#i promise you i will answer them all eventually
On a recent shift I had a 10-year-old who was very anxious and worried about coming to the hospital. When I asked him more about what was worrying him, he got very withdrawn; he eventually gave his mother a pleading look until she disclosed that he was scared he “was gonna die”. Surprised and a bit alarmed, I probed a bit further. Between my patient and his mom, they were able to explain that the poor kiddo had been admitted for acute appendicitis a few weeks ago that was managed non-operatively. Other kids at school told him that people died from appendicitis, making this poor kiddo terrified of coming back to a hospital because he thought he might die.
“I’m sorry that those other kids have said those scary things to you,” I told him. “Is it okay if we talk a bit more about appendicitis?”
He nodded hesitantly. I gently explained a bit about the pathophysiology of appendicitis--his posture loosened slightly with every passing moment, and with every question I answered for him.
“So then, why did they say people die?”
“Unfortunately, not everyone gets to the doctors in time and they can get very sick if they don’t get the proper treatment,” I told him. “And some people are very unlucky and have problems happen after their treatments, like allergic reactions to their medicine. But around here we see lots of kids who get appendicitis, and they get better really fast. You’ve probably met other kids who have had appendicitis and you wouldn’t even know it unless you asked!”
“But I was okay after my treatment,” he said, perking up. His mother smiled at him and ‘boop’-ed his nose. “See? I told you they’d take good care of you at the hospital.”
Now much more at ease, we moved on to discuss the kiddo’s current complaints and that they could be in keeping with a recurrence of the appendicitis, which was still very treatable. My little friend got more apprehensive when we had to talk about next steps and investigations, including blood work and imaging.
“Blood? That’s a needle, right?” he asked, voice trembling.
“Unfortunately yes, bud,” I told him. His eyes almost immediately filled with tears. “I promise we will only do the blood tests if we need them to take care of you and get you healthy, okay?”
He nodded, mouth still pressed in a miserable flat line as he tried to hold in his tears.
“I can give you a choice here though, my friend. We can start with the [imaging test] first, and while we do that, we can put on some numbing cream to make the needle poke less pinchy. If the [imaging test] ends up being very reassuring, it’s possible that blood tests are not needed today.”
His eyes went big and round with hope as he looked at his mom.
“That does mean that you may be waiting here in the emergency department for a little longer though,” I told him. He had expressed multiple times that he wanted to go home as soon as possible. “This is because the blood tests take some time to come back, and we still have to wait your turn for the [imaging test]. So if we do the blood tests now then we can wait for both at the same time, and if everything looks good, it’s possible you could go home a bit sooner.”
“Okay,” he said.
“But if the tests all look good today and you’re still not a hundred percent better in a few more days, then the tests may need to be repeated later. Do you understand?”
The kiddo sighed. “To keep me safe and take care of me?”
I laughed. “Yep! You got it.”
He looked up at his mom.
“Can I... Can I get the blood test after the [imaging test]?”
“It’s your body and your choice, kiddo,” I told him. “But your mom also knows how to take care of you best, so is it okay if we ask for her thoughts, too?”
His mom smiled. “Yeah, of course! We’re here to take care of him, and if this is what he wants, the wait is fine. See, hon, you’re not gonna die.”
Her son rolled his eyes and pouted. “I know! I feel better since the two of you talked to me. See? Normally when I’m nervous you can hear the nervous in my voice, but there’s no nervous in my voice. There aren’t even any tears in my eyes!” He pointed to his eyes in an endearingly exaggerated way, and I hid my smile in my mask. “I’m not nervous.”
“I’m glad you’re not nervous, buddy,” I told him. “Do you have any more questions you want to ask me?”
“No,” he said. “I feel better now. I’m not even gonna cry with the needle.”
Talking to your pediatric patients is so important. Where I practice, there’s no legal age for consent, and the process of obtaining consent for treatment requires us as practitioners to assess the capacity of our patients. Of course, in pediatrics, this is more complex when you factor in developmental stages.
I cannot stress enough how often kids will surprise you with the depth of their understanding. It may not always be in the way you expect them to understand something, but they are a lot more perceptive than grown ups tend to give them credit for. Please, if you work with kids in any healthcare capacity, remember:
Sometimes kids don’t know what’s best for them, and that’s developmentally normal. We have to keep their best interests in mind and at heart. So let them exercise their autonomy in other ways--give them choices where you can, e.g. which hand they would prefer their IV/bloodwork, what order they’d like their tests to be done. Even kids at the earliest points of their verbal development are able to participate in discussions like this.
Whatever you do, do NOT lie to kids about pain. Don’t tell them that something “won’t hurt a bit” if it will. And if something does hurt, please don’t tell them not to cry.
It’s so important to validate their feelings. Letting kids know they’re allowed to feel scared and that it’s normal is sometimes all they need to start calming down. I often tell them, “It’s okay to be scared, I’d be scared to do this, too. I’m sorry it’s scary for you. How can we make this less scary?” or “Some kids find it less scary if we ___. Would you like to try that?”
When you are answering kids’ questions, it’s true that there’s a lot of information that you or their family might feel uncomfortable with you telling them directly. Try to take cues from the kiddo’s caregivers to help with this--sometimes it may be helpful to ask a caregiver to step out of the room to chat with them separate from their child before discussing with your patient. These kinds of conversations will not always go gracefully or smoothly like in an example standardized patient encounter in medical school, but they will often be a lot less challenging if you’re receptive to cues from other stakeholders in the room. You won’t always be able to read reactions perfectly and, like me, you will probably still end up with your foot in your mouth every so often, but if you’ve got an eye out then at the very least you can react quickly and avoid inserting your second foot in your mouth alongside the first...
Use your resources to help ease the process for kids. At children’s hospitals, we are so, so lucky to have wonderful Child Life Specialists to work with. Know what resources your centre has to help reduce pain, anxiety, and distress for children that you take care of.
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Nyx and Catrin Archeron-Berdara - epilogue
“To the stars who listen and the dreams that are answered.”
Before they even consider accepting the bond, Catrin insists on attending counseling.
Those two and a half years of hopelessness and those six months with Alyxander have left a mark and she’s not about to make a grand life commitment to Nyx when she’s in such poor mental health.
But that’s fine with Nyx. It gives him time to figure out how their hearts and their dreams will fit together.
And he walks her to and from her counseling appointments.
On the way back they usually grab dinner which Nyx is insistent about, because during her time with Alyxander she lost a considerable amount of weight.
It’s difficult for Catrin to get her appetite back at first, and she apologizes a lot more than Nyx remembers, but she’s working through it though.
And while she’s in counseling they begin officially courting. Going to bars. Attending parties. Long moonlit walks and eventually… trips to one of the House of Wind’s vacant guest rooms with a silencing charm placed on the door.
And gods, is the sex good.
Nyx attentive and commanding.
Catrin is gracious and accommodating.
But often, they spend more time having pillow talk than they do having sex.
After all this time they have no shortage of things to talk about.
“No, I would never try horse meat! Are you insane?” Nyx blusters. “Just because it’s a delicacy in the Winter Court doesn’t mean it should be eaten!”
Catrin laughs into her pillow. “I didn’t try it!”
“You seriously considered it. Don’t lie.”
“It felt like a challenge!”
“Gods forbid Catrin Berdara suppress her compulsive need to beat a challenge…”
And more banter until sunrise.
Eventually Catrin feels more like her old self. She’ll continue to go to counseling but she’s got coping mechanisms. The wounds Alyxander left have scabbed over.
And Nyx is very pleased to hear this… but also disappointed because he still can’t quite figure out how both of them get what they want. How both of them achieve their dreams.
So he does what he always does when lost. He goes to his father.
They sit in his study late one night, discussing the matter over a bottle of wine.
“You are aware that I still don’t know if I’m handing the title over to you,” Rhysand says with a grimace. “Andromeda may give you a run for it, son…”
But at ten years old Andromeda has already set her sights on being a Valkyrie with the childlike enthusiasm that shows profound promise she will be committing herself to this dream.
She wants to be Commander of the Valkyrie just like her Aunt Nesta.
And knowing this, Nyx smirks at his father.
Who relents with a sigh. “Well, we may yet have another child. Perhaps they’ll inherit the title.”
Nyx chuckles, swirling his wine around in his glass. “I know mother cut you off after Andromeda,” he says slyly.
Rhysand grins because both he and his mate agreed that two children were enough. At least for the next few centuries. “That was an amicable decision,” Rhys says pointedly. “Not everyone wants to be Cassian and Nesta and have an army of Valkyrie.”
“Or Lucien and Elain,” adds Nyx. “They’re expecting their sixth in four months…”
Rhysand snorts. “The stamina.”
They sit in a comfortable silence, but eventually Nyx breaks it. “I want it. I’ve been training for it my whole life. And if I give it up for Catrin she’ll never forgive me.”
“I like that about her,” Rhysand admits, his lips turning down at the corners in approval. “And you do too.”
“I do,” nods Nyx.
His father tilts his head. “Did I ever tell you about when your mother accepted the bond?”
“You’ve told me the… appropriate details,” Nyx laughs.
Rhysand’s smile is fond. “Did I ever tell you about our discussions as to what is required of her as the mate of a High Lord?”
Nyx shakes his head.
Rhys gets comfortable in his chair. “We discussed her duties on multiple occasions. A High Lady was a new position. Your mother was the first. And when she asked what was expected of her, I let her determine that. She wanted to fight alongside us in battle, I told her that she could. She changed her mind. That was fine. She wanted to open an art studio. Sure, no issue there. And on and on it went.”
