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grousebrood · 8 months

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wip wednesday

tagged by @optiwashere, i honestly don't really know anyone else on here but if you're one of the four people who follow me you can consider this a tag!

the first real fic i ever tried writing was far too big of a bite for me to chew, and i wrote about 90% of it and haven't touched it since. at this point i'm not sure i'll ever actually finish it, but it was actually weirdly very instrumental in me learning and understanding some very fundamental things about myself post/mid-transition. so even if it's never done it'll probably always be kind of important to me.

anyway my writing process is very messy and modular so there are very few sections that don't have weird little gaps. so i tried to put together a coherent little thing from it to post — not the explicit smut parts tho, bc i'm still too embarrassed to post here haha.

starring drow paladin of selune and shadowheart mid-Act 2, so vague SPOILERS ACT 2 ahead. important context is also that i wrote this mid-Act 2, so it very well may be a complete mess canonically but whaddya gonna do. starts mid fic.

CW: whipping, blood, hurt but we don't get to the comfort, sadomasochism (?), penis referenced

(sincere and deep apologies if i missed something, i'm new to this so idk all of em, but if something you'd like to avoid is adjacent to the above concepts it's probably better to just skip this!)

_______________

"Go forth and sow doubt, but do not compel it — only the willing may know the Lady’s embrace."

_______________

Still, the horrific, repulsive display festered within Helena. She had tried to push the images from her thoughts but they twisted their way inside. The rending of flesh. The grotesque cruelty of the wretched and inhuman dogma.

Most of what she felt was a revolted nausea, her weathered soul recoiling at having witnessed the unholy mania.

However, something flickered deep within her. It drew her close and quickened her heart.

The mindless rapture. The oblivion. The end to all her aching hope.

Loss.

Helena was infuriated by the thought. Shar’s embrace was a vile parasite that tormented the weak, and she was not weak. She steadied her mind, slowed her heart. Eyes closed, focusing, she uttered a soft prayer. The words offered a small balm, and her doubts and fears briefly scuttled to parts unknown as thoughts of something not too dissimilar flooded into the cavity the disturbing temptation had left behind.

Rolling to her side, she gazed at the fading fire, and, beyond it, Shadowheart’s sleeping form. The deep, soft breaths of her slumber soothed Helena as she watched her chest slowly rise and fall.

Since they’d begun traveling together, Helena and Shadowheart had been poking and prodding one another about their respective, incompatible faiths. And yet despite all this, or maybe even because of it, they had grown closer. They both understood the depths of devotion. What it meant. What it takes from you, what it gives in return.

But even more, they came to understand each other, sharing things about themselves perhaps no other person had ever heard. Their memories, no matter how filamentous. Their thoughts, their fears. Their doubts.

As they and the others traveled across [Faerun] together, desperately seeking a way to save all their lives, Helena pieced together the fragments of Shadowheart’s story within her heart and found herself increasingly drawn to the half-elf. After they shared a kiss in the small hours of the morning, just before the goblins had assaulted the Emerald Grove, Helena had even begun to naively wonder about what kind of a future a cleric of Shar and paladin of Selune could share.

------time jump-----

"If you were capable of feeling even an ounce of what I’ve felt, what I’ve been feeling, you wouldn’t be so quick to recite your ignorant drivel. I thought I might come here to offer you some comfort to help you sleep, but you clearly have little intention of letting me be close to you.” Shadowheart got to her feet, turning to leave.

Even as the words stung her, a delirious thought slipped into Helena’s mind, small at first, then all-consuming.

What better way to prove her worth to her Moonmaiden, her dedication to her righteous calling than to walk through the darkest corridors of the soul and come out the other side more devoted than ever? Yes, she would allow her blasphemous feelings to flourish — only to lull them into a false sense of security so they could be exterminated with a holy beam of radiant light.

She would be stripped bare, clean and naked, and then moon’s love would once again envelop her, the proudest daughter of Selune.

“Show me,” she said quietly.

Shadowheart, mid-exit, became still. She turned back to look at the drow sitting in the dark, almost invisible if not for her pale white hair.

“Excuse me?”

“I want you to show me,” Helena said, rising to her feet as anger and panic roiled inside her. “Prove your point. Make me feel Shar’s truth. She’d love it if you were to turn me, no? You’ve said so yourself. Imagine it. The woman who recovered the githyanki artifact, succeeding where all others failed, and on top of that, serving her Lady a new cleric of Loss. She would have no choice but to elevate such a loyal and powerful servant.”

“That’s nonsensical,” Shadowheart said, standing still as Helena came close enough that she could feel the heat of her body in the cold night. Helena reached a hand up to cup the side of Shadowheart’s cheek. The same way she held her the night they kissed.

“Unless you haven’t really believed anything you’ve said since I met you.”

Shadowheart’s eyes sparked with darkness as her hand shot up to grab Helena’s wrist and she abruptly pushed forward, catching her off guard and off-balance. Shadowheart’s grip secure on her arm, Helena stumbled backward, lightly tripping over the rocks and roots of the forgotten homestead’s pathways. Carried by the momentum of their bodies, Helena slammed hard into the aged wood of the shack as her breath left her chest.

The two holy warriors pressed into each other against the wall as Shadowheart held Helena in place, her quarry struggling to suck in air after the impact, incapable of doing anything much at all despite being the stronger woman.

“How dare you question my commitment to Lady Shar?” Shadowheart said venomously. “After all I’ve been through — all you’ve seen?”

“By your own admission I know nothing of the true worth of your Mistress of the Night,” Helena said, petulant, catching her breath and ignoring the wrenching lurch in her stomach as she felt Shadowheart push against her. “But from what I see it doesn’t seem like you know much more than a few silly phrases and petty excuses, pounded into your head by years of obedient listening. So show me, if you’re so devout.”

Shadowheart’s anger flared and her grip tightened on Helena. She pondered for a moment, resolve hardening as she, too, tried to ignore a wellspring of warmth that had begun to flow through her body.

“Inside,” she finally hissed.

-----------time jump-----------

“Fuck you.”

Helena’s vision blurred as the room warped and spun around her. She again felt Shadowheart’s breath on her ear, though she struggled to listen. The sharp pain from her back extended outward, throbbing, as a hot pressure began to build in her body. The chair, already uncomfortable, seemed to become even smaller as she buckled over in agony, feeling something begin to press against her abdomen. Was that… Was she…?

Was she getting hard?

Another lash of the whip. Helena jerked in pain and fell to the side, crashing to the floor, tears and spit dripping from her face as she concentrated on regaining some composure.

Shadowheart crouched in front of Helena, using the whip’s grip first to lift the blindfold and then to tilt her chin upward, forcing her to focus on her tormentor’s face. The face of a woman she had thought she might love, whose unexpected softness had sustained Helena even as she thought her trials might break her.

Now, however, it seemed cruel and hard, Shadowheart’s preternatural derision directed entirely on her and her pathetic, drooling failure to understand the Sharran’s faith. Even still, as the pain continued to throb within her, so did her building animal lust, lust that made her feel all the more ashamed. Not only had she failed to prove herself, but she was hopelessly enthralled to this woman, desperate for more and yet physically unable to withstand it.

“Shall I stop?”

The flame was a fading ember. She stared into Shadowheart’s eyes, hoping to see a flicker of concern that showed that the cleric still cared for her. Helena saw none, and the hope died — but seemingly with it so too did her need to either please her companion or preserve herself. Spite boiled in her throat.

No.

She would not fail.

She could not let the smug Sharran win. Helena spat.

“Keep going.”

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

and there ya have it

#bg3 spoilers #wip #bg3 fanfiction #oc: helena fiddlefitz #idk how else to tag

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honeykuwu · 1 year

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I posted 6,901 times in 2022

That's 2,462 more posts than 2021!

11 posts created (0%)

6,890 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@futurewgarbage

@dingdongyouarewrong

@merganfm

@vrabia

@smarter-than-the-average-blonde

I tagged 448 of my posts in 2022

#ml spoilers - 111 posts

#fnaf security breach - 64 posts

#fnaf gregory - 46 posts

#security breach - 43 posts

#glamrock freddy - 40 posts

#ml s5 spoilers - 33 posts

#fnaf sb - 31 posts

#marichat - 30 posts

#ml season 5 spoilers - 23 posts

#mlb spoilers - 18 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i could go on and on about how this is can be used in order to isolate people and create even more difficulty in maintaining a living space

My Top Posts in 2022:

So I've been watching refill/restock videos, as one does, and I keep wondering... do these bitches not have any actual food? Like thry have some mezeluri and a crap tone of juices and cheese and sweets and maybe some vegetables and fruit... but like no actual food? Like, idk if I'm speaking for all romanian peeps, but you usually have o oala de ciorba sau de supa si alta with some leftover food, like do these people just know exactly how much to cook? Are they buying all their food premade? I am so confused, yet so intrigued...

4 notes - Posted May 31, 2022

Man, a few years ago I saw this cool post that explained how vampires would most likely function if they existed based on like actual blood consuming bats anatomy and it was really cool and had drawn examples of stuff and I loved it, but I can't find it, so like if anyone knows what I'm talking about could you please send it to me? I would really appreciate it, I loved that post, with the bladey teeth and all

4 notes - Posted February 3, 2022

Ok, am I going insane, or did they change this??

6 notes - Posted February 2, 2022

Yk, if they're switching the dynamics now for adrinette, does that mean we get pinning Adrien for the future season, cause please!!! We deserve to see mushy Adrien for three seasons, I feel like thay would balance things more. A dream..

26 notes - Posted July 5, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Ok, so I absolutely love Security Breach, but I wanted to make a lost of things I feel would have made the game more enjoyable for me. It's just personal preference, it's ok if you guys don't agree. So here we go:

♡ more Freddy interactions. I really hate that he doesn't talk unless it's an event. Give him idle lines when he moves, both near Greg or with Greg inside. Make him send Greg random messages during the night, basically sell to us that they have a bond, build it throughout the night. I just fee like we would all have benefited from more papa beat and feral boy interactions.

♡ Make the hours advance slower and more equal? Idk man if I'm wrong, but I felt like the game progressed a little too fast and random? I just think it would help to get a bit more time

♡ More Vanny, the amount of times we see her is ridiculous...she was supposed to be the main villain, but I never got a real sense of danger from her. Add more chases from her. Make her randomly taunt Greg. Make her sometimes speak through the animatronics. Give us small scene where we see her interact with them. Idk, just add her more.

♡ Add more story elements: I personally feel like the story is held together with tape and that it was not the focus of the game, which imo left a lot of unanswered questions, like why do the animatronics keep getting more beat-up throughout the night, what is the deal with Vanessa, what is the deal with Greg, why is only Freddy not corrupted an so on. I feel there should have been more story elements added throughout, like small cut-scenes or lines of dialogue

♡ Allows us to actually race for a bit with Roxy, I found it kinda sad that it was only a cut-scene

♡ It would have been cool if we could also save the rest of the animatronics, not just decommission them and thus make them allies. I haven't really thought how, if I come up with an idea I will add, but I feel that is should be a more difficult mission than to decommission them, since it basically transforms and enemy into an ally. And taking from the Freddy part, give them some lines as well, I just think it would be sweet. Also with this addition, you create extra endings depending on who you saved.

♡ Remake the Afton final boss, I may be the only one, but I feel that this one was really underwhelming, I think it should have been longer and required Freddy a lot more, needed a bit more action. Taking from the points above, I feel like it would have been cool if you only had Freddy to be a harder boss and more bearable if you had everyone, or just get progressively easier the more you added to your roster. I also feel like the true ending should be with all of them. Also tell us what happened to Vanny. I feel like none of the endings actually touch all the issues in the pizza plex and while I get the idea behind it, I still feel there should have been one that figures out everything.

♡ I feel like there should be an extra panel named Extras :)) where you can see all things collected throughout your runs, so you don't run into the issue of losing everything just cause you got it after six

♡ this one is really not that important, but I think it would have been cool if there was a chance to do sth so that you can restore the ability to save during the after six am part, not really necessary, just and idea

♡ also more Vanessa, she also barely appeared snd didn't feel like an actual threat.

That's all I can think of for now. If I come up with any other ideas, I'll add them to the list

Thank y'all for taking the time to read this whole thing. Have an awesome night!

133 notes - Posted January 3, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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breeeliss · 2 years

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[TLOU]: kiss the blood off my cheek

god i haven’t written fic in so long i forgot how i used to format these

uh, idk if anyone who still hangs here is still into the last of us, but i’ve had an ellabs fic stuck in my head for months and i’ve read through the entire ship tag like 5 times lmao. definitely still a little rusty, but i’m a sucker for “enemies to reluctant partners to friends to lovers.”

—

Link to Archive of Our Own: [AO3]

—

Title: kiss the blood off my cheek Pairing: Ellabs (Ellie Williams x Abby Anderson) Summary: Abby isn’t able to escape Santa Barbara without the Rattlers kidnapping Lev again. She’s facing a long, arduous trek across California to get him back, and it’s something she can’t do alone. Luckily, Ellie has some bad karma to wash off her hands.

—

prologue + chapter 1

—

Abby thought a lot about how she would kill Joel.

