soft hand out for you to put your other forearm in. You do just that, nearly breaking into a fit of new sobs at the small ‘thank you’ Price utters.

You watch Price soak another cotton pad with iodopovidone with his free hand and suck in a deep breath as he presses it to your forearm, the originally white cotton pad almost immediately going red. Tears spill over your waterline and roll down your cheeks as he continues to clean and disinfect your wounds, and before you can move your free hand to wipe them away, Ghost does so for you, his rough gloved hand swiping below your eyes quickly.

You mumble a small 'thank you' that's barely even audible, sniffling as you can’t help but lean forward the tiniest bit into Ghost’s hand as it lingers on your cheek. He pauses, keeping it there for a second, before bringing that same hand up to the crown of your head and pushing gently on it to urge you to lean your head back. You do so, the back of your head quickly making contact with his Adam’s apple and the top of your head becoming tucked underneath his chin.

His hand goes back down to your shoulder and continues its ministrations of rubbing small circles into said shoulder, bringing you intermittent moments of comfort throughout the painful wound cleaning you had to endure.

Soap keeps a comforting hand on your knee as he’s kneeled down in front of you, his thumb occasionally copying Ghost’s, but otherwise remaining still on your knee, careful not to force you through too many different sensations at once.

Gaz watches you from by the curtain, seeming not to do and looking completely lost. He stands there for another moment, watching the others, seeing what they’re doing for a second, before giving Ghost a ‘one moment’ signal by holding up his index finger and stepping out of the curtain-surrounded area.

Right after he does, another painful sting shoots up your nerves from your forearm, and you make the mistake of looking down at it.

Wounds that only fifteen minutes ago had brought you to a calmer state of mind and were nothing more than incisions made by the scalpel you’d used to cut other people for entirely different reasons now almost hurt to look at. Once you could’ve compared them to marks left by wild animals, and you could’ve described them as though they were trophies, but now, as you stare down at them being cleaned by your own captain, they look nothing like the sort.

They don’t look like any of the pretty descriptions you’d given them. They don’t look like cat scratches you’d gotten in an accident, or like something you would get out of a fight with a bear—they don’t make you look strong and brave like you thought they did.

They look like tally marks. Sanguineous, gruesome tally marks, made by you, like you’d been counting down the days—or seconds, minutes, hours—until you’d had enough. Until you’d had enough of just carving your skin with medical equipment, and needed something more. Craved something more.

Price must notice you staring down at the wounds, because he pauses in his movements to clean them for a moment, the sudden stopping of the stinging sensation the iodopovidone-soaked cotton making you shiver. You look up at him, and see him already looking down at you, concerned.

“You’re thinking about something,” He points out softly, “Tell me what’s going on in that head of yours.”

You hesitate and look back down at your arm that Price had stopped cleaning, before mumbling, “Just thinking about how these are gonna scar.” It’s not entirely a lie, but not entirely the truth either.

Price tilts his head to the side a bit, questioningly, “Do you know how they’re gonna scar?”

“Well, when you work in the medical field for a bit, it gets easier to tell.”

You can tell he wants to ask how they’re gonna scar, so you decide to just say, “They’re all about one-and-a-half to two inches deep, so they’ll heal fully and then scar in a few months. Once they do, they’ll be visible, but not too prominent. The scarring tissue will stick above the skin a little bit, and it’ll make it look a little bit puffy.”

“Alright,” Price hums, tone neutral, “So they’ll be… visible.”

He sounds disgusted, A voice in the forefront of your mind insists, while one from the back of your mind tries to tell you, You have no way of knowing that, just see where the conversation goes. He has no reason to be disgusted with you.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then,” Price sets the cotton pad down and grabs the skin stapler he’d been using earlier, “And it’ll take a few months to heal, you said?”

“Several months, yeah.” Price considers this for a moment, pausing in his movements to hold the stapler to your skin.

“Do you think you’ll need any help re-wrapping the bandages while they heal?” He inquires, resuming his movements after asking the question.

“…” You think for a moment, Will you?, and after a few seconds, hesitantly, you reply, “… Yeah.”

“M’kay,” Price hums softly, neutrally. “And would you want me to be the one who does it?”

You think for another few minutes. Preferably, you’d be doing them yourself, but you didn’t trust yourself enough for that—so getting one of them to do it for you is your next best option. You wouldn’t mind if it was Price doing it, but at the same time, you wouldn’t mind if Ghost, Gaz, or Soap did it either.

“It doesn’t matter,” You settle on, before tacking on, “As long as it’s one of you four.”

“Us ‘four’ being… ?”

“You, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz.”

“Got it,” Price nods. You see Soap smile softly out of the corner of your eye before he quickly stops, trying to purse his lips into a line. He’s probably thinking that he shouldn’t be happy about that, You think, almost amused. You feel Ghost’s thumb stutter on your shoulder as well, before it starts back up normally.

Your words affect them more than you thought they would.

Breaking your train of thought, Price staples your skin with a muted click, making you wince.

It’s silent for a few more moments before Gaz finally comes back, now out of breath and carrying a bar of chocolate. He hands you the chocolate bar and says, panting, “I almost had to spar someone for that. Why do you have to like the chocolate one of the other fuckin’ Lieutenants do?”

You take the chocolate bar with your free hand gingerly and blink at it for a few moments before setting it down next to you.

“Nobody told you to get it,” You shrug, before tacking on, “Thank you, though.”

“Uh-huh, yeah, totally, hey so uh—” He looks at Soap and jabs his thumb towards where the door would be behind the curtains, “We’re both needed somewhere else. Again. They said they forgot something… again.”

“Worst fucking timing ever,” Soap grumbles, before clearing his throat and standing up, looking down at you, “Right, I’ll check in on ye later, and help ye wi’ anything ye need me tae, aye? I’ll come wi’ mair chocolate than Gaz did, ‘cause I’m better than him.”

“Got it,” You smile up at him, making him grin back and pat you on the shoulder Ghost’s hand isn’t occupying, before heading out with Gaz.

Then, you’re left with Ghost and Price.

“I should get going too,” Ghost mutters, slowly taking his hand off of your shoulder and gently pushing your head back off of his chest, almost regrettably.

“M’kay,” You watch as he gets up and hesitates, looking like he’s about to give you a hug, before he decides to instead give you a simple head nod and head out the same way the two other operators did.

And then, it was just you and Price.

It’s silent for a bit, until Price speaks up.

“You think a lot,” Price comments, finishing up the last staple.

“Does that surprise you?”

“A little bit, yeah.”

You pause for a moment before sighing through your nose, “It’s nothing. Just the same stuff I was thinking about before.”

“Wanna give me some more detail than that?”

“Not really, no,” You admit, letting your hand fall into your lap as Price lets go of it, “But I have a feeling you’re gonna want me to tell you.”

“I do.”

“It’s just something stupid, like earlier—”

“That wasn’t stupid, [c/n], that was you hurting.”

“I— I know. It’s just that this is actually stupid.”

“Well, tell me what it is, and I’ll be the judge of that.”

You think about how to phrase it in simple terms for a moment, before finally speaking, “I used to think that the scars sort of… symbolized how I was able to control myself and my emotions, and that made me feel…” You can’t think of any synonyms to make the simple words you want to say sound less childish, so you’re forced to say, “… brave. And strong. I just— I thought it showed that I was good at controlling my emotions and stuff, for some reason. But now I’m questioning all of that.”