It’s Nyx’s turn to angle his head. “So you’re saying that the role of High Lord has specification but that a High Lady is whatever she wants to be?”
The High Lord waves a dismissive hand. “I’m saying that change happens. And that as High Lord, you are in charge of setting the standards and expectations.” He leans forward on his desk. “And as long as those expectations are honorable and don’t conflict, then I don’t see why we couldn’t have a High Lady that was Spymaster.”
“The High Lady is in the public eye, father,” Nyx points out. “A Spymaster is not.”
“That’s entirely false. Everywhere I go, Azriel goes.”
“But Azriel isn’t expected to make speeches or appearances…”
Rhysand lifts a brow. “Well, then neither is Catrin.”
Nyx is silent for a moment as this simple solution finally dawns on him. “You’re saying that if I became High Lord I would redefine expectations entirely.”
“What’s the point of having a new High Lord if everything remains the same, Nyx?” his father asks in a gentle voice. “Let Catrin set an example for future High Ladies, just like Feyre did. Let them show that High Ladies can be politicians and painters and Spymasters. Set an example for other courts that change happens.”
And Nyx feels the weight on his shoulders lift. In all his studying he never considered that with what he’d learned he could change things…
“I’m not the same High Lord my father was,” Rhys continues. “And just because your father is perhaps the most powerful, dashing, incredible High Lord to ever exist, doesn’t mean you have to be like him.” A shrug. “Don’t be Rhysand and Feyre. Be Nyx and Catrin. Start something new.”
Nyx smiles at his father softly. “Thank you.”
Picking at a piece of lint on his sleeve, his father shrugs again. “I’m not stepping down any time soon, so you’ve both got time to change your minds. To work out whatever you want to do.” Rhysand gives his son a tender look. “So court each other. Pursue your careers. Accept the bond. Take time to be Nyx and Catrin and then we’ll talk about titles. Alright?”
And it’s settled. Nyx is going to do exactly that.
The next day he has the same conversation with Catrin that his father had with him. And she likes the idea of redefining expectations. After all, she’ll be the first female Spymaster. Why not add to that list of “firsts?”
“So,” Catrin says, hugging her knees to her chest as they watch the sun set on the roof of the House of Wind. “What next, your lordship.”
“Well, you keep spying. Keep healing. Keep courting the handsome heir to the Night Court,” Nyx begins. “And I will continue my studies, my legislation, and the labors of being so staggeringly attractive.”
“Is your back okay?” Catrin smirks. “What with the weight of the world on your shoulders and all?”
She continues, “What with all of your good looks and your brains and courting a clever shadowsinger…”
“Like the rest of me, my back is perfect, lady,” Nyx retorts.
His mate snickers and leans her head on his shoulder. He feels her shadows nuzzle his neck affectionately.
“How long do you want to court before we accept?” Catrin asks.
Nyx’s stomach somersaults at the question and he finds it difficult to muster the courage to speak.
Eventually he clears his throat and gathers himself enough to respond truthfully. He turns to look down at her and Catrin lifts her head, resting her chin on his shoulder.
“I’ve known what I wanted for nearly fifteen years,” Nyx says. “So I’ll leave the answer to that question up to you, darling.”
Her laugh is soft and short. “Darling?”
Nyx rests his forehead against hers. “What would you prefer I call you, Shadowsinger? My love? Lady? Most esteemed spy?” he purrs. “You name it. Anything you’d like. It’s yours.”
Catrin’s lips turn up at the corners. “Darling will do fine, your lordship.”
It’s a surprise to no one when Catrin and Nyx announce they are to be wed and mated at the end of that year.
They intend to marry on Starfall, with only their family in attendance. Small audiences have become something of a tradition in their family.
Catrin wears her mother’s wedding dress.
Her and Nyx’s hands are bound with the same length of white ribbon that her mother and father’s were bound with.
And they retreat to the cabin for nearly a month.
Upon their return Rhysand and Feyre present them with a belated mating gift.
Catrin and Nyx waste no time making it their own. They decorate their new home with plants and portraits and blankets. They put two desks in the study for them to work out of together but always end up in the parlor, sitting before the fire when they work.
Catrin’s family comes to visit with their newest addition, Apollo. He’s a little under two years old and Catrin and Adrian adore him.
And Adrian is happy that he is no longer the only sibling without wings.
Nyx has seen Catrin with Nessian’s baby daughters. With Elucien’s too.
But seeing her hold this little boy that has her teal eyes and dark hair, with golden skin similar to Nyx’s he can’t help but imagine Apollo as his own son.
His and Catrin’s.
She sings a lullaby to the babe, rocking him in her arms and Nyx’s heart pinches to the point of pain.
That night after Cat’s parents leave, Nyx asks her a question, “So, we’ve discussed children before…”
Catrin’s brows raise. “Yes.”
“How do you feel about it?” he says tentatively.
Catrin smirks at him. “Ah, is this how you tell me that you’re ready for a baby, Nyx Archeron-Berdara?”
He rubs the back of his neck. “Maybe… But it’s up to you.”
Catrin sighs, placing her palms on his chest. “I suppose I’m expected to give you heirs if you become High Lord.”
Nyx takes her wrists, pulling her hands off his chest and instead twining their fingers. “Hey, we’ve talked about that, okay? You’re not ‘expected’ to do anything. Much less have children with me. Maybe we’ll do away with heirs altogether.”
Catrin’s smile is grateful. “Thank you.”
He kisses her forehead. “Take all the time you need, mate. Take forever if you want to.”
She doesn’t take forever. She takes four more years when she confesses to him that she’s ready.
He drops his fork onto his dinner plate, lips parted in surprise. “You’re… you’re sure?”
Catrin smiles and leans her elbows on the table. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Nyx grins at her, shoving out of his chair practically pouncing on her as she remains seated.
“You won’t regret this, Shadowsinger. Just watch I’ll be very good at this.”
With an amused glint in her eye she asks: “At what? The sex?”
“That’s a given,” he answers. “But I meant about being a father.”
“I have no doubts, your lordship.”
And after a few years of privately trying, they are successful.
One morning Catrin gently kisses Nyx awake and tells him that she’s late for her cycle. He blinks owlishly trying to comprehend the news first thing in the morning.
But when it hits him he’s both laughing and crying. They stay in bed all day.
When Catrin and Nyx announce their pregnancy both Gwynriel and Feysand start collectively sobbing.
Meanwhile Nyx and Catrin are like: 😳 when you’re done crying we have cake…
Nyx is positively overbearing during the pregnancy, but it has its advantages.
When Catrin becomes too encumbered to spar or stand for long periods of time, he becomes her personal assistant so she can continue her spy work — at least with reports and assigning missions.
Because Azriel has taken a step back, whether or not Catrin has noticed.
And similarly, so have Rhys and Feyre, whether or not Nyx has noticed.
For the duration of the pregnancy Nyx reads to the baby every night. He personally mixes all kinds of lotions and potions for Catrin’s aches and pains. Healing methods he’d learned in the Day Court.
“When we have the next one, I—“
“Next one?” Catrin balks, resting a hand atop her burgeoning stomach.
Nyx grins placing his hand over hers. “Oh, darling, I want at least four.”
“Four!” scoffs his mate. “You’ll put me through this four times?”
“Very well, we’ll say three.” He pecks her lips. “But you’ll change your mind.”
“Will I now?” Catrin snorts.
Nyx nods. “Once you see how dashing I look holding a baby and changing diapers you’re going to eat your words and beg me for at least six, darling.”
Nyx is right and wrong.
Because the second Catrin sees him holding Luna she thinks her heart may burst.
And there is something strangely sensual about watching him care for their daughter.
But Catrin’s favorite is the silly faces her mate makes to coax cheerful gurgles from Luna. They remind her of her mother when she was a child.
Her handsome and roguish lordship sticking out his tongue and crossing his eyes and making the most absurd noises just to see his daughter laugh.
But they decide to wait before conceiving again because they love spoiling their daughter.
And after they have their son, Artemis, five years later, the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court ask for an official meeting with Nyx and Catrin.
The pair know what’s coming and they stay up late (later than usual) discussing whether or not they are ready.
Because for years they’ve been deciding how their dynamic would play out as High Lord and High Lady.
In the end they decide that they are ready to accept the responsibility, yes. But there is no way they are ready rule.
“But I don’t think we ever can be ready for that. I don’t think anyone can,” grimaces Catrin, her shadows dozing on her shoulders.
Nyx nods. “So we’re agreed?”
“Yes,” Catrin says. She arches a brow. “But just so we’re clear we’ve agreed to…”
Nyx offers her a lopsided smile and supplies: “Accept.”
She smiles warmly in return. “Yes. We are agreed.” Catrin sighs. “And once the Spymaster steps down I’ll take his mantle hopefully.”
He kisses her knuckles. “You will, darling.”
And that is the offer that is made the next day at the river house. A ceremony will take place in a month.
But before Rhys and Feyre dismiss them, Azriel arrives.
“Right on time,” Rhysand remarks offhandedly.
“No thanks to all of your paperwork,” Azriel murmurs, handing a packet of parchment to Rhysand.
The High Lord peers down at the papers then a pen materializes in his hand. He scrawls his signature with a flourish, then passes the paper to his wife. She also signs her name.