Whenever her thumbs passed over the face of a state quarter, the choreography would unravel in her head — the only bedtime story she ever told herself that actually helped her to sleep.

It wasn’t until she killed her first Clicker — felt how warm and human the blood was as it splattered across her face — that she realized how easy it was to kill monsters. All it took was some scotch tape, a broken office scissor, and two good stabs. If she got stronger, she could kill Joel with her bare hands. Maybe even draw it out with a clear head and a steady heart.

But when Joel’s skill cracked under Abby’s golf club, she felt just like she did when she killed infected and kicked their dead bodies with the soles of her boots. Absolutely nothing.

The only thing she received for her efforts was Ellie’s promise to kill her in return.

It’s that familiar nothingness that Abby sees in Ellie’s eyes as she stares up through the murky water and struggles to pry her hands loose from her neck. Abby doesn’t have enough food in her stomach or fire in her blood to fight like she used to. As her legs spasm in a fruitless panic, she wonders whether Ellie will look down at her like she looked down at Joel. She wonders if this will help her. She wonders if Lev will wake up and continue their grisly work.

She wonders if this is how all life ends. At the hands of those you helped destroy.

Abby slips, and for a moment revels in a guilty jolt of joy at the possibility of meeting Owen and her father at the other end of the fog. But the pressure is released, and her body forces rank, salty sea air into her lungs as she scrambles to her feet with her fists raised. Another blow doesn’t come. Ellie sits in the water, sobbing as she cradles her bleeding fingers. She doesn’t get back up to fight, only screams for Abby to take Lev and leave.

It would be easy to take advantage of the momentary weakness and just kill Ellie for good. But the pathetic slope of Ellie’s shoulders — so at odds with the ferocity she wielded as she hunted Abby in the Seattle theater — makes her pause. Ellie looks emptied of all that had kept her smiling. Abby knows that despair, and Abby knows what she swore when she washed Joel’s blood off her arms: never again.

There are gunshots and explosions from the Rattlers’ camp, but Abby doesn’t register what they mean until she sees someone rush Ellie from behind and tackle her back into the water, the butt of their rifle poised high to crack open her face. Suddenly, half a dozen men are spilling onto the beach with weapons drawn, and Abby feels the panic in her veins snap her head towards Lev — still unconscious in the boat just a few yards away.

She stands to her feet only to crumple pathetically back into the water, watching too much blood from her too-many knife wounds pool around her. The salt water makes everything hurt, and her stomach is begging to empty itself despite having had nothing inside it for days. But Lev is weak. Lev has no weapons. Lev is alone. Lev is all she has left.

Everything screams when she scrambles for the boat, and she’s a couple of inches away from grabbing the edge before a bullet splinters the wood. Abby doesn’t get a moment to duck behind the boat before there’s another Rattler coming at her left with a metal pipe raised high above his head. She misses the swing by a millisecond, and crashes the heel of her foot into his kneecap until he buckles and gives her a chance to overpower him.

But Abby isn’t strong like she used to be, and it’s the most horrific realization in the world because while she struggles to snatch the pipe from the Rattler, she can see two more ransacking the boats by the shore and lifting Lev by the sleeve of his shirt.

“Don’t you fucking touch— !” she starts to scream, before the end of the pipe connects with her jaw. Abby goes down again, vision blurred and totally disoriented. She feels the broad end of the pipe come down on her back, and she spits up blood from the blow. The salt water stings her eyes, and Abby can do nothing but reach up blindly to grab at the pipe before it comes down on her again. Although, at that point, it might be over. Abby’s body is spitting out the last of its fumes and she’s not sure if she can keep going.

She’s bracing for another blow until she sees blood spray out from her attacker’s eye socket and fall lifeless into the water next to her. Abby blinks, scrambles for his weapon, and is almost positive she sees Ellie poised a few yards away with a rifle pointed right where the Rattler once stood. Abby’s brain doesn’t have enough time to put all those pieces together and simply takes a blessing where she can get it. She books it for the boat again, pushing her body harder, begging for a spark of luck that’s just small enough to get her and Lev out of here once and for all.

Lev is being dragged from the boat by two Rattlers, and Abby is almost there to deal one of them a crushing blow to the skull before she receives her own to the back of the head. She isn’t sure who managed to sneak up on her or what exactly brought her down, but down she goes. Her face crashes into the wet sand on the edge of the shore, and the tide floods her sinuses with water. Everything is going spotty and dark, but Abby can see Lev being thrown over someone’s shoulder and hiked back up the beach and towards the Rattlers’ camp. There’s confusion, explosions, fire, more gunshots, and the sounds of dozens of people dying, but it all disappears around Lev.

“ Lev —!” Abby screams out, but the tide pulls in again and drowns out her scream. She can’t get up. She can’t breathe. Her nausea finally bubbles up and leaves her vomiting into the sand, her limbs useless and her consciousness going.

Abby knows she’s dying, but it’s funny what your brain will make space for in your last moments. Because Lev is the only thing she can see with any clarity. Lev is the only person that matters. Lev is all that she has left, and she isn’t quite sure she wants to find out what kind of person would be left behind if Lev was taken from her too.

So every last drop of strength she has goes towards making the face of the man carrying Lev away clear in her mind — his hair, his missing right ear, the scar across his left eye, and the tattoo crawling across his neck. It’s all there, and it makes a familiar evil rise in her chest. One that she thought she left dead. One that powered her through dozens of sleepless nights, following leads, listening for Joel’s name, following the trail of bodies he left behind him until she had his brains spilled across her boots. She falls unconscious with one last thought filling her mind.

I’ll fucking kill you.

.x.

Abby is brought back to herself violently — so violently that it whips her head to the side and leaves her face burning. Everything hurts and her senses aren’t coming back as quickly as they should be, but her new assailant doesn’t seem to care. The pain comes again — and she realizes now that someone is slapping her — but the sounds come to her slowly and in pieces.

“— ake… uck up!” she hears. There are gunshots still whizzing through the air, but three coming from right next to her silence the back and forth. That voice comes back, grabbing at her cheeks and lifting her eyelids open until they’re assaulted with light that’s too bright. “— ake up, Abby! We don’t fucking have time for this.”

There’s sand underneath her, but the water isn’t lapping against her face anymore and she doesn’t feel the waves pulling her in. So she’s on the beach? Lev. The boats. Where was Lev?

“One thing at a time,” the voice responds, and Abby must really be out of it if she didn’t realize she was speaking aloud. She’s been tugged backwards, and it takes her a moment to realize that it’s the voice pulling her up the beach and away from the water. Away from the boats. Away from Lev. “Can you walk?”

Walking…her ribs are either bruised or broken, her back is killing her, and her head feels like it’s about to explode. Abby pushes herself forward to roll onto her front, but her hands slip in the wet sand when she tries to rise up to her knees. There’s shouting again. It’s distant, but Abby knows that won’t be for long. This voice is trying to get her off the beach, but Abby is five seconds from passing out again.

“Fuck me,” and the voice grabs one of her arms. Another is wrapping around Abby’s waist. “Alright, on three, you’re gonna give me as big a push off the ground as you can, okay?”

Abby tries, she really does, but it’s a pathetic push that causes the voice to pick up most of the slack to heave her to her feet. Abby stumbles and leans heavily into the body propping her up, but she’s standing and she’s being forced forward.

“Lev…” Abby mutters into the stranger’s shoulder.

“I need you to fucking think, okay?” the voice says, ignoring her. “You were with them for months. Do they have a medical center they’re hiding out in? A triage tent? Anything with medical supplies?”

Abby feels her brow crease. She knows that voice. Oh, she definitely knows that voice, and this voice definitely isn’t a Rattler. Her bare feet are tripping up a short flight of stone stairs and she blinks rapidly to pull her vision together. She sees short, red hair and a freckled face, and her blood grows hot.

“You fucking bit—!” but the curse is cut off by a wave of nausea that leaves her spilling bile onto the carpets. Carpets. They’re inside. They’re going backwards .

“Kill me later,” the girl — Boston girl, immune girl, Ellie — grunts, readjusting Abby against her. “Answer my question.”

They’re back in one of the beach houses, where the holding cells used to be, where Abby and Lev were starving for weeks. But the cells are busted wide open as they pass, and there are fresh bodies bleeding out into the hallways. Ellie keeps pushing them forward, languishing through the effort and looking like she’s no further away from collapsing than Abby is. Abby looks down and can feel blood seeping into her clothes and running down her side. Some of it is definitely coming from her shoulder after Ellie buried her knife in it. But not all of it. She can see the blood gushing from Ellie’s side.

Ellie pushes a door open with her foot and looks both ways down the hall. They head left, and Abby focuses on keeping one foot in front of the other. “They…they mentioned a hospital they were clearing out. Gonna make it a med base. Don’t know where it is.”

“Good enough.” Ellie lifts Abby’s chin up and gestures to the open rooms sprawled out to the side. “I need you to keep an eye out, I can’t carry you and watch my back at the same time.”

Abby trips over another body that looks like it took a shotgun shell straight through the jaw. They’ve tried this before, planning an escape and unleashing hell on this entire base. Their numbers were too large and Abby and Lev didn’t have enough strength or weapons to be able to take on the task on their own. An uprising like this wouldn’t have been possible without help, and Abby knew first hand how much Ellie was willing to go through to make sure she saw Abby dead. How singularly lethal she could be.

She’s now the only thing keeping Abby upright.

It’s an excruciating drag outside, but it’s a ghost town of fire and distant gunshots that makes moving through the base and towards their lot of militarized trucks uneventful. Ellie is looking around, and Abby asks again, “Tell me where Lev is.”

To her credit, the look Ellie gives her feels soft with something, like there’s a crueler answer she could give and doesn’t want to. “I’m taking you to him.”

Ellie is eyeing a truck with the keys still in the ignition and three men hurriedly stocking the back with whatever supplies they were able to scrounge together. She ducks them behind a pile of crates and pulls a pistol with a sloppily made silencer screwed on from her back pocket. Ellie’s hand is far from steady, and it takes her an agonizing few seconds to line up her shot and take them out with two clean shots. Her third bullet ricochets off the hood of the car, and suddenly they’re under automatic fire.

Abby drops to the concrete as Ellie digs through her pack one handed — and, ah, right, she sees Ellie’s bloodied, stinking wrappings around her left hand and remembers that she did indeed do that back there — and pulls out a molotov. Ellie kicks her lighter to Abby. “Light it and give it to me.”

The remaining Rattler is radioing in about two runaways, and Abby knows they’re running out of time so she doesn’t question the command. She quickly lights a flame at the end of the rag, and watches as Ellie tosses a well aimed shot right at the Rattler’s feet. His wails fill the air and Ellie doesn’t wait for his body to fall to the ground before she drags Abby to the truck.

Ellie flings the passenger door open and shoves Abby unceremoniously inside, and it’s then that she feels how sore, raw, and throbbing that short walk has left her. She needs to rest. She needs sleep. She needs to find Lev but fuck she still feels like she’s about to die. The blood from her shoulder is staining the seat underneath her, and the truck jolts with the force of Ellie closing the driver’s side door behind her.

The reprieve barely lasts as Abby hears open fire clanging against the side of the truck, and Ellie is cursing up an absolute storm next to her. “ Fuck me , where are they coming from!?”

The car is moving, but Abby feels herself going out again. Her head is pounding, her stomach is churning, and she feels a clammy sweat beading on her forehead.

“Abby!” Ellie shouts. “This is a really bad time to die if that’s what you’re doing.”

More bullets. Ellie is rolling down the window and aiming with her last few shots as she peels the truck forward. Abby’s losing it all again.

She feels herself slip under, the sound of Ellie’s screaming echoing back into nothing.

.x.

The next time Abby comes to, she’s in a bed under a blanket.

Weirdly, the first thing she notices is that she’s ravenous, but her stomach isn’t trying to upturn its contents and she’ll take that as a win. She blinks awake to find everything around her focusing with clarity, and the banging migraine she had after taking so many hits to the face has quieted down to a gentle hum of pain that Abby can thankfully ignore.

She pushes herself up onto her elbows and winces at the pain in her shoulder. It’s wrapped up neatly in bandages, and the rest of the cuts and gashes she notices are patched up with tape and gauze. She peeks under the bandages and sees the knife wound neatly stitched up, and there’s a hazy memory of her jolting awake and feeling when that happened.

Abby swings her legs over the edge of what she realizes is actually just a gurney sat in the middle of a long, dark hallway and feels her body protest. She’s bruised all over for sure, but she palpates her side and luckily nothing feels broken. Battered, sure, but Abby can endure through that. She’s grit her teeth through worse.

The rooms across from her look like ones that were used to triage patients before being funneled through the maze of the emergency room. There are industrial lights looped along the ceiling from the ER entrance to about halfway down the hall before they stop abruptly. If she pauses to listen closely enough, she can hear the clicks of Infected in the distance. Infected that hopefully won’t find their way down here.

“Oh good, you’re awake.”

Abby spins around and finally sees Ellie in all of her clarity. She’s sitting in a wheeled chair, leaning out of one of the triage rooms, and looks like absolute and utter shit. Abby really must have gotten a lot of good punches in because most of Ellie’s bruises look horrific. There’s the beginnings of adrenaline pumping into her chest, and she’s prepared for a fight almost immediately until she remembers that someone who wanted her dead wouldn’t have dragged her out of her grave and patched her up.