“You’re very brave,” Price reassures you, and God, it sounds like he’s reassuring a child, “And you’re so strong. But this… this isn’t how you show that. This—cutting yourself—doesn’t make you either of those things. It doesn’t show that you’re either of those things. It shows that you need help.”

“But you just said that I was strong.”

“I did.”

“… Aren’t you contradicting yourself?”

“How would I be contradicting myself?” Price asks.

“You said that me— me… harming myself shows that I need help.”

“It does,” Price hums, and at your confused expression, he continues, “You needing help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. Needing help and being strong aren’t connected like that.”

You open your mouth to argue but you close it, not knowing what to say. Price sees this and smiles knowingly, simply grabbing your hand to squeeze it once before getting up.

“I’ll check in on you later, okay? I need to get some stuff done, but as soon as I can, I’ll be back to keep you company. Or I’ll send someone else over—whichever you prefer.”

“M’kay,” You mumble, squeezing Price’s hand back before letting go. “You can do whatever. I don’t mind either one.”

“Sounds good.” Price pauses for a moment before leaning down and giving you a quick hug, and then beginning to slip past the curtains blocking any outsider's view of the bed you were sat on.

Before he can leave, you quickly say, "Thank you. For the wound-cleaning-thing."

He pauses at the curtain for a second, before smiling and replying, "You're welcome."

for those curious, the bthb card so far:

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yandere-romanticaa · 8 months

Text

With a sigh, Welt tore away another piece of paper from his sketchbook, unsatisfied with his latest creation. The pencil in his hand trembled as he gripped the piece of wood so tightly it could almost be shattered to bits if he wasn't careful. Turning his head towards the clock he checked to see the time - it was close to midnight, most of the crew was either fast asleep or they shut themselves in their rooms, making sure to do whatever they needed to do quietly and not disturb anyone on board at such a late hour. He sat up, the wooden chair scraping against the floor as he put the sketchbook back on the table along with the pencil he nearly demolished by accident. With the reach of his hand he went straight for the handle and opened the door, the soft clicking of his shoes being met with the pavement on the other side.

The only source of light in the dark corridor was the infinite sea of stars which were on his left side, said stars taunting him to take a peek throughout the window and bask in their beauty.

Opening the door for the parlor car Welt saw Pom-Pom in the room, the tiny critter having its back turned away from the man. Welt made sure to mutter a "good evening" as he made his way towards the leather seats but Pom-Pom jumped at the sudden greeting, its ears rising high in the air as it accidentally let out a tiny yelp of surprise. Covering its mouth in embarrassment, Pom-Pom huffed and stomped its feet on the ground.

"Welt! Do not sneak up on me like that!"

Welt had a flat look on his face as he stared down at Pom-Pom, a glimmer of sorry just barely visible in his eyes.

"I am sorry, Pom-Pom. I'll be more careful next time." said Welt as he fixed his glasses. He sat down on the plush seat, making himself comfortable while doing nothing in particular. Welt's mind seemed to be elsewhere but Pom-Pom could tell that something was off about the man tonight. His jaw was tense, lips pressed too tight and he was looking too far up ahead, clearly lost in some other dimension. At first Pom-Pom decided to give him some space but as it let the silence settle, the more Pom-Pom got disturbed. Welt was a quiet person by nature but the energy he was radiating off tonight was beyond off-putting. Checking the clock, Pom-Pom saw that almost an hour had passed since Welt stepped foot into the main parlor car and the man was not doing anything.

He was not drawing, tinkering with something, reading, hell Pom-Pom would be happy if Welt would suddenly start break dancing out of the blue, just something to break the tension. Crossing its arms, Pom-Pom walked towards Welt and asked him with zero hesitation:

"Welt, what is wrong with you?"

This question brought Welt back down to the ground as his soft brown eyes widened ever so slightly. Just what was he doing? He... He wasn't sure either. He could not sleep, not with-

"You're thinking about (y/n), aren't you?"

Welt felt himself choke on the air he inhaled as he heard Pom-Pom mutter a little I knew it! under its breath. Gasping for air, Welt pressed Pom-Pom for more questions as to just how it knew what was on his mind.

"You aren't as subtle as you think you are mister." teased Pom-Pom, a tiny grin on its face. Welt felt his cheeks heat up at the provocation but decided not to take the bait. Pom-Pom placed its tiny paw on Welt's knee, the warmth spreading fast as Welt looked down and saw Pom-Pom's concerned gaze.

"Keeping such feelings isn't good for your body or soul. You should do something about that."

Pom-Pom was right. Welt really should do something about his feelings.

But what?

Just what in the devil was he supposed to do? At the mere sight of (y/n) his heart would speed up at an alarming rate, so much so that he almost passed out on several occasions. He can still feel the soft touch of (y/n)'s hand against his cheeks, worry etched onto their face as they checked to see if Welt was okay. The man would always, without fail, grit his teeth and power through it with a smile, reassuring (y/n) that he was indeed fine and that he might have taken a sip of Himeko's coffee by accident. Yes, that was what made him feel ill, not the boiling hot jealousy that was slowly taking over his entire being as he watched the way in which everyone in the express got close to you.

Welt was more than a little ashamed of these resentful feelings. After all, everyone on the express had pure intentions, he had nothing to worry about. And yet, whenever he would see March scoot next to you and start taking pictures he would always make sure to stand in the frame which would in turn, annoy March beyond belief. He made sure to always check those photos, his gaze glued onto your smiling or bamboozled face, only then would the prickly thorns around his beating heart settle.

The same could not be said whenever he saw you alone with Dang Heng or Himeko. Just what were you doing with Dang Heng, all alone locked in the archives? There was no way you were just going through the files, the nights could get long and boring after all... and whenever he would see you the next morning, a smile plastered on your face his mind could not help but wander.

Himeko did little to soothe his worries as well as the woman would have her arms around you constantly, be it your thighs, hair, waist, literally anything she could possibly grab.

...why couldn't he be so casual? He was tired of always being swept by the sidelines. At the end of the day, Welt was nothing more than a man.

But that night, he decided to take Pom-Pom's advice to heart, but, perhaps not quite yet. The thorns around his heart would cease the second he saw you once more.

He really could just stare at you forever and die a happy man. He just wished no one could enjoy your radiance too.

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iovebarca · 23 days

Note

hiii loved all of your fics… could you do a fluff one with marc guiu where they have been studying for school so they haven’t seen eachother for days and marc surprises her by going to her house? hope you’ve understood everything!

A Midnight Interlude - Marc Guiu

Authors note: First of all thank you so much! and I hope I did your request right :) 💓

WC: 1200+

warnings: incorrect grammar (probably), my first language isn't english so if you notice any mistakes please tell me, just fluff!

summary: Amid exam stress, Marc surprises you. After a cozy movie night and stargazing. Grateful for Marc's presence, you drift to sleep.

send me requests!! ❤️

You've been drowning in textbooks and notes for days, the looming exams consuming every waking moment. Each page turned feels like another step closer to the edge of exhaustion. But amidst the stress and late-night cram sessions, there's one thing you miss more than anything, spending time with Marc.

You and Marc have been inseparable since you met at a mutual friend's birthday party. From the first moment you laid eyes on each other, there was an undeniable connection. You've shared laughter, secrets, and countless moments together. But as finals approach, your time together has dwindled to brief text messages and occasional phone calls.

One evening, as you sit at your desk, buried under a pile of papers, you hear a soft knock on your door. Startled, you glance at the clock. Who could be visiting at this hour?