Catrin and Nyx hold hands atop the table waiting for whatever this exchange is to end.
“Congratulations, High Lord,” Catrin murmurs to her mate.
Nyx’s stomach squirms, eagerness seizing him.
He tries not to be too happy though. He feels a little bad that Catrin still hasn’t received the position of Spymaster.
She tells him that it’s fine, but Nyx is beginning to wonder if his uncle would sooner die than give up the—
His thoughts are interrupted as a scarred hand slides a stack of papers across the table and in front of Catrin.
Nyx and Catrin both look up at Azriel, who clasps his hands in front of him in a business like fashion. “Catrin,” he begins, “if you would sign the contract provided I’ll be relinquishing my position to you by the first of next month.”
Catrin freezes and Nyx squeezes her hands.
Azriel clears his throat. “This is a modified version of the standard Spymaster’s contract that states as High Lady you will not allow yourself to have an unconscious bias in your work or use your intel dishonorably in a way that compromises the safety of Prythian.”
“Catrin,” Feyre interjects.
Catrin looks up at the High Lady — or former High Lady. “Alternatively, you can sign the standard contract and Nyx will rule as High Lord alone. You can solely take the title of Spymaster. It’s your choice.”
Nyx watches Catrin scan the room before she turns to him, her eyes searching for an answer.
“Cat,” he says, keeping his voice carefully unassuming. “I would be honored if you were my High Lady and Spymaster. I know you have reservations about the former title…”
He doesn’t add ‘because you think yourself a selfish coward for no reason…’
“But if you say no. If I rule alone so you can be a Spymaster and Spymaster only, then my darling, I will be so proud of you.”
Catrin nods, exhaling shakily. “Alright. Thank you.” She squeezes Nyx’s hands. “I appreciate your support. I really do.” Then she smiles wryly and picks up the pen. “But there’s no way I’m letting you do this on your own.”
And Nyx watches, throat thick with emotion, as his mate makes history with a flick of her wrist.
They don’t have six kids. But they do have four.
And Nyx absolutely adores spending his days smothered in his children and his friend’s children.
He visits the schools and orphanages often to play with the kids and to read them books.
He becomes a High Lord known for his philanthropy and decisiveness.
And his High Lady is revered for her intelligence and diplomacy.
And when they finally abdicate, it’s to start a new type of ruling where High Lords are voted in rather than descended into the position.
And while everything is changing in Prythian, a lot stays the same.
Like how Catrin and Nyx stay up late into the night talking.
How they say goodnight probably twenty times before they fall asleep because they can always think of more to say.
And how Nyx loves calling his wife and mate “darling, darling, darling,” because he heard his father call his mother that his whole life.
Every day Catrin marvels at how well they fit together in the end.
And when she remembers that day she asked herself if she would ever have a love like her parents, she confidently says “no.”
Because they aren’t Gwyn and Azriel.
They aren’t Feyre and Rhysand.
They are Nyx and Catrin.
The Dreamers that the stars answered.
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tot men + spooky dates.
.... takes you to a haunted fair! there's all sorts of supposedly 'haunted' goods for sale ― and while he's not interested in getting either you or him haunted by a spirit, malicious or not, he adores your childlike glee at the items on display and sale.
if he knows a myth or a legend about a display you've seen, he'll tell you all about it ― all the while he softly holds your hand, even if you aren't scared by it. if you'd like to, he'll take you out to one every halloween.
takes you to all the activities there and makes you a cute little air clay pumpkin carving that you can use as a charm.
“for you,” he says as he places a little clay charm in your hands. it so suspiciously looks a lot like you ― but it warms your heart nonetheless.
he knows his way around, and takes you to places where you can eat lots of delicious food. gets very flustered if you kiss him, but eventually relaxes and gives in.
sneaky kisses while hidden under his cape (he bought it because he thought it'd look cute on you, but it ended up being too big, and had to wear it himself), and he brings you along to the woods when you're done exploring the fair, to a clearing to watch the night sky. wraps the large and warm cloak around both of you as he pulls you into a hug, placing feather light kisses all along your hands (maybe nipping at them here and there, too).
“what was that?” he teases, when you squeak at his sudden nipping. he looks at you for a moment, and then buries his head in your neck right after. “you're too cute, you know that? it's not good for my heart to skip so many beats.”
the both of you sit there flustered and comforted in each other's presence, until you break the silence with the appearance of a shooting star. quickly making your wishes, you ask him what he wished for, if he did make one.
all he does is smile the softest you've ever seen, and knocks his forehead with yours, before finally answering your question.
“for me to always be able to stand alongside you, no matter what happens, and to be allowed to love you till the end of my time.”
marius von hagen...
.... much to contrary belief, would like to spend his halloween at home. it's one of the rare times that he can relax with you, without having to bother about work and his actions constantly being judged.
though it doesn't mean that he's going to skimp out on the festivities ― he makes a little fair of your own at the von hagen estate, where everyone from his family to the staff are in celebration.
“doesn't it look good?” he says, chest very much puffed out in pride, as he looks around. the lights hung around shine on his face, giving him a glow ― one that doesn't allow you to look away.
he does steal you away a little while later, throwing a “there's no need to show off your good looks, i'm enough proof of it!” over his shoulder as he grows pouty by the attention you've been giving his family (he knows you were just being polite, but it's your time to spend together, and he's not going to let anyone intrude on it).
spends the rest of the night together with you as he takes you to all the little things he's set up (with careful planning) and makes the most obnoxious pumpkin carvings. steals a kiss here and there while you're distracted and laughs in smug glee at your flustered expressions. pulls you for a dance, and twirls you around until you're laughing so much that it's hard to breathe, and finishes it with a lingering kiss to end the night.
“come on, it was just one kiss!” he whines at you, clinging onto your arm. he only pouts harder when you give him a deadpan, and continues to grumble under his breath, throwing his biggest and saddest puppy eyes that he's able to muster your way.
“maybe give me another one, and i promise won't bother you for the rest of the time!” he says, and cheers loud enough for the whole mansion to hear when you finally agree to his demands, and give him a kiss that he nearly doesn't allow you to escape from.
he, of course, as usual doesn't keep that promise.
.... takes you to a haunted city tour! he's always adored them (while being scared, not that he'd admit), finding a mystery for him to solve around every corner, in every nook and cranny. he does make sure that you're both appropriately 'armed' ― by that he means two very large squirt guns of holy water
“just so we don't get haunted”, he says, smiling at you, like it was necessary to do so and to reassure you (even though it seemed like it was more for him than for you).
says he doesn't believe much in ghosts ― though the squirt guns tell you otherwise. holds your hand tightly during every single thing, squeezing it when something remotely as makes a squeak.
he keeps a tight hold on you throughout the duration of the tour, watching out for both you and him. although he wouldn't admit it, your presence helped relax him a lot, allowing him to loosen up and join in with joking around with the tour guide.
when it's all over, he heaves a big sigh in relief. he managed not to get scared in front of you, and actually, even enjoyed the trip, listening to all the stories and the lore. though when peanut appears out of nowhere from a bush, he gets so startled that he jumps into your arms (well, there goes his plan to keep a brave front).
“hey, let's get some food from that new place that opened down the stree ― OH MY GOD!” he shrieks mid-sentence, cutting himself off and jumps into your arms as you surprisingly manage to hold his weight.
something rustles in the nearby bushes, slowly coming through... and it turns out to be peanut. he stares at it, before sighing and hiding his face in embarrassment. all you can do is shake your head at him (while stifling your laughter) and squeeze his hand a little more to reassure him.
he does end up getting a lot more cuddles that night, though.
.... being his very mysterious (not really) and secretly extravagant self, takes you out to an actual castle which was said to be haunted by rather friendly spirits, in the country where he asked you to travel with him for vacation.
“it doesn't look quite ominous as a haunted castle would,” you say, raising an eyebrow at the looming and eerily beautiful structure.
“well, it is said to be haunted by rather friendly apparitions, so i suppose that it is the reason why it looks so,” he replies, not once looking away from it.
the two of you run amok in the castle, with him somehow having the entire place to yourselves (you think that he owns this place, for some reason, and your intuition tells you that you're right). he tells you a little something about all the people in the large oil portraits hung along the long hallways as you pass by them.
at some point, the two of you get separated from each other ― and you slowly realise that it's getting colder and colder, shivering in both cold and fright, when you hear footsteps and the door swings open. you sigh in relief when you see that it's just vyn, and allow him to help you up and dust your clothes even though he says nothing to you, and his hands being cooler than usual.
he leads you out to the exit, where you see a large wisteria tree, and gestures at you to wait there. he comes by just a moment later, waving at you, and pulls you into a hug, hands warm all of a sudden, and you sigh at the comfort. however, when you apologize to him about being separated, his reply is what leaves you very unsettled.
you pull away from him, feeling guilt gnaw at you for probably worrying him so much, and apologize.
“vyn, i'm so sorry that i got separated from you ― i should've been paying attention to what we were doing. i'm really sorry for making you worry so much.”
vyn looks at you with a face full of confusion, as he responds.“but you were with me the entire time ― although your hands very quite cold compared to what they are now, and you told me to come here for you, too.”
the uncertainty swirling in his amber eyes turns to fear soon, and sure enough, when the two of you look back at the castle, there's two translucent figures waving back at you.
you've never bolted out of a place so fast in your entire lifetime.