She doesn’t have time to be confused before Ellie reaches into her pocket and tosses something Abby’s way. She catches it instinctively, realizing that it’s an expired protein bar.

“You should eat something,” Ellie advises, rolling back into the triage room. “You’ve been out for a while.”

Static and chatter are spilling from the room, and when Abby rounds the corner she finds Ellie crouched over what looks to be an old radio hooked up to the generator that must be running through this floor of the hospital. She’s hearing screams, code words, and talks of runaway uprisings, and Ellie scribbles something onto one of the endless pages of notepad paper that are spread out over an old operating table. There’s a very grisly bowl filled with fresh, blood soaked bandages at her feet that her boot is rhythmically tapping against as she munches on her own snack.

Ellie turns her head again, seeing Abby linger in the doorway. She’s pouring a bottle of pills out in her hand as she talks. “You weren’t kidding when you said they hadn’t cleared this place out. There’s antibiotics in here, can you believe it?”

The tone is too casual, and Abby is eager to ruin it. “What the fuck are you doing?”

“Trying not to die.” She pops a few pills in her mouth and swallows them dry. “Sure you don’t want any? They’re for sure expired, but they’re yummy.”

Abby growls, “Don’t fuck with me. What are you doing?”

Ellie rolls her eyes. Her foot hooks onto one of the wheeled chairs in the room and kicks it in Abby’s direction. “Sit.”

“I’m not sitting with you like we’re buddies, or are we forgetting the part where you almost fucking killed me back there? I told you—”

“If I wanted you dead, you’d be dead. Sit.”

“You tell me where Lev is first,” Abby insists.

“I think you know where the kid is…”

She does — she remembers it, she saw it, so clear in her mind, his face so clear — but there was still a weak hope that Ellie somehow had something to do with it. Or that Ellie pulling her hands off her throat and shooting down Rattlers to save her was just some long handed way of killing Lev just to make Abby hurt worse than she already did. Because the alternative is infinitely worse, and Abby never thought that there would be a worse reality than Ellie getting her hands on the last thing she has left.

If Lev is back with the Rattlers…

“Get me the fuck out of here. I’m going to get him.”

“Hold your horses, you idiot, you don’t even know where he is.”

Abby rushes her, but Ellie doesn’t blink when her face is three inches from her own. “I don’t care!! The longer he’s with them, the higher the chances are that they’re going to finish killing him. I know what these people do, I know what sick fucking games they play, and I’m going to fucking rip them apart if I find out they hurt him.”

“You couldn’t stand on your own two days ago, what the fuck do you think you’re going to do now?”

“It’s been two days!?”

“You could’ve died!” Ellie shouted back. “The two of us aren’t going to be able to do this if you’re upchucking every five seconds because of a blow to the head.”

“What do you mean ‘us’? What’s ‘this’?”

Ellie kicked the chair again. “Would you fucking chill out and listen to me?”

Abby scoffed. “Why should I stay here and listen to a single thing that’s about to come out of your mouth?”

“Alright,” Ellie laughs, and leans her elbows on her knees. “You’re fucked up. You’re weak. You have no weapons. You could barely fight your way out of that camp, let alone fight your way out of me. You have no idea where they took this kid. No idea how many guys they’ve got. No idea which direction to even go in. Even if you did manage to find out where he is, you have no plan for what you’re going to do when you get there. You’re dead in a day, at best, if you don’t sit down and shut up for five minutes.”

Oh, God, there’s a punch brewing in her fists, and Abby so badly wants to dip back into that anger that fueled her in the theater and knock a few of her teeth out. Because she doesn’t understand. Because she took away everything she had and she’s about to make Abby lose the last little bit of light that’s been keeping her happy. Because she tried to kill her again, and maybe she wouldn’t be wincing against the strain of her open wounds if she’d just done as Abby asked and stayed away from her.

But Ellie saved her. She’d be dead if Ellie hadn’t come to kill her. She’d be dead if Ellie hadn’t dragged her half dead all the way here.

Abby relents and straddles the back of the chair that Ellie had offered her, keeping a few feet’s worth of distance if only to prove a petty point. “Where are we?”

“A hospital a little east of Goleta,” Ellie explains. “Found a note on the dashboard of their truck listing out all the supplies they were assigned to get. There’s still Infected further back in those wings that are blocked off, but they hooked up generators through the emergency room like they were planning on sweeping the place clean.”

Abby’s brow goes up. “And you dragged both of us in here?”

“It was a skeleton crew when I got here, just four guys. They sent most of their men to Santa Barbara to clean up and no one has bothered coming around here. You’ve been pretty out of it, so I’ve been here by myself making sure we didn’t die. Had to fucking burn my fingers on my own and everything.”

At Abby’s confused stare, Ellie holds up her left hand where the stumps of her pinky and ring finger are heavily bandaged. “They wouldn’t stop bleeding. Had to cauterize them. Thanks, by the way, I’ve been munching on painkillers and antibiotics since I got here.”

“Good,” Abby snarls, “I hope it fucking hurts.”

Ellie narrows her eyes, but doesn’t take the bait. “Get over here.”

The notepad notes spread out all over the table are hiding a map of California that Ellie has marked up in a way not dissimilar to the map of Seattle that Abby had used to track her down. There are a lot of circles, a lot of question marks, and a lot of arrows curving down the coast.

“So they chatter on a lot of these local frequencies, and I’ve been keeping track of what they say on each one. A lot of them I think are bait, you know, supposed sanctuaries, fake supply exchanges, pretending to be other groups, shit like that.”

Abby rakes a hand through her ruined hair. “Yeah, they fucked me with one of those too.”

Ellie hunts around for a pile of papers that she slides in front of Abby. They’re all covered in an incomprehensible amalgam of words that are crossed out, pointing to others, and have lists to accompany each of them. “There are a couple that they actually use for communicating with each other, but they use a lot of codewords, so it’s been taking me forever to figure it all out. Things got really bad back there, so they’re totally abandoning their Santa Barbara base and taking all their shit with them.”

Abby leans over to stare at the map. “So they’re gone?”

Ellie points to a spot on the map. “Yeah, so this is Santa Barabara. They call this The Nest, base of operations. But they’re basically crawling all over this area, they keep mentioning Goleta and Montecito as their ‘hunting grounds.’” Her finger moves slightly to the left. “We’re here, right outside of Goleta. I took the local roads along the interstate, but you can tell they’ve been clearing out the roads like they’re working their way up the coast to take up more turf.” Ellie traces the shoreline, moving south. “They’re moving everyone out of The Nest and keep mentioning a haul of runaways with their cargo that they’re pushing south. I’m assuming Lev is part of that cargo.”

“South where?”

Ellie’s finger stops on a sprawling city. “They’re regrouping in Los Angeles. Somewhere East of Hollywood and Beverly Hills, that’s all I’ve got. I was hoping you’d be able to fill in some blanks once you woke up.”

Abby rubs at her temples, almost hoping it’ll shake something that she half-heard loose. “I have no idea what’s in LA, they never mentioned it before. The only thing I know for sure is who took Lev.”

Ellie’s eyes widen in interest. “You know what they look like?”

His face flashes in her memory with near perfect clarity. “It’s a guy. Young, but older than us. Fucked up. Missing an ear. Scar on his face. Tattoo. I could pick him out easy.”

“That’s a start,” Ellie shrugs, “worth listening out for. Anything else?”

Abby eyes fall back to the map, this time grabbing for the pen on the table and uncapping it with her teeth. She draws a line from their current location to a town just a few miles short of a long stretch of mountains and state parks that separate the northern coast from Los Angeles. “I used to hear them talk about this place. Ventura. They’ve been taking boats here and carving it out for supplies. Food, ammo, clothes, shit like that.”

“Ventura…” Ellie mutters, staring back at her notes. “They never mentioned it, but they’re probably using a codeword for it. Makes sense if it’s got as many supplies as you’re saying.”

“Do you know if they took boats when they mentioned going to LA?”

“Nah, they’re on the road. Too much to take by boat.”

“How’s that truck doing?”

Ellie snorts. “Fucked to all hell, I barely got it here. Probably not a good idea to stay on the roads anyway. But I’m betting there’s still some boats beached back by those mansions.”

“Perfect. I’ll stock up in Ventura and head to LA.”

Ellie counts a few thumb lengths between Santa Barabara and Ventura. “That’s a good 30 miles…”

Owen’s boat could’ve handled that trip and then some, but Abby sincerely doubts it’s still beached where she and Lev left it. “On a couple of tanks of gas, those boats can take it.”

“I passed a few cars and some gas tanks on the way here. No idea if there’s anything in them, but worth a try. They kept a canister and a siphon hose in the truck.”

Good enough. “Weapons?”

Ellie reaches under the operating table and pulls out a semi-auto rifle not unlike the ones that Abby used to favor whenever she was sent on assignment for Isaac. Abby checks the mag— not a lot of ammo, but something was something — while Ellie slides her a smaller pistol still slipped into its holster. “Swiped some from the truck. Plenty of medical supplies to keep us going for a while.”

Abby slowly looks up from the gun. “You keep saying ‘us’…”

Ellie’s tongue is pushing against the side of her cheek like it’s killing her to say what’s pushing right against her teeth. She ends up not being able to say it without staring down into her lap. “I’m gonna have to go with you.”

“Like fuck you are,” Abby snarls.

“Listen, I don’t like it either” Ellie bites back. “But do I need to lay out your odds again?”

“I don’t need you to do shit. I don’t need your help, and I’m definitely not roughing it with you.”

Ellie’s hand comes down on the barrel of the rifle right as Abby moves to swing it over her shoulder. “Lev is going to die if you go by yourself,” she explains. “ You are going to die if you go by yourself.”

Abby tries to yank the gun back, but Ellie’s grip is unrelenting. “That’s rich coming from the bitch that hiked all the way to California just to kill me.”

“You’re alive and sitting here because of me,” and Ellie looks so self important as she says it, like Abby should be throwing herself on the floor and licking her boots clean for a favor that she never asked for. Like Ellie is some savior that was plucked out of space and put right in front of Abby’s nose and not some disgusting specter that won’t leave her be, that will keep destroying whatever small pockets of peace she’s able to carve out for herself.

It makes Abby want to hurt her again, and when her hand closes around a surgical tray sitting on the table and flings it towards Ellie’s head, she’s even more angry when Ellie ducks out of the way and answers with a raised revolver.

Abby’s quick to lift her rifle, and her voice cracks against her screaming. “I told you to stay away from me! You threatened him and backed me into a corner and I lost him because of you. You did this. And now you want to turn this into a goddamn field trip? Fuck you, Ellie.”

“I’m not trying to be your friend, you idiot,” Ellie says — calm, measured, but hands trembling. “I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t die. You’re right. He doesn’t deserve this, and I want to fix it.”

Abby’s finger teases the trigger of her gun. “You’re a little late. Besides, why the fuck would you possibly want to help him? Give me one good reason why I should trust anything you say.”

“Put your fucking gun down!”

“Answer my question!”

Ellie rolls her eyes and moves so quickly that Abby really does almost pull her finger and let a bullet fly, but it’s to toss her gun on the floor and lift her hands clear in the air, a mirror of how Abby had found her in Seattle. Abby doesn’t trust it and keeps her rifle raised high.

“Listen, I get it,” she begins, and Ellie has to swallow a couple of times before she finds the words she wants. “It’s not my first or tenth choice. But…I saw him hold you back. Dina is alive with a big, fat, happy baby because of him, I didn’t forget that.”

Abby remembers the girl that had rushed her in the theater — the pregnant girl. The girl she almost killed in Mel’s honor. The girl Lev thanked Abby afterwards for not killing.

“He’s a good kid,” Ellie continues. “I only threatened him to get you to fight, and that was nasty, I know. But these people are beyond fucked, Abby, you know that. They will kill him if we don’t kill them first.”

It’s either them or us, Isaac used to tell Abby every time he slapped her with bigger, more important assignments that always reduced down to the same goal — kill anything before it kills us first. Isaac made justice sound so beautiful and so righteous, and it always felt deserved until Abby couldn’t shake the thought of Lev poised over his sister’s unconscious body with one bow, six arrows, and an army of Wolves waiting to destroy his life all because he was trying to keep his own safe. The difference between right and wrong, between your people and theirs, was so muddy now that Abby didn’t even want to bother parsing it out.

She just wanted Lev — Lev, who helped her feel like a better person.

Abby shut her eyes and finally lowered her rifle. Ellie was right, and that reality just made her bones feel heavy. “I told him I was tired of killing people,” she mutters.

“These people are sadists, they deserve to die—”

“That’s not what I mean,” Abby sighs. “We were going to go somewhere safe where neither of us would have to do this again. I was supposed to take him somewhere safe.”

“And you will.” Ellie reaches out slowly, and Abby lets her take the rifle from her before setting it gently on the table. “But you have to get him back first, and you have to do this smart.”

Abby snorts. “Going in with two people is far from smart.”

