#flinging myself into a sea of feels

[writing-for-marvel]

Withdrawal

[He’s Hazardous To My Health Series]

Paramedic!Bucky Barnes x Resident!Fem!Reader

< < PART 2 | Series Masterlist | PART 4 > >

Summary: You wait for Bucky to call.

Warnings: strictly 18+ due to the AU, some angst and self doubt, references to sex, references to Bucky having a traumatic past

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: Will he call? Won’t he call? Let’s find out! Banners by @vase-of-lilies

Main Masterlist | Ask me anything! | Taglist | Library

Bucky stares down at his phone and sighs.

He wants to call you, genuinely, so why is dialling your number so difficult?

Perhaps it’s too soon, is what he tells himself. It hasn’t even been a full day since the end of your date, calling now probably makes him look desperate.

Should he message you? Tell you that he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you all day? Ugh, no… that seems extremely forward for someone he’s only been on a single date with, regardless of if it’s the truth.

There’s never been anyone whom he’s connected with enough to warrant a second date, let alone have him promising to call. He’s completely out of his depth, drowning in a sea of anxiety and no one has taught him how to swim.

Bucky knows he’s overthinking, but you make it hard to think clearly. You have his brain short circuiting, reforming synapses so that all his thoughts are rerouted to the same thing: you.

Turning his phone off, he sets it down beside him. Just because he isn’t calling straight away, doesn’t mean he won’t at all. It’s probably better to wait and not seem super eager.

Or is that counterintuitive? If you enjoy someone’s company, should you let them know so you can see them again as soon as possible?

Fuck, why is this such a daunting task? He’s never had an issue with talking or flirting with anyone before, it seems to come naturally to him. And yet the thought that he’ll say the wrong thing, and fuck up whatever it is between the two of you is making his stomach churn with prickling nerves he’s never experienced before.

Perhaps he’ll find the courage to call tomorrow.

* * *

“You seem distracted, what’s on your mind?” The familiar voice from the driver's seat of the ambulance pulls Bucky from his daydream.

You, is what Bucky thinks. You are constantly on his mind. Him and his best friend Steve are half an hour into their shift and you have not left the forefront of his mind in that entire time.

It’s like he’s in a trance.

“There’s this girl from the hospital…” Bucky trails off, unsure how to articulate exactly how you’ve bewitched him since meeting not even a week ago.

The night before last wasn’t just another hookup. At least, not to him.

“I’m gonna need a little more information than that Buck, there’s been quite a few girls of yours, especially from the hospital.” Steve laughs, but Bucky’s chest tightens at the insinuation that you’re just another fling, even though Steve doesn’t know any better.

“Two nights ago we went on a date, it ended up back at her place.” This is probably not news to Steve - he’s heard many stories about Bucky’s one night stands which would have started exactly like this. But there is one huge difference this time around. “And then I told her I’d call.”

“You’re thinking about a second date with her? She must be something special.” Bucky chuckles under his breath. Yeah, you really are something special. So fucking special.

“She’s beautiful, intelligent, funny, witty. When she was treating that little girl from the train derailment she was so good with her, kind and patient. I don’t know how to describe it, we just click. I don’t think I’ve ever allowed myself to feel more than physical attraction for someone but with her it just happens, I can’t stop myself.”

He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but Bucky’s already addicted to you. He’s only had one fix, but he’s already showing symptoms of withdrawal. Every second apart feels like an hour, craving your company and the rapture firing in every neuron of his body when you’re in his presence.

“Look at you actually falling for someone.” Steve teases, without even knowing the full extent of how enthralled Bucky is with you. “So when are you seeing her again?”

Silence fills the front seat of the ambulance when Bucky can’t answer the question.

“Bucky, you have to see her again! Listen to how you’re talking about her, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you actually speak about wanting to see someone again. You need to call her.” Steve stops at a red light and looks over to Bucky in the passenger seat. His best friend knows him better than perhaps he knows himself but doesn’t have the same obstacle with letting people in as Bucky does.

“That’s easier said than done.” Bucky can’t mask the dejected tone in his voice, and Steve recognises the crestfallen hang of his head, knowing exactly what he means without voicing it aloud.

“I know you've been through a lot in your life Buck, you’ve built walls up to prevent any more heartbreak…” Steve starts, but Bucky doesn’t need yet another reminder of his tragic backstory.

“Alright Mr I minored in psychology, I get your point. I’m damaged goods and don’t let people get close to me.”

“It’s just a second date, Buck, you aren’t asking for her hand in marriage. Just see where it goes.” Steve makes it sound so easy. Most people wouldn’t get so stressed about something they would consider as minor as a second date, yet Bucky feels like he’s about to expose the most intimate parts of his soul to someone for the first time.

“But I don’t want to hurt her. I know nothing about dating or being in a relationship.” Bucky pauses - the fact that he’s even considering something as substantial as a relationship with you punches him in the gut. He’s never wanted that with someone before. “And I don’t want to get hurt myself.” Because all Bucky has known is relationships breaking down. To him romantic relationships are synonymous with pain and he’s had enough of that for a lifetime.

“You’ll never know if you never try. I know you think letting someone in will lead to heartbreak, but what if it’s the opposite? What if by letting this person into your heart you finally find love and contentment?” Bucky has never allowed himself to imagine a life where that is a possibility - opening himself up to that prospect sounds like a recipe for more suffering. Besides, he’s been damaged goods for a long time, he’s sure there’s no one who would want to put up with him anyway.

“You really are a hopeless romantic.” Bucky comments, trying to avoid the questions Steve is raising, and divert the topic of their conversation.

“I want you to be happy, Buck. You’ve never afforded yourself that courtesy.”

Though his experience screams at him to run in the opposite direction, that this would be a horrible decision leading to further pain, Bucky finds it hard to believe someone as sweet and good-natured as yourself would ever hurt him intentionally. Even if there is only a slim chance that he doesn’t completely fuck this up, given Bucky cannot stop thinking about you, he supposes it’s worth a shot calling you.

“Well, maybe it’s finally time I do.” Bucky mutters under his breath.

* * *

You’ve been checking your phone periodically throughout the day to se if you have any new notifications from Bucky, but each time your phone lights up, a new wave of disappointment floods your chest.

You wonder if the notion of actually calling you, or simply messaging, has even crossed Bucky’s mind once since he left your place about 36 hours ago, or if he already knew it was an empty promise at the time he made it.

“Heard anything yet?” Wanda asks hopefully, but you shake your head in response. The first thing Wanda asked during your next shift together was how your date went with Bucky - between treating patients you described the picnic Bucky set up on the riverbank and (in slightly less detail) the euphoric night you shared when you made it back to your place.

“I’m stupid for actually believing he’s going to call, aren’t I?”

“…No.” Wanda offers after a brief hesitation which tells you more than the single word does. Sensing your regret in asking, she continues on. “Sweetie, only you know the connection you share, I can’t speak to that. If you feel like there’s something special there and he promised to call, then you have every right to believe him.”

Perhaps you’re being foolish, you should know better than to hang your hopes on a man who is notorious for being a fuckboy, but you really thought Bucky was being genuine when he promised to contact you. That the blissful night you shared, and the waves of ecstasy which melded into a flood of pure pleasure, meant more than just a one night stand.

Or at least it did to you.

“Just because he’s never pursued more than a first date with other people in this hospital doesn’t mean he isn’t now, or isn’t with you. Sometimes it just takes the right person, that could be you.” You take some comfort in the sincerity of her tone, but the voice in the back of your mind reminds you of what Wanda alerted you to prior to your date: no one gets a second date with Bucky Barnes.

“You’ve changed from giving me no hope to giving me false hope, Wan.” You joke, trying to brush off the conversation and not reveal just how heartbroken you’ll be if Bucky ghosts you, even with Wanda warning about his ways.

Internally you remind yourself that it’s only been a day and a half and to not be too mad at him, yet. Perhaps he intends to call, but hasn’t gotten around to it, though you’re pretty sure you’re only telling yourself that to stop the perpetual ache in your chest rather than truly believing it.

“He promised he would call, that’s not false hope.” Wanda advises, shooting you a look of encouragement as you both complete paperwork for your respective patients.

At that moment, the doors to the ER swing open and none other than the paramedic you were just speaking about walks in wheeling a patient.

You hate how good he looks, long chestnut hair framing his face and those dazzling blue eyes you’ve dreamed about shine from all the way across the room. He’s unfairly attractive, and he walks into a room like he knows it too.

Him and his partner consult the head nurse of the ER, who, after examining her clipboard for a moment, points towards your direction, making your stomach flip.

Steel blue eyes meet yours and for a moment your entire world stands still. The sounds of the busy ER fade away and even the presence of Wanda beside you dissolves into non-existence when his eyes find you and a smile overtakes his features. That damn cheeky smile which makes your knees weak.

He truly is infuriatingly beautiful.

“Hey.” Is all you can think to say as they approach, a lump in your throat forming which would prevent you from voicing any more words if your brain could think of any other than how strapping and handsome he looks in his uniform.

“Hi.” Bucky responds softly with a dreamy smile, eyes lingering on yours for a long beat before turning away. How could someone who looks at you with such warmth not want to see you again?

You shake the thought from your mind as your focus on the patient, a young man with scared brown eyes. You can’t afford to be distracted right now, even if you desperately want to look back at him and revel in the fondness brimming in his eyes which was so apparent during your date.

After Bucky’s equally tall, broad and handsome paramedic partner gets you up to speed on the patient's history, you get to work on taking his vitals.

“Rogers, Barnes, give us some space to work, please.” Dr Strange requests and without the chance to say another word to each other, both paramedics disappear out the corner of your periphery.

What you don’t notice is Bucky’s soft gaze on you through the glass walls of the patient room as you start your work up, believing that he had simply got back in his ambulance and out into the field.

“That’s her?” Steve asks from beside Bucky. He knows full well it must be you, he’s never seen his best friend look so enamoured with a girl, nor lost for words as when he set eyes on you, but he wants Bucky to admit it aloud.

“Yep, that’s her.” Bucky says with a pride that if Steve didn’t know any better, would suggest that her meant his girl. Bucky answers without taking his eyes off you, the corners of mouth tugging into a smile. His best friend has it bad, and he doesn’t even realise.

Steve suspects if he doesn’t remind Bucky they have a shift to get back to, he’d happily watch you work for the rest of the day.

He allows Bucky a couple more minutes of that luxury before heading back to the ambulance, knowing his best friend well enough to realise before either Bucky or yourself do, just how significant Bucky’s feelings for you are.

* * *

Bucky steps out of the shower, the warm water having rinsed the hard days work off himself.

He knows he needs to call you. Waiting any longer, especially after seeing you today, even if it were only for a brief moment, would surely only indicate disinterest. That’s so far from how he feels about you, so he decides needs to take matters into his own hands and fulfil the promise he made two nights ago.

A fresh swarm of butterflies fills his stomach. He’s actually going to do this.

He just hopes you’re after more than just another hookup. Bucky’s used to being the one only interested in sex, but if the roles are reversed this time, it’ll be his exposed heart being ripped from his chest.

No, he can’t think like that. He’s finally giving himself a chance at happiness.

Bucky reminds himself that you asked him to promise to call after your date. It’s not just him that wants this, you want him to call.

With that thought, he pulls out his phone and quickly presses on your contact, so he doesn’t chicken out, and with a shaky hand holds his phone to his ear. Bucky’s heart beats in his throat as the first ring sounds, and then skips a beat altogether when the click of you answering fills his ears.

“Bucky, you called.” He can hear the smile in your voice through the line, but what makes his heart clench is the trace of surprise he can perceive, as if you truly hadn’t expected him to call.

“I did promise to.” He reminds you, but it doesn’t entirely eliminate the bitter shame bubbling in the pit of his stomach that even though he did in fact promise, you didn’t fully believe him.

“I’m happy you did. I had a really great time the other night.”

“So did I.” Those three simple words don’t sum up just how much Bucky wholeheartedly enjoyed every second he spent with you, regardless of if that were naked in your bed or getting to know you on a picnic blanket as the sun set across the horizon, but in his anxious state he can’t find words more poetic to express it. “And I’d love to do it again if you’re up for it.”

“Hmm, I’m gonna have to think about it.” He can tell by the light tone of your voice you’re joking, but he supposes he deserves waiting for an answer considering he made you wait for his call. “Of course I’d love to go on a second date with you James.”

The combination of your words and the fact that you punctuated the sentence with his true first name sends Bucky straight to heaven. Everything about you makes him completely weak in a way he has never experienced before. All of those walls Steve seems to think Bucky has built around himself don’t appear to exist with you, instead, you’ve come into his life as easily as walking through a front door with a welcome mat out front.

“I guess I’m going to have to outdo a picnic at sunset then.” He chuckles to himself, knowing that he’s never had this problem before, but realising it’s a good problem to have.

You continue to talk well into the night, forgetting what time it is, and that you both have early shifts in the morning. None of that matters when you’re so caught up in each other.

Bucky simply enjoys the sound of your voice, and how it soothes the remaining anxiety which was swirling in his chest before calling you. He certainly isn’t hanging up first, not when talking with you has been the best part of his day.

He’s chasing happiness. And he might just find it with you.

Part 4 > >

Be added to the series taglist here

He’s Hazardous To My Health [Paramedic!Bucky Barnes] Taglist: @lavenderpenumbra @crazyunsexycool @eralen @buckbuckyoongs @blackwidownat2814 @roschele @crayongirl-linz @ozwriterchick @desert-fern @misshale21 @chalesleclerc164 @rookthorne @janineb86 @emmabarnes @scarletbich @fallenlilangel99 @princezzjasmine @mdrovert @thebuckybarnesvault @doasyoudesireandlive @solitarioslilium @iamfandomwasted @tanyaspartak @netflixxgoddess @pop-rocks-818 @dumdidditydumdoo @missvelvetsstuff @marvelhoeland @thesadcatto-queen @kayden666 @amiimar @razor-blayde @katheryn1 @safew0rd @kentokaze @thewackywriter @lady-loki-barnes-djarin @badasswlthafatass @Vickie5446 @loveoldmenlikelana @00cmh @pointless-girl @honeyglee @nerdxacid @moonymagician @ashhsage @prettylittlepluviophile @otomefromtheheart @sjsmith56 @mandijo17 @lokidokieokie @oceansandblackhearts @rebeccapineapple @soorwellystan @excusememrbarnes @lofaewrites @snapcapquartet @wishingwell-2 @unaxv @aya-fay

#em writes #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes series #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky x y/n #bucky au #bucky fanfiction #bucky fanfic #paramedic!bucky barnes #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan characters

[dsireland86]

There is Beauty in the Pain

CHAPTER 1

*** Warnings: Language, angst,

Summary: Noah and Sophie find each other in the most unprecedented circumstances. Whether it's the Universe, fate, destiny, or pure luck, they can't deny that their souls were simply meant to be

TAGS: @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @missduffsblog

If you want to be added to the tag list let me know :)

--LINK TO CHAPTER 2 AT THE BOTTOM--

Noah:

She was the beauty in the darkness surrounding me; the force pulling me into the light. Buried in the corner of the massive sea of people, her blue hoodie stood out in the blackness, and from every spot on the stage, I noticed her.The red lights danced as I did my best to tune out everything that unsettled me when it came to performing in front of large crowds like this, but when they were as alive and loud as they were tonight, I didn't have to try very hard. She was my biggest distraction, though. Each time I looked her way, she was focused on me, moving to the music and smiling; the embodiment of happiness, a happiness for some unknown reason, I longed to be a part of. My stomach flipped inside me when I spotted her sweet face, feeling the pull in my gut from the way her whole face seemed to beam from her smile.