✦ notes; aaaaah i'm so sorry i haven't posted in so long ― my allergies have been giving me such a hard time lately, and all i've been doing is sleep, sleep and well, sleep. you know i had to add something actually haunted to this piece ― hope all of you like this <33
© 2021 rine @artemstellation. do not plagarize or repost without due permission.
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Kinktober- Day 12:Dean Winchester- Jiggle
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Smacking Ass; Heated Make-out;
Summary: Three scenarios of Dean smackin' Y/n ass.
A/n- @firefly-graphics for dividers
Main Master List//Dean W. Master List//Kinktober 2021 Master List
As Y/n walks out of the bathroom in the motel room.
She's dressed in a beautiful two-piece white bathing suit. I had promised her that we'd spend some actual vacation time doing things that didn't always revolve around monsters, and saving the day.
So as she walked out I couldn't help but watch her ass jiggle as she walks toward me and does a small twirl in front of me and the mirror."Do you like it?" She asked me, her smile wide on her mouth.
White teeth showed nicely on her face. "I do like love, but you know what I like even more," I said standing up and hugging her from behind.
My arms resting under her breasts, she let her head fall against my shoulder. I rested my hand over hers.
Twirling her in my arms. I smacked her ass watching the ripples play through her ass. "Hey!" She said covering her ass. "You can't just go around smacking every ass you see De."
She said as she frantically went to gather her towel from the bathroom.
For one of the cases, Y/n had I had to be fake dating. This was long before I had the courage to ask her to go out on a date with me.
The premise of this fake dating was that the witch would be looking; scouting for the ‘right’ couple. The couple that looked like they were prefect, eventually when she did find them she turned them against each other.
Turning them caused them to be so angry and so murderous￼ that the boyfriend would end up killing the girlfriend and then the witch would kill the boyfriend.
For whatever reason this was her game plan. So the night Y/n and I were bound for the ball room at the entry floor of the hotel this witch was staying at. We both got ready, Sam stayed in a different room and had given us coms.
When I turned around I was more then shocked, blown away would be the right word for it. Y/n had her ass out bending over to lace her golden heels. The black shirt dress perfectly formed around her ass. Showing just how much there was to her body.
Holding back on smacking her ass was hard, but walking around the entry of the hotel we had to look like we were a couple in love. So I let my hand rest gently and perfectly on her ass.
Claiming her as mine own in my head, but also any guy that came over or was going to come over. As we sat close together I mentioned that the two of us should probably look more like a couple.
Y/n just shook her head figuring something else then what I had in mind. I grabby her passionately from the chair she was sitting in and laid my lips upon hers.
She was mid breathe but that didn’t matter to me. All that matter was for the split second her lips were kind and it all felt real.
This is a funny story actually. I also think this is the story that made me fall in love with Y/n.
She always did put laundry, Sam, mine and hers all put together. What exactly is the point when we all look like some had carried us in the bathroom just drenched in the blood.
Soaking into hair and cloths and skin.“De, I’m grabbing your laundry should I be worried about anything coming to jump scare me?!” She yelled from my room to the kitchen.
I laughed before answering her. “Yeah you should be safe, Y/n.” What I wasn’t prepared for was when she walked out of the bathroom several days later in a flannel of mine.
My favorite one. The red and black contrastly nicely as she walked throughout the bunker the rest of the night. Her leggings gave yet again nothing to the imagination.
I think what I loved the most from that night was the fact that she and I sat down on the couch and watched old westerns all night long. And by the end of it she was cuddled so damn close I didn’t have the hurt nor did I want to move her.
So I just throw a blanket over her, and called it a night. She was mine before she even knew it, funny how some things just fall in place.
Posted on: 10/12/2021
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Tiny au of your fic where Leia's breakdown is entirely in handsigns and bow Bail is Confused.
well, if you want a sad AU...
It’s somewhere in their third day, in the middle of a “casual” luncheon on an open balcony overlooking the city, Governor Tarkin having just made some unpleasant but mostly innocuous comment about Bail’s homeworld, when out of the corner of his eye Bail sees, clear and unmistakeable, Leia signal “abort.”
It’s so unexpected, so out of place in the conversation and from her, that Bail fails to acknowledge it as he replies to the governor. Surely…surely he didn’t really see it.
But there it is again, less concealed now that’s she’s put her drink down, now that she’s edging away from them all, as subtly as she possibly can.
Bail doesn’t know what he said. Abort is a vague sign, he’s not sure if he misstepped or if he’s missed something. But he signals back, uncertain if she’ll even get the message, “received” and “clarify.”
There’s a struggle that he can only half watch if he isn’t going to give her away, but she eventually resends “abort” and also “compromised” and finally a gesture that he doesn’t know but can only assume means “me.”
He can only managed “received” at first, because how is he supposed to get them out of this?
But Leia has never faltered in front of him before. Leia has never hinted that she knows the language of his staff and Bail can’t remember Sheltay reading him in, telling him they’d given her emergency signals.
They must have. Someone must have.
Or is it a lie? A trick? Sheltay hadn’t said anything.
Bail is half a breath away from denying her, from saying no, she’ll have to take care of it herself, because he doesn’t know and he needs to be here.
And then there’s a flash, brief but terrible, where she realizes, as he begins to signal, what he’s about to do, and it’s terror and something else and Bail freezes.
His wife has told him, a thousand time with equal parts love and worry, that he is too good for this world and it’s going to get himself killed.
And it’s probably true. He’s probably going to die someday because at the wrong time, in the wrong place, he trusted someone to be better than they were. Because he’d made a promise, or taken on a responsibility because he was there and he wouldn’t back down just because it was difficult. Or impossible.
Padmé had asked him to take care of Leia.
Leia had asked for help, and the method if nothing else should have told him she was completely compromised.
Or about to kill him.
But for that look of fear, he has to take the risk.
There’s no graceful, easy way to get a quick exit. But he can misdirect.
A flick of a button, a gesture to Leia of “30 seconds,” the immediate and equally brief flash of relief in her eyes, the “received” from her.
Thirty seconds of split attention, making sure he looks engaged even if he is waiting for—
Sheltay is let in, comes directly to his side, whispers what should look like a message but is actually, “What the hell?”
To which he answers at a very careful angle, “Leia,” nods, and turns to his host. “I’m very sorry, Governor. I’m afraid a home matter has arisen that needs my immediate attention. If you don’t mind…”
“No, no,” the words are correct, but the tone isn’t quite right. Bail knows he’s being suspicious, and he knows Tarkin is suspicious of him. Sloppy. “Of course. Let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” Bail says, making sure not to watch Sheltay, but to keep an ear open and hear her ask, low enough to pretend to subtlety but loud enough to create the cover, “May I borrow you, Lady Skywalker? I could use some assistance.”
They make it all the way back to their rooms, back to the office Bail’s staff is occupying, safe and secure as they could make it, in complete silence.
Bail’s intention to interrogate her falls apart as the moment the door closes Leia almost throws herself back against the wall and falls into a crouch, her face going almost snow white in the space from upright to floor. Rather than answer questions, she wraps her arms around her head, making little gasping and keening sounds into her knees, and everyone in the room freezes.
There’s a flurry of activity, of trying to get her attention, of testing various responses to procedures for panic attacks. Her breathing doesn’t even and she doesn’t respond, but it isn’t getting worse.
That isn’t much of a relief.
“Get Padmé on the line,” Bail orders, and that gets a response.
“No!” Leia doesn’t scream, but there’s an edge of actual terror.
Acting on what is probably foolish instinct, Bail grabs her face as gently as he can and says, “I don’t know how to help you. Tell me how to help you.”
And while there are several seconds where all she can do is stare at him, hopeless and heartbroken, tears starting to pour down her face, Leia finally says, “Shmi. I need…”
“Get Shmi,” Bail tells Sheltay, before turning back to Leia and asking, “Anything else? Is there anything else I can do?”
Another aching, heartbroken silence, flooding with tears. And then, with a look on her face that is a sliver of hope consumed by defeat, she opens her arms slightly.
Hugging is something Bail tries to reserve for his closest family and friends, but he holds Leia as tightly as he can, even when she begins to sob harder into his shoulder. By the time Shmi is on the line, Leia can’t even pretend to be articulate, and it’s another hour before their combined efforts lead to a loose semblance of calm.
Bail fields a million questions from Sheltay during that time, silent but insistent, “What’s going on?”
Bail looks at the woman curled in his arms, trying to make Shmi laugh while still spilling tears, remembering the signals she sent him, no clumsiness, no hesitation.
He can only answer, “I don’t know.”
But he’s going to find out.
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"I love you and I like you."
“All Might...do you,” Izuku stops, biting at his lip in the way Toshinori knows he does when he’s unsure of something. Toshinori simply waits, also knowing that if given time, Izuku will figure out his thoughts eventually. He makes sure his expression is open and calm in the meantime.
They’re in between training sessions, Izuku grabbing some water before he’s at it again, but the boy’s question doesn’t come as a surprise. Izuku gets most introspective when his body is tired, almost like once the energy is spent his mind has cleared, and so Toshinori has had many conversations begin just like this. He appreciates every one of them.
Izuku turns away, hiding his face as he finally seems to think of what he wants to say.
“All Might, do you like me?”
Toshinori has to fight hard to not let his shock show on his face.
“Do I...like you, young Midoriya?” Toshinori parrots back, unsure if he even heard this right. Of course he likes this boy.
He loves this boy.