“But going in with a plan is.” Ellie shuffles through the transmission notes and pulls out a notebook that was buried underneath it all. She flips to a fresh page and starts writing. “We need gas. Ammo. A couple of days of food. More guns. And any supplies that we can scrounge up. We’ll take what we can from here, scrape out whatever’s left in Santa Barbara, and clean out Ventura. Stay along the coast, save our strength up for LA, and then we’ll hit them hard when they’re not expecting it. The two of us can handle that.”

There are a lot of variables missing, and that’s assuming a stellar performance from them both when the two of them have very likely seen better days. But it’s a plan, and Abby does feel better knowing they have one. “When do we leave?”

“Depends, how do you feel?”

“Like shit,” Abby shrugs, “but I can walk and shoot and that’s what matters.”

“Then let’s give it a couple of hours. They’re still pulling in units south, so once I stop hearing chatter nearby we’ll head out.” Ellie digs into her jean pockets and pulls out a couple of plastic bottles of unmarked pills. “Eat. Take your medicine. Seriously, I like actually fucked your shoulder up pretty bad.”

Abby rolls her eyes, but can’t ignore just how hungry and in pain she is. She’s ripping into her protein bar with her teeth and taking a bite when she asks, “If we’re gonna do this, I need you to swear me something.”

Ellie leans back and turns up the volume of the radio, but nods her head. “Okay.”

“Swear to me that this thing between us is done. I meant it, I’m not doing this anymore, but I will kill you if you try me again.”

Ellie picks at the bandages around her two severed fingers. “You don’t have to worry about that. I stopped for a reason, so…I swear.”

There’s a quiet in her voice that Abby can’t help but poke at. “Why’d you stop?”

The answer comes slowly, and Ellie’s shoulders slope down in the same way they did when she had sat pathetically in the water, clutched her fingers, and curled inside herself. It reminded her too much of the first time Abby was left alone after she’d killed Joel. She took a hike a mile away, laid down in the snow, and cried until her tear tracks had frozen on her cheeks. She thought of her Dad, but she also thought about Ellie. Ellie, who she forced to watch it all happen and whose screams still stay stuck in her head when she dreams. It’s so tempting to know if someone else understood — if Ellie thought of someone when her fingers left Abby’s throat.

“It wasn’t going to fix anything,” Ellie finally says, barely a whisper. “I’m tired of killing too.”

That makes Abby’s heart sink. “We’re about to kill a lot of people.”

“I know. But it’ll be to fix something important.”

“But this isn’t your fight,” Abby explains. “You keep skipping over the fact that you could die too. That girl had her baby, didn’t she? Don’t you have people that are waiting for you, people to go back to? Why would you risk that?”

Ellie’s chuckle is hollow, and the look she gives Abby makes it clear that she’s treading close to a sore wound. But it’s an answer Abby is owed if this is the path they’re planning on trodding, and she knows that Ellie understands this. “I lost everything that mattered. And what wasn’t taken from me, I ruined. Whoever I left behind to come after you isn’t waiting for me.”

“So here you are?”

Ellie nods. “I don’t know, I just…I feel like I need to win back some karma. Even it out, you know?”

Lighten the load. Abby understands that. She can work with that for now.

Her foot comes out and taps against the leg of Ellie’s chair. “You went through a lot to get me out of there. I didn’t thank you for that.”

She gets a smug grin in return, but Abby can swallow her pride for a second if only so that this partnership of theirs works. But Ellie surprises her when she crosses the distance and holds her hand out in between them, a piece of her own pride in return. “I’ll swear you something else. I’ll help you do whatever you need done to get Lev back. You can put a bullet in me if I don’t make good on that. We’ll get these sons of bitches. Deal?”

A handshake. Simple. Business. Abby can handle business, and she can handle a straightforward job where she knows exactly what she’s supposed to be shooting at. What she can’t handle is this distorted, gnarled mess that’s left in between them. The mess that involves too much blood, too much anger, and too many bodies. There’s things Abby could say, and she’s sure Ellie can find a lot to fling right back at her. But Ellie doesn’t seem interested in bringing it up, and Abby is more than happy to keep the past exactly where it was.

Lev. This was for Lev.

Abby keeps her shake firm and honest. “Alright then. Let’s do this.”

#tlou2 #tlou #the last of us #ellabs #ellie x abby #ellie williams #abby anderson #the last of us fanfiction #ellabs fanfiction #my writing #kiss the blood off my cheek

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risfics · 3 years

Text

title: hint of you

genre: smut

pairing: armin x reader

tags: ooc Armin, modern AU, cheating, blow job, premature ejaculation, stalker!Armin, eremin (referenced, not actually within the fic), references to a possible abusive relationship

summary: Armin had been sneaking into your home to admire you from inside your closet, pleasuring himself to you every night for two months.

A/N: I couldn't get creepy boy Armin out of my head idk 😩 wrote this on my notes app on a whim so it's not that good lmfao

Armin held your dirty panties in his hand; he noted the stains on it, knowing your fluids and sweat had bleached it. he placed the garment against his nose, taking in your scent and letting out a drawn out sigh.

he wasn't scared of the possibility of you hearing him, in fact, it drove him further over the edge-you were in the shower anyways-he was stuck in your closet, he had time. he rubbed the piece of cloth against his face, sighing, wondering what it would be like to feel your skin against his. his face flushed as he felt his nipples harden, arousal overtaking his mind. he noted the bulge forming in his pants, shaking his head.

"ahh... not now" he whispered, rubbing his legs together.

the blonde boy brought your underwear towards his lips, taking an experimental lick. his pupils dilated as he felt his mind spin out of control, letting out a grunt.

"ah, fuck." he cursed. he began sucking on your underwear, his breathing becoming exaggerated. you tasted like no other girl he'd tasted before, and it drove him insane. he wishes deeply he'd never met you, never had to help you with your uni work, or see that beautiful, aloof smile constantly plastered on your face. you were so fucking dumb, and he loved that about you.

he felt his nipples through his shirt with his free hand, twisting and pulling. he pictured you, the way you would sometimes lay on your bed directly in front of the closet door and touch yourself. how you would moan out indecipherable phrases, or bounce on your pillow, humping it mindlessly; your tits looked beautiful with the moonlight shining on them. sometimes he felt as though you were doing it just for him.

he sighed, looking down at his bulge. his hand went towards his crotch, feeling himself through his pants. his mouth was wet with his own saliva, dribbles of it falling off his chin as he moaned and gnawed on your undergarment. his fingers entered his pants, feeling his hard cock; there was precum smeared all over it, and it was so warm. he knew he shouldn't touch himself, he should leave and do it in the safety of his home, but he needed to satisfy himself now.

he freed his cock from his pants, gripping it gently-he took your pantie into his dominant hand, stroking his member gently with it. he decided he should finish quickly, but oh my fucking god, how he wanted to savor this moment. he watched as your pantie slid gently on and off his cock, and he could only imagine himself disappearing in and out of your cunt. he began to pant, pressing his other hand against his mouth as he rutted against your underwear.

"what the fuck are you doing here?"

Armin stopped mid thrust, noticing a knife pointed towards his face. panic overtook him. his body began to shake, and he dropped your underwear on the floor.

you watched him with a glare he'd never seen on your face before, a new expression to him-a different person from the one he knew in uni. your eyes didn't shine, it was like there was nothing behind them. he scrambled, trying to conceal his hard member under his pants again, but your hand came forward, slapping his away harshly.

"you break into my place on different days of the week, stay inside my closet to watch me, masturbate to me every night you're over for two months straight... and suddenly you're shy and want to hide?" your eyes widened slightly. you placed the knife against his cheek, grazing it over his cheekbone, and drawing out a small trickle of blood. he yelped.

'this is fucking bad, holy shit,' his mind yelled.

Armin felt himself tremble, backing away slowly into the closet. this wasn't the person he remembered in the library-you were sweeter, borderline dumb, constantly asking for help on even the simplest works, and a complete clutz. his heart raced harshly against his chest; his cock twitched, the tip throbbing, looking almost purple. his gaze dropped to the floor, noting you wore a sheer tank top, your nipples visible through it, and only had underwear on as bottoms.

you dropped on to your knees, placing your knife on the ground, quickly grabbing armin's cock. he flinched, pulling back and shaking his head. you watched his reaction, your expression serious.

"what? you don't want me to suck you off?" you asked him, your voice annoyed.

"n- no. i can't, i can't let anyone, AH-" his shaky voice answered when you licked his tip, pulling him slightly forward. you wrapped your pretty lips around his head, engulfing him in warmth. he let out a whimper.

Armin isn't supposed to be getting fucked by other people, his cock and his asshole weren't meant for anyone other than his boyfriend Eren, but you... you were so different from Eren; he wanted you, desperately, but the risk of Eren getting violent if he ever found out there was someone else in Armin's mind was too high, too dangerous... it made him want to do it even more.

his mouth hung open as he watched you lick from his base to his tip; you were making sure his dick was coated in your spit, slick enough to take him into your mouth easily. he was a lot bigger than you'd anticipated, compared to his lean frame and baby face-you'd never guess the length of his dick.

"so this whole time... ah-" he winced as he felt you bob your head forward, taking him fully into your mouth. you looked up at him, gagging on purpose-you had full control of this situation, and you made sure he knew that-your eyes shone, some devilish sparkle overtaking your gaze. he took a deep breath. "you knew I was here?" he asked, his voice strained. you pulled yourself back, holding his member between your fingers, pumping it gently.

"yeah, and every time I touched myself, or fucked my pillow, I was hoping you'd come out and take me." you gave him one of those smiles, the one's that made him think there wasn't a thought behind your eyes, and he was enamored by you all over again.

you took him into your mouth again, bobbing your head back and forth. he thought about gripping your hair, but decided against it, not wanting to push his luck. he leaned against the wall of the closet, breathing hard. your head moved expertly on his dick, and he felt his stomach tighten.

'fuck, i can't cum this early, shit-' he closed his eyes, panting, before opening his mouth.

"aah, auhh- I'm going to cum, I'm so sorry-" he let out quickly, breathlessly. your mouth left his member, pumping it quickly, while your hand went to your tank top, lifting it to give him a full view of your tits. spurts of cum fell on your breasts as he came, letting out a high pitched moan that resembled defeat; he covered his face with both hands, embarrassed to have finished this quickly.

you stared at the white fluid that laid on your chest in fascination. your hand reached towards it, touching it and playing with it; you licked some of it off of your fingers. you wanted all of this inside you so bad. you grabbed what was left of it, and brought it to your folds, moving the underwear you wore to the side.

"wait!" Armin yelled, once he noticed what you were doing, but you were already rubbing your puffy folds, placing your fingers inside of your cunt while looking directly into his terrified face. you squinted your eyes, letting out and exaggerated moan. your fingers came out clean, with nothing but glistening shine on them. you walked up to him, placing your fingers on his lips. he opened his mouth on instinct, being reminded of the things Eren does with him. he sucked your fingers clean, still holding a cautious expression.

and as quickly as he came, he quickly left. on his way home, he hoped Eren wouldn't be able to taste you on his tongue, that he'd have a chance to wash himself and brush his teeth before his boyfriend ever got a hint of you.

#armin x reader #armin arlert x reader #armin arlet x reader #armin smut #armin x reader smut #sprinkle dingers #ri likes to write things

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mrskurono · 3 years

Text

a/n: this is the first installment(?) of the Nori brain rot from ages ago w/a Studio Ghibli vibe, idk man this just happened word count: 2.2k tags: post!Shibuya arc, possible spoilers, blood, violence, cursing(?), heavily Hoizer inspired, kinda edited character(s): Noritoshi Kamo, fem!sorcerer reader pt ll

Curses stank.

In a metaphorical sense yes. But also in a literal sense for you.

These twisted beings permeated your senses like a rot that you could never rid. Unless exorcised they stuck around in your nostril for days. Each one a different smell but all of them stuck in your craw all the same.

Beasts of rancid nature in behaviors and looks. Nothing more than to be exorcised by sorcerers. You learned quickly that exorcising the curses was no different than taking out week old trash.

What you hadn’t planned on was someone doing more than dumping trash on the world. Whatever had happened. Suddenly you were faced with more than just dutiful tasks of keeping non sorcerers safe. A monsoon of trash had been dumped not only on you. But every human in this world.

Your nostrils burned. And you couldn’t be rid of these things quick enough. Each one you exorcised only meant two or three popped up in their place. Never ending. You couldn’t stomach this smell though. It wouldn’t kill you before you got a breath of fresh air.

Glancing around you take a deep breath. Mountain air on the outskirts of Kyoto during this time of year always meant a refreshing break from the city stank. What you smelled wasn’t refreshing. It was that same vile smell you could clearly recall.

A curse. One that was close too.

To thread carefully was to perhaps save your life. Every aspect of daily life ripped from you. As well of millions of others. You had done your part to try and protect those around you. Soon finding it in slight vain as you sought out some place to find your own breath of fresh air in this madness.

‘It’s close....I feel like I’m gonna hurl.’ Thoughts toying with where the curse might have hidden itself. You keep a firm grip on your hilt with every intent to draw it the second the creature made the mistake of slipping up.