You open the door to find Marc standing there, a sheepish smile on his face and a backpack slung over his shoulder. His eyes sparkle with excitement as he takes in the sight of you.

"Marc! What are you doing here?" you exclaim, unable to hide your surprise.

"I missed you," he says simply, stepping inside and pulling you into a warm embrace. His arms feel like a sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of your busy life. "I know you've been swamped with studying, but I couldn't go another day without seeing you."

You feel your stress melt away in Marc's arms. You've been so caught up in your studies that you hadn't realized just how much you missed him. His presence is like a soothing balm for your weary soul.

"Come on," Marc says, taking your hand. "Let's take a break from all this studying. I brought some snacks and your favorite movie."

You can't help but smile as Marc leads you to the living room, where he has set up a cozy nest of blankets and pillows in front of the TV. The soft glow of the screen illuminates the room, casting a warm, inviting light.

The sight of popcorn and chocolate makes your stomach rumble with anticipation. You settle onto the couch, tucking yourself into Marc's side as he presses play on the remote. The movie begins, but you find it hard to concentrate with Marc so close, his warmth seeping into your bones.

For the next few hours, you lose yourself in the world of the movie and each other's company. You laugh, you cry, and you share whispered conversations in the dark. It feels like no time has passed at all since you were last together, lost in your own little bubble of happiness.

As the credits roll, you realize just how much you needed this break. Marc has a way of grounding you, of making you forget about the pressures of school and just enjoy the moment. You turn to him, feeling a rush of gratitude and love swell in your chest.

"Thank you for coming, mi amor," you say, pressing a kiss to Marc's cheek.

"Anytime, mi vida," he replies, his voice soft and gentle. "I'll always be here for you, no matter how busy life gets."

You both sit in comfortable silence for a moment, savoring the closeness between you. Then Marc speaks up, his voice tentative.

"Would it be okay if I stayed over tonight?" he asks, his eyes searching yours for approval. "I don't want to leave you alone after such a long day."

A smile spreads across your face at the thought of spending the night with Marc. It's been too long since you've had him beside you, and the idea of falling asleep in his arms fills you with warmth.

"I would love that," you say, reaching out to take his hand. "Stay as long as you like."

Marc's face lights up with a smile, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. "Thank you, mi vida," he murmurs, his voice filled with love.

"Hey," he says softly, turning to you with a gleam in his eyes. "It's a perfect night for stargazing. What do you say we take a break and enjoy the view?"

You smile at the suggestion, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest. "That sounds wonderful." you reply, already imagining the cozy scene under the night sky.

Together, you gather blankets and pillows, creating a makeshift nest in the backyard. The air is cool and crisp, a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the house. You settle onto the blankets, snuggling close to Marc as you tilt your heads back to gaze at the stars.

The night sky stretches out above you, a vast expanse of darkness illuminated by pinpricks of light. Wrapped in blankets and each other's arms, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The worries of exams and deadlines fade into the background as you lose yourselves in the beauty of the night.

As the hours pass, you share hopes and dreams, whispering secrets into the darkness. You talk about the future, imagining all the adventures you'll go on together once the football season and exams are over and summer break begins.

At one point, a shooting star streaks across the sky, and you both make a wish in unison, hearts filled with hope and possibility.

As you both lay under the blanket of stars, Marc turns to you with a soft smile. "What did you wish for?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You glance at him, a playful twinkle in your eye. "I can't tell you," you reply with a teasing grin. "You know the rule - if you tell, it won't come true."

Marc chuckles, leaning in closer to you. "Ah, playing it safe, are we?" he says, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Well, whatever it is, I hope it comes true for you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a rush of affection flooding your heart. You reach out to squeeze his hand, feeling the connection between you grow even stronger in the quiet of the night.

As Marc's question lingers in the air, a soft smile graces your lips. "I wished for our future together," you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Marc's eyes widen slightly, his gaze softening as he takes in your words. "Our future," he repeats, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I couldn't wish for anything more."

You feel a surge of emotion welling up inside you, overwhelmed by the depth of love you feel for Marc in this moment. He pulls you close, wrapping you in a tight embrace as if to reaffirm his commitment to you and the future you both envision together.

Underneath the canopy of stars, surrounded by the quiet serenity of the night, you share a moment of pure connection and understanding. It's as if the universe itself is whispering its blessings upon your love, promising a future filled with endless possibilities and boundless joy.

As you lay there, wrapped in Marc's arms, you can't help but feel a sense of peace wash over you. Whatever challenges lie ahead, you know that as long as you have Marc by your side, you'll be able to face them together, hand in hand, with unwavering love and devotion.

And as you drift off to sleep, cradled in the warmth of Marc's embrace, you hold onto the hope and excitement of the future that awaits, knowing that with him, anything is possible.

#marc guiu #marc guiu fluff #marc guiu x reader #marc guiu oneshot #marc guiu imagine #la masia #fc barcelona

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urfavleo777 · 6 months

Text

warnings: a mention of death, loneliness, depression. soundtrack: last christmas, santa baby, let it snow! let it snow! let it snow!

this is part 1.

The day before Christmas 10:15 PM

"Oh, thank you so much, Y/n," your boss said warmly. A few strands fell onto her narrow shoulders, caressing the fabric of her burgundy sweater. She was no more than sixty but with her class she would still beat most of the modern supermodels.

You've been working at Josephine's shop since November with the main goal of earning extra money for your college. You needed it to pay for your college tuition. Before, your financial situation was making you suffer. You no longer had any hope. You were even close to dropping out of college. But then Josephine appeared, looking for an employee for her Christmas store. After a very long period of poverty you could finally afford a nutritious meal during the day.

Your previous boss didn't treat you right. He was behind in paying you money, he didn't respect the fact that you had studies outside of work, and there were times when he was verbally violent towards you.

Josephine was always understanding towards you and took an extremely sensible approach to mental health. She assured you many times that if you felt unwell, she would immediately offer you a break from work for a few days. You tried not to take advantage of her kindness, so at ten o'clock in the morning you diligently fulfilled your duties in the Christmas store.

Today was quite… different. It was Friday evening and instead of enjoying your free time in your small apartment, Josephine asked you to take over the duties until midnight.

"I have so much mess to clean up at home, and tomorrow is the day. If you said no, I would probably have let all my grandchildren down. Last year I promised them I will bake cupcakes for the next Christmas. They were so excited and happy about it…"

You giggled at her adorable confession.

"No problem, I swear," you assured her, but the woman didn't seem fully convinced. "Josephine, I don't mind staying here for a bit longer. It helps me to relieve stress a lot."

Josephine pursed her lips. Then she straightened her slightly hunched back and whispered with a soft smile on her face:

"Your soul is so pure. Your parents must be so proud of you."

At the sound of these words, spoken with surprising lightness, you immediately stiffened.

Parents, a thought crossed your mind.

Right. She couldn't know.

You brushed strands of long hair from your cheek, smiling awkwardly. Josephine started looking chaotically for her purse. Once she found it, she hugged you and squeezed your hands. When you felt her warmth in your hands, you froze. No one has ever given you as much love as Josephine did in that moment.

"Thank you so much, Y/n, but I really have to go. I'll make it up to you!" She turned and started towards the exit. When the door opened, frosty night air rushed in. An old guy walked in, passing your boss, but you didn't pay attention to him. Instead, you looked in Josephine's green eyes for the last time. She lowered her voice a bit, continuing. "Merry Christmas, Y/n."