Though, he hasn’t gathered the courage to tell him yet, a failing that grinds at him almost every time he’s in Izuku’s presence. He simply hasn’t been sure his affection would be welcome. What if the boy would rather this stay simply as it has been, professional as mentor and mentee? What if Toshinori has read all of this wrong and the boy has no feelings above Toshinori being his teacher, and all Toshinori has done is fall harder and harder for him every day?
It would be embarrassing, yes, but he doesn’t want to push Izuku away from him. He doesn’t know if he could survive it.
Izuku still doesn’t look at him, turning away even more but Toshinori thinks he sees his cheeks heat, the boy’s shoulders nearly coming up to his ears. “F-forget I said anything, All Might, I’m sorry. I’m just asking stupid questions, i-it’s fine--”
“Now wait, my boy. I wasn’t disregarding your question, I promise.” Izuku stills, obviously listening intently though he still won’t look back at Toshinori. “I just...want to answer it properly.”
Toshinori feels his heart rate pick up and his gnarled stomach twist with nerves. Is he really going to do this? Is he going to tell this boy what he truly thinks and risk everything they’ve built up together over the past year-plus? His palms are sweating and he wipes them on his suit pants, rubbing the pads of his fingers together. He supposes there would be no better opportunity for it than this one.
He takes a deep breath. “Of course I like you, young Midoriya, what is there not to like? You’re kind, gentle, but strong as an ox and stubborn to boot, and I adore you, my boy. I--” He looks around him, at the green of the trees in the clearing. Their spot. A place on this earth that Toshinori will never be able to look at without thinking of Izuku. He smiles gently. “I more than like you. I love you... Like a son--or a nephew if that makes you uncomfortable,” he says lightheartedly, an awkward laugh making its way out of him, though really that last part isn’t true. Izuku feels like the boy he never even knew he wanted, and Toshinori won’t be changing his mind on that anytime soon.
Toshinori’s stomach doesn’t calm in the slightest as Izuku remains still. It’s hard to tell if he’s even breathing as Toshinori’s own breath only gets faster. Did he screw this up? Is this it?
It feels like hours when Izuku finally turns to him, a small smile on his face, the blush roaring red and high on his cheeks. “Really?”
Toshinori nods, his long bangs flowing in front of his face. “Really, my boy.”
Izuku chews at his lip again, his hands fiddling with his water bottle as he looks down at them. “I like you too, All Might. I...well I think I’ve loved you for a long time. You’re important to me,” he says, looking up and meeting Toshinori eye to eye.
Toshinori’s brave boy.
“Well, that’s settled then,” Toshinori grins. Izuku nods sharply.
Izuku goes back to training, and Toshinori doesn’t think he imagines it when the boy has one of his best sessions yet.
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October Writing Challenge: Day 7 - Ghostly Guest
Prompt: Ghost with Pero
Pairing: Pero Tovar x F!Reader (A They Were Roommates AU)
Word Count: 2,812
Warnings: Injury mention, ghosts, a little swearing in spanish, no y/n
Summary: After finally deciding to upgrade your house, you and Pero find you’ve disturbed the spirit of an old tenant of the house. When she turns aggressive, William’s mother steps in to help.
A/N: This is a They Were Roommates stand alone ficlit! I promise to eventually gt back to the main story!
October Writing Challenge Master List | Masterlist | Ao3 | Ko-fi
“I do not like it,” Pero grumbles, arms crossed as he frowns up at you.
“These houses make sounds, amor.” You sigh and take a seat next to him. “The wood is old, the heating is old, the piping is old…. And just like humans, houses make a lot of noises when they get old.”
“It is not the house,” he objects, eyes narrowing as he scans the living room.
“You cannot convince me that it’s a ghost, Pero.”
Dark eyes snap back to you, lips pulling farther down in a frown. “Un fantasma. I am sure of it.”
With a groan, you lay your head back along the back of the sofa, rubbing your forehead for a moment before looking back up at him. “Okay, I’ll humor you. Let’s say it is a ghost. Why is it only showing up now? We've been living in this house for three years.”
At your question, he lurches to his feet before darting to the bookshelf built into the wall in the corner of the living room. He mutters softly for a moment before returning to you, holding a book out to you. You arch an eyebrow as you take it, reading over the title. “The Other Side and How to Keep It There?”
Pero nods, crossing his arms. You want to laugh, but he’s taking this so seriously that you do your best not to, passing it off as clearing your throat instead. “Changes to old homes can awaken these things, mi alma. They do not like it.”
“Really. You think, if this is actually a ghost, that it’s irritated that we painted our bedroom?” He nods solemnly and you hand the book back to him. “Well, we aren’t painting it back.”
As if in response, the dishes left in a precarious pile in the sink tumble to a more stable arrangement, causing the two of you to jump at the sudden clattering. “Díos mio,” Pero whispers, eyes wide as you’ve ever seen them as he stares in the direction of the kitchen before looking back at you. “I do not think our roommate appreciated that, amante.”
You wave him off, standing to move to the kitchen to clean the dishes, your grumpy Spaniard hot on your heels. “They were stacked weirdly. They just fell, that’s all. It doesn’t prove anything.”
Pero has always been a little superstitious since you first met him. He wanted nothing to do with that brujería that you liked looking at at the Spirit Store (it was all just Hocus Pocus merchandise, but he didn’t find your quote of the movie very funny.) He would avoid ladders, bought a new broom for the house even though the old one was just fine, stayed in on Tuesday the 13ths, and occasionally you’d find him crossing himself when he entered a room. That one you had to have him explain to you, and you still don’t really get why entering a room on your left foot is bad luck, but you let him alone about it. But you didn’t peg him as the type to believe in ghosts.
“You still do not believe me?” he questions, gesturing to the picture of the two of you laying at the top of the landing, glass completely shattered. Your brow furrows as you look to where the frame fell from, and your stomach twists when you realize that it’s too far from the wall to have just fallen and bounced.
“I….” Did you believe him? Or was all his talk of specters just finally getting to you? Before you can answer, however, Essy starts going ballistic downstairs, barking up a storm. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up as you look up at Pero. He’s tensed, whole body alert as he starts to slowly make his way downstairs. When the doorbell rings, followed by the sound of William’s voice through the wood, you let out a sigh of relief. Pero mutters something unsavory under his breath before storming to the front door, yanking it open to glare at his friend.
“Did you scare the dog on purpose, pendejo?” he growls, stepping aside as William walks in, that charming smile still across his face.
“I might have peeked in the window and startled her, sorry.” The handsome Irishman rubs at the back of his neck before looking up to you with a smile that falls when he sees how shaken you look. “You alright there love? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Pero whirls around, looking up at you and you shake your head as you make it to the bottom of the stairs. “No, I’m fine. I haven’t seen anything.”
William glances between the two of you, strongly unconvinced by how tense both of you are. “Look, now I’ve been around you two when the sexual tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.”
“Cabrón…” Pero warns, arm reaching out to wrap around your waist, pulling you to him.
“Let me finish before you threaten to rip my balls off again. I was going to say that this tension isn’t that. So what’s got you both worried?”
Pero stiffens against you for a moment before casting a glance down to you, waiting for your nod before looking back to his friend. “A picture seems to have jumped off the wall upstairs. Not fallen, it is too far from the wall to have simply fallen.”
“Oh so you finally realized your house is haunted?”
He says it so casually, so dismissively, that you can almost hear the record scratching as the two of you take pause to stare at your friend. “E...Excuse me?” You squeak after a few heavy moments of silence.
“Your house is haunted,” he offers with a shrug, looking past you up the stairs and waving. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, but you can’t bring yourself to look behind you. “It’s a little girl. She looks seriously pissed off, too. What did you guys do?”
“Wait, hold on, back up.” You hold your hands out, closing your eyes to take a deep breath before leveling your gaze on William. “You have got to be pulling my leg right now. Stop pretending, William, it isn’t funny.” William’s smile drops to a concerned frown as his gaze comes back to you and Pero.
“Hun, I’m not playing with you…. I can see ghosts, and your house is haunted. It has been since the day you moved in. But she seemed much more content then.” His eyes dart back behind you again, and you shiver, pressing closer to Pero whose grip tightens around you.
“I told you so,” Pero mutters and the sigh you let out is so world weary that you’re sure your own soul at least partly left your body.
You hazard a glance over your shoulder, seeing nothing at the top of the stairs, but the feeling of being watched is so strong that you’re fighting the urge to dart out the front door. “I don’t think she likes the color we painted the bedroom,” you mutter, shivering before looking back at William. “Can… can you, you know, talk to her? Make her calm down.”
“Mmm… no, I can only see them. Can’t hear or speak to them.” You sigh again, turning so you’re facing Pero, resting your forehead against his chest as you attempt to unpack your whole reality shifting in the span of a two minute conversation. “But my mom can.”
“Señora Garin can talk to los fantasmas?” Pero questions, his voice hopeful and… curious?
“Yeah. She’s been able to ever since she was little. Everyone just used to think she had a lot of imaginary friends.” William finally breaks eye contact with the spirit behind you, and the hairs on your nape lay down. The girl must have left. “I’ll give her a call and see if she can come over to see what she can do.”
“Do you… think we’re safe here?” you ask softly, Pero’s arms winding a little more securely at the tremor in your voice.
The look on William’s face is pensive, and that does very little to reassure you. “I don’t see why not. I think she was just trying to get your attention. Mom lives close by, so if she isn’t busy tomorrow, I’ll try and get her to come out then.”