Where you could smell it lurking. There was something else. Almost metallic in scent. You ignored it though. Nothing over powered the scent of a curse. You longed for just the sight of these things. Told over and over again how handy it was to have more than one sense open to curses. Each and every time you took a whiff of one, it made you wish nothing more than to just be able to see these creatures instead of smell them as well.

‘Wait-’ Every alarm in your body went off. Snapping around you couldn’t smell the rancid putridness of the curse anymore. That same metallic scent hung around though. You couldn’t identify it. It was something you’d never smelt before but also so familiar.

Each hair on the back of your neck rose. This was an old deserted Buddhist temple. No one should have been here except you and the curse ransacking the place. A safe haven or so you thought. When your instinct told you to step behind one of the structural beams. You were suddenly glad you did.

Mere inches from your face, the gust of an arrow whistled past you. Weapons were not used by curses. Now you understood. That smell was human.

Quick to defend yourself, with sword drawn, you didn’t expect the same arrow to make a hard one eighty back in the direction you were. No wooden pillar to save you now. You raise your sword just quick enough to sheer the object in half. Rendering what ever power it was imbued with useless. As it had sped past you though the faint smell of iron suddenly became strong. Whatever it was from had a source. Likely human.

Not ready to give up your ideal hiding place to some interloper. You take only a second to focus on the unfamiliar smell. Faint. And not like a curse. There was something towards the back of the temple though that hinted that they were lurking where you couldn’t see them.

With an idea of where the attack would come from. When another arrow came flying by you from a faceless source, you were ready. Smacking it down before the enchanted weapon could turn on you like the first had. This time though you’d seen what angle the projectile was fired from.

‘Gotcha,’ No shortage of ways around a deteriorated temple like this. You duck down through a few broken beams and make your way up to where the attack came from.

Expecting to have but a lowly sniper sitting with no way to guard themselves. You find no one. But the scent lingered. Scrutinizing it closer you decided maybe to use a different sense, “...Hey, I know you’re not a curse! Neither am I! Maybe if you just-” Words cut off by another arrow whizzing past you. There was nothing ruder than being interrupted. Glowering in the direction that the arrow came from now you tightened you grip on your sword, “Ok! I get it- Strangers we might not-”

Another arrow. This time too close to your head for comfort. You lost your patience with the third one.

Recklessly charging towards the assailant was clearly enough to throw their game off track. Swinging your weapon before seeing what it was to lie before you. It was a surprise when your blade met with the dull thud of the wooden limb of a bow.

“What the-” You attack deflected for the moment being. Your first instinct is to jump back from whoever deflected your attack. In close enough range you thought you had the upper hand to avoid the bow. But that was purely lazy thinking on your part as the cause of the stank of iron became clear.

“Slicing exorcism!” This nobody who reeked of iron shot what looked to be a shuriken made of blood at you.

No time to be disgusted. An overwhelming scent of blood made it apparent what you’d been smelling. It wasn’t a simple metal. It was blood.

“Oh- Oh!” You raise your blade up in the nick of time to just get the splatter of cold liquid on your cheeks. Disgusted in passing you have no time to dwell as the stranger before you makes to dart away. With their head of dark hair in your line of sight, you weren’t ready to try and re-find them once again in this maze of debris.

Lurching forward you feel the upper hand stall when they stopped your attack once more with the brute of their bow. Clear view of them now. The man who’d clearly fired the arrows was all but composed when shaking off your attack. No way to not suspect another sorcerer caught up in this giant trash heap of curse attacks. You still have no time to play nice when they hurl another blood conjured weapon at you.

In such suddenness you are less lucky than you have been. This one catching your cheek and causing a sting to spread throughout the skin of your face. Fed up with this game you don’t care if he’s a sorcerer or not. This was a one for all situation now that you intended to win.

Firm foot hold found. You realize the man has cornered himself at this point. Range attacks out of the question. Undoubtedly giving you the upper hand now. With a hefty swing of your sword and the first time you’d channeled any energy into at all. You bring it down like a guillotine. Ready to strike flesh. Instead the snap of the bow is your first sign of an upper hand.

All but trash the man throws it aside but too slowly. You’re on him before the range attacker can pull that weird blood trick again. Slight intent to kill as if he were a curse. You swipe your foot down and knock him down to the temple floor with a hard thud.

You waste no time between the moment his head hit the ground and your above him. Tip of your blade pressed to his neck. One breath too deep from him and the sharp tip would pierce his pale skin. Eyes fixated down on him you realize in the moments after your adrenaline fades that he’s staring right up at you.

Sharp tongue your words come out curt only to be interruped right away, “Who are-”

“Another sorcerer-” His eyes open from the slits they’d remained in the skirmish, “What are you doing here? How did you-”

“I get to ask the questions!” You snarl, jabbing his throat with your sword just enough to watch a crimson bead peak from under the tip of your weapon, “You attacked me, what are you doing up here? Why were you-”

“...you’re so pretty-” Suddenly his eyes open wide realizing what he said, “Wait I didn’t-”

“Shut up or I’ll cut your throat out!” Your sword pressing uncomfortably into the side of his neck now, “I asked you a question! Why are you up here!?”

“Kamo-”

“What? What are you-”

“Kamo family!” He quickly sputtered, “Head of the Kamo family!”

The name rang a bell somewhere in your frazzled brain.

“I’m the head-” He suddenly registered really the blade to his neck, “I’m looking for stragglers-”

“In an abandoned temple?” You weren’t buying it.

“My people live just down the hill,” He spoke earnestly, “I had to keep the stragglers safe when the curses released from their seals in the keep. Some where up here but-”

“I killed them,” You glared down at him, “I killed all but the one you shot. How long were you up here? Were you following me?”

A shake of his head even as he stared at the glimmer of your sword, “No. I was looking for anyone who came up here. I didn’t expect to find another sorcerer. I felt your cursed energy and assumed you were a curse.”

Eyes narrowing you didn’t like the sound of something so simple to this pretty face, “...I don’t believe you. Give me a reason I shouldn’t kill you right now or else-”

“Noritoshi-” He blurted out, “Noritoshi Kamo. Head of the Kamo family. I can give you some place safe to stay. I don’t understand what’s going on but-”

You lift the blade from his throat. Something about the diligent tone in his voice. Like he’d introduced himself like that a million times. You could kill him but it seemed a waste. Weapon retracted but no offer to help him up. You stand above him with a confounded glare, “...do you know what’s happening?”

His head shook and your stomach dropped. Noritoshi didn’t get up. Only propping himself up slightly when he realized the back of his head was thumping from the impact, “....A special grade curse released a powerful seal in Shibuya about two weeks ago...I saw but....” His face became somber and he shook his head once again, “...I don’t know what’s been going on. I just know things are in disarray and it’s my duty to protect my people.”

Once more you were skeptical but with how little rest you’d gotten in the past few days due to the tremendous increase in curses. This man’s words seemed as solid as any other theory you’d heard. More so than the plea of non sorcerer’s you listened to day in and day out about the end of times.

“...Has the Jujutsu elders said anything?” You step off him completely. If he was speaking the truth maybe he knew what was going on as an actual heir to one of the clans.

Noritoshi looked up at you a moment longer, “No...there’s been a wide emergency notice to do what you can but our numbers....” He grew quiet, “...as many sorcerers seem to be dying as the rest of Japan.”

Perhaps the end of times were coming. You grip your sword hilt tight and take a deep breath, “....seems a angel of death is coming then whether we like it or not.”

“You’re a sorcerer.” He began to get to his feet, “Please, come with me. If anything to stay away from here. There is a grave yard on the other side of the thicket. More curses will come. No one should be here even as a sorcerer yourself.”

First hand you’d seen the influx he spoke of. From every direction. While out of the city provided some safety you knew that this place left you as vulnerable as any other if you stayed alone. With no words to be spoken of from the elders. And an age of curses threatening to crowd out humans. Like a trash pile reaching it’s capacity. You didn’t see much choice in this one.

“...I will kill you if I find out you’re lying to me.” Voice firm without breaking eye contact with him as you sheath your sword, “I smell one curse in this safe space of yours and I’ll-”

“Kill me, yes,” Noritoshi nodded with both busted ends of his bow in his hands as he looked on at you, “I am not lying but if you see fit, I’ll accept you as my angel of death then.”

a/n: I have one wine cooler in me as I finish this. This might be a multi part if the inspiration finds me. Anyways, um, yeah! This is an old idea coming so pls let me know if you liked it!

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #jjk noritoshi #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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kkodzvken · 3 years

Note

Glad to see that you’re back! If requests are open, could I ask for more about the band AU that you’ve been teasing?

aaaaa thank u angel!! requests r certainly open (and much appreciated bc i need to get back into the groove lol) and i am always thinkin band au thoughts ksjfjdks

although my brain is quite fried rn so i’ll add more later, but here’s some of the stuff i’ve written in my planning doc!!

tags/warnings: notsfw so 18+ only pls, manipulative/toxic relationships, mentions of drug use, infidelity

touya’s the scary one. hes covered in tattoos and metal, and his eyes are as cold as ice. hes scary, but he loves you. he loves you, right? that’s what you want to believe. you repeat it to yourself, even as he’s slamming his hips against yours and biting your lips so hard that they bleed.

truth be told, he knows that it’s wrong. maybe he felt a bit guilty at the beginning, but he’s too far gone to care now. you’ve always been too pure for a man like him, whose blood and brain are sticky with toxins. but you just look so pretty when you’re crying for him. he just can’t help it.

keigo is the golden boy, the songbird with the prettiest voice and even prettier eyes. he’s always so sweet to you, always treats you like you’re something precious. he’s liquid sunshine, and despite your touya telling you to never fucking talk to him, you can’t help but be drawn to his light.

you hate seeing what fame is doing to touya. he’d always loved music, ever since you were kids, but this band is dragging him deeper and deeper away from you. he promises that he loves you, but when he’s on tour, he never spends a night alone. the fame, the drugs, the attention, they all consume him. he gets meaner and meaner, treats you worse and worse.

but at least keigo is there. he’s your light in the darkness, your liquid sunshine who’ll steal you away. when you run, he’s the one that catches you. but you can’t get rid of the sinking feeling of wrongness whenever you’re with him. he’s not touya. he’ll never be touya. even though he whispers the sweetest words against your skin as he fucks you into the mattress. his hands, his tongue, his cock — they all feel good, but they’re not touya.

keigo says he loves you. you’re not sure if you believe him. you’re not sure if you believe touya, either, when he finally pushes past his pride and apologizes. you’re not sure if you can trust a single word that leaves their lips, or a single thought that leaves your brain.

for reference — keigo (singer) n touya (bassist) are in a band, along with tomura (lead guitar) and toga (drums). i have …a whole Lot that ive been thinking about in terms of the relationships between the todorokis and their whole messy dynamic, particularly between enji and touya bc the potential there drives me MAD aksjfndksj enji will definitely be the catalyst for a lot of touya’s actions

i’ve written a fair amount but it’s all just random scenes and flashes and nothing that i’m satisfied w so idk how long until i’ll have something /ready/ but we’ll see!!!! hopefully soon!!!!!!!

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genshin-obsessed · 3 years

Note

time to feed the pocket. The vampire!kazuha hcs you requested, m’lady;

-part of kazuha‘s vampire abilities would be increased senses, specifically smell and hearing, since this fits in quite well with his canon descriptions of being able to hear the sounds of nature in what most people would interpret as silence, just make it a little more literal. And of course, his increased sense of smell would help him detect blood nearby and it’s quality (because I guess that’s how you determine that? Idk make it make sense.)

-in order for kazuha to be on beidous ship and not be found out on being a vampire, everytime he stops on land, he has to in take wayyy more blood than he would if he just had a little bit regularly. Blood has little to no shelf life, so he can drink as much of what he can fresh, and then have a stash that he downs for the next, maybe max 4 days while being on board. There’s stuff that could be done to preserve it, like adding anti-coagulant to stop the blood from being clotted and disgusting, but it would remove a lot of important nutrients and proteins and that’s pretty notable considering blood is one of, if not the, most important part of a vampires diet. So whenever he’s finally off ship? He’s very, very, hungry.

-Compared to most vampires, Kazuha is fairly modern and quite poor. This is because while most vampires rely on long lineages of wealth, by the time Kazuha came to inherit belongings, there was no wealth to speak of, even with his family being more well known. So instead of wearing clothes and using tools that could be hundreds of years old like most vampires, Kazuha has had to supplement with buying new things to make up for getting pretty much nothing from his family line.

-in terms of victims, often, he finds himself drawn towards people who ingest a lot of herbs, probably because of his love towards nature.

hope these were ok, I’m a little dry on ideas rite now and I have a fear of blood so I’ve never been good with vampires. -🐗boar anon

omg boar anon you're too good to me T^T BUT BUT BUT YOU INSPIRED ME TO ADD SOME OF MY OWN!! i seriously hope this doesn't offend you or like?? make you upset >.< but i decided to add some Kazuha x reader hcs cuz why not??? it fits well here, no?? ima go off what you say!

also yours are much better bc im so tired im starting to get a little dizzy- BUT IM ALMOST DONE

also I was tempted to tag this as x reader but I just left it. you can if you want lmao

cut bc I talk about blood ^w^

pre relationship

Kazuha would meet you in Liyue when he's out searching for "food".