Oh, no one in this world knew how much you hated those words. You swallowed loudly, pushing away the feeling of sadness with all your strength. The sight of the smile on the woman's face made you feel a knot in your stomach.

"Merry Christmas, Josephine," you replied, trying to reciprocate this warm gesture. After a moment, you realized that you had said it to yourself. Josephine was already gone. Now in the room, there was only you and an older customer, probably looking around for gifts for his loved ones.

11:55 PM

"Uh, is anybody there?"

You caught yourself falling asleep, but the stranger's nervous and deep voice woke you up.

You looked up from the till and saw an older man standing in front of you. His white beanie and fluffy Christmas sweater definitely caught your attention. You rubbed your eyes and was about to laugh when you realized how thin he was dressed. Okay, maybe he wasn't that old.

It seemed like he had arrived by car, because no one would wear just a sweater in a snowstorm like that. Before you could respond, the man overtook you.

"Okay, okay. I know you're about to close, but listen to me. This case is extremely serious. I drove all over town and, damn it! All Christmas shops are already closed! Can you help me choose the gifts? If you don't help me, I will be.."

You raised an eyebrow, trying your best not to smile. He got stuck in his little speech, but you had no idea why. Instead of continuing, he lost himself in your gaze, completely ignoring the ticking of the clock behind you. His mouth hung open slightly and his eyes which were already almost black seemed to darken as he focused on you. His body went rigid as he searched your eyes. Your heart was pounding in your chest. He was beautiful. You had never thought of a guy as beautiful, and it was strange. It was strange how he seemed to be looking right into your soul. But you didn't mind. No, you didn't care at all.

Or.. maybe a little bit.

In fact, you were the one who jumped back like someone had burned you when you realized it was almost time to close the shop.

"You must leave this store. Now."

"Huh?" he frowned, distracted. It took a while for it to dawn on him. "No! You can't do this to me."

You took the key out of the locker and were in the process of closing the cash register. Shit. Nobody taught you how to do that. That was always Josephine's responsibility and she was the one who always closed the shop. The man looked at you strangely. You decided to pretend you knew what you were doing.

"Do you even work here?" he mocked.

You felt his eyes on you and you clenched your jaw. You glanced up to tell him to piss off, but then your eyes met and the feeling of anger melted away. His eyes were widened slightly as you looked at him curiously. He felt the nerves radiating off of you. You shot him a tight lipped smile and you felt himself smile back. Fuck.

"Shit," you cussed under your breath. "I have to close the shop now."

You were still struggling to close the cash register.

"I'll help you close it," he muttered, still staring at you but you were too tired to even notice. "I've dealt with this before, too."

"And why should I believe you? Maybe you are some kind of thief? "

11:58. Fuck. The time was passing.

"I am not a thief."

"And why should I believe you?" you repeated the question once again.

"Just google my name," he sighed a little tiredly. You blinked your eyes twice, not knowing what he meant. "Let me buy something for my parents and I'll do whatever you want."

When you heard parents, you forgot what he had just told you. You were definitely traumatized or triggered by the word "parents", which was usually noticeable by the sudden change in your behavior.

Your soft breaths echoed through the whole Christmas shop. You lowered your head, completely embarrassing yourself in front of the potential client. It was the second time today. At least you didn't have to explain yourself to Josephine because you were able to mask it before.

"Please, don't hurt him." Y/n cried. "Please, I can't lose him too."

[…]

"Don't take loans on the black market, or you'll end up just like them."

[…]

"I'm completely alone."

[…]

"Shit, are you okay?"

You looked up, grimace on your face as the tall body of a man came into view. He looked concerned as he crouched down before you. His dark eyes searched for any indication you were in pain and when he saw you weren't he held out his hand for you to take.

"I'm okay," you nodded. "What am I doing on the floor?"

"I saw you fall," he said, as he lifted you up. You brushed the dust and dirt from your jeans. "Does it hurt?"

"No," you shook her head, still stunned. "Not much anyways."

"You hit the ground pretty hard," he frowned. "Maybe you should get yourself checked out."

You let out a forced laugh and he raised a brow. "Honestly, I'm good."

He nodded his head, eyes narrowed slightly before sighing. "Let me take care of you. Need a ride?"

God, just a few seconds ago he was using his all strength to buy something for his parents. Unless..

"Show me your pockets."

"What?" he frowned. He tried to find some clue in your eyes. "You think I stole something?"

God, he was atleast a foot taller than you were and you had to crane your neck to look at him.

"Well, seems like I have no choice," he shrugged.

The two of you fell silent, it wasn't awkward but neither knew what to say. He emptied all his pockets, the only things he had were his phone and his bank card.

You wanted to sink into the ground.

This stranger just offered to help you and you thought he was a thief. You tilted your head back, thinking about your next move.

You sighed, knowing exactly what you should do.

"Take it."

You handed him a matching sweaters that you assumed should be for his parents. He sighed in relief.

He was about to take out his card to pay, but you placed your hand on his, trying to making him understand that he doesn't have to pay.

"Just close the till, please." You smiled, feeling a bit better now. "And make your loved ones happy."

"No," he refused quickly "I have to pay for it. There is nothing for free."

It took a while to convince him not to pay. He finally sighed and accepted the two wrapped gifts from you. After he closed the till, he offered you a ride once again.

"Why don't you introduce yourself first?"

You were just leaving the store. It was cold. That was perhaps the understatement of the century. You couldn't remember the last time you had been so cold: the spiteful wind sliced through you like a sharpened blade, leaving a chill that shook you to your very core, and you tightened the thick scarf around you neck, pulling it up over your mouth. You locked the door and both went away, looking for his car, which wasn't parked that far away.

"It's strange that you don't know me."

"Woah, so you're kind of celebrity?" you laughed loudly. "You've got a big ego, man."

You finally reached his car. You didn't even notice the color because it was too dark and the car itself was covered in snow. But it didn't matter.

"Oh, that's very kind of you. Thank you." You said surprised as he opened the car door for you. He gave you a small smile. You took the front passenger seat. When you heard the sound of the trunk being closed, you realized that he must have been putting the gifts in there. You saw him through the snow-covered window. His hair was messy, and his sweater was slightly damp from the snow. His pink cheeks totally stole your heart. He looked like a little child after playing in the snow for several hours

"I'm Y/n," you spoke up as he appeared next to you. He clicked the heat button, smiling to himself. "Normal people usually say their name after my introduction."

"Who said I was normal?" you rolled your eyes before bursting out laughing again.

"You've got a beautiful name," he said, starting the car. "You can just call me Colby."

His eyes found yours and he smiled brightly. Your tiredness melted away instantly and you grinned back at him.

"Colby," you whispered to yourself.

"Hm?" he asked, keeping his eyes on the road. After a moment you could feel the relaxing warmth.

"Uhm," you cleared your throat. "You've got a beautiful name, too."

The corners of your mouth turned upwards. Eventually you stopped having everything under control. It was inexplicable. Every word this boy said aroused some emotion in you. It was strange because you two had just met.

He wanted to know more about you, every single thing. What you like, what you love. A twisted smile formed on his face. As he continued to steal glances at a female, who remained clueless about his mind.

You glanced out the car window, trying to see anything but darkness. Thanks to the car lights, you could have noticed that the streets were empty, not a person in sight that late, not even the stray dog walker or person who decided to go for a late night walk or run. Cars passed by from time to time, but there weren't many of them.