Pero grunts and nods before looking back over his shoulder. Good to know that at least he isn’t crazy.
When William finally leaves, the promise of contacting his mother his final goodbye, you turn and slump down against the door. Pero watches you for a moment before reaching out to place his hands on your hips. “Are you alright?” he murmurs, thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your hips.
“I’ve just… had my whole world rocked, is all.” You tilt your head to give him a tiered smile and he hums softly in agreement. “I’m tired, Pero….”
“Let us go to bed, amor. Señora Garin will be here tomorrow to help us.” Pero’s heart breaks to see your face so full of fear and trepidation, something he hasn’t seen in over two years, when your accident was still fresh in your mind. “Then we can sleep far more peacefully.”
You nod, pushing off of the door and lacing your fingers through his as you lead the way up to the bedroom, sidestepping the shattered glass you haven’t had the strength to clean up just yet. Essy doesn’t follow you; she hasn’t for the past few nights, and you wonder if it has to do with your ghostly guest.
Sometime in the middle of the night, your eyes snap open. There’s a weight on your chest, heavy and pressing, making it hard for you to draw in any sort of breath. You grip the sheets, gasping for breath as the scar on the right side of your chest ache and burns, drawing tears to your eyes. You can’t get your body to move, trembling and gasping as you silently beg for Pero to wake up and help you with whatever invisible force it is that’s opening old wounds.
It isn’t until you manage out a whimper that Pero rolls over, still groggy until he sees you laying there, wide-eyed and gasping with tears running down your cheeks. Adrenaline shoots through him and he scrambles to sit up, frantically calling your name as he cups your cheek, hands ghosting over you to find the source of your distress. His attention breaks whatever hold the invisible force has over you, and you gasp, desperately sucking in breath after breath as sobs wrack your chest. You scramble to curl yourself up as small as possible against Pero, clinging tightly to him as his hands rub soothingly up and down your back.
“Amor... what happened?” he whispers, the edge of fear in his voice that he tries his best to hide. When you explain it to him, he snaps into action, standing and grabbing his go bag that he insists on keeping at the ready. He slips one of his nightshirts over your head before grabbing your coat and dressing you in it. It’s hardly a few minutes after waking up that the two of you are in the car, Essy in the back, on the way to William and Cyn’s house.
When you arrive in record time, a very sleepy looking William answers the door in nothing but his boxers, hair sticking up every direction possible. When he sees the serious look on Pero’s face, and the tear stains on yours, he steps aside immediately, quizzing Pero as he leads the two of you to the guest room. Cyn appears at his shoulder as Pero explains, worry creasing her own brow as she pulls her robe more tightly around her.
“We can’t go back, amigo. Not until whatever is there is gone. It hurt her William. She couldn’t breathe.” You hold back a whimper at Pero’s recall of your terrifying ordeal, and Cyn slips past the both of them to come and hold you.
“Mom is coming tomorrow. We’ll take care of this, Pero. I promise.” When William calls your name, you look up with watery eyes and a trembling lip. “Are you ok?”
You nod, reaching up to rub over your scar that still aches as if you had been punched in the shoulder. “J-Just scared, that’s all.”
William nods before running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m sorry, if I had known….”
“This is not your fault, amigo. We do not blame you.” You shake your head, agreeing with your Spaniard as Cyn carefully wipes any stray tears from your face. William is quiet for a moment before nodding.
“You two make yourselves at home. Whatever you need, let us know. Come on Cyn, let’s let them rest.” Cyn nods, pressing a kiss to your temple before whispering a goodnight and standing from the bed, leaving with her husband to let the two of you get a, hopefully, more peaceful night’s rest.
Mama Garin is everything you could ever hope for in a mother figure. Kind and warm and sweet, but still stern enough to keep her children in check when need be. You could tell from the first moment you met her just how much William loves and respects her, and you know exactly where he got his kindness from. When you regale her the next morning with the night’s events, she frowns in worry before reaching to pull you against her, cooing to you soothingly in a manner that your own mother used to before she passed.
“I’ll take care of this, precious. Don’t you worry. You stay here with my daughter-in-law, and William and I will get rid of this vengeful little spirit. We’ll call you when it’s done.” You nod, offering a soft thank you before watching William leave with his mother, off to fight a battle with a foe you couldn’t even see.
It’s several hours before William calls Pero, letting the two of you know it’s safe to come back. He and his mother meet you in the driveway, satisfied smiles on their faces that ease your nerves as you make your way up to them, clinging tight to Pero with Essy trotting along at your side.
“You certainly had an angry little girl living with you!” Mama Garin exclaims as you reach her, her hands resting on her hips. “She hated that you changed the paint color of the bedroom.”
“What was she still doing here?” you question, looking past her to the bedroom window upstairs.
“She died of tuberculosis a long time ago, and what you use as the bedroom now was her parents’ room. It’s where she died. It’s been the same color since she lived here. It’s not unusual for kids who die of illness to linger around where they died.” William nods along with his mother’s explanation.
“We encouraged her to move on. She’s gone and at rest now. The house is all clear.” William flashes you a thumbs up and a wink with a smile, and you let out a sigh of relief, leaning heavily on Pero. “You shouldn’t have any more issues with unwanted guests.”
“But, if you do, I’m giving you my number,” Mama Garin interjects, handing a card to Pero who takes it with a grunt of thanks. “You have a problem, you don’t hesitate to call. I’ll come right over.” She reaches out to cup your cheek with a smile, and you lean into her touch. “Now, you two kids go take a nap, make up for all that sleep you lost last night. You should notice a difference in the air, even if you can’t see spirits like my son and I can.”
“We owe you so much, Mama Garin,” you sigh, letting go of Pero to give her a hug.
“Nonsense. This is what mothers do, take care of their kids. Now go rest. William, let’s get out of their hair.”
William nods, giving her a quiet “yes ma’am” before hugging you and following his mother to the car. You wave as the two of them pull out of the drive before nervously following Pero inside. You take a deep breath as Essy runs past you to curl up in her bed, seemingly more at ease than she has been in weeks. Mama Garin is right. The air feels brighter, lighter, and warmer. Something you hadn’t even noticed before. You turn to smile up at Pero, who flashes you his own lopsided grin before letting out a loud yawn.
“I think we should follow Señora Garin’s orders and go sleep. It has been a long 24 hours.”
“That,” you answer, sleep weighing heavy in your bones as well, “sounds like a fantastic idea.”
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would u be open to writing about johnny and y/n eventually being in a committed rs?
So I intially thought that I'd save this ask for later, just so I could do the other's and have some mystery for myself. But I ended up thinking about it so much that I just thought I might as well just go ahead and write it. I was dreading this one but it turned out that it was much easier to right than I had anticipated.
This turned out more angsty than I initially thought, also more fluffy then I had in mind when I started this fic. But characters write themselves and this how they choose to be. I hope you like it.
"Umm sorry for interrupting." Mark spoke sheepishly as he knocked on Johnny's office door, "But you need to confirm if you want to go for dinner this Saturday or next." He asked Johnny.
(Y/N) turned back to look at Mark, "You didn't interrupt, we're just eating lunch." She told him with a reassuring smile, "Want a slice of pizza?" She laughed when Mark's eyes lit up, smiling with a nod as he walked in.
She turned back to Johnny with a curious look, "Are you meeting the new investor for dinner?" She asked as she reached for one of his fries.
Johnny watched her hand snake towards his food, "I asked you if you wanted fries when we ordered and you said no." He pouted, making her giggle deviously.
"I only want yours." She shrugged, making Johnny's lips twitch as he tried not to smile.
"No," He sighed, pushing the fries closer to her. "Mark and I have to meet our cousin's for dinner. Some of them are in town for a wedding. Want to come?" He questioned as he reached for his burger, taking a generous bite. "This place definitely makes the best burgers. You need to take a bite." He got out of his chair to reach across his table to her.
"You want me to meet your cousins?" She questioned, so stunned that even her heartbeat hadn't caught up to the shock. "Why?"
"What do you mean why? Mark's bringing his girlfriend. You're the closest thing I've had to one in years. Think about it."Johnny wiggled his arm to get her attention back to the burger and she took a bite of it with eyes still open wide.
Mark sighed under his breath, but he was standing right beside her. Close enough for her to hear.
"So?" He asked Johnny with a bit more impatience, a small frown marking his face.
"Next Saturday should be fine."
Last year, the Christmas party had been fun.
Johnny and her ended up on his desk once the party was over. This year the lingering gazes of desire from him were replaced with confused longing. The latter was somehow harder to ignore.
After contemplating the repercussions all evening, (Y/N) gave in when she saw Johnny leave Ten alone to go talk to a producer.
"Can I ask you something?" She questioned Ten, eyes roaming over the room as she made sure Johnny was nowhere in sight.
There was a knowing look in his eyes, one that matched his secretive smile. "Yeah?" He leaned back against a window sill.
"You have to promise not to tell Johnny." She cited, giving him an earnest look that probably looked too desperate since Ten sat up with more attention.
"You have my word." He accepted, "You're my friend too, you know?" He added, the statement catching her off-guard. She hesitated for a moment, losing every nerve she carefully convinced to ask him this. When he gave her the time to find her words, she realised that he was correct. They were definitely friends.
"When was the last time he was in a relationship? Like a real one?" She took a gasping breath, like the words were eager to leave her system.
"He's been in a few relationships here and there." Ten answered with ease, not visibly phased by the statement.
"Really?" She scoffed, getting the answer she expected but wasn't looking forward to.