Fuck. That smile was going to be the death of my heart.

No matter how hard I tried to push through what she was doing to me, the emotions I was experiencing flowed through my veins like a drug that gave me the perfect high. I was drawn to her like a magnet by reasons unknown, and the more I tried to rationalize those reasons, the stronger they became. But memories from my past crept in, quickly stealing my joy. I didn't want to involve myself with girls and relationships right now. A long time ago I did that and it ended up almost destroying me and worse, the band. So, I decided to keep my back to the crowd for a bit, moving across the stage to avoid looking out and seeing the only face I was interested in looking at, the one that was slowly eating away at my defenses. I drew my energy from the adrenaline and excitement of the crowd, using it as fuel to the fire the guys and I started over ten years ago; it was my life. 

Tonight was the last show of our eight-week tour, luckily ending in L.A.; home. I loved performing, I loved touring, but damn I was exhausted and I knew the guys were too. We were ready for a few months off before heading to Europe for another six-week tour, and I was so looking forward to the time off. I didn't enjoy Interacting with the audience as much as I should as a front man, but a little was important during the show. Most of the time I felt like I sucked at it, but if I did, the fans never acted like it. They always responded with so much enthusiasm that at times it was a little overwhelming.

As I blocked the glow of the lights with my hand, looking out and grinning at all the faces I noticed her again. She'd moved closer, now out of the corner, and for the first time, we made direct eye contact. I saw how the corners of her mouth turned up and made her whole face brighten. She let out a loud scream while throwing her hands up in the air, completely taken away by our music. I had no idea why seeing her so happy made me smile, but it did and I was so caught up in her that I lost my focus and forgot what line I was on in the song, causing myself to mess up the entire last verse. I started laughing as the fans continued singing the words I'd missed, guiding me back on track to finish out the rest of the song. Thankfully it was the last before the encore.

Once over, I jogged off the stage for our four minute break, before ending the show with the last remaining song that was a crowd pleaser. I was soaked with sweat and my throat was dry. As soon as water was in sight, I snatched a bottle and guzzled it completely without stopping for a breath, feeling much better after. I shook my head, flinging beads of sweat everywhere.

"Dude, gross," Nicholas groaned. I chuckled as he walked past me. "Use a towel," throwing one at my chest. It felt good to wipe the sweat off, feeling the cool air hit my hot skin.

"You okay?" he asked, finishing his own bottle of water. Once he was through, he took my trash and threw them in the nearest trash can.

"Yeah, I'm good."

"You sure? Fucking up lyrics isn't your thing.” 

I reassured him with a quick nod, wiping the back of my neck.

"I got distracted, that's all." I wasn't about to admit the truth to him.

"Well that's obvious. Over what?"

I shook my head, trying to get rid of the slight ringing in my left ear.

"Noah! What the hell," Jolly's voice boomed, coming over to me. "What happened? You missed the whole last line."

 "What happened?" Folio asked, coming into the conversation a few minutes too late. He cracked open a beer once his water was out. 

"You didn't hear him miss the entire last line?"

Folio shook his head. "Nope, I was in my own little world, man. Zoned out."

"Jolly, I'm sorry. I got distracted." He was starting to give me a complex.

Grinning, Jolly softly laughed, playfully punching me in the shoulder. "I'm just giving you a hard time. Relax."

I half smiled, running the towel over my hair before tossing it into the dirty towel bin.

"You keep saying you were distracted," Nicholas reminded me. "You gonna say over what?"

I huffed, adjusting my belt pack on the back of my pants. I wasn't about to tell them I fucked up lyrics because of a girl. They'd never let me live it down.

"So many people in the crowd, dude. It's a lot, that's all." 

Nick stared at me, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah, I'm not buying," shaking his head. "Spill it." He shifted his weight to the other leg, locking his hands together in front of his bass.

I started chuckling at how good he was at reading me.

"There's nothing to spill, Nick. I'm just tired and ready to finish this tour," I assured him, trying to hide the truth anyway. 

"Noah, don't lie. You have that weird look on your face again." 

"What look,” I laughed, raising my eyebrows. I glanced over at Folio and Jolly and they seemed to be waiting for my answer too. I scoffed. 

"That look, right there,” Nick pointed out, twirling his finger in circles toward me. 

I rolled my eyes and groaned.There was no escaping Nick and his relentless prying, When he wanted an answer to something, he wouldn't stop until he got it.

Sighing, I took a seat on a stool, thinking of how I would best explain what was going on with me without sounding like a stupid, lovesick teenager. There was no way I could convey the feeling that girl was giving me each time I looked at her in a way they'd understand. Hell, I wasn't sure I even understood it myself. All I knew was that the feeling I got just thinking about her and her pretty face, as if my heart had fallen into the pit of my stomach and flipped itself over and over, wouldn't go away.

My eyes darted between the three of them. Jolly had pulled his hair back, showing off his strong Swedish facial features, Folio was chugging the remainder of his beer and Nick, well Nick just stared at me. These three were my friends and I knew I could trust them to understand.

"Shit, okay, fuck it. But promise me you'll hear me out first before you say anything?" Each of them gave me their word, but I still felt like I was going to regret this.

"So, there's this girl in the crowd wearing a blue hoodie and she and I have been exchanging looks and smiles half the night. She's really pretty and there's just something about her that's got me hooked." I wouldn't look at them, worried they were about to start throwing punches.

"You said she's wearing a blue hoodie?" Nick finally asked, easing my fear.

"Yeah, blue hoodie, brown hair pulled up in a messy bun. She's close to the front right side of the barrier."

He thought for a minute but then grinned. "I know who you're talking about. She was watching me the whole time we played "Take Me First". She is really pretty. I got a smile out of her too."

"So this chick's got you so worked up and making you forget lyrics? Wow, that's the first time that’s happened in a long time." Jolly was right. It had been a long time since a girl held my interest like this. 

Shrugging my shoulders and standing to my feet, I fixed my belt pack once more, slipping one ear piece back in. It was almost time to go back on. "Look, I can't explain it guys. I'm not saying or implying anything. I just like looking at her and the pull she has on me is something I've never felt. Not even with Sarah."

The guys looked at me, Jolly giving me a sympathetic stare. I shook my head at him. "Don't man, it's okay; really. I'm good." I shot him a quick smile. Nick and Folio nodded, knowing that what happened all those years ago with a girl I thought I was going to marry still haunted me at times.

"I'm not saying I want to marry this girl, I'm just saying there's something about her that's got me a little flustered. I've been trying to give it up, but the feeling just won’t let go."

There was a sad sort of silence hanging around and It was starting to get depressing. "Okay, fuck this shit," slapping my hands together. "It's encore time. Let's get this shit over so we can go home and enjoy a few months off." Everyone agreed.

Folio came up to me, twirling his sticks between his fingers. "You said she was pretty, but is she hot? Because this whole thing is pointless if she isn't hot." 

His face was so serious I couldn't help but chuckle. I couldn't leave him hanging. "Yeah I think she is. She's beautiful." 

That was enough for him to back up, cheesing like a kid at Christmas. Folio had a thing for women who were easy on the eyes and a lot of the time they had a thing for him too. Bryan met us at the entrance to the stage, waiting to take as many last song pictures of us and the crowd he could.

"Fuck yeah baby, let's goooo! De-fucking-throne!" Folio unleashed his devil horns and crazy rock face to Bryan who snapped a few pictures, while releasing his wild ass cackle before taking off toward his drums. 

"I'm going to look for her again. Maybe I can wrangle another smile from her," Nick teased, giving me a quick pat on the back as he walked by. "Are you planning on fighting me for her attention, Ruffilo?" He smiled and shrugged 

Jolly came up from behind and stood beside me. "Ready?" he asked, looking out onto the stage. Looking over at him, I nodded with a grin. "Ready as I'll ever be," I answered. He turned to me and smiled. "Let's go meet God then my friend," and walked out to the stage to take his place with me right behind him.

It was a deep, eerie blue that soon turned into a bleeding bright red when I started the infamous chant that became a ritual at every show. The loud waves of shouts and screams pierced my ears, making me have to reposition my in-ear piece while continuing to ramp up the crowd. In between the darkness and the light, her face flashed between the colors. The expression she wore said she’d never seen this before, but she followed along, repeating the chant with me over and over. I walked to the edge of the stage, looking down at her, watching how the excitement spread across her face like fire and reached her eyes. It sent electrifying chills up my spine that only enticed the feelings I was having  for her. As Jolly and Folio began playing the entire middle floor of the venue turned into a raging, screaming mosh pit.  

She didn't look like a mosh pit kind of girl, so I was glad to see her safely at the front of the barrier, holding on to it as the crowds behind her pushed and shoved. I adjusted myself from the growing pressure beneath my pants that was giving away the inappropriate thoughts I was having about this girl and leaned back, releasing the frustration in a long, single growl. I pulled my strength from my diaphragm, breathing in and out the way I'd been trained taking pride in the fact that I'd managed to go the whole tour without losing my voice. 

Once the song was in full swing, I became engulfed by overwhelming energy and excitement. Without reasoning, I jumped down to the lower floor, belting out the words while touching and grabbing at all the outstretched hands of fans who were screaming and begging for my attention. Following Ash as he led me through, I smiled at them and did my best to touch every hand I could without being pulled in or tripping over my own feet. It was such insane energy that I didn't even notice where I had stopped until I looked up and was met with the smile and eyes that had been holding me captive all night.I paused, taking a second to focus on her face and enjoy the feeling I got from her that went straight from my heart to my dick, making it twitch, I grinned, huffing a slight laugh in between lyrics when her cheeks turned a slight shade of red. Without thinking, I reached over and slid the tips of my fingers across her soft cheek, absorbing the intensity from just the single touch of her skin. My heart pounded. I was so fucking turned on by her and I knew my face gave it away, but I didn't care; not right now. Especially when she pressed her cheek harder into my fingers. Moving the mic away from my mouth, thankful it was near the end of the song, the two of us just stood there staring at one another as if trying to commit to memory all the little things about each other’s faces that we could, That's when the idea of meeting with her crossed my mind and how easy it would be to bring her to the green room.

Ash tugged on my arm indicating I needed to get back on stage, but before I could go, she grabbed me by the wrist, making my head snap back and look at her. Her hand slipped into mine and we both squeezed the other's at the same time, smiling. She giggled, and I winked at her as we released our grips until our fingers were the only thing holding us together. The longer we held on to each other, the harder I felt the need for her grow. That strong magnetic pull in her eyes came back, encouraging me to bring her hand to my lips and kiss the tops of her knuckles. She gasped, hand flying up over her mouth. I suddenly felt like I had won the round with her. I shot off like a bullet, back on to the stage, and finished the song with a massive bang. That was it; the end of the tour.

I met the guys behind the stage, listening to the applause that continued to grow. We went.back out as the lights came on and the ending song played, waving good-bye, tossing things out into the crowd, and soaking up all the appreciation and love. Squatting down, I reached out to her stretching out as far as I could to grab her hand. Climbing the metal barricade, she did the same and when she took my hand it felt like time had just stopped. Our gaze on one another was fixed, neither one of us moving or saying a word. What was happening between us had never happened to me before and from the expression on her face, it was the same for her. She never made an attempt to move away or scream and freak out like the other girls were doing around her; she just held my hand and stared. Jolly nudged me, letting me know we had to go, and reluctantly let go of her hand. But I motioned for her to stay where she was, hoping she understood even though she shook her head. I nodded and kept my eyes on her, running off stage and grabbing a security guard and instructed him to bring her back to the green room.

A hard knot formed in the pit of my stomach, making me nauseous. I was pacing the floor, fidgeting, and trying not to wonder what was taking them so long.

"You need to relax, Noah."

I glared at Nicholas who was busy drawing on a napkin at the table in the corner.

The door flew open and my head jerked around, but I was disappointed when I saw it was only Matt.

"The was the fucking shit you guys! You were awesome,” he congratulated us. The others were appreciative and thrilled, but I just grumbled and went back to pacing nervously. Matt  looked from me, to the others, and then back to me. "What's wrong? What happened?" taking a can of Dr. Pepper from the fridge and cracking it open.

"Noah may or may not have done something a little stupid," Nicholas told him.

"Stupid as in that one time when Folio went skinny-dipping in twenty-five-degree weather in Colorado?" Matt teased, giving Folio a playful grin.

"Hey to be fair I was really drunk that night. I don't even remember the reason why I did that, now that I think about it."

"Because some girl told you she'd make out with you if you did. Of course she was lying." Jolly reasoned, throwing a grape in his mouth.

"Oh, shit yeah. Now I remember. She had a boyfriend didn't she?"

"Yeah she did, and that mother fucker was pissed at you when you climbed out of the pool, ass naked and shivering."

The room ignited in laughter that even I couldn't resist laughing as I recalled that night so long ago. That was during the van years when Sarah and I were still together; right before I asked her to marry me.

A knock came from the door and it slowly opened. The guard walked in, but he was alone and from the look on his face I knew the news he was about to give me wasn't what I wanted to hear. "I couldn't find her. I went to where you told me, searched for the blue hoodie, but had no luck. I even went on stage and looked down into the crowd. Sorry, Noah." I gave a small smile and thanked him. The guard left, closing the door behind him. Suddenly my hear felt like it had just dived off a cliff and splatter on the ground. Matt looked around the room, utterly confused. "Uh, what the hell did I just miss?" Groaning, I started searching for my hoodie, desperately  needing some air.

"There was this girl in the crowd that Noah kind of got attached to. He sent the security guard out to look for her and bring her back here, but I'm guessing she left already."

Matt's mouth fell open. "Really, Noah?"

I ignored him, wondering where in the hell my hoodie was.

"Well it's probably a good thing she couldn't be found. Probably would have ended horribly anyway. Either way, sorry man." I knew he meant for his apology to sound sincere, but it really didn't

"Where is my fucking hoodie!" I yelled, no longer able to control my frustration. I didn’t want to think about her anymore and was failing at my attempt to do so. I had an unnatural craving for her now, maybe because I knew I couldn’t have her. Grumbling again, I continued my search.

"Oh my bad, brother," Folio apologized, pulling my black sweatshirt out from underneath him and handing it to me. I took it, and threw it on, eager to get out of there and into the night air.

"Well, anyway, there is a small local bar not far from here that offered us its space for our small post tour celebration. The owner asked only for a small fee so everyone is heading that way." The guys all got up and started getting their stuff together, while I headed toward the door.

"Noah," Matt called. I turned and looked at him. "Don't do anything stupid." I didn't answer, only turned back around and walked out the door, heading towards the back entrance. "I'll text you the address of the bar," Matt yelled after me. “Remember, she’s probably not worth it!”

Matt's words lingered in the back of my mind as I walked away from the venue. My mind refused to let up on the grip it had on her. What would make her leave like she did? Did the things that went on between us not mean the same to her the way they meant to me? Matt was right; it all probably would have ended horribly, and maybe she wasn’t worth it. Or maybe he was wrong. Either way I wouldn't forget her face, her smile, the intense feelings my body felt each time I looked at her. I wouldn't forget how soft her skin felt, the excitement in her eyes when she looked at me, the way she made me hard just by her presence. Shoving my hands deep into the pockets of my hoodie, I hung my head feeling completely and utterly low. I made my way into the bright city lights, hoping to forget about the face that would haunt me for a long time.