"Not a single soul." Colby sighed, a dreamy smile on his face as he looked down on the road. You nodded, stifling a yawn.

"I bet most of them are washing windows now," you whined, making him chuckle. "Can you take me to the nearest gas station? It's not far from home."

You noticed a slight disappointment on his face, which he quickly masked.

"Yeah, sure."

For a moment there was silence, and you took the opportunity to organize your thoughts. You wondered if you should start a conversation about what happened at the store. You were sure Colby had been thinking about it the whole time, but he didn't want to be too insightful. Even if he asked about your past, you wouldn't know what to answer him. That your parents owed a debt to evil people and died for not paying it off?

You squeezed your eyes shut at the thought. You stared at the moon, trying to calm your thoughts. Then you took a moment to appreciate that wonderful, breathtaking boy next to you. You looked at him in some kind of admiration. He was so beautiful that you were about to cry. You were so close to burying your hand in his messy hair, but it took all of your strength to hold back. A smirk formed on his face as he noticed you staring at his facial features. Instead of laughing at you, he simply changed the topic.

"How do you spend Christmas?"

"Hm?" you muttered, your voice still laced with sleep.

Colby raised his eyebrows at you. "You got a Christmas tree?"

You looked up at him and were torn between telling him the truth or lying.

"I spend Christmas alone. I don't have, I don't have anyone around me with whom I could share this evening. Also, Christmas are overrated. "

"I can help," he said, the words dropping out before he could think about them. Ordinarily, he calculated his sentences, sometimes spending hours or even days thinking about how he would word something, whether it was an email to a friend or a hypothetical debate. But there was no time for that now, the dilemma thrust right into his face with no escape route.

"What?" You swallowed.

"I can help you," he said. "You shouldn't be alone in this time. If you let me, I'd love to invite you to dinner with my p—. " he stopped mid-sentence. You felt like crying. No one in your life has ever shown you as much love as this man. Okay, maybe except Josephine.

"You don't mean that," you said quietly.

"I do," he said, a little more confidence in his voice now. "Let me help. I'll do anything. You shouldn't be alone. You can't be alone. Can I help?"

A faint smile grew over your lips and you nodded, colour rising to your cheeks as your smile grew. "Thank you. But your family-"

"Oh, they will be delighted to meet you."

He seemed nice enough, you thought, and there were surely worse ways to spend the next couple of hours than accepting his helping hand: you could take your mind off the solitude and maybe even make a friend.

But nothing could help you forget your past.

To Be Continued.

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cloudcountry · 1 year

Text

the burdens of royalty

Genre/Tropes: Established relationship, MC and Diavolo are married.

Summary: the weight of both the devildom and the human world are on your shoulders. if it wasn't for diavolo, you would have given up a long time ago.

Author's Comments: diavolo has a very tough job. every time he said he adores mc or that one time he confessed his love to them i panicked because thats so much. its heavier than the brother's "i love you" because hes ROYALTY and its a lot of take in.

i also find myself thinking about what his affection means for mc in the long run. i mean, surely diavolo has suitors. there are obviously higher up demons like the brothers (and maddi, that one witch that pursued diavolo so aggressively it was...icky.) for diavolo to actually pursue mc, i can't imagine what would happen when those same demons figured that out. if they were to make their relationship official or even get married, mc would probably need a bodyguard 24/7 because demons are OBVIOUSLY not chill with humans (like every single brother threatening mc and especially belphegor, although his circumstances were different because they involved lilith.)