"Why do you ask?" Ten questioned, brows etching slightly.
She paused, "It was just something he said." She tried to dismiss it. But the look in Ten's eyes told her that he wanted her to be candid too.
She sighed, "He said I was the closest thing he's had to a girlfriend in a long time." She gritted her teeth, feeling a little stupid now about the way she kept replaying the moment ever since he said it. She felt stupid for trying to find the words earnest.
When Ten laughed she felt worse, "Being lied to isn't funny." Her tone was probably sharper than he deserved. He seemed unaffected.
"He didn't lie to you. Johnny's just always been the go with the flow type." Ten shrugged.
When she gave him a confused frown, Ten chuckled. "Most of the time it's been the opposite party who asked if he wants to be in a relationship, a real one like you said. And Johnny just goes along with it." Ten shrugged, "In his words, it's because he can't see why not."
"Oh." She said, nodding more to absorb the information than as a response.
"But Johnny's not a liar, (Y/N)." Ten's tone turned serious, "If he said something to you, it's because he believes it. Johnny doesn't give false hope. He just might be confused about what he wants sometimes."
She tried to compartmentalise all this new information into digestible parts, trying to understand the man who had eluded her ever since the nature of their relationship changed so drastically more than a year ago.
The persistent voice in her head told her that being in a relationship out of acquiescence seemed like giving someone false hope. But she decided not to tell Ten that.
“Thanks. I appreciate the clarification.” She told Ten as she walked away, taking her phone out to call an uber home.
Unlike last year, she decided not to end the night in his bed.
(Y/N) lay awake in bed, reaching for her phone to check the time. The lack of any messages and the fact that it was 1am made her groan.
Johnny and her seemed to be fighting a lot lately. It bothered her to the point of genuine anguish because she thought casual acquaintanceships were exempt from such holdups. And while she wanted to blame him at the moment, given how livid she still was, she knew that somewhere deep down she was also seemingly always annoyed at him. She knew that she was picking fights with him just because seeing him as angry as she felt inside gave her some petty relief. There was a misplaced sense of consolation in watching the cool and collected Johnny irritated at something she did. It was her retribution.
Every little thing lately seemed to annoy her and (Y/N) hated that. She hated caring about how Johnny never got enough sleep or how he started avoiding telling her who he slept with.
The last thought made her grit her teeth and she turned over in bed in a fit. She knew full well that Johnny was awake right now, so if he was going to ignore her then she wasn't going to apologise either.
She squeezed her eyes shut right like it would somehow trick them into feeling heavier.
It was his fault anyway, she told herself. Asking her to come with him to a dinner with his family and their various significant others was already out of line. But to get mad when she said no was infuriating. He simply had no right to ask these things of her. That last thought played in her head on repeat, her bitterness increasing every time.
Her doorbell ringing out in the empty apartment made her stomach sink into her mattress. With hesitation, she sat up in her bed. An additional knock made her get out of bed to rush towards the door.
When she looked through the peephole, it was a face she didn't recognise.
"What do you want?" She asked nervously. The man looked up and laughed awkwardly.
"I'm sorry, I'm Johnny's cousin. When I asked him for his address he gave me this and now he's saying he doesn't have the keys. We probably got the wrong place, I’m sorry." He started to turn away.
She opened the door in a panic, "What happened to him?" She asked, heart clenching.
"Baby!" A soft voice she recognised made her look down across the floor, heart squeezing more than before from the strange term of endearment she'd never heard on his lips before. Johnny sat with his back resting on the wall, hands reaching out to grab the air. "I missed you so much." He pouted, "You should have come today." A small huff left his lips. "I was all alone."
"Sorry." The man spoke sheepishly, "He's had a lot to drink. I was skeptical when he didn’t have his keys but the man at the desk downstairs seemed to recognise him. He even told me the apartment number. I'm sorry for barging in on you this late."
She shook her head with a sigh, "It's fine. Could you please bring him in and put him on the couch?" She asked apologetically and the man nodded.
"You know she doesn't like people coming to her house?" Johnny chuckled as his cousin picked him up, "It took her four months just to ask me to come up to her apartment." He laughed a little louder, the bitterness evident.
She took a step back, biting down her anger at the unnecessary disclosure about her choices to someone she didn't know. When they crossed her Johnny turned to her with a smile.
"Don't worry baby, I won't make him carry me to your room. I'm the only man who's been in there and it'll stay that way." He gave her a nod.
She gave his cousin a worried glance but he kept his head down and carried him to the couch, dropping him harder than necessary.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with this." She told the man. The next moment she realised that it wasn't her place to apologise on his behalf like this. Especially to his own family.
"It's nice to finally meet you, (Y/N)." The man extended his hand to her. She looked down and took it, trying to hide her confusion. "Both Mark and Johnny only say nice things about you."
She looked back up at the man's strange welcoming smile. "You should come for our other cousin's wedding." He told her. Before she could respond, Johnny's laugh made them both turn. This time the bite in it was probably evident to his cousin as well.
"I'll leave him to you." He said, turning to leave.
Once she shut the door, (Y/N) silently walked to her couch, crouching down to the floor to remove Johnny's shoes.
"I'll do that." He tried to jerk his foot away, almost hitting her face. "Oh no." He sat up with a little more attention.
"Just sit still." She snapped at him, not looking up. "I'm too tired to deal with your antics right now, John." She unlaced his shoes with harsh tugs.
"Baby–" He cooed. When she jerked her head up, her eyes shut him up. With a defiant level of petulance, he sat back with his arms crossed in front of him.
She finished taking off his shoes and socks, getting up to pull off his jacket and tie.
"I'll walk." He said with a gentler tone when she tried to tug his arms to lift him. She gave him a nod, walking away towards the kitchen to get him a glass of water.
When she entered her room, he was already snuggled in her bed. She noted his discarded pants and shirt on the floor, reaching down to pick them up.
"You'll seriously catch a cold one of these days. I have one of your t-shirts somewhere. Don't sleep shirtless in December." She placed the glass on the table beside him and walked towards her wardrobe.
When she turned around, Johnny was sitting up and drinking the water. When she reached him, he wordlessly lifted his arms.
Without meaning to, a smile tugged at her lips. She slipped the t-shirt on him, pushing the hair that fell on his face back. Johnny closed his eyes and nuzzled into her touch, sighing with fulfillment.
"You shouldn't have said those things in front of your cousin." Her words were softer now. "It wasn't fair."
"I know." Johnny sighed, fluttering his eyes open. "I'm sorry. I was just angry."
"Anger doesn't give you the right to say what you want. Especially not in front of people who don't even know me."
She took a step away when she realised that she was combing her fingers through his head for too long. When he pouted at the loss of contact her heart squeezed again.
"You also shouldn't have asked me to come with you. Your anger isn't justified, why would you even ask me that?"
Johnny frowned at her words, hurt so evident on his face for a moment that it made her take another step back, completely caught off-guard.
"You didn't want to come and that's fine." Johnny sat back on the bed like he was bracing himself. "But don't tell me that I shouldn't have asked and who are you to say my anger isn't justified? Just because you disregard your own feelings doesn't mean you can do the same to mine."
His last words were like a slap to her face, making her feel more stunned than a real slap could.
She took a slow, deep breath. "I think you should go to sleep. You're drunk." Her jaw ached from it’s tight grip.
"That doesn't change the facts." Johnny frowned.
"I don't disregard my feelings!" She snapped defensively, "Not telling you my feelings is not disregarding them." She stopped, biting down on her lips when Johnny looked up. "We need to sleep." Her words were a warning.
"So is that it?" Johnny's eyes narrowed, "You don't trust me enough to tell me how you feel?"
"No!" She cried, "That's not what this is about. I just don't think it should be your problem." She paused again, brows scrunching in anguish. "Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"
"Do you want me to leave?" He snapped back, immediately looking away from her to the floor.
She sighed softly, "No I don't." (Y/N) kneeled in front of him, putting both hands on his thighs. "Let's just go to sleep, Johnny." Her voice sounded hollow, tired.
With a nervous hesitation, Johnny looked up to meet her gaze. He looked over her face in the tender way he did a lot recently, one of the many things that made her stomach feel heavy with dread.
"What are you so afraid of, (Y/N)?" He swallowed, looking like he was holding onto the question for a while.
It made the truth slip out through her lips, "That you'll break my heart." She took a deep breath once the words left. Suddenly she was aware that she could never take it back; aware that things could never be the same.
Johnny gave her a tired smile, drunk and dazed. "You're already breaking mine." He chuckled to himself, leaning over to leave a chaste kiss on her forehead.
"John." She started without knowing what she'd say to that confession.
"Let's go to bed. I'm hoping one of these days I'll get tired of putting my pride on the line for you." He tried to turn away, movement laboured and clumsy. She got up to help him as a silence settled between them.
There were a great many number of things Johnny had started believing recently. He believed that the best parts of life existed in the quiet moments. Like at the very moment: when it was still a little too early, stray threads of golden sunlight slipping through her blackout curtains. He reached out to brush his thumb over her cheek, putting off his need for a tall glass of water and a shower just to enjoy this moment as long as he could.
As Johnny expected, she nuzzled into his touch, reaching out for him unabashedly in her sleep in a way she wouldn't if she was conscious. Johnny gave in and moved closer, a small sigh leaving her lips as she put her head on his shoulder.