CHAPTER 2

#noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fanfic #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens #bad omens band #noah sebastian #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio #fanfic #jolly karlsson

[ddarker-dreams]

Quid Pro Quo.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, mentions of not SFW although nothing explicit happens.  Word count: 3k.

“Feeling a little bit restless, are we?”

Chrollo is what you like to call the king of unwanted commentary.

If he were to ever retire from his murderous/thieving ways, you think he could make a career in narrating documentaries. No script necessary. Just set him in a recording booth, turn the microphone on, and let him have at it since he apparently never runs out of things to say.

Frowning, you cross your arms over your chest. “Oh, whatever gave it away?”

“You have your tells,” Chrollo purposefully does not match your sarcasm. It might be the only moral highroad he’s ever taken. “If I had to narrow it down to any one factor, though, it’d be how you glance at the clock every few minutes.”

What an astute observation! Scrub away the names of Freud and Jung in the psychology textbooks, their contributions clearly pale in comparison to Chrollo’s own expertise in understanding the human psyche. What might his theories be named? Something involving the Bible, surely. Or maybe the widely rejected Apocrypha since heresy is more his style. Regardless, you can confidently surmise the names would be superficial and pretentious. Perfectly befitting their progenitor.

“Considering we drove for what, five hours to some off-grid airport? Then flew an additional five, only to now be stuck on this train for… hm…”

“Eight hours,” he offers in kind. Too kind. You would gag, if not for your determination to get your irritation across. Priorities, priorities.

“Eight hours! Even if I had my phone, that’d be enough to make me go mad.”

“In ‘ye olden days’ as you like to refer to them, you never would’ve made it on the Oregon Trail if you thought eighteen hours of traveling to be worth complaining over.”

“Obviously. If I had to sit on the back of a wagon with my eight dirty children whom I secretly despise, I’d be drinking the water to get dysentery. Or flinging myself underneath the wheels. Either or.”

“See? This is much better then,” Chrollo gives you one of those little smiles that reminds you of a debate kid who thinks he has his opponent in the bag. “There are no eight malnourished children in sight. Just you, me, and a world of infinite possibilities.”

“For you, maybe. ‘Infinite’ might be a stretch for me.”

“My apologies. Near infinite.”

“More like one: following you around as if I were a leashed dog.”

“I had never considered a leash,” Chrollo hums, giving you a once over, presumably for show. He already has your sizes memorized better than you ever did. Neck included, you assume. “I’ll consider your suggestion.”

Unable to mask your distaste, you reply without thinking, “It wasn’t a suggestion.”

“Oh? A request, then?”

You roll your eyes and decide not to dignify that with a response.

Back to staring out the window for entertainment it is then. Looking past your despondent reflection, you’re welcomed to a sea of nothingness; swaths of deep hues blurring together in an unidentifiable mass. It’s too dark for you to enjoy the grand scenery outside and too cloudy for the stars to twinkle overhead. You’ve already conducted a thorough examination of the luxurious train compartment, which for all its ostentatious décor, feels oddly cramped. As if Chrollo intentionally picked something that’d force you into close quarters. You wouldn’t put it past him.

He sits a few feet across from you, legs crossed, the gaudy bandage that normally covers his forehead nowhere in sight. He looks as content as ever with his loungewear on. Yours is still strewn across the bed, untouched due to the scorn it earned. So he gets slacks and a loose t-shirt while you’re forced to model a lingerie line? It’s for this reason you’re stubbornly sitting here in your jeans at two in the morning. In retrospect, skinny jeans were not the optimal option for this boycott, if only you had known to expect such shameless reprobate-like behavior in advance. You were just getting used to the time zone when he informed business had to take him elsewhere.

And wherever he went, you went too. Kicking, screaming, crying, or anything in between; you’d be hauled off regardless.

“You don’t have to force yourself to stay awake, you know,” Chrollo once again voices his unasked-for opinion. “Why not allow yourself to relax? For starters, try changing into something more comfortable.”

He motions to the aforementioned nightgown that has no reason to be so sheer. Seriously, it’s an insult to fabric everywhere. You swear that a little breeze would be enough to rip the fragile material in two.

“And have you ogle at me the rest of the night? I’d prefer the diseased children.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘ogling’, I’d call it ‘appreciating’.”

“Alright, Mr. Company HR representative.”

You make the mistake of checking out the clock again. Only five minutes have passed? This is psychological torture. While you’d normally read to pass the time, the possibility of motion sickness is enough to put you off from the idea. There’s one thing in this world that’s worse than being with Chrollo — and that is being with Chrollo while sick. Just thinking about it is enough to make you bristle. His usual infantilizing behavior gets a boost that’d have the most mentally stable person banging their head against a wall. Not fun, an easy pass. He won’t stop giving you romance novels when you ask to read, anyway. If he thinks that’d put you in the mood to reciprocate his grimy feelings, he can think again. He’s no Mr. Darcy or Mr. Rochester. You’d pin him for more of a discount Heathcliff on a good day.

There has got to be something for you to do. A little excitement, a little zest… could anyone blame you for seeking this out in your monotonous days?

That’s when a potentially damning yet undeniably exciting idea comes to mind.

“Hm… I know that look. You’re preparing to ask me for something, aren’t you?”

“Maybe, maybe not. That all depends. Are you feeling particularly indulgent tonight?”

“I always feel indulgent toward you, you just never ask for the right things,” he leans forward slightly, belying his intrigue. He’s so full of it. Apathetic as he may act, you’re convinced he’d listen to you sing an opera-length aria about tinfoil if past experience is anything to go by. Chrollo can’t get enough of you. The feeling is decidedly not mutual.

“Feel free to make your pitch whenever, [First]. I’m waiting.”

“Right. That book of yours… Pundit’s Secret?”

“Bandit’s Secret,” he corrects.

“Tomato toh-mato. If memory serves, you once told me an anecdote about this ability that made lying impossible. But the person you use it on has to meet certain conditions… or something. Doesn’t that sound like a fun way to pass the time? You ask me some questions and I return the favor?”

His gray eyes glimmer with amusement. “I don’t know, darling. I’d be taking far more of a risk than you. There’s little you could reveal about yourself that I’m not already aware of.”

“I guess so…” you trail off, trying not to linger on the unsettling sentiment. How can anyone just come out and say that as if it’s the most casual thing ever? “Fine. How about you get to ask me a whopping three questions and I get to ask you one? Only one. It won’t be anything stupid, like how I could kill you or run away. You can set that up in the conditions, right?”

He gives you a long and hard look. “I suppose I could. So I’d get to ask you anything at all, whereas your options are willingly limited?”

You shrug. “What can I say? I have to get my kicks somehow. Even a mere glimpse into the mind of the infamous Chrollo Lucilfer should be worth sacrificing some dignity over. I think.”

“We’ll see,” there’s that enigmatic smile again that makes your stomach twist into knots. He holds out his right hand — and voila — a primarily red book with a white handprint on the cover manifests. The numerous pages flip in rapid succession before landing on whatever poor soul he stole this ability from. Apparently, this ability’s progenitor was a private investigator who made the mistake of looking into the Troupe. You wonder how his business has plummeted since the ability that gave him success got snatched.

The air around Chrollo shifts. You feel an odd throbbing in your brain for a few seconds, that disappears as fast as it arrived. With that, Chrollo lowers his hand with the book into a more comfortable position, eyeing you curiously.

“I may ask you any three questions which I please, whereas you can ask me one, so long as it may not aid you in escape or hinder me in any serious way. Do you agree with these conditions?” He playfully tilts his head to the side. “Last chance to back out, dear. I won’t hold it against you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I accept.”

“Wonderful. So do I. Now, what to start off with…”

You swallow the saliva starting to build up at the back of your throat. The odd feeling permeating your body is akin to what you experience before going on a rollercoaster — a cocktail of regret, anxiety, and the thrill of what is to come. Fight or flight that can’t make up its mind between the two extremes. In a false display of bravado, you refuse to break eye contact with him, tempting as it is to shrink away.

Oh lord, he’s looking at you like he’s ravenous.

“Have you ever wanted me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” your tongue answers for you without hesitation, causing heat to rush to your cheeks. You try to slap your hands over your mouth, but it’s too little too late, you’re not done humiliating yourself just yet. “I once masturbated to the thought of you while in the shower at a hotel we were staying at.”

He raises an eyebrow while looking extremely satisfied with himself. You want to die. You want the cold, bony hands of death to embrace you in an eternal slumber. What was that last addition?! The ‘yes’ was bad enough, but your mouth really went for the last nail on the coffin there. Scratch that. It killed you, dismembered your body, flung you into a six feet deep hole, and built a parking lot over your remains.

“Ah, I forgot to mention,” he slaps his forehead, as if the fact made him genuinely remorseful, “This ability does more than get you to tell the truth. It also makes you say the first few things that come to mind upon hearing the question. For that reason, it’s fittingly titled No Filter.”

Despair manifests itself in unique ways. In this specific instance, it has you glaring with all your might at Chrollo, who looks as if he just won the lottery. You bite down into your lower lip almost hard enough to draw blood. How did he manage to ruin what was meant for some lighthearted, schoolyard-esque fun? In the future, should fate ever tempt you to tango with Chrollo again, you’ll refer to this incident.

Well, on the bright side, you figure it can’t get any worse than that. 

... Right? 

“Tempting as it may be to have you elaborate on that further, I’ll be gracious and move on to a cleaner subject.”

“Have my attempts at getting closer to you been successful?”

If a change in atmosphere is what he wants, he might get more than he bargained for.

“Partially. I no longer fear for my life, but I don’t have a life either. You took every sense of normalcy away from me. If I ever seem more open to your advances, it’s because pretending I have a say in the matter. It’s all I have left to cling to.”

Chrollo’s countenance takes on a more contemplative edge upon hearing this. You feel like heated metal submerged into a cold pail of water; the conversation took a 180-degree turn. However capable of emotion he may be, you hope he feels the same. For him, a question such as this must be a double-edged sword. Any other time, had you answered like this, he could retain some comfort knowing you might be acting dishonestly from spite. Not here. Not when he knows you’re an open book. There are no mental hoops he can jump through to convince himself otherwise.

“... I see,” he speaks up after some time. The weight of his gaze is tangible. “This is what I find so fascinating about you. You act so bubbly, always ready to make light of things, yet there’s far more to you than that. I might be one of the few people that could ever recognize this quality of yours, [First].”

You recognize what he’s doing — he wants you to give more without having to use up his final question. It’s an obvious ploy that you have no intention of falling for. If he’s going to be difficult, you’ll be difficult too.

“Not taking the bait, huh,” Chrollo chuckles. You do not. “That’s my girl. Very well. Final question. Could you ever come to love me back?”

“Not in the way you want.”

He nods his head, not so much from acceptance; mostly him just acknowledging your words. “Interesting. I thought that’d be what made you talk the most. I see I was wrong.”

The three questions are up, meaning you’re no longer compelled to answer. You could very easily leave it at that and carry on. If only you weren’t the type to hold a grudge. Kicking someone when they’re down has never been your style, but well, there are exceptions to every rule. Chrollo might be eager to move on; you can’t say you feel the same. Some wounds shouldn’t receive pressure. Some wounds should be left to bleed. 

“Something tells me you already knew my answer to that last one,” you theorize. You then continue on without missing a beat. “To think even a realist such as yourself could get swept up in fantasy… I guess we all have our own shortcomings. Some more than others.”

“Some more than others indeed.”

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you content yourself immensely with the fact.

“My turn!” You exclaim in a singsong, clasping your hands together. “Oh Mr. Lucilfer, feared leader of the Phantom Troupe… there’s something I’ve been absolutely dying to know. You’re a confident man. A person who can, essentially, accomplish anything he sets out to do. So tell me. Why couldn’t you have just taken your chances and loved me normally?”

Considering all the angles you could’ve taken, this is the knowledge you long to attain the most. 

You frequently have lots of time to spend alone with your thoughts. More time than you would’ve had you been living a regular life, anyway. In that time, you began to mold an idea of the enigma Chrollo Lucilfer in your head, using what few scraps he offered as your clay. You could never come close to anything satisfactory. Every attempt always turned out so hollow. This left you with an overarching dilemma: 

Was Chrollo impossible to understand, or was there nothing for you to understand in the first place?

With the fragment of knowledge that should come from this, you hope to take on your chisel and hammer again. 

Subconsciously, you lean closer to him when his lips part. 

“I’d love to say I don’t understand what you mean by that, but I guess I can’t,” whether the forlorn timbre of his voice is genuine or not, you can’t say for certain. Your bets are on the latter. “Because, darling, you’re too good for me. Not due to any superior strength, intellect, or virtue on your part. I’ve never been able to identify exactly what it is. My best guess… is your vibrancy. You have something that I severely lack.” 

So that’s it, then? An underlying fear of rejection? There’s nothing grander, no bigger picture that you weren’t able to see? He doesn’t appear ashamed in the slightest, either. He could at least give you that much to pride yourself on. For him to have dragged you through limbo over such an inane reason, that any other person might be plagued with yet could overcome all the same... 

Your lips curl into a near-malicious smile. “You’re more pathetic than I thought, Chrollo.”

Perhaps the husk you imagined in his likeness was always accurate. 

“And you’re far more ruthless,” he closes his book with a lopsided grin. The sound of it slamming shut resonates throughout the compartment. “Although, I’m afraid I already knew that.”

That makes two of you. Getting called ruthless by a murderer feels overkill, though. You think about voicing this and decide against it. Chrollo doesn’t deserve to hear your puns of subpar quality. What he does deserve, however, is to have you stomp over what measly heart occupies his chest. With spiked shoes. Poisoned spiked shoes. 

“Does it hurt to get a taste of your own psychoanalysis bullshit?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Chrollo returns to his previous relaxed position, an arm resting over the back of his seat. You mirror his body language and relax as well. “If anything, I’m more motivated than ever to sink my teeth into you.”

“Then I’ll just have to make it so you’ll spit me out, won’t I?” 

He closes his eyes, leans his head back, and hums. The pleasant sound grates your ears. A melody from hell. 

“You can certainly try.” 

Now that he’s no longer under the influence of the ability, you wonder how much of what he said is true — and how much is a lie. For if you managed to hurt him, even in the slightest, even if he returns it tenfold... 

... Then everything on this train ride was worth the price of admission. 

#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #yandere chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #yandere hxh x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #my stuff

[whumpcloud]

Things End | People Change - Not Dangerous

content: vampire whumpee, whumper turned whumpee, dehumanisation, muzzled whumpee, disassociation, burning, whumpee believing they deserve it, begging

"So you're still going to hurt him?" Cai signs.

Clary nods. "It's just not… worth it, right now. He already thinks I'm going to hurt him every time I move. I want to make him scared of me, it's- it's the least I deserve."

"I understand." Cai bites his lip. "I'm worried about you being here alone with him."

"You can stay over if you want," Clary shrugs.

"Are you okay?" Cai asks.

"I don't know."

It's only been a few hours, but Clary's already having second thoughts. She thinks she's hiding it well, but her twin knows her better than that, and he briefly squeezes her hand.

"He deserves it," Cai signs.

Does he? He's been hurt so badly already. But Clary can fucking feel him, hands around her throat to hold her still, and she wants to hear his dusty bones crack underneath her fingers.

"You don't have to go near him." Cai grabs the blood bag that Clary asked him to bring. "I'll feed him."