anyways i'll be quiet, i hope you enjoy C:

~~~~~

It wasn’t easy being you.

Your now husband would always tell you that being him wasn’t easy, but now that you share the burden of his position, does that not also apply to you?

It came as quite a shock to the entire Devildom the day your engagement was announced—to think, the Prince of the Devildom, marrying a human! The demon aristocracy would have had your head if they weren’t so terrified of Barbatos. You were called many things (a manipulator and a cheat being among your favorites. Really, the higher ups in demon society would know too much about manipulating their way up the social ladder.) It was like they could comprehend that you just wanted to be with the man you loved, and that race and position and titles meant absolutely nothing to do with it.

If nothing else, you suppose being human was the easiest thing they could target. It shielded Diavolo from most of the backlash, at any rate. The last thing you ever wanted was for the public to lose their trust in him (and never give his ideals for the three realms a chance.) The fact that he only wanted the best for them seemed to fly right over their heads, as if Diavolo was just as untrustworthy as you, the foreign soul from another realm.

You, now their ruler, too.

But that’s exactly why you had to clench your teeth and bear it, bear the shimmering dresses and horned guests and Barbatos breathing down your neck so nobody would even think of attacking you. Snide remarks about your clothing of choice were met with “my husband picked it out, actually,” comments about how delicious your flesh smelled were ignored but met with a stern glare from your bodyguard, greetings that sounded so fake and that were obviously meant to butter you up were laughed at just as falsely.

Is this what it meant to be a royal?

“I apologize, My Liege. This ball runs til midnight. I assure you that you may retire to your chambers once this is over.” Barbatos whispers, strategically whisking you away from a group of demonesses muttering to each other and staring at you.

“Thank you.” you try to smile, but it probably seems like more of a wince than anything, “My feet are killing me. And the guests are just as bad.”

He smiles back sympathetically, and although he isn’t touching you at all, you can still feel the warmth emanating from him. Though the Avatars of Sin fear him, Barbatos has always been nothing but kind to you. You wonder if it has something to do with Diavolo, or if he really is that cruel. You suppose it doesn’t matter, whether you’re naive or not, because the fact of the matter is that you have the man Barbatos is loyal to encased in an eternal matrimonial vow. There is no way Barbatos would attempt to harm you.

“I will run you and My Lord a bath once this event is over.” he promises, and you can only sigh with relief when you notice he’s lead you outside, were the amount of people is nowhere near what it is inside, “Do you have a preference for which aromatherapy scent I use?”

“Use whichever one Diavolo chooses.” you reply, knowing he’ll be just as tired.

Barbatos laughs, a sound so full of mirth it makes you happy, too.

“I am sorry if that was out of line, My Liege. I was just amused by the coincidence. My Lord said to select whichever scent you would like.” Barbatos chuckles.

You find yourself laughing too, despite how nasty the demons around you treat you every time you hold one of these balls. It’s so sweet and considerate and just so Diavolo. You wish you could hug him right now and thank him for always trying to be a better man for you. He doesn’t seem like he will ever realize that he’s enough already, which simultaneously warms and breaks your heart.

He really thinks too highly of you. You’re not that special.

Barbatos leads you to a bench and gestures for you to sit. You do so without complaint, and before you can say anything he’s on his knees and massaging your calves. You feel yourself heating up in the face (because you still feel like he shouldn’t be doing these things for you), but you’ve learned a while ago that he takes pleasure in serving people. So you let him do his thing.

Part of your flustered state is also embarrassment, and despite your best efforts you cannot stop your eyes from darting around the gardens to check if anyone is paying attention to you. Thankfully, they all seem enraptured by an illusionist hired for the event who’s stationed in front of the grandiose fountain. He keeps making wispy demonic figures swallow running humanoid figures whole.

You’re used to this.

Another servant comes by, one by the name of Marie Anne. You know her well. Diavolo has always been very kind to her, offering her a life away from the downright cruel aristocratic family she had before. You don’t know the details, and you don’t ask. It’s not your place.

The demoness curtsies and smiles, offering you a bubbling glass of Demonus. It can’t get you drunk, but it can be refreshing. You take it and thank her. Her cheeks turn pink and she curtsies again before scurrying towards the crowd of demons watching the illusionist.

It’s funny how some demons could be so kind and others so nasty. There were many similarities that they have with humans, whether they wanted to admit it or not.

You tell Barbatos that he can stop now, and he halts his motions and stands up immediately. You’re still not used to being pampered in such a way, so you thank him. He only smiles and tells you it’s not necessary.

“I believe this is why the servants are taking a quick liking to you.” he muses, “I hardly think they would be this receptive if My Lord had married a witch or a member of the aristocracy.”

“You really think so?” you say, feeling your cheeks burn again from the praise, “I…I’m not doing anything special.”

“A simple thank you goes a long way, My Liege.” he hums, a content smile on his face as he stands beside you.

You suppose he’s right. After all, you’ve only heard (and seen, you think bitterly) terrible things about the aristocracy. They’re rude and impatient and only ever think about themselves when it comes to policies that affect the entire Devildom. If they didn’t fear Diavolo so much they surely would have attempted to overthrow him by now.

Too bad, you think smugly, staring at the insolent illusionist again as he makes a smokey human child scream at a demonic creature emerging from an equally smokey closet, He would destroy all of you if you even tried.

You feel immature for the thought only seconds later. You’re a ruler. You need to get your act together—you can’t be just as bad as them.

“My Liege, it’s almost time for the first official dance of the night.” Barbatos bows to you, swooping his hand gracefully towards the ballroom, “Would you like to reconvene with My Lord?”

“Please. I thought I would never get to see him tonight.” you groan, attempting to walk off the slight cramp in your calf as you follow Barbatos back into the fray.

The second your shoes hit the shiny flooring and make that click clack sound, there are shimmering eyes drawn to your form. They snap away as soon as they look, though, and whether it’s disgust or fear of Barbatos you don’t know. It doesn’t matter though, because finally you’ll get to see your beloved after he’s been mingling with the aristocracy all night. It isn’t hard to find him either, because amidst all the other clumps of beautiful demons you can clearly see an even bigger clump closer to the center.

You don’t even have to mumble awkward ”excuse me’s” as they all step aside for you (mostly for Barbatos though, as he’s leading the way and they’ve already made it plenty clear that they do not respect you) and before you know it, you’re standing in front of your beaming husband and a rather disgruntled Lucifer. He looks about as comfortable as you do in your formal wear, though he doesn’t show it. It’s too bad you know him well enough to see past his facade and pick up on all his little mannerisms he would never allow anyone else to see.

You spare him the teasing right now.

You try not to feel self conscious as you take your place by Diavolo’s side, a soft giggle leaving the lips of the demon you kiss goodnight every evening.

“Hello, my dear.” he whispers in your ear, stooping down to kiss your hand, “I’m pleased to see that you’re well. Have you been enjoying the festivities?”

Lie. Lie until you’re alone with him and can finally be yourself again.

“Yes, it's been lovely.” you lie through your teeth, a single drop of sweat sliding down the back of your neck as hundreds of pairs of eyes bore into you, “Barbatos has been most helpful. I’m incredibly thankful for him.”

Diavolo lights up like a little puppy dog at the mention of his butler’s name, and lets another loud laugh escape him. Despite his cheerful demeanor, you can still feel the hateful glares being directed your way. In the periphery of your vision, you can see Lucifer glaring right back at the demons behind you, and that gesture alone warms your heart. You are safe with these demons. Things will get better.

Even if better is in a few hours, when you and Diavolo will be in bed and he’ll spoon you and hold you tightly and whisper words of love and affection into your ear until you fall asleep. You discovered his habit for sleepy rambling relatively quickly after the wedding, and eventually you couldn’t sleep without it. If it wasn’t for his love, you surely never would have gotten this far with interrealm relations. If it had been anyone else, you would’ve given up.

Diavolo was the definition of shoot for the stars. He truly was an amazing demon.

“My dear.” he coos, eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiles that cheesy grin you know all too well and love far too much, “May I have this dance?”

He stretches a hand out for you to take, a symbol of how you two are bridging two realms together. Some of the people here tonight may think that’s the reason you two are doing this, that it's a diplomatic display to marry each other, but they’d be wrong. You know Diavolo isn’t the type to do something like that.

It’s like the demons in this palace tonight can’t understand that you two just love each other, and that's that.

And so you take his hand.