I'm sure he can smell all the people around him and they smell really, really good since he's just really hungry! Not that he would just fall prey to his instincts and start attacking everyone

then you would walk by and you'd smell like... nothing (yeah im going against the troupe here lol)

his crimson eyes would follow your figure, causing him to turn his body just to watch you go. He couldn't help it. He had to know you.

Kazuha follows you and somehow manages to introduce himself to you. You're so kind, greeting him with a smile and making his already-dead heart start beating again.

You're so odd, but you're like a breath of fresh air to him (pun intended???)

For the entire time Beidou's docked near Liyue, he spends with you.

Of course, there are days where he can't help but just wonder what your odorless blood would taste like.

Those days where he gets his intense thirsts for blood- days where he's hunched over, grasping at his chest, he can't help but think of you. It would be so easy for him to just take a little bit of your blood- but no! He could never do that!

relationship established

it took Kazuha some time to confess his secret and you were scared in the beginning, who wouldn't be?

the first time kazuha bit you was an accident. He'd ran out of his blood supply, he was hungry, and you were hugging him so tightly.

he couldn't help his instincts. Kuzuha's eyes were glowing and the dryness in his throat could only be quenched with one thing- and you had plenty of it.

he moved so fast, neither of you could react. before kazuha knew it, the blood in your veins was sliding down his throat.

it was sweet and almost tasted like candy to him- it was so addictive. his arms tightened around your waist as he drank away.

you gasped at the pain, shutting your eyes tightly. but you didn't try to push him away, not unless you felt as if you were in danger, but you trusted him enough.

kazuha doesn't drink from you often, he feels bad. There are days where you'll offer- but he'll decline. But there are days where you can barely get the words out before he's inches away from you, ready to bite down.

Kazuha always feels bad after, he's scared he'll hurt you. Yet, he's always so gentle.

he does still go away to sea and you stay behind, but there's a day where he hopes you'll join him. He's never gone for too long and always comes back home to you.

All in all, Kazuha loves you

and your blood

#🌸─ pocket tries #⊱ ─ 🐗 boar anon #look what you did to me lmao #but this was fun #you're awesome <33 #not sure if i should tag #this with a tw?#i mention it beforehand

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arsenicpanda · 3 years

Note

Can you please share a snippet from Angsty Byghead Reunion ?

So like, the premise of this fic is that Jughead and Betty, still broken up and also living way better lives than canon gave them (and there's a chunk of this fic that's dedicated to how they've each rebuilt things post-cheating and post-high school), independently get completely trashed on what would have been their ten year anniversary and sleep with someone who looks like the other because angst, except surprise! They actually slept with each other, and they wake up and think they're dreaming and have a very honest talk and bone and go back to sleep, and then they wake up again and realize, "ohhhh, shit, what did I do?"

So, like, I'm gonna give you a snippet from each section below the cut:

Jughead's life:

Six months into his life in New York and the week of his first book’s publication, he runs into Veronica at one of the many networking parties his publisher makes him attend.

Stuffed into a suit and picking off canape after canape, he finds her avoiding everyone by the bar. A stilted, obligatory conversation of how are you’s and oh, it’s been so long’s morphs into a conversation of (or rather a debate about) classic cinema, the merits and failures of Hitchcock, and whether Breakfast at Tiffany’s is better than In Cold Blood.

“You cannot deny the misogyny in Hitchcock’s films, Torombolo.”

“I’m not; it’s an obvious flaw in his work. But you can’t deny the craft and the influence of his work either.”

“I said no such thing--”

“You implied--”

“I absolutely--”

By the end of the night, they exchange contact information neither had deleted from their phones. Slowly but surely, Veronica is drawn into his life and his friends, dropping bon mots and dragging them to spa days and complaining about her family, her family’s business, her husband—until she leaves them all one crisp winter morning to focus on herself, her business, her friends. They celebrate all weekend, with drinks, brunches, movies, and a trip to the fanciest multi-gender strip club in town.

Betty's life:

Her years at Yale seem happy, filled with friends and, eventually, what seems like a boyfriend, a blonde man who kisses her cheek. The tag on the picture leads him to a guy named Adam, who has picture after picture of Betty on his feed for about a year before they abruptly stop in March of their senior year.

(Not that Jughead checks often, just once or twice.)

After Adam, there’s one woman, Nancy Woods, he thinks, who makes a six month appearance with occasional kisses, but, after that, no one appears who looks like a romantic partner. Still, Jughead’s sure Betty has one and is just keeping them quiet. After all, she’s Betty; who wouldn’t want to date her?

Cheryl makes a few appearances during what must be breaks, often with the twins and just as dramatic always. Cheryl doesn’t have much in the way of pictures of Betty on her feed, mostly just glamorous shots of beautiful women, maple trees, and the yearly tribute to Jason.

But the one constant through all the years is, of all people, Ethel Muggs. She first appears at the beginning of freshman year at Yale, and she is a constant, smiling feature all the way through the present day. How it happens, Jughead doesn’t know, but he’s glad Betty has a friend through it all.

Totes a dream:

Jughead wakes up to the smell of vanilla and soap, to the smell of Betty, and the feeling of someone in his arms who fits into him just right for the first time in seven years. Well, his mind tries to tell him he wakes up, but Jughead knows he must be dreaming. He’s had these dreams before, after all, dreams of Betty and a life together. He should try to wake up, he knows he should, but...he doesn’t want to.

He pulls her closer, buries his nose in her hair; he wants to be closer, as close as he can get. She lets out a little Mmm sound that he remembers from so many early mornings with Betty, and he can’t stop himself from holding her tighter and breathing out, “Betts.”

“Jug?” he hears back, and his heart stops because yes, that’s it, that’s her; her voice is a little deeper than he remembers, but it’s her. His dreams have never been this good at recapturing every little detail of her. No, he normally dreams of memories--playful mornings, exciting investigations, heated nights--but this is different, this is new, quiet and soft and a little sad, but he’s not going to question it.

Wuh-oh, that's real:

Fuck, what does he say? What does he say to this wonderful woman who he let go, who he drifted away from because he was scared?

“I--,” love you, miss you, want you to tell me you weren’t lying in the dream that wasn’t a dream, “--Hi,” he chokes out, instantly berating himself. Seven years of suppressed longing, and that is the best he can do when reuniting with the love of his life?

“Hi,” she returns softly, leaning against her dresser and biting her lip, and, oh, how he wants to free that lip, run his thumb over it gently, only for her to bite him back.

“You,” are still more beautiful than anyone or anything I have ever or will ever see, “look good.”

“You too.”

What is wrong with him? Mere hours ago he was holding her, comforting her, confessing to her, bearing his soul to her, with her, reveling in those early hours of dawn like he had when they were eighteen.

The whole thing is very fragmented, and idk when I'd finish it, but I'm fond of it, very fond of it, especially making Jughead and Betty both bi (it's less obvious in the Jughead snippet I included here, but explicit in another part of the story) because that's important to me. Also, the ANGST, so much angst.

#asks #literarygetaway21 #Riverdale #bughead #fanfiction

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supremeinlilac · 3 years

Text

Count (NSFW)

Pairing: Pre Apocalype!Wilhemina x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3125

Warnings: Caning, bondage, slight degradation(?), just filth I guess

A/N: This is my first time writing anything nsfw (i wrote it before mirror, mirror), so please let me know if there’s anything I can do to improve it. I’m a whore for constructive criticism :)

Tag list idk?: @extraordinarilycelestrial

Anger bubbled through your body as you trampled through the gate at the front of the house you shared with Mina. The porch lights were on, meaning she was already home, despite having left work about an hour after you to catch up with work in the quiet of her office . Jeff and Mutt had been at you all day, chipping away at your patience as you tried your hardest to ignore their stares and inappropriate comments and complete the report you were currently working on.

They had continued even after your polite remark insinuating that you had a lot of work starting to catch up to you, and that they had caught you at the worst possible moment. Mocking and teasing “oooooohs” followed you when you finally slammed your hands firmly onto your desks and asked through gritted teeth that they let you be.

Usually you would relax with Wilhemina over lunch and bitch to her about them and their intolerable attitudes, but today she had been extremely busy as well and kept her office door locked the whole day, much to your disappointment. You found your lunch with a hastily scribbled note that read: when your periods finished, I’ll help relieve that tension you have going on,, J which you scrunched up and tossed in the general direction of the bin, huffing and clenching your jaw to stop yourself from marching over to where the pair of them were sat, mouths set in smug grins watching you from across the room, and slapping one of them across their faces.

To top off all that shit, your car had broken down 10 minutes away from your house on the drive back, which was a 30-minute walk back in the biting wind. Without, unsurprisingly at this point, your coat, which you’d left in the office in your haste to leave. You had no choice but to do just that as your phone decided that today would be the day it would give up on life and refuse to turn on.

Long story short, you’d had just about enough.

You dropped your keys trying to find the right one that would open the front door. You audibly exhaled in a loud impatient groan, wanting nothing more than to collapse onto your bed and lie there until the anger dissipated. Slamming the door closed behind you and throwing your bag down beside the coat rack, you ran your fingers through your hair before stomping up the stairs, ignoring the call Wilhemina gave you from the kitchen.

Flopping down on the bed, you released a long yell that was muffled by the pillows your face was buried in. Still feeling anger after the first yell fell short, you allowed yourself a second scream, hands in your hair now, bunching at the scalp, so unbelievably pissed off that you failed to notice the door click softly closed behind you.

“And just what do you think you are doing?” her voice cut through the silence which now hung in the bedroom, making you jump but remain in the same position, now sulking at your unfortune of the past 8 hours. “Where have you been?” she spoke again, ignoring your lack of response at her first question. Her fingers drummed impatiently on her cane, which was clutched tightly between her two hands; her lips drawn tightly together as she rigidly stood and observed you on the bed.

You decided in that moment that you needed something to take your mind off the day you’d just had, so you clenched your jaw shut and closed your eyes, smirking into the pillow. You knew what you were doing to the older woman stood by the door, but you were in one of your moods, and feeling far to stubborn to give her the satisfaction of your submission.

Wilhemina’s eyes narrowed as she slowly advanced towards the bed, cane tapping threateningly. “Don’t you dare be bratty with me Y/N, don’t think I won’t punish you simply because you’ve had a bad day. Now I’ll give you one more chance to tell me what has got you so annoyed”. You slowly turned around from your position on the bed, a heat settling in your stomach at her tone as you faced her, legs crossed and an innocent smile on your face as you remained silent.

She didn’t even give you time to be surprised, a single yelp escaping your mouth as she lurched forward, gripping your jaw in her hand bruisingly and forcing your head up to look at her. She wore a smirk that made the heat fall straight to your centre, making you overly aware of the throbbing now between your legs. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you pet” her thumb brushed your lower lip and you eagerly took it into your mouth, suckling on it and watching her eyes with your own. Removing it, she wiped it off on your cheek before tutting loudly, “take your clothes off; leave your panties on”.

Your brattiness now long forgotten, you scrambled off the bed in your haste to please the woman before you. The incessant tapping of her cane spurred on your actions, clothes discarded as you stumbled around before standing patiently beside her, arms by your side, the cold of the room prickling your skin as you shivered under her gaze.

She leisurely walked around your fidgeting form, nails dragging across the skin of shoulder behind her before she stopped behind you. You fought the urge to turn to face her, feeling her breath lingering on your shoulder. She deliberately smoothed her flat palms up and down your arms, chuckling at the involuntary reaction your body has at her touch. Leaning forwards and bringing your earlobe between her teeth, she pulled slightly and you couldn’t help the soft moan that left your lips at her action.

As soon as her touch came, it was gone. “Bend over the edge of the bed, hands behind your back.” She commanded, her tone leaving no room for argument on your part, as you did as she requested, sinking to your knees and lowering your torso onto the bed, your bottom up in the air. You felt something smooth and cold slip round your wrists, a ribbon most likely, and restrain your wrists tightly together. Her movements paused, allowing you to test the bonds which failed to give when you tried to escape them.

“Is that okay babygirl?” she checked, stroking your cheek lovingly waiting for your response. When you gave her the go ahead, nodding and letting out a breathy “yes”, she allowed herself to slip back into dominance. Pacing back and forth, she allowed you to suffer in the anticipation for a while, until you whimpered and fidgeted where you lay. “I’m going to give you 10 spanks” she paused, her smirk growing watching you tense, “with my cane. And you’re going to count for me.”

Your eyes widened in surprise and slight fear; she’s never used her cane on you before, only ever using it as a threat when you were pushing your luck and being too bratty for her liking. You couldn’t lie, the thought had also aroused you to no end, being punished with the very thing she relied on so heavily; but you knew Mina was never soft with her punishments. “But you’ve never used the ca-” she cut you off quickly, not in the mood for any backchat now she’d made up her mind what you deserved.

“Do I need to gag you baby? Or are you going to be a good girl for me and be quiet?”

Her sweet, mocking tone made you squirm under her gaze, you shook your head against the sheets. You didn’t want to exacerbate your punishment further, not that you ever held your bratty attitude long when in her commanding presence. Mina smiled, she loved that you so quickly fell in line for her, allowing her as much of the control and power she seeked.