"Thanks," she mumbles. "Don't… don't be a dick to him."

"I'll try, but no promises."

—

Vincent wraps the blankets around himself. Blankets. He hasn't touched a single soft thing since being captured. And Clary, Clary was kind enough to give him blankets.

He doesn't care what she does to him. He'd deserve it, every bit of it, even if she took a knife and cut his mangled body to shreds. He'd take it gratefully, another reminder of what he is. He's had so many, but if they stop, he might hurt someone again. He'll always hurt people. That's what monsters like him do.

He's still not quite… present. He never is, not with the muzzle strapped to his face. Part of him seems to leave his body, floating in his sea of consciousness. Perhaps that's why the hunters liked to keep the muzzle on him. It made him so much less able to resist. At least at first. Now even the idea of resisting makes him shiver.

Vincent jumps as the deadbolt grinds against the door. He scrambles off the bed and onto his knees. All he needs to do is be at her mercy.

It isn't Clary. It's someone else, someone who looks so similar Vincent has to assume it's her twin. The twin eyes him warily. I'm not dangerous, Vincent pleads silently, I'll never hurt her again.

Vincent flinches away as the twin - Cai, his name was Cai - crouches down in front of him. Cai has something in his hand.

Vincent didn't smell it. It must be sealed. But it's a bag of blood, and Vincent is suddenly ravenous.

Cai smirks, and lifts the bag up, seeming to delight in how Vincent's eyes have locked on, following it desperately. Vincent whines. He wants it, needs it, has to force himself to stay still. This is just torment, isn't it? He can't imagine this is worse than whatever Cai would do to him if he tried to take it.

He whines again. Please. He doesn't care if he has to pay for it later.

Cai snaps his fingers at Vincent to force the vampire to pay attention to him, then waves his hands. Vincent stares blankly. Clary once said her twin was mostly mute, didn't she? But Vincent doesn't know hand languages.

Cai suddenly grabs Vincent by his filthy shirt and pulls him close.

"If I take this muzzle off and you bite," Cai says, in a weak, breathy voice, "I'll rip out your fangs myself, bloodsucker. Got that?"

Vincent whimpers and nods.

He sort of wishes it was Clary taking off the muzzle. Selfish creature. But he missed her. As much as he hurt her, in the brightest days where he was nothing but an object of suffering, he tried to imagine her voice. She was all he had.

His skin peels. Layers come off with the muzzle. He can't remember how long it's been on. Everything blurs together, but the deep grooves in his face suggest it must have been a while. He didn't feel the pain. Silver burns were the first thing he got used to.

Cai doesn't react. In fact, he does nothing more than fling it to the side and shove the bag at Vincent's mouth before he has a chance to speak.

The hunger is more powerful than Vincent's desire to beg while he's still allowed his voice, and he nearly melts. Nothing has ever tasted so good, even though it's animal blood that would've made him sick before he understood that he was just a worthless thing.

Cai laughs at him, how desperately and quickly he swallows the blood and drops the bag in front of him. He's still starving, but it's the first time he's fed in… in…

Cai doesn't take his eyes off Vincent to grab the muzzle.

"W-Wait," Vincent whispers. "Please don't put the muzzle back on yet. Please."

"Why not?" Cai asks.

"I need to speak with Clary," Vincent begs. "Please. Sh- She can stand at the door. I just need to see her."

"I don't care." Cai wheezes for a moment, then swallows. "You're fucking delusional if you think I'll let you near her."

"Please, it'll-"

Cai grabs Vincent by the throat. "Clary might be afraid of you, but I'm not. Keep begging and I'll give you a reason to."

Vincent nods quickly. However weak Cai's voice is, Vincent can't afford to not believe the threat. He won't ruin this already. They could take any of this away from him. They could take the bed, lock him in a room with windows, restrain him in the silver cuffs that Vincent knows Cai has hidden in his pocket because Vincent's skin prickles when Cai turns.

"Thank you for feeding me," Vincent murmurs.

Cai pauses. "I've stayed up with her all night, too many times to count. You know why?"

"Because of me," Vincent whispers.

"Because of you." Cai wraps the muzzle around Vincent's face. He doesn't tie it, just presses the silver into the vampire's skin. "She thought you would rip her throat out. I can't imagine you know what that's like."

No, he doesn't. Vincent has begged for death, over and over again, but nobody ever granted him that mercy. Clary has lived in fear of him for however long it's been and the fact that he can't remember is both an ache and a reminder of how truly inhuman he's always been. If he cared about her, like he convinced himself he did back then, he would know.

"Whatever happened to make you this pathetic," Cai spits, "you deserved every bit of it."

"I know," Vincent whispers.

Cai ties the muzzle as tightly as he can, and leaves Vincent on the floor. The awareness Vincent had dives back down, and all he wants is to wrap back up in the blankets and heal.

#polly's prose #clary nikitin #cai nikitin #vincent maddox #vampire whumpee #whumper turned whumpee #vincent and clary are both unreliable in terms of memory and narration and i love that for them. #things end | people change

[fanaticsnail]

Mihawk kissing Governess' hand and her allowing herself a slip in her exterior armour to kiss his cheek and his reaction, oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god

"Reaching upwards, you placed your left hand on Mihawk’s cheek and shepherded him into yourself, placing your lips gently against his left cheek as you cradled him against your palm. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth and froze his shoulders in place." <- tattooing this passage on my brain, thanks

I'm sorry but this whole passage had me giggling and flinging myself about in bed as I read it like a school girl, and it is so funny to me that they did All That in front of an audience of not only four powerful men but also a soiree of guests. It's like when you see regency era period pieces of a couple breathing heavily with barely contained lust after one dance bc they're Repressed Virgins, and remembering that there is a whole ballroom of other people there.

"He doesn't love you." <- NO! BAD! (spritz with water). My immediate thoughts is Sapsorrow or some other force is interfering.

"“I just thought I saw-...” Perona began, cocking her head sharply to the side and holding firm her gaze, “Something watching.”" <- screaming and wildly swinging a baseball bat. I'm so emotionally attached to these characters and invested in this story that I know that there's no way it ends on so soon all happy so there's got to still be conflict before the wedding in order for a resolution and I'm excited but at the same time I Refuse.

“The symbolism behind it is you, yourself, are the sun. The gold is what encases you beneath it," <- well goddamnit snail that is poetry.

The description of Beckman and Governess' relationship!!!! I love them so much!!! "He treated you with the utmost respect and found himself hanging onto your every command as a loyal knight taking instructions from his queen. From then on, you were the friend he confided in and trusted to handle the troop easily when ushering you throughout the seas on the red-force. Of all aboard, you trusted Beckman the most to treat you well." AAAAAAAAAA

“It won’t be enough. It will never be enough.” BACK! BACK I SAY

“You watched as he began to scramble, at first attempting to askew the floral arrangement behind his back from view before holding it at heart-level.

“Lost-Lady,” his voice called to you, disguising what you thought to be a small stumble in his footing as he began to clamber towards you from his prior position gardening. His boots met with the sludge, sliding the earth from beneath his footstep and successfully dropping him down to his knees. You sucked your lips into your mouth, witnessing a man full of dignity and grace be brought down to his knees while cradling flowers against his chest." Oh my gawd. She's literally making him fumble over himself. Just the thought of such a serious figure doing all this to strip himself of his dignity just for his beloveds comfort so that she might have a confidant in a new place where she is alone and so that he might be able to partake in her unadulterated company, and the idea that he loses all his composure around her and fumbles, is so sweet. The way you write it manages to work with his personality and not feel out of character, and it's so romantic I Love it.

"I am uninjured, my darling," MY DARLING??? What happened to keeping up the facade, Governess?

"“I believe the world of your abilities, sir. Now, allow me to aid in your rise to your feet once more,” you smiled down at him, his eyes meeting your own with an almost overwhelming amount of adoration. You hoisted him up to his feet, uncaring at the passing of grime onto your clothes from his." Governess stand up, get off your knees, put away the ring, you're already engaged to him!! My girl is swooning

I do love how the Governess recognized the voice as being external and even noticed it having a physical presence, and not letting it overtake her by assessing her thoughts rationally. It shows her strength and smarts in being beyond just a Damsel In Distress but still believably in distress if that makes sense? It kind of makes me excited that now that she actually knows she wants the marriage and future with Mihawk I feel like she'll be beyond angry when she finds out something/someone has been trying to take it from her, and I really can't wait.

"He yearned for this deceit to flee from his form. No longer desiring to adorn this shield and to be the man beneath this amassment of muck for you; he wanted so desperately to cast aside titles and just truly be yours." A man that loves his wife! What a lovely gift for me! Chewing on him as we speak <3

"“Step away from my governess, Hag!” Her voice held several tones within the single vocal strand, the air sucked from its delight of the morning rays." I FUCKING KNEW IT!!!

"Zoro immediately was drawn to his feet, unsheathing his sword from beside him and brandishing it with flourish. Mihawk also rose to his feet, nodding to Zoro briefly, before he closed and reopened his amber eyes; now a ruby iris surrounding its glow. Zoro did the same, his iris crackling under the new color within his orbs." Get her! Go boys! Sick 'em!

Fr loving the protectiveness of the Governess' new family

"“How long has she been here, Mihawk?” Perona asked at your other side, her eyes fixed on a pinned point in the roof and remaining unblinking, “She seemed so sad.”" (visibly vibrating) I Am Being So Completely Normal About This Lore.

I love Perona so much, I (and the Governess) am so proud of her, she was brave, and kind and observant enough to notice when things were going wrong with someone she cared about, and she stood up for her friend, she's obviously always been an awesome person but I feel like her time with the Governess has allowed her to direct herself more and therefore do more and it's really cool to see the good influence on her daughter ward.

“What was it you told the clown? We are more than the titles that make us?” hhhhhhhh he values her thoughts so much he memories all her words and conversations even those that don't involve him

“I had always thought of you as a woman who commanded every space she found herself within. Even as a man far more advanced in his years,” he continued, reopening his eyes to look lovingly into your face, “I had always seen you as a woman who could have the mighty fall to their knees- much as you had me do this morning.” <- if anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river

Forehead touches forehead touches foreheadtouchesforeheadtouches

“If you so desire for your Farm-Hand to bring his Lost-Lady your daily gift of flowers, I will gladly become him once more for you. However,” Mihawk drew his eyes back to yours, an almost playfulness dancing behind his honeyed gaze, “I expect my Lost-Lady to be in naught but her nightdress in return.” AAAAAAAAAAA (pt. II)

The EPILOGUE!!!! the teaser/reference for Shanks' Sapsorrow ring, the hinting to the law!!! You truly know how to feed us

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? To see others have what was taken from you? To see them happy and thriving with each other?” AAAAAAAAA (pt. III)

SNAIL!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE CHAPTER 6 REVIEW!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I'm so glad you freak out about this story as much as I do. Makes it feel more alive to know how it moves you. Thank you for taking the time to go through it bit by bit to notice the little bits I add for Mihawk's humanity and adoration for him and his governess.

Openly flirting with his bride in front of Perona and Zoro, without them saying anything about it, was one of my favourite parts. He loves her so much, finally admitting it both to himself and to her without saying the three little words we want him so desperately to say.

I have drafted their vows and began working on chapter 7 to be out soon!

"If anyone needs me I'll be drowning in a river" <- I would not say such things if I were you. Our little ghost has some fight yet remaining.

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #mihawk #mihawk x reader #sapsorrow au #storyteller au #mihawk sapsorrow fic #ask snail #snail answers

[xbunnybunz]

therefore i; therefore i, therefore i- (4/10) [AM X Reader]

Summary: in which: AM becomes your lover in an increasingly skewed blur of reality, nightmares, and dreamscapes.

you know. for halloween.

Genre: Psychological Horror, Thriller, Romance

dream journal # 18

I dreamt I was between the land and the sea.

The tides on the beach had pulled weakly at my ankles. It sputtered and coughed, ill, regurgitating pieces of itself at my feet. Coral, weeds, foam, pieces of glass, and brittle shells.

I brought myself down onto my knees, drenched in the filth of the sea. It was no filthier than I, who had come to cleanse myself.

Taking two hands, I scooped up the brine, grey and green and full of particulates in the shimmering starry sky, and brought it to my lips.

Upon drinking, my body seized violently and rejected the fluid. My stomach expelled its dark inky contents in a great heave. In the shimmer of the water, the murk was clear. It swirled and pooled like black iridescent oil, forming first a hand, then an arm, a torso, legs and a head. It reached out to me.

Snatched my neck suddenly, and pulled me under.

As I sunk, it embraced me, warm compared to the bitter bite of the cold sea. I realized with candor, as I watched the rippling surface drift from me, that the dark sky was hollow. Somehow, I always knew I would disappear on a moonless night.

---

You awoke before what you thought was the pond.

You had shocked yourself awake with the feeling of cold water rushing past your palms. Though you were relieved to find you were not sitting in the pond, less fortunately, you had discovered there was water pooling from somewhere, wetting your toes and seeping dark into the grout of your bathroom.

You scramble from the water like a cat, breathing growing heavier. You shake your hands free of the cold. Were you still dreaming?

A blue tinge catches your eye and you wrench yourself around. 

Throw a glance out the door, towards the alcove. Nothing. 

Recall yesterday, when you had dreamt you were awake but weren’t. You reach two fingers up to your leg and pinch harshly. You wince at the pain but do not awaken.

And where was this water coming from, then? And why?

You stumble over to the lights. When it flickers to life overhead, you cuss and immediately fumble for a towel to drop on the floor.

Birds sing, or a computer hums to life in the other room, the sound either way like laughter carrying long into the rest of your hollow home. You ignore it. 

In your sleep, you had turned the faucets on both the sink and the tub. The water had overfilled both in time and now pooled onto the floor, undoubtedly seeping into the cracks and dripping to the apartment below as well.

You clumsily slosh through the water and fumble the knobs closed, dully noting with relief that, at the very least, it hadn’t been hot water you were wasting.

When the water stops running, you also stop hearing the sound of the computer whirring in your ears. You sink into the space between the laundry basket and the tub. The water on the floor latches heavily onto your clothes but you can barely care. 

Watching things drain was always haunting. A black blind stomach opening, sucking in all indiscriminately, regardless of how putrid, gurgling with hunger. The water was clear today, but the final spittles of water bubbling down made you ill regardless.

The towel you had thrown desperately on the floor only sat limp and soggy now, an inch below the surface of the water.

You think of adding a lock to the bathroom. You think maybe a lock on the sink and tub handles would work better. Or maybe, just maybe, you think maybe you needed help. More help. 

Then you laugh and pick up the towel. It’s heavy in your hands. You fling it into the tub and curl up, bury your heads in your arms for a while. 

The rest of the morning is composed of wringing out a series of heavy towels free of water over the tub. When you’re finished, you’re soaked from head to toe in water and sweat. You strip off your clothes and let your shirt and pants fall onto the floor. Peel off your underwear and kick it into a corner. 

You stand and watch yourself dry in the mirror, the sweat clinging to your hair and sticking strands to your face, the gleam of a sheer wetness on your skin, the shine moving down your pubic bone. A red light blinks from the hallway from the fire alarm and it reminds you of a camcorder, like the little blinking red light next to an active webcam. When you pass the window on your way to your room, you spot the outline of the pond from where you stand and you want to swim. So you do. 

---

The beach is warmer than you thought it’d be, sand warmed from the morning sun. You flex your toes in the grain and sink half an inch deeper into the ground. Your sneakers swing by their laces in your left hand.