He sighs, a blissful sound that you know only you can produce from him, and sweeps you across the dance floor. His hand on your lower back is firm and unyielding, but it’s not possessive. Even when you were still living with the demon brothers, he never once overstepped any bounds.

Part of you wished he did.

It wasn’t just him that had wanted you two to spend time together.

You suppose that doesn’t matter anymore, not when his grip is so sure, not when his heartbeat is pounding in your ears as you rest your head against him, not when the demons and demonesses are moving out of your way. You know the respect is short lived and that they are only doing this for Diavolo, but that doesn’t stop you from enjoying it for now. Moments where a demon steps aside for a human are few and far between, but with you and Diavolo working together, you hope it will become more common.

“I love you.” you whisper to him, the words quiet enough so that only you two can hear them. You aren’t ready to declare such a vulnerable thing on your own, not when these demons have the strength to rip you apart.

And so Diavolo helps you, just as he always does.

“I love you more than anything.” he declares, his voice as loud as a blaring trumpet, a sharp contrast to your softness. You feel your face begin to burn, especially when you hear a murmur ripple through the crowd, but you cannot stop the wobbly smile on your face.

“Disgusting.”

“A human? Really? How will they rule us?”

“It would have been better if we stayed with our own kind.”

“What is Lord Diavolo doing?”

The ballroom begins to buzz and you feel yourself growing less and less sure of yourself. There are tears pricking your eyes, but you will them away. You cannot let them win.

And then, you see Diavolo’s form ripple. Wings sprout from his back and horns protrude from his head and there’s an uncharacteristically stern glare on his face as he fixes his malice at who you can only assume are the perpetrators.

You feel safe.

Maybe it’s a farce.

Maybe it’s make believe.

Maybe it’s temporary.

But Diavolo’s dream is possible, and you believe in him.

You just need to endure the burdens of royalty for him—the burdens he’s been bearing by himself for far too long.

#auburn's fics <3 #obey me x reader #obey me angst #obey me #om x reader #om diavolo x reader #diavolo x reader #diavolo fluff #diavolo angst #im slowly turning into a diavolo liker /r #honestly i cant believe i wrote this before reaching the lessons where they talk about demon/human marriages #i was SCREAMING when diavolo said there would eventually be a time when mc could marry any of them :((#I LOVE THAT GUY #and the levi content was so good too #YUM YUM

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midastouch-zaza · 6 days

Note

Somi got so addicted to M!Reader's cock that she helps him sneak into Umji's apartment to get her lips also around his cock.

[It's not, but I feel like this post may be a sequel of these thoughts]

It doesn't matter how much life can be good to us, the human is greedy, we always want more and better. A perfect example of that would be your relationship with Somi: you could not say you two are a couple or even friends.

She was just this hot blonde you had to fuck more than once, until she eventually could not live without your cock. She needed it in her mouth, in her pussy, in her ass, and she needed that everyday.

I know it sounds absurd but eventually it got kinda boring; like the sex was great and she was became basically your little sex toy, but it was more like part of a routine that something you expect everyday.

While chilling at her house after a good fuck, you two were just chilling in bed, when you saw the propic of a friend she was chatting with. Her name was Umji and she was so pretty. If Somi was this eye-catching girl with big curves, Umji was instead pure and chill.

Now, a normal people would have simply introduced each other, but Somi is not a normal girl. Her brain works differently. "In few days I have to visit her house. I'll send you the address, just come", she blurted out without any further explanations.

The day finally came and she sent you the message that it was already past Midnight. Kinda late but you really wanted to have fun with Umji. So you just took a taxi and arrived there in no time.

Let's fast forward: Somi was waiting for you on the apartment entrance, only the flash of her phone to make light around her. "Is there a blackout or...?", you asked confused, but she simply made sign to do silence and to follow her.

You found Umji sleeping peacefully on the sofà. "Come on, Oppa, place your dick on her lips", she giggled in your ear. "What? You are crazy!", you shouted in silence. "Just do it! Everything will go well, trust me", she whispered, unbuckling your pants for you, like she had done so many time.

Did you trusted her? It was Somi, absolutely no...but you were already there. "Fuck it!", you exclaimed, placing your cock on her lips; for sure you didn't expect Umji to kiss your shaft in her sleep, making it became instantly hard.

"I knew it! I knew that she secretly was a slut like me!", Somi exalted, jumping around like an happy kid. In the meanwhile you began to grind your cock against her soft lips, and she really couldn't stop kissing it.

"...mmh... it's good...", Umji mumble in her sleep, before even taking her tongue out. "Oppa, don't lose time, just put it inside and fuck her face as you always do with me", she suggested, fondling your balls with her hand.

You were so horny that you followed her suggestion, slowly sliding your dick inside the cute and warm mouth of the brunette. It went more deep that you thought without even meeting any resistance from the part of the sleeping beauty.

"Oh, what a deep throat!", the blonde commented, before kissing your neck, fueling your excited side. Your hips started to move, your hands kindly grabbed her head and the pleasure started.

Her relaxed throat was amazing to fuck and somehow her lips were putting enough pressure to make your dick feel good at every thrust. You closed your eyes, enjoying that moment, but not noticing someone else opening her eyes.

In fact Umji woke up just to see this complete stranger fucking her face and Somi behind him, chuckling. She was so done of her friend pranks, it was the fifth dude she brought at her house, but at least this one was hot and had a great cock.

You heart skipped a beat when Umji placed her hands on your hips and pulled you closer to suck you better. "Yes, bestie, that's the spirit", Somi clapped enthusiastically, but her friend ignored her, she was staring into your soul, while her tongue was lapping around your girth.

"Come on, big boy, I quickly need my night snack", you could finally hear her sweet voice, even if while saying lewd stuff. If before you were excited, now your balls were about to explode.

Luckily Umji saved you, her throat tightening around your member and sucking as hard as she can. And when you felt at the limit, Somi just buried your head between her tits. You were a bit bored of Somi, but you could never be bored of her boobs.

So, in that surreal situation, you just reached your climax: an huge load of cum went through Umji mouth, then went down her throat and in the end filled her stomach, with your muffled moans in the background.

"I'm not used to meet people for the first time in this way, but I guess I can do an exception for you, big boy", she said, smirking at you and rubbing lazily your cock.

"Somi, first of all, fuck you and your pranks, and second, I'm taking big boy with me for some time as compensation", she claimed, first giving an angry look at Somi, and the switching to a more soft one for you. You felt like a war was just started.

#kpop smut #kpop thoughts #girl group smut #kpop x male reader #girl groups x male reader #somi x male reader #ioi somi #somi smut #ioi x male reader #ioi smut #gfriend x male reader #gfriend smut #gfriend umji #viviz x male reader #viviz umji #viviz smut #umji x male reader #umji smut

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gaylordscooter · 2 months

Text

I'll Catch You When You Hit Rock Bottom

[warning for self-destructive behavior including drug abuse and self harm]

“i should carve your skull out with my teeth.”

Was what he assumed he'd say when he invited Dust to smoke in his room with him, but he's gotten worse at predicting what people would say.

Yeah, even if Dust did talk he wouldn't say something like that.

That's something Killer would say when flirting. He was totally projecting. Or imagining what he wished he’d say.

Dust’s response was to leave his room.

Killer smirked as they walked over to his room.

It became a habit for them. Killer would manage to snag some weed, mainly from Underswap or occasionally, Underfell, whenever they went out. And then when midnight hit, Dust would come over. It was harmless fun and it let them forget about everything for a moment.

Sometimes Killer would talk to him, either about pointless observations he made about the multiverse or stories of his old life back in his universe. Sometimes they were both silent, because Killer decided to press his mouth against his instead of running it.

Much to his dismay, he didn't mind it, but he blamed that on the drugs.

Killer didn't even like him for him. He was just desperate for any semblance of affection. He was just a hand that held him, a mouth for him to kiss.

How desperate do you have to be to kiss yourself?

Apparently as desperate as he was, because he’d still go over to his room each time.

Killer appeared to forget most of what happened during these moments, but Dust remembered everything.

Killer pulled away from Dust’s teeth. “y’know, this has become a common occurrence for us, huh? like it's a ritual.” He smirked with a scandalous look on his face. “if this keeps happening we might end up banging, heh.”

Something in him snapped. His patience has been waning in recent years and it is certainly showing now. He pushed Killer to the floor, threw his hands around his neck and squeezed.

Killer choked out nonsense. He didn't know if he was protesting or, dare he say it, enjoying it. Taking into account that he wasn't struggling at all…

Dust let go and got off of him, as if he lost interest.

Killer laughed as he tried to catch his breath, already missing the warmth of his fingers around his neck. “wh-why’d you stop?” He reached up weakly to grab at his sleeve. “heh…you're—you’re not leavin’ are you?”