“No, we couldn’t have you gagged could we? Then I wouldn’t be able to hear you counting little one. You will count for me won’t you?” you whimpered, eyes finding hers over your shoulder as she closed in. “I always loose count otherwise, and I’d hate to have to start again” she drawled, the corner of her mouth twitching as she raised her chin, eyes not leaving yours.

“I’ll count” you gasped, her hands coolly massaging your shoulders, drawing out the suspense of the impending caning. She knew full well what she was doing, confident that her patience could hold out extensively, all while you would get impossibly worked up and needy.

“Good girl.” Patting your shoulder, she withdrew her hands and returned behind you, out of your line of vision.

She brought the cane down onto the skin where your thigh met the curve of your ass, your body jolting forward unexpectedly, and you gasped at the feeling, which at first felt hot, blood rushing to the site before the twinge of pain kicked in. “One” you spoke confidently, cheeks flushed as you found yourself eager for her to bring the cane down on you again.

She paused, allowing the anticipation to hang heavily in the air as she ran a single finger slowly down your spine, revelling in how your body shivered under her light touch. She waited just long enough for your guard to come down and you to let out a small breath of relief, before swinging her cane back down onto your cheeks, wood biting at the skin as you let out a yelp of surprise.

Your voice was more raspy this time, the number spoken quickly, your arms straining against their confines, aching to soothe the skin that were now hot where she had landed the strikes. After the third hit, you couldn’t help the shame that ebbed at your mind that you were involuntarily enjoying Wilhemina punishing you; almost as much as she was turned on by the power you allowed her to hold over you. The coupled feeling of both pain and pleasure sent sparks of electricity through your body, as if suddenly being lit by a flickering flame.

Four and five came down on your skin in the exact same place as the third, catching the raw line that marred the skin of your butt and eliciting a hiss from your lips. You counted, voice smaller now as you bit your lip to avoid unwarranted sounds from escaping. The sixth hit was the hardest so far, and your hips bucked backwards involuntarily, not going unnoticed by the older woman who’s eyes darkened and a smirk graced her lips. You weren’t expecting your girlfriend to use such force; or the fact that this was turning you on more than you ever thought it would. Your vision was starting to cloud at the sensation, mind hazy as you focused on the deep throb between your legs.

Her nails digging slightly into the tender flesh of your ass was the only reminder you needed, choking out a strangled “six” before returning to biting the sheets beneath your head. All you could concentrate on was the feeling of yourself trickling shamelessly down the inside of your thigh, praying to god that Mina couldn’t see how this was affecting you. “That was your last warning sweetheart” she cooed, cool palms soothing the sore flesh beneath them in slow rubs.

The final four strikes came in quick succession, Mina not even giving you time to compose yourself in between the hits. This meant you subconsciously let out a low moan at the force of her last cane strike, which was considerably harder than the rest, sending your body forward further into the bed.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you” she scoffed, and you could practically hear the smirk that adorned her features. She ran two fingers up the length of your inner thigh, collecting the juices and holding them up to the light. You bit the sheets between your teeth at her actions, suppressing a moan that threatened to bubble from your throat at her mocking tone.

At the lack of a response, Wilhemina quickly brought her open palm sharply down on your thigh, the sting pulling goosebumps up along the length of your bare back, nipples rubbing uncomfortably against the sheets as you squirmed. She fisted the hair at the nape of your neck tightly, pulling so your ear was aligned with her mouth, her hot breath tickling the shell of your ear as she spoke.

“When I ask you a question, I expect a response baby girl” she drawled, voice low and raspy, making you shiver and let out a shaky breath. “You know I don’t like disobedient little girls now do I?”. You shook your head quickly, eyes screwed shut as her voice went straight to your core, making you squirm in her grasp. She tugged again, warningly. “No god- No Ms Venable, I’ll be a good girl I promise” you spluttered out, moan catching in your throat as she relaxed her grip on your hair, bringing her hand round to your throat, squeezing experimentally.

“It’s a bit late for that- don’t you think little one?” her fingers flexed against your throat, feeling the muscles contract as you swallowed deeply at the feeling. “But since you were such a good girl and took your punishment so well for me, I think I could give you what you want”, you nodded desperately, tears in your eyes as a result of the pain and pleasure of the caning. “Please” you squeaked, no longer caring how needy you sounded to the older woman, only wanting her to give you what you wanted so badly.

Her eyes darkened with lust, pressing the slick fingers to your lips as you gladly took them in, circling them with your tongue as you moaned, the taste of your own arousal on her fingers made you physically ache for her touch, you were now too sensitive to do more than fight the urge to rub your thighs together to relieve the pressure that had built up there. She withdrew her fingers teasingly, coaxing you to turn onto your back while she hovered herself over your fidgeting body, arms either side of your head, propping herself up.

Capturing your lips in a heated kiss, her teeth nipping and pulling at your bottom lip harshly, as she allowed her fingernails to slowly rake down your stomach, red scores in their wake. A sigh left your lips as she grazed over your core, body reacting involuntarily with your hips bucking up to meet her hand.

“You’re dripping wet for me.” She drawled, voice low and dripping with arousal as she taunted you. “My little slut getting so worked up while being punished, tsk tsk tsk” she tutted as you groaned at her words, heat flooding to your core.

She trailed two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal before slipping them into you slowly. Allowing you to adjust to her fingers inside, she kissed along the curve of your jaw, sucking a deep bruise on the underside of it, starting to pull her fingers back out of you and setting herself a quick pace that had you whimpering beneath her.

You bit you lip to quieten the breathy moans you were releasing at her fingers curling inside you with each thrust, and the feeling of Wilhemina’s hot breath on the delicate skin of your neck. “You don’t need to be quiet, little one. I want to hear your sweet little noises.”

You let your head fell back on the pillow, eyes fluttering shut as Wilhemina brought her thumb to circle your clit, adding pressure causing you to jerk up into her and let out a loud moan of pleasure. She quickened her pace inside you, adding another finger and hissing as you clenched around her fingers. “God you’re so tight” she husked in your ear, nipping at the lobe and trailing bites down to the swell of your breast.

You gasped at the feeling of her teeth grazing the hard bud of your nipple, tweaking it between her teeth. You arched your back into her touch. She sucked on your nipple, tongue swirling the bud and pulling back to blow cold air onto the sensitive skin.

She flicked again at your clit, smirking against your other breast at the way your body shivered under her, a little squeak falling from your lips, breathing becoming laboured.

“I’m gunna- oh god- Please, please can I come Mina” you moaned, feeling the familiar wave of an orgasm creeping up on you, tension knotted deep in the pit of your stomach. Her face left the swollen nipple she’d been biting and returned to hover over your face.

“Come for me baby.”

Her fingers continued to stroke against your insides as the orgasm ripped through your body, clenching around the fingers buried inside you, eliciting mewls to drip like liquid from your open lips. The waves kept intensifying as Wilhemina persisted; drawing your orgasm out for as long as she could to prolong the pleasure that rippled through your trembling body.

She let you catch your breath, still trembling beside her after the powerful orgasm she’d given you. Taking the fingers she’d withdrawn from your centre into her mouth, keeping eye contact with you as you let another moan escape your lips at the sight of her tongue circling the digits. Hand coming to curl behind your neck and bringing you towards her for a gentle kiss, allowing you to suck the lingering taste of your arousal off her tongue.

Her nails lightly scratched the skin of your scalp, prompting goosebumps to prickle over your skin despite the sheen of sweat you now wore. “Now baby girl. What are you going to do the next time you have a bad day and get all annoyed?” You whimpered, anytime she used an authoritative voice or questioned you like this making you weak with arousal.

“Answer me.”

“Not be a brat and – oh” you gasped as her hand found your throat, fingers flexing and squeezing in warning. “And tell you why I’m annoyed” you blurted out, cheeks flushed pink at the control the older woman had over your body.

“Good girl.” She patted your jaw twice, smiling, before moving to lie back against the cushions next to you. “Because you know that I can make you forget all about your bad day don’t you honey?” you nodded at her, eyes glazed over in admiration at how she could unravel you with only her words and make you forget whatever was on your mind.

“Now come here and apologise to me properly”

#sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #sarah paulson #ahs #ahs apocalypse #american horror story #sarah paulson imagine #ahs imagine

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iboughtaplant · 3 years

Text

I tried to write angst! Here is a short Geraskier fic I wrote based on the Regina Spektor song Samson.

A Pair of Dull Scissors in the Yellow Light

Rating: T

Warnings: no archive warnings

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier

Tags: Established Relationship, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Blood, Head Injury, Haircuts, Sort Of, Songfic, Song: Samson (Regina Spektor), a lot about Geralt's hair, I love Geralt's long hair so idk why I wrote a fic about his hair being chopped off

Read it on AO3

Geralt’s hair had always been long the whole time Jaskier knew him. Granted, Jaskier hadn’t known Geralt for very long compared to how old the witcher was.

When he first saw him, Jaskier was drawn to the quiet witcher seated in the corner. His long silver-white hair framing his handsome face. He was then of course drawn to the medallion and swords that marked him as a witcher. Not just excited to talk to a pretty face, but to hear the stories he could tell.

They might not have got off to the best start, but Jaskier...he loved Geralt. It might have been a bit of hero worship at first, this brave, strong witcher with a heart of gold. Branded as a mutant, a butcher, the stuff of nightmares in stories told to small children. But Jaskier loved him first. He loved Geralt above all else. His lute might be a close second, but that didn’t detract from the fact that he loved Geralt first.

It also meant he was already head over heels in love with Geralt when Geralt finally confessed that the love was mutual a few years into their friendship.

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

Soon after Geralt confessed his feelings, Jaskier also learned about how Geralt’s long hair was linked to his witcher abilities. He already knew that its silver-white color was due to Geralt’s mutagens, but he hadn’t known there was more to it.

They were in Oxenfurt and Jaskier’s hair was getting too long for his liking, so it was the perfect excuse to spend some of the coin he earned playing in a tavern the night before on a proper haircut from a barber.

“Geralt, you should come with me. I am sure I have enough coin to pay for you to get your hair trimmed.”

“It’s fine, Jaskier. It doesn’t need to be cut.”

“Well maybe it doesn’t need it, but a haircut can be nice and relaxing. I know you love when I wash your hair for you, and they will do that at the barber’s as well.”

“No, Jaskier, it doesn’t need to be cut because it is always the same length.”

“But doesn’t your hair grow? Is it magic that keeps it from growing out of control?” Jaskier asked.

Geralt answered with a “hmm.” He took a long pause before saying more. “It must be tied to the spells the mages used, however they might have changed the mutagens. I don’t know. I don’t cut my hair. And it doesn’t grow past a certain length.”

Geralt then told Jaskier that due to some odd reaction between his body, the extra mutagens, and the magic of the mages his hair was cursed to be tied to the abilities and heightened senses the mutagens afforded him.

Jaskier had thought that Geralt’s long hair had been his one vanity. But of course it was yet another thing out of his control. But it made him curious if Geralt was the only witcher whose hair was tied to his powers.

“I’ve never heard of another witcher with white hair like yours,” Jaskier said. He didn’t want to ask a more pointed question.

“Because I’m the only,” Geralt said, voice thick with emotion. “The only one to receive a second dose of mutagens. Well the only one to survive it at least. The mages experimented on others before me, but I was the only one to survive the ordeal.”

“That’s awful, my love. I’m sorry you had to endure that.” He paused. “And I know it won’t make you feel better about it, but it is quite dashing, if I do say so.” Jaskier said, edging closer to Geralt and running his nimble fingers through the soft strands.

“How about I forgo the haircut and we can spend our coin on that nice soap you pretend you don’t like. I’ll wash your hair for you. And then we can braid it. A bit of a change even if you can’t cut it.”

“I’d like that,” Geralt said in a soft voice.

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

The yellow-orange light of the campfire made everything glow. The atmosphere felt far more comfortable than the current situation. But Jaskier was thankful for the light it granted. Jaskier scrambled to dig his scissors out of his pack and make his way back to Geralt, unconscious on the ground, only his thin bedroll under him.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Jaskier whispered through his tears to Geralt’s unconscious form as he took the scissors—considerably duller than he would have liked, he had forgotten to ask Geralt to sharpen them for him recently—and began to cut away Geralt’s silver locks that were stained red by blood and gore matted in them.

Unfortunately, most, if not all, of the blood belonged to Geralt, the gore belonging to the beast he killed, but not before it almost killed him.

Jaskier’s hands were shaking, he had to grip the scissors with both hands, one hand supporting the other. He had to cut Geralt’s hair. He had to. They were in the middle of a forest, in the middle of nowhere. No towns were close enough to travel to with an injured witcher. Not to mention the fact that Geralt had already been running low on potions. They were going to restock on potion ingredients in the next town they visited. But again said town was too far to travel when Geralt was severely injured and Jaskier was only human, and would not make it there and back with help in time.

The gash on the back of his skull was nasty. Jaskier knew that head wounds bled profusely regardless of their severity, but this one was quite bad and even a witcher could die from bleeding out.