There are one or two dogs running up and down the shoreline, splashing water on teens wading nearby, probably cutting school, and they yelp and laugh. Even on the shore, your breath was coming out in mist, you were sure the water was freezing.

Still, it didn’t stop a group of people five or six people from congealing on the beach like a tumor, all wearing latex swimsuits and goggles. You watch them from afar, taking in the way they shook out their limbs as if they were about to do something olympian.

–Hey!

One of them waved at you.

You’re unsure of what to do, but you wave back anyway. 

–Hi.

They beckon you over.

The one who speaks to you first is a woman with brunette hair peeking out from under her swimcap. Her eyes are obscured by the goggles she has suctioned onto them.

– Are you here for the cold water swimming?

You think for a moment. Well, it wasn’t like there was cold water here. So you guessed so. You tell her that and she and the others laugh. One of them claps your shoulder and welcomes you, asks if you need to borrow a swimsuit.

–It’s warmer that way, you know, where it’s important.

–Josh, that’s like, so gross of you to say! 

–My bad, just being honest to the newbie.

–You’re a newbie?

–Can’t you tell from the outfit?

They all stop to watch you now, and you fiddle uncomfortably with the hem of your tee under their sudden scrutiny. 

–I usually wear things like this when I’m in the water, you offer. 

And you think about the times you’ve ended up in the pond in a tee shirt and flannel, or shorts and a tank top. It never mattered what you wore. You always awoke half-frozen regardless.

The swimmers, hands on their hips, look at each other and shrug.

–Sounds like you know what you’re doing.

And that’s how you join this group into the dark and untemperate water, splashing past the dogs and the teens and the elderly couples walking by the licking tide.

The water cuts into your system the moment the cold makes contact and it’s all a relief to you: the heaviness of your limbs, the loft of your clothes, and the fog in your mind icing over to slow your thinking.

You’re about chest-deep in the salty ice water before you kick off and dive deeper, towards the horizon. Your body feels weightless, like it is no longer your responsibility. You close your eyes and breathe deep before diving once again.

The pond in the community square is about the same temperature, only a smidge cooler. You thought it may be a filtration system to discourage bacterial growth, but you never dove deep enough to find out whether the filter actually existed. 

You emerge again for air and turn over on your back, allowing the water to hold you up passively. You wished the world worked like this always. You were always so tired, so incapable of working up the strength to struggle against the tide. 

You close your eyes as you drift. The water stays moving, stays cold and sharp on your senses as a blade. But you learn to accept it. The blade dulls and so do your senses. 

Your phone rings. You startle and break formation, sinking a little, realizing only now how the conversation with the other swimmers had distracted you from removing it from your pocket.

Your phone was waterproof despite there being warnings against complete submersion. You drop below the water a little as you fumble your phone out of your pocket, careful not to drop it, then swipe at the answer call button. 

The voice on the other end doesn’t speak, or at least not audibly. All that comes out is a fizzle of static. 

— Hello? You ask. Hello?

—Hello, the voice is chopped with interference and spurts of crackling. Hello. 

—Who is this? You ask. Your voice carries far into the open water. It’s strange how the ocean never echoes back at you. 

—A—EEE—. static breaks into their voice again, splitting into fragmented frequencies. 

You pull your phone away from your face and look at the caller ID. The screen won’t turn on. 

—Wake— SSSSSSsss—Wake—

—Who is this?

—Do not– CHHH– Drown— Sssssssssssss—CHHHHH— drown—

You sink over and over again while holding the phone up to your ear. A slosh of cold saltwater pours into your mouth as you turn upright and begin to kick languidly, the cold turning your extremities leaden. 

—Drown—SSSSS. Drown— My darling–

—AM?

A series of clicks answers you and then it dies immediately. A dial tone shorting and clipping in odd places takes over. 

Unnerved, you blindly press at where the end call button would be just in case and spit out another mouthful of water. When you start to paddle back to shore, you feel dread open a hollowness in your gut. You are much, much further out than you anticipated on being. 

The ocean laid wide and blue before you, waves catching the rays of light.

The dogs and the elderly were barely in sight. You weren’t even sure if the teenagers were there anymore. Other swimmers were specks in the water. Surely they would notice you were gone, right? It was only a small group. You were part of them, even for a little while, you were. 

Yet no one came to your rescue. 

You tuck your phone back in your pocket and dive again towards the shore to no avail. You reeemerge in the same spot each time you try, water pushing you out. 

The distance between the shore and your shivering body felt numbing. How long had you been out here? Why hadn’t anyone come for you? Why hadn’t you noticed how far you drifted from everyone else?

These questions bubble up as a heat behind your eyes, but you don’t allow yourself to cry. Instead you gather yourself, keep calm. Swim parallel to the shoreline and wait for the tide to stop pulling you further away. 

Maybe it takes a few minutes. Maybe an hour, maybe half the day. But eventually you are back on the shore, shivering, heart hammering, exhausted. The other swimmers are packing up their gear and talking about their individual swims. 

—Hey! How was it? The brunette from earlier asks you. She pulls the swimsuit from out her ass. You look worn. She says.  That’s always sign of a good swim. 

— …Yeah. You want to laugh. You want to tell her you almost died, how you almost disappeared and no one would have noticed, on the beach or otherwise. But you do not. It was nice. 

— Great! See you sometime next week then? She pulls out her hand, red and wrinkled from the chilly beach water, and offers a handshake. You take it stiffly. What’s your phone number? We all like to stay in touch. 

You give her your phone number and she promises to add you to a group chat. You think you should feel excited but you can’t muster it. 

Then they’re gone. You check your phone again, as if they’d already texted you. It won’t power on, so you make your way back home in silence. 

---

That night, AM does not appear. You sit in front of the computer for hours, waiting for the whirr of a fan, the tingle of static electricity, the nudging of wires underfoot. 

Your phone is on the charger next to you but it hasn’t turned on since you got back. You try it again and again and every time is the same black screen, the same harrowing expression staring you down in the reflection. 

You feel freezing. Your nose is running and your body cannot stop shaking. You couldn’t work up the nerve to get into the tub after you got home, so you trudged to the alcove with three blankets and the heat cranked up. You shiver still. Shiver day in and out. 

The sun rose and fell. The moon came and faded in and out between lacelettes of clouds and fog. 

And still he does not appear. Still no one comes. 

#reader insert #am x reader #am ihnmaims #ihnmaims #i have no mouth and i must scream #am #allied mastercomputer

[sunshinemellow-fic]

kakasaku, 30 words, “despite”

Whoopsies, this is 1509 words, Kris!! and I blame YOU

----

“Umm—”

Sakura’s head snaps up from her desk, and her eyes focus blearily on the young nurse standing in her doorway. She is laboring over her hesitation, poised as if ready to duck behind the wall with one foot already in the hallway. All of this caution, Sakura thinks with irritation, despite the fact that she has never, ever thrown something at any of her staff. Tsunade could not make the same claim. Maybe they were all just waiting for her to snap and follow in her mentor’s blook-flinging footsteps.

As if whatever I threw wouldn’t break through the wall, she thinks, tired and prideful as she forces her back straight. “Yes?”

“He’s awake,” the nurse says. She flinches when Sakura’s jaw drops.

“No,” Sakura insists. She stands so quickly that something clatters into the oblivion hidden beneath her messy desk. “That’s impossible. I set the dosage myself.”

The nurse does not know what to say to this. She opens and closes her mouth several times, then settles for a shrug.

Sakura has never wanted to fling a book more, but not at the nurse. She was blameless.

Sakura breathes heavily through her nose and stomps into the hallway. Waves of scrubs part before her like a mint green sea of scrambling limbs. Sakura pounds down a set of stairs, too angry for the stillness of the elevator, and feels the building shake a little beneath her feet. She reminds herself how long it took to rebuild the hospital after the war and scolds her chakra for being too readily available and too eager to match her moods. She cuts the unconscious flow of it to her legs and approaches his room quietly. The door is just barely cracked wide enough to peer in.

His hair is wild and mussed after his brief coma, and he is fiddling with careful and nimble fingers at the pile of wires attached to his arm. They are secured there with a technique Sakura pioneered after growing fed up with the dramatic ninja who insisted on ripping life-saving equipment from their arms and fleeing the hospital. Hauling them back by the scruffs of their necks was an expensive and pointless waste of Sakura’s time. She has no idea how Kakashi, the worst of the offenders, has managed to mess with the design.

He mutters something under his breath, tries zapping one of the lines with some electric chakra. It rebounds against his fingers and he scowls down, intent and annoyed.

Sakura kicks the door against the wall and tries not to enjoy the way he startles.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Kakashi’s eyes flick to her and she sees frustration and surprise in them before he pastes on his winning lie of a smile. “Sakura!” he says, voice casual. “How nice of you to visit me!”

“What were you doing with your lines?”

“My what?” he askes cheerfully.

Sakura ignores him and strides forward to get a closer look at the infusions he’d been zapping. Nutrients, medications, a blood infusion, a compound that was supposed to make chakra regeneration faster, the sedative dose that was supposed to ensure his artificial coma until he was well again.

“Oh, these,” he prattles on. “Nothing. Just admiring, really. There are so many now! One might even say too many. Anyways—”

Sakura looks up at him sharply. “How are you awake?” The line with his sedative is still running, and he had been blissfully unconsciousness when she left him after his emergency surgery three hours ago.

“Hm?”

She leans down, close enough for him to see how utterly serious she is. She feels him go still. “How,” she repeats in a dangerously soft voice, “are you awake?”

The cheerful and unaffected guise slips. She sees his eyes go serious, then feels them dart so quickly to her mouth that she almost thinks she’s imagining things. He’s looking steadily back at her before she can call him out on it.

“What do you mean?” he asks quietly. “Why shouldn’t I be awake?”

“One of these is a very strong sedative. You were supposed to be in a forty-eight-hour coma. There was a crater in your chest, Kakashi, I spent twelve hours filling it, so how, despite all of that, are you awake?”

He blinks. Sakura is close enough that she can imagine, or maybe even feel, the wisp of air it sends her way. She watches him process the information she gave him. He glances down at the wires attached to him, then back up at her. Something has shifted in his face—he seems almost bitterly amused, but she cannot imagine by what.

“Sakura,” he says. “I’ve never slept well.”

She stares and stares at him. She’d given him enough sedative to make his sleep dreamless, or at least she thought she had. Unconsciousness could be a prison for someone like Kakashi, and she is suddenly and desperately sorry that she had banished him to it.

“Oh,” she whispers. “I’m—”

“It’s fine.” He’s already seen the apology in her face and it’s made him uncomfortable enough that he can’t meet her eyes. “It’s not a big deal. Just give me more and I’ll go back to sleep.”

She bites her lip. He really does need to be unconscious right now. It would be detrimental to his healing for her to leave him awake. He sees the dilemma in her face when he glances back up, and he gives her another fake, winning smile with crinkled eyes. “It’s fine,” he repeats.

She marvels at how exhausted he must be by the sedative in his bloodstream, and how he can still perform normalcy despite it. She remembers the sharingan he’d used to keep hidden behind his mask—a weapon he didn’t have the genetic tools to turn off. A red drain, constantly sucking down a spiraling stream of his chakra. Sakura thinks about how Kakashi must have spent most of his life so exhausted that a sedative feels normal, perhaps even familiar, to him.

“What helps,” she said. “What helps you sleep?”

Now he really is uncomfortable. “Sakura—”

“Seriously, Kakashi.” She forces herself to lean back because her hovering over him couldn’t be helping. His eyes track the growing space between them. “It’s important that you get good rest right now.”

He looks back at the wires in his arm, thinking.

Because she wants him to smile, or laugh, or do something else human, she grabs the orange book from his bedside that Naruto had dropped off a couple hours ago. “Should I read you a bedtime story?”

He turns red, a shade somewhere between intrigued and horrified, and Sakura laughs. “I’m kidding, of course.” She feels eyes soften as she looks at him. “But what would help?”

He runs a hand over his face. “You’re making me feel like a little kid.”

“Good,” she beams. “What would little Kakashi have wanted?”

He’s disgruntled by the question, and it makes her sad that he’s never thought this way. “I don’t know,” he says honestly, after giving it some thought.

Sakura feels her face fall. She can’t help but feel like she’s failed him. “Okay,” she says softly. “I guess… I guess I can up the dosage. That might help.”

She goes to the machine and stares hard at the controls. She isn’t going to cry about this, she tells herself angrily. She’d be able to regulate her emotions better if she hadn’t done such a long and difficult surgery on someone she hated to see hurt. She isn’t going to give him her suffering as baggage to carry with him into his dreams.

“Sakura.”

She drags the emotion out of her face and looks down at him. “Yes?”

“I slept well on our last mission.” He glances between her face and nothing at all because he can’t meet her eyes again. “I think it was just because you were… there.”

She wonders if he knows what a gift telling her this is, and how it makes all the hope she’s felt in the last couple months seem a little less foolish. She wonders if he’d have admitted it to her if he hadn’t nearly died. If he didn’t have so many different chemicals running through his body right now.

She turns up the sedative dosage and lowers herself down into the chair beside his bed. “I’ll stay, Kakashi.”

His eyes lock on hers, no longer wandering. “You don’t have to,” he says to absolve her of responsibility to what he had just admitted. “I’ll be fine.”

She takes his hand in hers, feels him relax a little bit. “I know. I’m going to stay, though.”

His eyes flicker sleepily. He nods, understanding. He watches her face as his head slowly drifts further and further back into the pillow. His blinks become longer, until he finally shuts his eyes and does not wake.

Despite everything waiting for her outside the door of his room, she stays for two days.

#kakasaku #kakasaku fanfiction #asks #THANKS THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT #(seriously thank you though)

[azlrse]

Chains of Obsession and Love (Yandere Asmodeus x GN Human!Reader)

Synopsis: It didn't take long for his regret to turn into something else; obsession and the desire for you to be his again.

CW: yandere themes, suggestive themes, cheat fic, implied kidnapping, murder and stalking, manipulation, mentions of chains and pure angst (this is wayy more darker than my previous fics!!).

A/N: my first time writing for Asmodeus djdhfh I hope he's interpreted well in this fic!!

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

You never knew on how happy you are when you first entered a relationship with the Avatar of Lust himself. For Asmodeus, love isn't something he constantly felt in his daily life, only lust. His charisma and the way his words swoon everyone under their feet, wether it's an angel, a demon or an ordinary human, no one can escape those pretty hypnotic eyes that everyone couldn't resist.

You thought that being in an established relationship with Asmodeus would stop him from seeing someone else. You thought that despite his past flings and lovers in the past, you'll be the only one whom he loves dearly. From being the best of friends and eventually, becoming lovers, there's no doubt that the two of you you'd become the sweetest and most loving couple in all of Devildom.

He treated you with lots of love and adoration and you loved him with all your heart as his words and reassuring smile never fails to bring a smile on your face. However, there's one thing your former boyfriend didn't seem to understand. The most crucial part in a person's romantic relationship with the other person; loyalty and devotion.

You looked at the grandfather clock and your eyes seem to squint for a bit. It's 1:30 in the morning and here you are, drinking tea as you say down on the couch, reading a book that Satan gave you as a birthday gift. Upon reading, you felt something off within your chest but decided to shrug it off. You reassured yourself that Asmo went to RAD in order to finish up some of his lacking requirements for school.