Dust looked down at him. His concern wasn't visible.

Killer looked utterly pathetic. Broken, even. There were more black streaks under his sockets than normal, it looked like he cried with mascara on.

It was a mistake to do this. He should've noticed Killer was acting off recently. He’s been in his room as often as possible these past few weeks, not even coming out for food. Horror had to bring something for him to eat to his doorstep. Well, he didn't have to, but he insisted. He wasn't even sure if he was still down for their irregularly scheduled smoking session, but it turned out to be the only time he responded to anyone knocking at his door.

The drugs made it worse big time.

He should’ve stopped him the moment he saw a glass pipe instead of a blunt.

Killer didn't even notice that he didn't smoke when he handed him the pipe. There was a faint chemical smell coming from it, confirming his suspicions. This wasn't weed this time.

And now they were here.

Killer’s smile widened as he tugged his sleeve. “don’t leave.”

He was begging him. It wasn't even as a joke. He was genuinely begging him to stay.

And he decided to stay; there weren't any drugs to blame for that decision.

Even though he didn't make a move for the door, Killer frowned.

“i mean—you don't have to stay if you don't want to. i know you don't,” his words came out frantically. More of that black tar leaked from his empty sockets. Some of it ran all the way down his face and stained his own clothes. His usually target-shaped soul was erratically changing shape and it wasn't into any proper soul shape. “dammit,” he swore, noticing his fluctuating soul. He forcefully grabbed and examined it.

Suddenly it was as if Dust wasn't in the room at all.

Killer’s full attention was on his own soul, and it wasn't good attention. His hand around it tensed. It was shaking as he gripped it tighter.

Dust lunged forward, grabbing the hand holding his soul by the wrist and yanking it away from it. He shoved him into the wall, pinning that hand with a sharp-ended bone and taking his soul away from him.

Killer hissed at the bone impaling his hand and stared at Dust in the sockets. He laughed, “as hot as this is, give me back my soul.” He reached out for his soul with his free hand, but Dust held it out of reach. “dust. c’mon,” his tone hardened.

Dust stared down at him in pity.

Killer continued to reach for his soul. Dust moved his free hand to grab his wrist and hold it away.

“what’s wrong?” he asked blankly, “can't trust me with my OWN soul?” He was on the verge of breaking down. He hated this. He hated how gently Dust held his soul. He hated that he could see his concern. He hated how powerless he was in this situation.

He laughed, because if he didn't he’d be crying instead. “i hate you,” he spat, “i hate you, SANS!”

He braced for an attack, or the destruction of his soul. Neither came.

The hold was as gentle as ever.

Dust held Killer’s hand close and leaned his head onto his chest.

“stop,” Dust said.

Killer’s breathing was shaky.

Dust didn't even have to look up to know he was crying now.

“damn it all!” he swore, voice breaking. “just give me back my soul and get out.”

Dust didn't budge.

“i hate you so much. you know that, right? i'm not thinking about you when we kiss,” Killer hissed.

Dust moved his head off his chest to make eye contact. His expression was unchanging.

He already knew that.

“don't look at me!”

Dust heard a blaster summon behind him. It was charging up, but he ignored his instincts to move.

He continued to stare.

Killer seemed to take that as a challenge as he gritted his teeth.

Dust realized he wasn't going to back down. He dispelled the bone pinning Killer’s hand and dragged him down with him to avoid the blast.

Killer ended up laying on top of Dust as the blast punched a hole in the wall. Not missing a beat, he reached for Dust’s hand that held his soul.

“give. it. back.”

“then handle it properly,” Dust retorted.

“why do you care how i handle my soul?” he snapped. He whipped his knife out and pressed it to his neck. His ringed eye lights appeared to meet his.

“i think of you,” Dust replied.

Killer narrowed his eyes in confusion until it hit him. His face twisted in shock and he shoved himself off of Dust. “that's not—that's not fair you can't just lie to me like that!”

He brought a hand up to grip his skull. He twirled the knife in his other hand. “so, you're a freak who enjoys kissing himself, huh? wow, you're fucked up,” he said hypocritically.

“i’m not the one high on meth.”

Killer guffawed and then he registered what he said. “wait,” his hands fell to his sides, “you’re sober?!”

Dust nodded.

Killer looked horrified. He dropped the knife, covering his mouth with his hand like he was wiping it. “we kissed.”

Dust nodded.

“and you didn't stop me.”

Dust nodded.

“and you…think of me.” He sounded exasperated. “wh-what, what does that mean? no. no, you're fucking with me—or i-i’m hearing you wrong.” He backed up until he hit the wall. He slid down until he was seated on the floor.

There was a beat of silence.

Dust sat up, noticing the soul in his hand was stable now.

“i’m never smoking meth again.”

Dust chuckled at that. He let go of the soul, letting it float back to its owner.

Killer didn't make a move to grab it again when it got near, but he stared at it with the absence of a grin. “how do you put up with my bullshit?” he sighed.

Dust shrugged but then paused. He brought up a hand to his chin and signed “care”.

Killer cocked his head. “you saying something or scratching your chin?”

Dust sighed. He spelled it out for him instead. At the very least, Killer knew the alphabet.

“really? how corny of you.”

Dust looked at him with half-lidded sockets.

“wow, there i go again,” he chuckled dryly. “you kissed this mess willingly?” he gestured to himself.

Dust didn't reply.

“met your word cap for today, huh? i’m surprised. i managed to get like what? three full sentences out of you.” And all he had to do was be a mess.

He got lost in his thoughts for a moment. He decided to ask a question that was unspokenly off limits.

“why don’t you like speaking anyway?”

A few seconds of silence passed.

“reminds me of who i am,” he finally answered. “...was,” he corrected.

“oh.” So it was the sound of his own voice that bothered him. “good thing we sound so different.”

Dust hummed in acknowledgment.

Maybe there was a time Killer and Dust sounded the same. His voice now was higher pitched than the other three’s, and scratchy.

Dust and Horror sounded more alike, however Horror’s was far more gruff. On the rare occasion Dust would speak, it’d be soft and hardly louder than a whisper, just loud enough to be understood. It greatly contrasted his and Horror’s grating voice.

“if it’s worth anything, i like how you sound,” he said.

He could see a genuine smile under that hood.

“aw, geez, now i’m getting corny!” he groaned.

Dust laughed at his dismay. This time Killer felt that flutter in his soul when he heard it. That was new, probably.

There was another stretch of silence. Killer took that time to remove the hazard that was the knife he dropped a bit ago. He tucked it back in the hidden pocket inside his hoodie and moved over to his bed to lie down, intentionally leaving room for Dust but not verbally offering for him to come over.

Dust seemed to get the memo and sat down at the edge of the bed.

Killer seemed to be doing better than he was in the past few weeks. Well, doing better but not exactly doing good. He rubbed at the black streaks under his sockets, checking his hands if it was still wet and being disappointed when it, in fact, was.

He wondered why exactly he’s been down recently. Nightmare’s been going easy on them this past month so it probably didn’t have anything to do with him. As far as Dust was concerned, there was no obvious cause. He decided to extend his word cap for today. “why have you been in your room so often?” he asked.

Killer’s sockets widened, not expecting the silence to be broken. “i mean we all have our ups and downs, right?” he answered.

Dust turned his head to him, looking unconvinced.

“well, i guess my ups and downs are like falling straight down Mt. Ebbot and being launched up into the sky, but same difference,” he shrugged nonchalantly.

He didn’t like that Dust still looked concerned. It looked unnatural on him.

“listen. this isn’t new. it's just been awhile since it's happened.”

“since what?”

“i dunno! impending dread sneaking up on me and making me it's bitch, i guess!”

That gave Dust an image he didn't want. He scrunched his face in disgust, mainly at his own mind for conjuring that image.

“i dunno why i phrased it like that. i think i’m still high.” He stared at his hands as if that would confirm if he was right or not.

“we gotta stop it with the drugs,” Dust concluded.

“huh?!” Killer sprang upright, he lost balance and fell forward.

Dust ended up catching him.

“noooo,” he whined. “dusty, it's literally the best part of my day, you can't just take that away from me.”

Dust didn't even have to reply, he just gave him a look of skepticism.

“we’ll stick to weed only! i promise,” he bargained, clasping his hands together in a plea. His smile was a frown. “i don't wanna lose…this.”

Dust opted to press his forehead against his, closing his sockets. It was almost like he was cradling him.

Killer’s body went slack as he relaxed.

When Dust pulled away and opened his sockets he was met with Killer’s ringed eye lights. He glanced at his soul. It was the shape of an upside down heart.

“can we just…hang out without it?” Killer asked. That question felt more directed at himself than at Dust.

Dust nodded.

“like actually?!”

Dust snickered at his excitement.

Killer's grin widened as giddiness overtook him. He reached up to wrap his arms around Dust.

He sat there, cuddling with the other skeleton for a little while until they decided to call it a night.

To Killer’s surprise, he woke up with Dust still by his side.

He decided to tuck away that “what are we?” question, for now. He just wanted to enjoy whatever the hell this was.

#killer x dust #kist #utmv fic

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