He kept whispering apologies to an unconscious Geralt as he cut away, piece by piece, the tangled, matted hair and clumps of monster gore to better see the wound. The bleeding had hardly slowed, and Geralt had also lost blood from a thin slice down his side. At least the bleeding of that wound had slowed and Jaskier had been able to crumple up one of their shirts to put pressure on it and wrap a bandage around it.

The head wound was much more worrying. Once Geralt’s hair was mostly cut away, Jaskier was able to clean the wound with the water from his water skin, some alcohol from a flask as an antiseptic.

It was a rough job, but at least the wound was cleaned and the bleeding finally slowed. From his kneeling position, Jaskier finally sank down onto his heels. He could feel the sticky tear tracks down his cheeks. He ran his hands through his hair, pushing it back from his face. He felt the tackiness of the blood still on his hands.

Geralt’s hair had been covered in blood, only fitting that his was now. Geralt’s blood. It was Geralt’s blood on his hands and he hated it.

Once the adrenaline started to wear off, Jaskier realized his hands were shaking again. Or maybe they had been shaking the whole time. It was still an odd sensation as his hands were always steady. Geralt pointed it out many a time when he had to guide Jaskier through stitching him up over the years.

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

Once Jaskier was done stitching and bandaging, all he could do was wait. Sit and wait for Geralt to wake up. He felt anxious and tired at the same time. Excess energy thrummed through him while his limbs felt heavy like lead.

He looked at his lute, but felt no compulsion to play it. He should probably eat, but any food would probably taste like ash in his mouth.

He laid back on his bedroll and tried to relax. He would be no use to Geralt when he woke up, if he was keyed up and anxious. He sighed and stretched out, his arms pillowed beneath his head as he stared up at the sky.

The stars were bright, twinkling spots of light speckling the inky sky. It made the world feel big, and made him feel small. He was but a small speck in the grand scheme of things. He glanced over at Geralt and felt a smile cross his face. Geralt was more beautiful than all the stars in the sky and twice as bright. The stars were just old light.

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

Jaskier was woken up by Geralt sitting down on the edge of his bedroll. He didn't even remember falling asleep. Geralt was slow to sit down as he leaned against Jaskier’s legs, his injuries taking a toll. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he wanted to know if it was more than usual. Was Geralt human now? Did his witcher healing at least do its part before Jaskier cut his hair?

He was pulled out of his spiral when Geralt spoke. “Your hair’s red.” Geralt said in a slur.

“What?” Jaskier asked, scandalized and afraid. Of course of all things Geralt was focusing on his hair, oh the irony. Jaskier also had the thought that somehow Geralt was seeing the blood in his hair from when he ran his hands through it earlier.

“In the light, looks red,” Geralt mumbled. “You’re beautiful.”

“Oh, Geralt.” Jaskier sobbed. In the light of the fire—that he somehow managed to keep burning—his hair looked red. He buried his head in his hands, still curled up on his bedroll. He felt his tears plastering his hands to his face. He couldn’t look at Geralt. He couldn’t face his honey-golden eyes, full of softness that betrayed his hard edges.

He essentially killed the man he loved. Maybe that was a bit dramatic. But Geralt is, well was a witcher. Jaskier just took that away from him when he chopped all of his hair off. His beautiful silver hair. Jaskier knew that Geralt was more than his hair, he almost cried when Geralt admitted that he loved when Jaskier told him all the things he loved about him and his hair wasn’t near the top of the list.

Geralt leaned more heavily into Jaskier and sighed. Jaskier removed his hands from his face and looked up at the love of his life, his greatest downfall. He stifled another sob that threatened to come out and looked at Geralt.

“My head hurts.” Geralt said in a small voice that was out of character for him. He sounded so vulnerable.

“You had, well have, a head wound. It was bad. Oh Geralt it was so bad. There was so much blood. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“You saved me.”

“But at what cost, my love?”

Geralt didn’t answer his question. He just said, “My hair’s gone isn’t it.”

Jaskier sat up and wrapped his arms around Geralt, situating himself behind him so Geralt was in the vee of his legs, still on Jaskier’s bedroll, Geralt’s abandoned a few feet away.

“I’m so sorry,” he muttered wetly into Geralt’s shoulder, lightly trailing his fingers down Geralt’s arm.

“You did good, Jask.”

“Don’t tell me that. How can you say that? I took it. I took your strength. I took it all. I-I, I hurt you.”

“No, the monster hurt me, you saved me.”

“Are you even a witcher anymore? Can you tell? If I took that away from you, I-”

“I never wanted to be a witcher, Jask,” Geralt said as he leaned his head back against Jaskier. He let out a slight hiss of pain and Jaskier felt a hand was squeezing his heart at the sound.

“I’m sorry. I am. But I had to save you. I couldn’t watch you bleed out. It was the only way.”

“You did alright, Jaskier.” He paused. “Wanna see you, help me turn around.”

Jaskier sucked in a breath. He knew he would have to meet Geralt’s eyes eventually. He helped Geralt turn around in his arms and supported most of his weight as he leaned into Jaskier. He looked into Jaskier’s eyes and Jaskier looked back. He looked into those honey-gold eyes and he felt settled. Geralt wasn’t mad. Jaskier took in Geralt’s face. It was clean, Jaskier had made sure of that. And his hair, of course, was short. Silver strands cropped close to his scalp, uneven in a few—well many—places. The bandages wrapped around the crown of his head. He was beautiful.

Geralt kissed Jaskier then. And Jaskier kissed back. Geralt kept kissing him. Soft, gentle kisses. Comforting kisses. They laid down on Jaskier’s bedroll, Jaskier pulling Geralt’s body on top of his own so he could support him, so his head wouldn’t touch the ground. Geralt insisted on kissing him more. He kissed him until the morning light broke through the trees of the forest surrounding them in golden light.

#the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #songfic #jaskier #my writing

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wickedgamesoyaoya · 3 years

Note

Captain I see you have requests open🥺🥺🥺🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳 if you don't mind can pretty please have Akaashi angsty to fluff if you can if not then only fluffy🥺🥺🥺🥺 it can be smau or written which youd like and can it please be the 15❤️❤️❤️❤️

The venomous wavelengths shooting through the high school hallways did not begin quietly. The sound erupted without warning the second the status of your relationship with Akaashi Keiji was revealed. Although, no one was truly interested in you, the problem was who you had chosen as your partner. The setter for Fukurodani’s boy’s volleyball club was titled a prince of the academy, sharing that title with the captain, Bokuto Koutarou. But the titles thrust upon individuals by the student body did not hold much weight to someone who had moved to the school recently. And it would hold no weight to someone who merely wanted a friend, but accidentally discovered much more.

“Hey, y/n. You okay?” Concern decorated Akaashi’s delicate features, a sight that had the power to bathe your heart in temporary relief. If only you could bottle the properties of his affection for later use, that way you could survive the emotional hits that were awaiting you once he left for class.

“I’m fine.” The response has become automatic at this point, requiring little mental process. It had been two weeks since you had acquired a target on your back. And Akaashi was blissfully unaware of the whispers that were casually transported from one mouth to the other. The commentary was never meant for his ears. Every time he emerged from the crowd to join your side, the conductor would silence the orchestra, with each player obediently complying.

You should have told him about it; you knew that. But instead you chose to battle the storm on your own. Akaashi had other matters on his mind – why would you add to the numerous anxieties that fogged the space around him?

“I’ll see you after class, okay?” The limited pain relief his presence granted you was used to present a confident smile. As always, you would ease his worries, just the way he eased yours.

“Okay. But if something happens, or you need me… Text me.” The way he scanned your face flooded your stomach with nausea, yet the smile remained plastered, unwavering.

You would be his courage; you would be his strength. You would deal with the worst that was thrown at you. And you would show them all that you were enough, even if they didn’t deserve to find out.

While the insecurity may have begun small, not much larger than a single droplet, it quickly morphed. The emotion contaminated more and more, until your entire body was compromised. Things would have been easier if you had a friend, someone to confide in. Someone you could lower your fists around. It also did not help that Akaashi continued his inquiry into your mental state. As more time went on, it became harder and harder to swallow the bitter words. Afraid to taint him with the blood of your words, you continuously shook off his questions, smiling to conceal the substance inside of your mouth.

While the goal stitched into your armour was commendable, it was equally foolish. And Konoha was the first one to pierce through the shield you had adorned.

“You don’t have any friends here outside of us, do you?” The male was drenched in sweat from practice, yet instead of joining the others in the showers, he decided to provide you company as you waited for Akaashi.

“Are you trying to insult me?” Raising an eyebrow, you shifted your weight against the doorframe. Konoha was one of the few third years who made a considerable effort to speak with you, and you appreciated it.

“No. It was an observation from a worried friend.” He studied your change in posture, toying with the volleyball in his grasp. Although, he almost dropped it when he caught the alarm striking your features.

“I’m okay.” You tried to package it with a sturdy tone, but the wing spiker didn’t seem to buy it.

“Yeah… I’m not Akaashi. I’m not gonna believe that.” The answer was offered after he stole a glance over his shoulder. “You know I hear them too? The things they’re saying.”

“So, let them say it. If people want to talk shit, they can. It’s how high schoolers are.” A weak shrug brought your shoulders to raise and drop.

“True enough, but that doesn’t mean you need to deal with it alone.” The additional emphasis on alone made you twitch involuntarily. Weakness was not to be shown, and yet you were unable to maintain your façade around him.

“He’s already got so many things to worry about. I’m not going to add to that.” Casting your attention aside, you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“Alright, so lay them on me instead. If you can’t rely on your boyfriend, at least rely on a friend.” Releasing the volleyball in a fluid movement, a grin pushed at the corners of his mouth.

“That sounds nice.” Puzzled, the reply escaped your lips softly.

“Cool. We’ll talk later kid.” Proceeding a step away, he gave you a thumbs up motion before sprinting off the court.

And for the first time in awhile you remembered that your armour was not skin, you could remove it, and sometimes you should.

The conversation that occurred at the gym led to a confession of the feelings you were suffocating in. Upon hearing the cruel reality you were the protagonist of, Konoha vowed to help you. For the following weeks, if Akaashi was not present to subdue the pain, Konoha was. His terrible comedy was enough to distract you from the poison your fellow students were trying to inject you with. And when both boys were unavailable, the wing spiker would ask his other friends to accompany you.

It was a start. You were finally able to begin to collect the shattered pieces of your soul, all without bleeding in the process.

However, withholding information from your boyfriend would not come without a cost. And with your changing relationship with Konoha, a new wave of uncertainty had been cast onto your relationship.

“Have fun at practice, Keiji.” Extending your toes, you pressed your lips against Akaashi’s in a fleeting kiss. But when you settled back onto the ground, the setter wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you mounted into the spot ahead of him. “Hm? Is something wrong?”

“Do you still have feelings for me, y/n?” The question visibly pained him, the small wrinkles in his forehead illustrated his stress. But the signs of agony were replaced with relief when you stared up at him in disbelief.

“What? Of course, I do.” Planting your palms on either side of his face, your chest constricted. At first you wondered if the rumours had finally reached his ears – did he think your love wasn’t true?

“So then, why can you tell Konoha-san what is hurting you but not me?”

The question did not eliminate the strain weighing on your chest, instead the sensation increased, with guilt adding to the mix.

“Keiji, I don’t want to burden you.” It took every ounce of courage you could gather to keep you from turning into an apologetic mess.

“That’s not fair, now is it? Your feelings will never be a burden to me.” Exhaling softly, he relocated his hands to cover yours, before guiding your left palm to his lips.

“You say that but…” The warmth from his kiss soon spread across your body, dissolving the armour you were desperately clinging to.

“Won’t you let me be there for you? What if I ask very nicely?” Tilting his head, he blinked slowly and thoughtfully down at you. A tactical move really.

“…Keiji. I want you to be happy. I want to be your safe place. I want to be strong for you.” The explanation sounded like a low whine, partially stripping the seriousness behind the words.

“I want that too, y/n. Let me be your safe place.” His irises naturally were drawn to the pout registered upon your mouth, and he had to resist the urge to kiss you. “I know in the past you had to deal with everything on your own. But for the present and the future, I want to be there beside you. Your problems are now mine.”

“You know, you really are a prince.” Defeated, you shook your head then blew out a heavy sigh.

“Your prince.” A dim smile graced his mouth as he pressed his forehead against yours. Instinctively, you sought to capture his lips with yours but the emergence of another person forced you to stop.

“What’s going on here? If we’re doing a group hug, I want in!”

Upon recognizing who the voice belonged to, Akaashi quickly released your hands and whipped around to face the Ace.

“Bokuto-san wait-”

But his instructions were dismissed by the Captain, and within seconds a larger person joined your embrace, bringing the three of you onto the ground. Laughter filled the corridor as Akaashi tried to keep Bokuto from squishing you with his weight. The setter mouthed an apology, prompting you to shake your head with a smile.

Maybe this would be enough. Maybe you didn’t need the entire school to know your worth. As long as you knew it, and those you loved did… that would be enough.

A/N: My sweet baby bodyguard, I hope you liked this! I kinda put some heart into this one, idk. ;-;

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#haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi x y/n #akaashi angst #akaashi imagine #akaashi x you #akaashi x reader #akaashi fanfiction

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