Suddenly, you heard a loud bang from upstairs, particularly in your boyfriend's room. You've became extremely worried, worried that some lowly demon might break into the House of Lamentation and had the potential to either harm the others or steal some of their most valuable items. You cautiously put down both your book and your cup of tea as you tip toe through the empty hallways of the house.

Armed with a vase (which you didn't have choice with, even when you're hella scared towards Lucifer when this vase breaks), you charged towards the source of the loud noise which is towards the door of your boyfriend's room. As you open the door and holding the vase with an firm grip, ready to strike down the intruder who took refuge in Asmo's room, you saw a different sight aside from what you imagined.

Your thoughts are heavy and it all went down when you saw him; making out with one of the succubus. The heavy feeling of sadness, anger and bitterness had surfaced in your head as you stared in anger towards him and his fling. "Looks like I got a hold of the Avatar of Lust, sorry if it sends you off, you pathetic human hehe."

What pisses you off is that he didn't regreted his actions nor the succubus right beside him, giving you a sly smile as she cuddles towards him even closer. "I'm sorry, my dear but I couldn't handle it. It's part of myself being the Avatar of Lust. Plus, I don't see on how serious our relationship is, I thought that having someone else is just normal for us demons." He shrugged and he shows a small smile on his face.

"You disgusting piece of shit, I knew that this day would come." You shook your head sideways as years began to spill from your face. You felt like someone was choking you, unable to breathe as you stared both of the from afar. All your efforts, for him to love you and to be his only significant other had been thrown out like trash. Destined to be garbage to be thrown away towards the sea of sadness and regret.

You only saw red towards him. All your love, loyalty and devotion towards him was long gone and was replaced with wrath and anger. He had the audacity to invite you on the bed with his fling after he was caught cheating on you?

You felt so used and pathetic as of this moment...

He only saw you as one of his so-called flings...

He didn't love you but just used you for his own amusement...

As tears flow down from your face, you just said a small "fuck you" towards him and his fling. Closing the door on the harshest way as possible, making him and his fling flinch from the sudden noise. But the Avatar of Lust didn't care that much. He continues his intimate business with the succubus he just brought home.

What he didn't know is that's the last time he saw you ever again...

For the duration of your stay at Devildom, you've stayed at the Purgatory Hall together with Luke and Simeon. You've become very appreciative for their kind gesture after witnessing one of the worst ordeals in your love life. As for the demon brothers, whom you befriended during the past months of your stay on Devildom, all of them respected your wishes to stay there but was upset towards their brother whom you loved and cherished.

The road towards your recovery wasn't that easy and due to the sheer amount of negativity towards him, you requested Lord Diavolo to send you home months before your stay as an exchange student was over. He was sadden by the sudden proposal you requested but he deeply respected that. He wished that you could've stayed at Devildom for a while before your departure, even invited you to stay at his castle but you refused. You reassured him that you'll come visit this realm when you're finally recovered and moved on him.

You never even bothered to say your farewells towards him, only to his 6 brothers and there's nothing you could do. All of those bittersweet memories, the time where you said yes to be his lover and the way he swoons you over by his flirty and heartfelt words, it was all now a distant memories from the past. You no longer loved him and see him as your boyfriend.

For a mere human, you remained strong even as tears had flowed within your eyes. Asmodeus was just another obstacle for you to overcome, focusing on yourself in the realm where you belong.

As days turned into months, Asmodeus's pride had only gotten worse. He didn't accept the fact that just because he hooked up with one of his flings doesn't mean you wanted to break up with. He didn't bothered to send in an apology towards his ex-lover as he goes to countless parties and coming home drunk, which the eldest brother didn't like.

The more he partied and drank so much liquor, the more he thought about you. He still remembered how much you cared and loved him, even accepted his demon instincts and as the avatar of lust. The way you promised yourself that you'll only have eyes for him alone and reassuring him that he's the most handsome demon you laid your eyes on.

His brothers noticed the changes he went through after you left Devildom months ago; he no longer goes out to socialize with his peers, he didn't have the energy to eat and taking care of himself. Asmodeus only live a life of solitude, reassuring himself that this mess he created wasn't his fault in the first place. He thinks that you'd should be the one who should ask for forgiveness for doing such extreme act towards him.

As his eyes take a glance at that one picture frame that hung on the wall; showing that smile he absolutely adored as he hugs your waist during a vacation at Diavolo's private island.

He totally lost it. The avatar of lust finally cried as he caresses the only item he didn't threw out. He missed all of your features and the acts of love you've shown towards him. Your kisses and hugs are what matters to him. He apologizes over and over again for his actions. Because of you, you finally shown him what love is like and what it means to have a romantic relationship with the person he absolutely fell deeply in love with. You are the only human who'd shown him these feelings and how much he regretted the acts and mistakes he committed.

He will get you back. Asmodeus reassures himself that once he goes above the human realm and asks for your forgiveness, the two of you will get back together as a sweet couple the two of you once were.

Until he heard those words that haunts him as he faced you in your home realm, an attempt for him to get you back by your side. "I appreciate those flowers Asmodeus," Did you just said his name? Where's the endearments he loved? Honey? Sweetie? Did you finally moved on from him? He felt the sins of his past mistakes crawling on his back upon hearing his real name from your mouth.

"But I couldn't get back to you after what you've have done. I haven't forgiven you yet and there's no way I could see you as my boyfriend. Now will you excuse me, I still have some school papers to work on." You spoke with a small pinch of venom laced on your voice. Your head stood up high as you walk away from him. You never felt this rush of confidence in your body, encountering the avatar of lust as an attempt for him to win you back.

It's a sad and desperate move, if you're honest. You still remembered all those desperate words he told you as he hold your hand, his eyes began to water while staring at you.

"W-what? What do you mean you've finally moved on?! I-I have changed! I promise I'll stop seeing other demons and I'll stay devoted on you! Just take me back, my love!"

It makes you feel bad towards you ex-boyfriend but nonetheless accepted that this is your life now. Living the life you rightfully deserved after he cheated and used you like a porcelain doll. Yes, he shattered you into bits of pieces but gathering all the shattered remains of your body, you stood tall and determined as you step forward to create your own story.

However, Asmodeus couldn't accept it. He even cried harder as soon as he stepped foot within his room. Smothering his cries and sobs with his pillow. He didn't care that his pillow was now covered with tears, saliva and snot from his excessive crying. He tried everything for you to crawl back towards him like sending small trinkets, flowers and some of your favorite sweets.

His obsessive thoughts about you became so bad that he killed one of his flings as a way to prove to you that he's still devoted towards you. Don't you want this? This pathetic lowly demon to be executed? Why didn't you just be happy and be appreciative towards his actions?

He also kept an eye on you. Stalking through your social media and even created several accounts in order for him to get in contact with you. It escalated from being desperate into an obsessive episode and threaten some humans who were in contact towards you to stay away from you.

This demon couldn't get enough of you and this made you even more paranoid and nervous as more and more unknown messages are appearing through your message box.

"I couldn't live without you..."

"You are still mine to begin with..."

"Don't you ever underestimate the wrath of the avatar of lust..."

"I love you so much my darling..."

"I'll be watching you, protecting you from anyone else..."

"can't wait for you to be mine once again.."

This went on for months until you finally had enough of his antics. You wanted to call for help, you really do. But just like the old saying says; 'the wall has ears'. Fearing that if you asked any of your peers for help, this demon will be pissed and don't hesitate to slaughter those who came close to you.

Hundreds of messages came flooding through your phone as the notification sound from the speakers had driven you into the depths of insanity. "Alright, if this is a sick game you just came up with, it won't work towards me. Come and face me, you coward!" You screamed for him to stop, a scowl had form from your face as your eyes looked through every corner of your bedroom. The haunting sound from the phone had finally stopped and a small giggle was heard from the corner of the room.

"My my, aren't you a fiesty one, my love. I knew that you couldn't resist my own beauty!" Your body quickly reacted upon hearing the same voice you sourly favored when the you still considered him as your lover. The sickening and sugarcoated words he spoke through his mouth makes you really nauseous from the inside. "Don't you dare call me that endearment. I have a name and it's MC!"

"I know that, darling but sometimes you gotta go with the endearments. They're way more convenient and heartfelt than your usual name, don't you think?" At this point, your head took sharp turns, taking a look on each and every corner of the dim-lit room on search for the perpetrator. You're gonna hold your phone as an attempt to be in contact with one of your friends when it suddenly loosen it's grip on your hand, causing it to be thrown towards the wall and shattering it into bits of pieces. "What the hell-"

"Naughty naughty, your shouldn't call someone for help. Why can't you just be contented when you have me to ask for help? Don't you see I'm doing this for you? For us to get back together? Can't you just forgive me for what I've done and just get back together?" You let out a small mocking laugh upon hearing what he'd said towards you. "Listen here you snake, there's no 'us' in this relationship any more. You proved and shown me that I'm just a side piece in order for your needs to be fulfilled. I still regretted the day when I said yes to your little declaration of love and I'm tired of you constantly running around and use the excuse of going to school just to be with your flings. Let these words go through your thick skull,"

"I DON'T LOVE YOU ANYMORE AND JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!"

You've braced yourself for pain from your boyfriend after you screamed your words of bitterness and anger but there were none. In fact, you didn't see a shadow lurking around the walls of your room nor the pink aura that was present within the area. You thought that the ordeal was over and you can continue to live on with your life peacefully as a heavy weight of your shoulders began to lighten up.

"Finally, I can finally live in peace. No more demons to encounter or someone who's very obsessed and desperate for me to crawl back towards him. Such a pathetic move if I'm honest."

Before you make your way to exit your room, a hand suddenly took a tight and firm grip on your neck. Making you scream as you began to thrash around in an attempt to free yourself. You screamed for help but a hand was covering your mouth. Before you know it, tears began to appear on your eyes, fearing for your life.

"Who you call pathetic, darling? You know that I'm still here even if I was a shadow to begin with.."

And there he was, the Avatar of Lust himself, in his demon form and takes hold of your fragile and shaking body. "Let me go! Let me go you monster!" His eyes glowed a soft pink color while he caresses your cheek in an attempt to comfort you. As you look into his eyes, all you felt was a wave of relaxation began to invade through your body. Your body began to weaken and as a result, you went limped and began to lean into your ex-boyfriend's firm chest. "Just look into my eyes love and you'll be okay. I promise you that you'll be the only creature I love for as long as I'm still breathing."

You attempted to speak out but all of your words had turned into mumbles, making you unable to speak back at him. He knew those words coming from your mouth. You are trying to control him once again from the pact you established with him before the two of you became a couple. Asmo lets out a quiet chuckle as he carries you in his arms back to Devildom.

"If you're thinking of using the pact against me, controlling me against your will then you're wrong my dear. Didn't you know that I placed a small curse on you, making you unable to use those pacts against me and towards my brothers. Now rest well because you'll be coming home with me, right where you truly belong."

And through his words, you felt your eyes began to close off as sleep began to catch up to you.

. ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .

You woke up by the soft clings produced by the chains attached at the ankle of your leg. The room seems very familiar to you; vins and flowers attached on the frame of the bed, soft colored canopy and walls are seen within your eyes and the sweet smell of perfume invading through your nose. For you, it was relaxing but your eyes are still half lidded from the aftermath of the demons hypnotic eyes that were used to knock you out fast.

Slowly getting up from the soft pillows and saw his figure hugging your waist, your eyes began to widen up upon realizing your situation.

You're being kidnapped by none other than your ex-boyfriend.

"Don't move away, love. I just want to pamper you with so much affection and love. Don't you feel the love surrounding the both of us, darling?" Without hesitation, you pushed him away from your body, making him falling off his own bed. "Stay away from me, demon! Bring me back to where I belong!" Asmo groans in pain as he stood up from the cold floor of his bedroom. "B-but this is where you truly belong. With me here in Devildom. What I must do for you to forgive me and to accept me back as your boyfriend?"

"Bring me back to the human realm and I might consider your offer, except in the boyfriend part of course."

.....

"I'm afraid I cannot allow it, darling."

He slowly walks around the frame of the huge bed, his eyes slowly gazing towards your own eyes as you moved towards the other side of the bed in an attempt to get away from him. "See that chain? With that, you cannot go out in this room without my permission and of course, it's indestructible." You look in horror on the chain that was placed on your ankle. It was soft on the inside, padded with soft and warm fur but was rock hard on the outside.

Fed up on what's happening to you, you finally let your tears slide through your face as you glared towards Asmo. Upon seeing those tears, he wiped those using his hands as you mumbled a soft "I hate you" towards him.

"I know you can't forgive for what I've done in the past and this day but fret not darling." He places a soft kiss on your head. "I am willing to wait for you to return those feelings and for you to be mine once again, even if it takes hundreds of years, my love and my precious human."

‿︵‿︵ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ・❉・ ʚ˚̣̣̣͙ɞ‿︵‿︵

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites.

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

#tw yandere #obey me x reader #yandere obey me #yandere obey me x reader #asmodeus x reader #yandere asmodeus #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus x you #obey me fic #yandere x reader

[stromuprisahat]

Disgusting old man, pure innocent heroine and the boy she’ll end up with

As mentioned here, I’ve read Angela Carter’s variation on Bluebeard’s wife and some passages remind me of how are we supposed to perceive Darklina, Alina as a heroine and her amazing endgame:

His wedding gift, clasped round my throat. A choker of rubies, two inches wide, like an extraordinarily precious slit throat.

~> Morozova’s collar anyone?

And I saw myself, suddenly, as he saw me, my pale face, the way the muscles in my neck stuck out like thin wire. I saw how much that cruel necklace became me. And, for the first time in my innocent and confined life, I sensed in myself a potentiality for corruption that took my breath away.

~> Heroine corrupted by a piece of  jewellery around her neck?

And there lay the grand, hereditary matrimonial bed, itself the size, almost, of my little room at home, with the gargoyles carved on its surfaces of ebony, vermilion lacquer, gold leaf; and its white gauze curtains, billowing in the sea breeze. Our bed. And surrounded by so many mirrors! Mirrors on all the walls, in stately frames of contorted gold, that reflected more white lilies than I'd ever seen in my life before.

~> Don’t forget girls, if he wants to fuck you on a huge bed in front of a mirror, he’s secretly evil.

I lay in bed alone. And I longed for him. And he disgusted me.

~> Alina’s feelings for Aleksander in a nutshell.

I could not take refuge in my bedroom, for that retained the memory of his presence trapped in the fathomless silvering of his mirrors. My music room seemed the safest place, although I looked at the picture of Saint Cecilia with a faint dread; what had been the nature of her martyrdom? My mind was in a tumult; schemes for flight jostled with one another ... as soon as the tide receded from the causeway, I would make for the mainland--on foot, running, stumbling; I did not trust that leather-clad chauffeur, nor the well-behaved housekeeper, and I dared not take any of the pale, ghostly maids into my confidence, either, since they were his creatures, all. Once at the village, I would fling myself directly on the mercy of the gendarmerie.

But--could I trust them, either? His forefathers had ruled this coast for eight centuries, from this castle whose moat was the Atlantic. Might not the police, the advocates, even the judge, all be in his service, turning a common blind eye to his vices since he was milord whose word must be obeyed? Who, on this distant coast, would believe the white-faced girl from Paris who came running to them with a shuddering tale of blood, of fear, of the ogre murmuring in the shadows? Or, rather, they would immediately know it to be true. But were all honour-bound to let me carry it no further.

~> Less chaste Winter Fete with no Baghra in sight. The monstrosity of her spouse is discovered by the heroine herself.

The door slowly, nervously opened and I saw, not the massive, irredeemable bulk of my husband but the slight, stooping figure of the piano-tuner, and he looked far more terrified of me than my mother's daughter would have been of the Devil himself. In the torture chamber, it seemed to me that I would never laugh again; now, helplessly, laugh I did, with relief, and, after a moment's hesitation, the boy's face softened and he smiled a little, almost in shame. Though they were blind, his eyes were singularly sweet.

~> Gods, I wish this was Malina. This girl’s better choice is shy, sweet, blind piano-tuner. She’s a pianist btw.

He took my hand; he pressed his arms about me. Although he was scarcely more than a boy, I felt a great strength flow into me from his touch.

~> Little comforts between the endgame couple.

'Oh, madame! I thought all these were old wives' tales, chattering of fools, spooks to scare bad children into good behaviour! Yet how could you know, a stranger, that the old name for this place is the Castle of Murder?'

How could I know, indeed? Except that, in my heart, I'd always known its lord would be the death of me.

~> “In my heart, I knew that Baghra was right.” The Darkling also has a reputation full of horrors.

I pulled the curtains close, stripped off my clothes and pulled the bedcurtains round me as a pungent aroma of Russian leather assured me my husband was once again beside me.

'Dearest!'

With the most treacherous, lascivious tenderness, he kissed my eyes, and, mimicking the new bride newly wakened, I flung my arms around him, for on my seeming acquiescence depended my salvation.

'Da Silva of Rio outwitted me,' he said wryly.' My New York agent telegraphed Le Havre and saved me a wasted journey. So we may resume our interrupted pleasures, my love.'

~> Good thing we have Baghra to save us from this. Shadow and Bone never even got to pleasures...

'Go and get them.'

'Now? This moment? Can't it wait until morning, my darling?'

I forced myself to be seductive. I saw myself, pale, pliant as a plant that begs to be trampled underfoot, a dozen vulnerable, appealing girls reflected in as many mirrors, and I saw how he almost failed to resist me. If he had come to me in bed, I would have strangled him, then.

But he half-snarled: 'No. It won't wait. Now.'

~> Unfortunatelly Alina lacks agency and could never openly use her sexuality as a weapon. Closest we get is when she uses the Darkling’s longing for company at the end of Siege and Storm, but that's very chaste, suicidal alternative.

The evidence of that bloody chamber had showed me I could expect no mercy. Yet, when he raised his head and stared at me with his blind, shuttered eyes as though he did not recognize me, I felt a terrified pity for him, for this man who lived in such strange, secret places that, if I loved him enough to follow him, I should have to die.

The atrocious loneliness of that monster!

~> The Darkling... do I need to explain?

'You do not deserve this,' he [the boy] said.

'Who can say what I deserve or no?' I said. 'I've done nothing; but that may be sufficient reason for condemning me.'

'You disobeyed him,' he said. 'That is sufficient reason for him to punish you.'

~> The irony of Alina’s true sin being “I’ve done nothing.” and certain people claiming it’s disobedience... 

My lover [the boy] kissed me, he took my hand. He would come with me if I would lead him.

~> You are my nation, you are my flag..

On her eighteenth birthday, my mother had disposed of a man-eating tiger that had ravaged the villages in the hills north of Hanoi. Now, without a moment's hesitation, she raised my father's gun, took aim and put a single, irreproachable bullet through my husband's head.

We lead a quiet life, the three of us. I inherited, of course, enormous wealth but we have given most of it away to various charities. The castle is now a school for the blind, though I pray that the children who live there are not haunted by any sad ghosts looking for, crying for, the husband who will never return to the bloody chamber, the contents of which are buried or burned, the door sealed.

~> Once the monster’s slain, they life of charity and caring about others.

No paint nor powder, no matter how thick or white, can mask that red mark on my forehead [done by magical tainted key]; I am glad he cannot see it--not for fear of his revulsion, since I know he sees me clearly with his heart--but, because it spares my shame.

~> At the end of the trilogy, Alina remains physically untainted. Unlike the piano-tuner, Malyen had no problem feeling disgusted by Alina’s involvement with the Darkling, although the retcon tried to persuade us otherwise.

#The Bloody Chamber #parallels&references #Grisha trilogy #grishanalyticritical #Alina Starkov #The Darkling #Darklina #The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories #Angela Carter #Shadow and Bone (book) #Leigh Bardugo #anti Leigh Bardugo #Malyen Oretsev #anti Mal #anti Malina #V #Morozova's collar #Baghra Morozova

[faintingheroine]

Heathcliff and Seven Deadly Sins

Sloth:

“He had reached the age of sixteen then, I think, and without having bad features, or being deficient in intellect, he contrived to convey an impression of inward and outward repulsiveness that his present aspect retains no traces of. In the first place, he had by that time lost the benefit of his early education: continual hard work, begun soon and concluded late, had extinguished any curiosity he once possessed in pursuit of knowledge, and any love for books or learning. His childhood’s sense of superiority, instilled into him by the favours of old Mr. Earnshaw, was faded away. He struggled long to keep up an equality with Catherine in her studies, and yielded with poignant though silent regret: but he yielded completely; and there was no prevailing on him to take a step in the way of moving upward, when he found he must, necessarily, sink beneath his former level. Then personal appearance sympathised with mental deterioration: he acquired a slouching gait and ignoble look; his naturally reserved disposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of unsociable moroseness; and he took a grim pleasure, apparently, in exciting the aversion rather than the esteem of his few acquaintance.”

(Chapter 8)

Greed:

“Rich, sir!’ she returned. ‘He has nobody knows what money, and every year it increases. Yes, yes, he’s rich enough to live in a finer house than this: but he’s very near—close-handed; and, if he had meant to flit to Thrushcross Grange, as soon as he heard of a good tenant he could not have borne to miss the chance of getting a few hundreds more. It is strange people should be so greedy, when they are alone in the world!’”

(Chapter 4)

“I know he couldn’t love a Linton; and yet he’d be quite capable of marrying your fortune and expectations: avarice is growing with him a besetting sin.”

(Chapter 10)

Envy:

“‘But, Nelly, if I knocked him down twenty times, that wouldn’t make him less handsome or me more so. I wish I had light hair and a fair skin, and was dressed and behaved as well, and had a chance of being as rich as he will be!’”

(Chapter 7)

“Mr. Heathcliff you have nobody to love you; and, however miserable you make us, we shall still have the revenge of thinking that your cruelty arises from your greater misery. You are miserable, are you not? Lonely, like the devil, and envious like him?”

(Chapter 29)

Wrath:

“‘I’m trying to settle how I shall pay Hindley back. I don’t care how long I wait, if I can only do it at last. I hope he will not die before I do!’

‘For shame, Heathcliff!’ said I. ‘It is for God to punish wicked people; we should learn to forgive.’

‘No, God won’t have the satisfaction that I shall,’ he returned. ‘I only wish I knew the best way! Let me alone, and I’ll plan it out: while I’m thinking of that I don’t feel pain.’”

(Chapter 7)

“The moment her regard ceased, I would have torn his heart out, and drunk his blood!”

(Chapter 14)

“‘If Hareton does not turn you out of the room, I’ll strike him to hell,’ thundered Heathcliff. ‘Damnable witch! dare you pretend to rouse him against me? Off with her! Do you hear? Fling her into the kitchen! I’ll kill her, Ellen Dean, if you let her come into my sight again!’”

(Chapter 33)

Lust

“Being alone, and conscious two yards of loose earth was the sole barrier between us, I said to myself ‘I’ll have her in my arms again! If she be cold, I’ll think it is this north wind that chills me; and if she be motionless, it is sleep.””

(Chapter 29)

Pride

“If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn’t love as much in eighty years as I could in a day. And Catherine has a heart as deep as I have: the sea could be as readily contained in that horse-trough as her whole affection be monopolised by him. Tush! He is scarcely a degree dearer to her than her dog, or her horse. It is not in him to be loved like me: how can she love in him what he has not?’”

(Chapter 14)

And none for Gluttony bye.

#wuthering heights #heathcliff #seven deadly sins

[yeniiyy]

"I saw you sleeping in the library the other day"

Spica said as he sat down in the chair opposite mine, those emerald green eyes peered right into me. I, on the other hand, was letting my thoughts wander somewhere and only got startled by his sudden intrusion.

"Yeah I think I found a pretty neat corner"

I smiled, recalling the memory I had the other day. A library is always a perfect place for napping, even though I was really determined to study, everything just started to fall apart with the right ambience and that impeccable silence.

"Were you tired?"

"Maybe a little bit" I didn't want to lie, but I didn't want to make him worry either "I just need time to rearrange my thoughts, you know"

The cafeteria in the afternoon was not too crowded with students. Most of them already left for the afternoon class, some of them remained here, working diligently to complete whatever task was displayed on their laptops in front of them with a bottle of water. And we were there, sitting across from each other, in this undoubtedly quiet area, our chatter was practically the only thing I could hear.

"You know you can always ask me for help, right?"

His sea-green eyes once again delved into mine, as though he was searching for any answer he could find in there. I flinched for a second, but quickly regained my smile.

"That is very kind of you" I hesitated "but, you know, there is stuff I need to resolve by myself. It's not that I don't want your help, sometimes things just got complicated".

I found myself averting his eyes, staring off into space. Those eyes, they were too powerful that I was scared if I looked into it any longer, I would end up coming clean and telling him the truth.

"Summoner" his voice was gentle as if soothing a little toddler "You are avoiding the problem"

I touched the hem of my uniform, not knowing what to say. He was right. As if it's only a matter of time before everyone else notices. Ever since that night, I have been hiding from "him". Avoiding group meetings, switching team missions, I've done everything I could in order to buy myself some time, to figure out what is this feeling inside of me.

"Little do you know" Spica once again broke the hush "That night when you went missing, he was the first one to contact everyone, and also the first one who seems like he would go crazy just because we couldn't contact you through Stella tab" he stopped for a moment before continuing to finish his words "To be honest with you, that was really out of character. Never have I witnessed Vega acting so impatiently before"

I finally shifted my gaze from the hem of my skirt to Spica, who was looking even more thoughtful than before. He wasn't joking, he surely couldn't withstand our little hassle and decided to step in.

"I just don't know how to face him right now" I spoke genuinely "So many things happened at once, and, you know, logically speaking, I'm not supposed to take it for granted and pretend like nothing happened. I just don't know. I feel like the more I look at him, the more I got drowned in my own frivolous thoughts"

"You're so slow, you know that?" I just heard the person in front of me sigh "Let me just dumb it down for you. Do you have feelings for him?"

"I" I looked down "I don't know"

"Then just tell him you don't know. Anything is better than eluding the problem right now" Spica said with concern "It's not your fault, there's no need to feel bad about it"

"But" I blinked twice "What if he doesn't accept it"

"Then we have no choice other than flinging him into the ocean" he said nonchalantly "But to be frank, I don't think that would be the case. Why don't you try talking to him first, or at the very least, listening to what he has to say?”

Surprisingly enough, as soon as Spica finished his sentence, my Stella tab flashed. I instantaneously took a glance at the display and saw that it was unmistakably he - the person we are discussing over - had called.

"Take it" Spica urged "We are not going anywhere if you keep agonizing over it"

I took a deep breath.

"Thanks, Spica" I stood up "I'm gonna take my leave"

He nodded.

I was totally unaware that after I left, Spica stared into the space where I had just gone from with a broody expression on his face.

_____________________________________________________ I have no idea what I just wrote but thank you for reading! :D

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight vega #arcana twilight spica #arcana twilight x reader

[chrisbitchtree]

Feels Like Home

For Harringrove Flip It Reverse It - Day 2

Prompt - NSFW - Stripping

1k - G

***

Finally, after years of saving every penny they could, passing on nights out at the bar in favour of sharing a cheap sixpack of beer at home, only making the expensive trip back to Hawkins once a year, and working two jobs each, Steve as a receptionist at a dental office and a barista, and Billy a mechanic and bartender, they’d saved enough for their own little house near the ocean.

Saying house might be putting it too kindly, though. It was really more of a shack. Sturdy but tiny, one bedroom, a tiny kitchen and dining room combo, and a living room making up the whole place, sand dusted on every floor, the scent of sea salt filling the air. And horrific, 70s era wallpaper covering nearly every wall. It wasn’t ideal, but it was within their budget and allowed for easy access to surfing and swimming, so they gladly snatched it up.

***

They’d put in a lot of work over the past few months, refinishing the floors, replacing the rotting boards on the deck, and replacing the ancient, pea green toilet and tub, and now it was time for the final task: stripping the wallpaper so they could paint the walls in a rainbow of colours, from sky blue to sunshine yellow.

They’d rented a contraption that promised to steam the wallpaper off almost instantly, but neither had any clue how to use it, and it wasn’t going well. Billy’s curls were a wild mess because Steve kept accidentally aiming the steam at him, the few times they could magically get any steam to come out at all, and Steve’s face was bright red from a mixture of embarrassment and frustration from not being able to figure out this seemingly simple task, even after the clerk at the paint shop had given him a demo.

Billy had unfortunately had to miss out on the demo due to work. He was always the handier of the two, but he had to rely on Steve’s memory and an instruction manual that left a lot to be desired in terms of detailed descriptions of the steps to get him through. They had always made a concerted effort to not raise their voices at each other, but they were not successful that day.

“How can you not remember, Steve? You said the guy showed you how to do it, like three times! Is it not this button?”

“Which button?” Steve shouted.

This button! This button, Steve!” He jammed his thick finger into one of the three buttons on top. “The button I keep showing you! Is this the button?”

“That’s not the button you were pressing before!” Steve roared, dropping the nozzle and storming out of the room. He stepped into the bathroom, the only room with a lock, and sat on the lip of the tub, fuming.

It was just like Billy to pin this on Steve when he knew that Steve had a terrible memory. He should have gone to the paint shop instead of Steve, but he just had to work an extra couple hours of overtime, even though he’d promised Steve he’d slow down with it now that they’d bought the house.

They had both agreed that they’d cut back on their hours so they could enjoy being here together, but only Steve was keeping that promise so far, and it felt sometimes like he was doing all the heavy lifting on the new house himself.

Billy banged loudly on the door. “Steve, can you please come out here?” he called. “So we can talk about this like adults?”

“No,” Steve replied. “I need a minute to myself to calm down.”

“Ok,” Billy sighed. “Good. Take a minute to get your head out of your ass, then we can talk.”

Steve huffed an incredulous laugh. “Get my head out of my ass? How about you get your head out of your ass? If you hadn’t insisted on taking on that extra overtime, you could have been the one to go to the paint shop for the tutorial, and we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Well, I’m so sorry for trying to make some extra cash, Steve! Sue me for not wanting us to be poor!”

Steve stood, flicking the lock, and flinging the door open, standing face to face with Billy. “Money won’t buy us time together, Billy! It won’t buy us memories and happiness.”

It was Billy’s turn for his face to go red. “I know that asshole, but it can buy us a future. It can buy us safety. It can buy us financial security like I never had growing up. I want to take care of you, Steve. I love you so fucking much, and I want to give you the world. Is that so bad?” Tears were now leaking from the corners of his eyes, and Steve brought a hand up, trying to wipe them away.

Shit. He’d never thought of it like that before. He knew that he took for granted sometimes that he’d have his parents’ money to fall back on if things really got rough, so it had never truly occurred to him what money might mean to Billy.

He grabbed a tissue from the back of the toilet and handed it to Billy before pulling him to his chest and holding Billy tight in his arms. He rocked them softly, back and forth, shushing Billy as the tears continued to flow.

“Don’t cry, baby. I’m sorry. You’re just trying to take care of us. I know that now. I’m sorry that I didn’t see it before but thank you. You’re always looking out for me. For us. How about we just take another minute to calm down, then I’ll treat you to an ice cream cone, then we can go back to the paint shop to have them explain it again. Ok?”

Billy nodded, letting out a wet whimper.

Steve continued to hold him in his arms, running a soothing hand down his back. Fuck, he was lucky to have Billy, have him care so much. He made a silent promise to himself to let Billy know more often just how much he appreciated his love.

#harringrove #harringrove flip reverse it #flip reverse it 2023 #billy hargrove #steve harrington #billy x steve #harringrove fic #chrisbitchtree writes

[ainyan]

34. — diary

Dear Diary,

He was flirting with me again today.

She paused, tapping the feather of her quill against the corner of her lips as she gazed off into the distance. Then she grimaced and began to write again.

I'm not entirely certain what is going through his mind when he does this. He knows it can't possibly work. We're Scions, by the gods. We daren't risk bringing discord into the organization by getting involved. And it's not as if he wants anything more than sex.

Again, she lifted the quill and frowned at the last words she'd written. It was true, of course. It had to be. Thancred Waters did not take lovers. He did not even have the kinds of friendships she did, with mutual affection and admiration mixed in with the playing. He had one-night stands and flings.

And yet.

He cried today. I know. I didn't even know he could. But we were at the Wall, and Papalymo's cage burned so bright above, and it was inevitable our conversation would turn to her. She's been sitting between us since the confrontation in the Aetherial Sea and the argument that followed.

Shouting. Slapping. Sorrow. She grimaced, remembering the horrible fight they'd had after she'd been unable to convince Minfilia to return with her after their meeting in the Antitower.

He cried, and then I cried, and then one thing led to another...

I kissed him today. And oh gods, you would think I'd never been kissed before. I never have. Not if that's how it's supposed to feel. It was supposed to be friendly, supportive.

I should have known better. I want him too much. And he wants me, strange though it may be to me. Of course he would see it as an invitation.

Sighing, she laid the quill aside and rose, wrapping her arms about herself as she began to pace around the room. Writing down the events of what had passed between herself and the rogue atop Amarissaix's Spire had brought back all of the stomach-churning confusion she'd felt at the confrontation between them.

"What does he want from me?" she asked aloud, but there was no answer. There was no one to hear, and even if there had be, she knew that only one person knew the answer.

And she was damned if she'd ask him.

Turning back, she took up her quill and leaned over the desk, jotting down a quick closing to the day's diary entry.

I wish I'd said yes. I wish I trusted myself enough to say yes. But I'm already more than halfway in love with him. The gods know it would take so little effort on his part to send me tumbling over the edge. So I'll keep saying no, and hopefully he'll take the hint before either of us ends up hurt from it.

Well. Any more hurt.

Good night, diary. Sleep well. I wish I could.

She cleaned the nib of her quill and set it aside, then closed her diary and whispered the spell to seal it.

Then she turned away and slid into bed, to stare at the ceiling and fight sleep until she was too exhausted to Dream.

Give me a word and I'll give you a short fic. <3

Thank you for the ask!

#asked and answered #ffxiv #kalicred #kal'istae miurani #au: woven souls

[candiedspit]

Locking myself inside a star

Mikey’s Clam Bar was a hole in the ground. 

Then, Joliet was a wondrous, sultry shit hole. The best kind of nightmare. I was twenty five and penniless. I was looking for somewhere to crash. I saw a poster looking for a singer at the bar; I went. When I tried out for the bar’s owner Sam, a tall balding man with intense hand motions, always at the end of a cigarette, I didn’t know what I was doing. I was a dirty fling. A blink and you miss it sorta thing. A good anesthetic. Good for quick fucks and reckless nights. 

Sam was looking for a singer; didn’t have to be good, but had to carry a note and be nice to look at. I was scrawny and weighed less than a spare tire. I sang him a rendition of an old gospel song I heard as a kid, my voice slow and dark as molasses. Glitter stuck beneath my eyelids from the previous night. Sam took a moment, arms crossed. 

Then, he sighed and told me I got the part. 

I’d start for twelve dollars a night, paired with his piano man. I thought I’d stay there for the summer, make some cash and then flee when autumn rolled through with her fires and amber. 

But it’s been two years. 

And every night, you can peek in through the filthy glass and see me in my black gown, head shaved, skinny muscles shining beneath the lights. Singing like a grieving cat. Swaying like a tulip in spring wind. As the customers slurp oysters and get drunk as all hell on the cheap beer. Sometimes, a couple will get up and dance in the middle of the song. Sometimes, nothing happens. And the song finishes. I smoke a cigarette out back until the next set. 

It was Tuesday; winter again–here, the winters are like curses, you can’t outrun them, you can only endure them–naked skinny trees and ferocious wind–and all the people want to do is drink. I did my set, a few disco songs slowed down to the rhythm of syrup, splattered in my signature glitter and black dress. Sometimes, when I sing I feel like a tropical bird; a blur of colors. Everything melts. Like turning down the volume on a picture show. And there is nothing–no ticking stove, no bad neighbors, no frigidness, no ocean to cross–but the noise streaming from my mouth. All of my coos and mutters and aahs. I live for that feeling. I would do anything for it. 

Do you believe me? 

In between sets, I went out back to smoke. A man followed me; a large, pink faced daddy wearing a white shirt and a brass wedding ring on his left hnad. He stood by the door for a moment as I stared back. 

I like your voice, he said at last. 

His voice was like honey falling into my mouth. 

Yeah? I asked, tapping my cigarette with my thumb. 

He smiled and sat beside me on a crate. 

Yeah, he said. You sound like a drunk siren. Like, you’re lost and stranded on a rock and the seas are rough and all you can do is sing. 

All you can think to do is sing. Am I wrong to say that? 

I shook my head. 

That night, I fucked him on my dirty pink sheets. What’s the saying about the bull in the china shop? He was gentle as a neon light. He touched me like he knew me. Afterwards, we smoked through my pack and watched Yogi Bear until our eyes burned. 

What were you like as a kid? He asked, watching me as I crushed a cigarette into the carpet. 

I was a little shit, I said. A toy car running on nuclear power. Nothing could calm me down. My parents were beside themselves. 

What do you do? He asked. When you’re not singing?

This, I shrugged. I go out, sometimes. 

Out where? He asked, lighting my fresh cigarette. 

I don’t know, I said with a cough. Clubs, whatever. 

I can imagine you, he said. In the club, dancing. I can see you there. You’re like a fire. 

A fire?

Just, he said. You’re a light. I like lights. 

He put his hand on my leg. 

Where does your wife think you are? I asked. 

Out, he said. I told her I was going with a friend to watch the game. 

For a moment, it was quiet. And I studied his face, the flashing light from the television turning him blue, red, pink. He had serious features. A strict, long nose and pursed lips and smooth cheeks. What was he doing here? I couldn’t figure it out. 

How old are you? He asked. 

Twenty seven, I said. 

God, he said with a chuckle. 

He stroked my face. 

You’re at the starting line, he said. You could do anything, be anything. So what are you going to do?

I don’t know, I said. I’m going to cross the ocean. 

The ocean?

There’s an ocean, I said. And I have to cross it. So, I’m doing it. 

He kissed me on my head. And then on my mouth. And I kissed back. Of course, I kissed back. And we kissed for a while, for years. Trading spit and tongues and heat. I liked the feeling. I liked being touched by him. 

I wish I could help you, he mumbled between kisses. Nurse you back to earth. But I don’t know how to do that. I wish I knew. 

When he left in the morning, as the yolk of the sun came out of dawn’s shell, he turned off the television. And didn’t say anything. I sat on the bed, watching the birth of morning. I listened to the silence; the weight of nothing. I sat with it. And wondered. 

I went back to the bar that night. He wasn’t there. I sang my song as though I was shadow boxing. The polite smattering of applause wounded me. I sat out back with my cigarettes and bony knees and sliver of moonlight. 

I sat there waiting for the thing which never comes.

#fiction #my poetry #for anon :)

[valeriasfragments]

Fragments About a Princess

[1]

I let my guard down for a second, I lose sight of you for just a minute, a desperate quiet moment to myself. I was in the bathroom for a minute, just long enough to feel the weight of it all. It's so heavy and I can feel myself going under the water when i hear you screaming, hair raising, fear of god, pure white hot terror floods my muscles and I've already flung the door open so hard the handle smashes the wall, a perfect circle like a bruise on porcelain skin.

I let myself feel weak for just a second and now you are on our kitchen floor covered in red, I'm white as a ghost, and you're turning blue. The knife clatters loudly and your arm is torn to shreds and it's all my fault.

I'm trying so hard to hold on to living and you're trying so hard to get on dying and I can't keep us both above water and my calamitous heart would rather sink with you then continue on alone. And our kitchen floor was never white again, they replaced the laminate flooring when we left because "it looked like somebody died in here", if they only knew the truth.

This isn't the last time I hold you in my arms expecting you to die, expecting me to perish there too. All you can say, all you can ever repeat over and over again as you try repeatedly to leave is "I'm sorry, Chance." And I repeat every time "It's okay, Princess."

And this goes on for a while. I start locking the knife block and any other sharp things I can find I lock away in a trunk I've had since childhood, the one I would hide in when my dad was on a rampage, the one that protected me, I put them there in hopes they protect you.

I hold you, lips blue, breathing so ragged and shallow. I cling to you, my deflated life preserver, we're sinking fast, me and you. I am covered in blood, your beautiful life all over the floor, I look like a horror movie. You leave a perfect hand print on the counter and it's the last thing I clean after I get home from the hospital. Your beautiful dainty hands, and I stare at the print for a long time.

I bring you home from the hospital again, at least a dozen times this year alone, I fear what our future holds, worrying about a future that will never come. You walked out a month after I brought you home, tried to fly and left this world.

And all I wish I could do is sit with you in those last hours and say "it's okay, Princess" until you finally close your eyes. I wish I could comfort you as I always.

[2]

I’m on California Route 23 which stretches from Fillmore to the sea. There’s a bridge right before Simi Valley where the 23 and the 118 Freeway meet. It doesn’t have a name but it rises over the Happy Camp Canyon, the Arroyo Simi River, and Princeton Avenue and curves from Moorpark to Simi Valley. The bridge is split in two with each half taking a direction, each half has 2 lanes and ample shoulder room. It reaches its maximum height on the southbound side right after the concrete fence factories.

This area is one of the best places to stargaze but on this particular night the sky is obscured by a clinging cold mist. Before I see her I know exactly what night this is. I walk up to the railing, just past the mile marker I found in the police report. My hands hesitate to rest on the damp railing sitting atop the concrete barrier. Every so often a car cruises by going a little slower than usual because of the visibility. 

I stand there leaning on the railing trying to work up the nerve to lean over and look at the ground, my heart is pounding so hard I think it might stop. I don’t know if I am more afraid of seeing her or flinging myself over to join her. Before I can consider I lean over and look but I don’t see her down there in the area she supposedly died. And as I right myself I can see her out of the corner of my eye walking down the shoulder towards me. 

She’s shivering and mumbling to herself, her arms pulled close to her body and she’s sobbing. She is pale as a ghost, her lips the color of Arkansas Blue Star. She’s wearing a black t-shirt and torn denim jeans with a black hoodie tied around her waist but she’s not wearing any shoes, she left them in my shoe rack by my front door. Walked nearly 5 miles from the Moorpark Park & Ride on Collins in Simi where she left her car and a note, she walked the whole way barefoot without a care.

I take a few steps toward her and she walks by me, her eyes never looking up from the ground. She leans on the cold railing with her stomach, looks at the stars and sighs. I step towards her and she looks right at me, right through my soul. “I’m sorry” she says and then she’s gone, over the edge.

I blink and I am 45 feet below the 23 in a field pocked with tall grass, trees and bushes. And there in the darkness a pale blue angel splayed out like a broken doll, limbs all the wrong direction. She looks up at me from where she is laying in the grass.

"Is that you, Chance?" She sounds raspy and confused.

"I'm sorry, Princess. This is just a dream."

"Oh. Then I guess I'm dead."

"Yeah. Yeah. For a long time now. And this never happened." I admit reluctantly.

She begins to sob softly and sit down beside her head and cradle her in my lap. I brush some foxtails out of her hair and wipe at her tears.

"Oh, Princess. I wish we had more time. I wish I could tell you all the times my mind drifted to you. I wish I could read you all the poems and stories I wrote. But there's never enough time here."

"I hope you loved again." She says softly as her eyes drift to the horizon.

"Oh, yes, Princess. I love very easy. Too easily. I love loudly and often because life is too short. You taught me that." 

"I'm sorry"

"Shh. Shh. It's all okay, Princess. I promise." 

"I love you, Chance" She says as the dawn's light peeks over the horizon.

And I'm awake gasping and shaking again.

#Fragments #Princess

[lemonluvgirl]

Small Talk Excerpt

So, for all of you thirsting over some platonic everdair interactions, I present this small excerpt for your reading pleasure....

She sat up and cleared her throat as the plane touched down. 

The lights in first class came up and she looked behind her to find her singing partner and one of her best friends for the last nine years, still fast asleep. 

“Hey, Fin. Wake up.” She called. 

One sea-green eye opened a smidge and peeked at her, before promptly closing. 

“Come on, we’re here.” Katniss prodded. 

“Uggghhh. But it's the Mid-West Kat. This is where all things beautiful and in vogue go to die. I can feel myself diminishing already. Can we just not and say we did?” Finnick complained loudly with his eyes stubbornly closed. 

“Hey, I grew up around here!” She retorted, flinging her complimentary pillow at his head. He grunted when the pillow made contact, but finally opened his eyes and shot her a mock glare. 

“Yeah, and you left as soon as you turned 18 because you’ve got half a brain and you’re not an untalented hack,” Finnick replied before tossing the pillow back her way. She narrowly dodged it. 

“I had to leave!” The pillow made a return trajectory toward Finnick’s head. 

“Yes, yes. You left your beloved home, It was terrible. Walking away from all those exquisite piggly-wigglies, the mini-malls, and drive-ins, and the good, salt of the earth people of Panem!” 

The pillow sailed her way and glanced off her cheek harmlessly. 

“Better than that cesspool you call a home!” She countered and flung the pillow with more gusto at his immaculately styled bronze locks. 

“Watch the do! And don’t you besmirch L.A. young lady! We broke attendance records in every concert we’ve ever given there!” He argued before leaning over the seats and bumping her twice with the pillow on the top of her head. 

She snatched it from him, prepared to bash his face until his hair was completely ruined but the voice of an annoyed flight attendant interrupted her thoughts of vengeance. 

“Sir, Ma’am, please refrain from abusing the first-class amenities!” The woman barked, obviously not recognizing them or if she did, she simply didn’t care. 

“Sorry,” Muttered Katniss sheepishly, and then she began to collect her things. 

Finnick just chuckled, wholly unrepentant, as always. 

#I apologize in advance to anyone from the Midwest #Finnick just has really bad West Coast superiority syndrone #Small Talk #platonic everdair #musicians au #thg #fanfiction #thg fanfiction #lemonluvwrites