Johnny also believed that he was more accommodating than he had thought previously. Every time he had apologetically told someone that he was not one to put in too much effort now haunted him. Lately he thought about what Ten told him when Johnny was shocked out of his wits that his best friend had decided to get married.
It was always about the right person and the right time.
Johnny was starting to believe that maybe Ten was wiser than he gave him credit for.
It was much later when Johnny had to give in to his body and finally get out of bed. He put an extra pillow under her head and ignored the small pout that formed on her lips once his dreadfully warm body slipped away.
Johnny used to believe that he was always too warm for it to be comfortable for anyone. Johnny also held the misconception that he didn't care because he was never around too long for it to be a problem.
'You're always so cold,' Johnny had once told her while they lay in his bed one afternoon. Her reply was one he didn't see coming, much like he usually felt around her. She told him she was anemic.
The memory made Johnny crack a smile as he emerged from her bathroom feeling like the shower gave him new skin. He looked through her cupboard to take out one of the hoodies she had worn back from his house. Johnny had started to believe that his clothes looked better on her.
As he found a pair of his shorts that he was trying to find for weeks, a smug realisation hit him that he was everywhere in this space.
Johnny remembered when she reluctantly confessed that, unless it was the ones she was very close to, she just didn't like to have too many people in her home. She definitely did not bring strangers into her bed.
At the time, the words hadn't failed to singe his already bruised pride. At the moment, as he turned away from the neatly folded clothes that belonged to him once, to the vanity that had three perfumes he'd given her on top, he realised that he wouldn't have it any other way.
Johnny used to think that his personal life should be as easy as his professional life was challenging.
Now Johnny believed that all the best things in life were earned.
Johnny considered making some eggs in the way she had taught him one weekend. But his eyes lingered on her sleeping form and he was already pulling back the covers.
Once he was snuggled in and he turned, Johnny realised that she was already awake, watching him with a careful deliberation.
"Hey." Johnny said, hearing his own voice for the first time in the morning.
"Hi." She responded, her own voice sluggish.
"Want me to make you breakfast?" He asked, suddenly feeling shy under her gaze.
She cracked a smile, eyes fluttering shut. "With what cooking skills?" She scoffed.
Johnny laughed, his heart feeling like it could burst through his ribs. Johnny believed that he could almost get used to the sound of it shattering repeatedly.
"I'll take you for breakfast then, get up." He mirrored her posture and put his hands under his head, mostly in an effort to avoid running his fingers through her hair.
A silence fell over them that was as comfortable as it was a delay. They watched each other for a moment, breathing slowly falling into a joined rhythm.
"Ask me again." She finally breathed out what he knew she was deliberating for the entire silence. When he squinted she clicked her tongue, "What you asked me last night. I know you remember. Ask me again." She added and Johnny only realised then that he was actually going to pretend like he didn't remember.
Johnny pulled a hand out from under his head, reaching out to drag his thumb over her hairline. She shivered at the touch, something he knew she would do.
"What are you afraid of?" He asked with a soft voice.
She took a deep breath, one he knew was to gather all her nerves. On his part Johnny waited.
Johnny had started to believe that he was a more patient man than he had ever given himself credit for.
"I'm afraid that I'm falling in love with you." She breathed out. "And it just makes me angry because that wasn't what we signed up for. I'm afraid I'll ruin something good with these feelings that I can't help." She sighed when he cupped her cheek, squeezing her eyes shut.
Her voice shook nervously, "You do these things sometimes that I know are not deliberate.” Johnny had to fight down the urge to hold her through it. He was captivated by the sudden vulnerability in her. “You keep that flavour of ice cream I love in your freezer, you send me pictures of dogs you see on the streets." A laugh stuttered out of her lips, "You hold my hands when you come inside me. You look into my eyes with such devotion when I talk, when you kiss me. It's–" She paused, her breath shaking and this time Johnny realised that she was tearing up. "It's very hard not to fall in love with you. And I'm just afraid that you won't feel the same. Or worse that you'll want to give me hope only to prolong the torture. I didn't say anything because I don't want you to feel obliged to humour my feelings."
She buried her face into the covers, rubbing her eyes into it. "I'm fine with how we are if that's what you really want. Don't just set me up to break my heart. That's what I meant last night."
Johnny was silent mostly because his heart was beating in his throat. A cold sweat made the back of his neck and his palm clammy and after rubbing it against the sheets, he reached out to her.
"What I really want is you.” The confession that was stuck in the confines of his throat slipped out as he braced himself for the bigger one, “I'm afraid I fell in love with you months ago. But I'm always afraid that you'd leave if I told you. I'm afraid of scaring you. But you," Johnny grinned, pulling her with a quick tug that made her yelp.
Johnny kissed all over her face till she giggled and he didn't stop till she protested. "I love you so much, (Y/N). Everything about you makes me feel so utterly sure about it.” He kissed down her neck, arm wrapping around her waist with a confident grip. “Some days you wake up with a frown because you're still tired, or you walk into my office just to steal a kiss and I swear that I can love you forever." He buried his face in her neck, kissing it profusely between laughs.
After a long moment of kisses and laughs, they both lay back to stare at the ceiling, breathing slowly coming down.
“Kun’s going to be so pissed when I quit.” She bit her lip, turning when she felt his gaze on him.
“What?” His brows were furrowed deep. His voice was so small that she had to fall back into his embrace.
“I’m not going to date my boss. You can keep your job, I’m going to keep you.” She kissed his cheek, making Johnny melt into her touch.
There was no way he could argue with that.
Character From: Chance Encounter
Send me an ask about a character from one of my fics in a scenario and I'll write a drabble.
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Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Subaru Maniac [Epilogue]
ー The scene starts outside the Tsukinami manor
Subaru: We made it outside somehow. Seems like the Founders haven’t tracked us down yet, so we gotta keep on runnin’.
ー The Wolves surround them
( Wolves...!? When did they...? )
Subaru: ...They’ve got us surrounded...
Yui: What now...?
Subaru: Che, in that caseーー
ー Subaru scoops her into his arms
( He suddenly lifted me into the air? Why...? )
Subaru: Hang on tight so you don’t get blown away, ‘kay?
Subaru: Off we go!!
ー He lifts off into the air
( H-He jumped up...!? )
( Right, I forgot Vampires can fly for a second. )
Subaru: We had no place to run down on the ground. In that case, we’ll take the sky route.
( B-But, we’re up higher than I expected... )
( If I were to fall down from here... )
Subaru: ...What’s wrong? Are you scared?
Yui: ...Just a little...
Subaru: Don’t worry. I would never let go of you.
Never again. I promise...
( How strange. I was absolutely terrified just now, but when he’s holding me in his arms like this, all anxiety just fades away. )
( I won’t ever leave his side again either. )
( I will follow him - the person I love - anywhere. )
Subaru: ...Say, why don’t we just go to some far-away place today?
Subaru: I mean, I’m just jokin’ but...Honestly, that doesn’t even sound half bad.
To just forget ‘bout all the bad or annoyin’ things...And go someplace where nobody knows us.
Yui: ( I wonder if he’s referring to Christa-san when he speaks of ‘bad’ things... )
...I guess you’re not going back to the Demon World after all, are you?
Yui: ( I wonder if he’s still unsure himself? )
( In which case, it is probably best not to rush him. )
( ...I will have faith in him, and wait till he is ready to give me his answer. )
Yui: !! Subaru-kun, over there...!
( On the roofs of the buildings...! )
( Jumping from one rooftop to another, they’re chasing us at an incredible speed! )
Subaru: Che, they actually came after us, huh...!?
Yui: What do we do now? At this rate...
Subaru: ...Guess we have no other choice but to evacuate to that place.
Subaru: Let’s go. Don’t let go of me, ‘kay?
( I wonder where he’s taking us...? )
ー The scene shifts to outside of Eden
Subaru: ーー We’re here.
Yui: Thank you, Subaru-kun.
( After silently soaring through the sky, we eventually made it back to this castle in the Demon World. )
( I know it might have been necessary to escape those Founders, but he seemed so reluctant to return here before. )
( I wonder if he’s finally ready to confront Christa-san...? )
Subaru: ...Let’s go.
Yui: Ah! Wait, Subaru-kun!
ー The scene shifts to the entrance hall
Yui: ーー Huh...?
( Is this a separate section of the castle...? )
( The interior is very similar, but this isn’t the same place Christa and the others were at. )
( What’s going on? What is Subaru-kun thinking...? )
Kou: Huh? Well if it isn’t Subaru-kun! And M-neko-chan as well!
Yui: Eh? Kou-kun? Why are you here...!?
Kou: We fled here from the human world as well. It was way too dangerous over there with those Wolves lurking around.
But why have you come to our wing? Do you need us for anything?
Yui: Um, actually...
Subaru: Let us stay here.
Yui: ( Why would he say that all of a sudden...? )
Kou: Woah, hold up! You’ve lost me just now.
It’d be nice if you could explain the situation at least?
Subaru: Shut up! Just let us use the darn place!
Kou: Woah, so pushy...
Never heard of the phrase ‘good fences make good neighbours’?
We may be friends, but I won’t listen when you ask me like that.
Subaru: Haah!? Who are you callin’ a friend...!?
Yui: ( Oh no. At this rate, they’ll start arguing... )
ー The other Mukami’s arrive
Ruki: Do we have a visitor, Kou?
Yui: You guys too...
Yuma: Yo. It’s been a while, Sow.
Azusa: Eve...I’ve missed you...
Subaru: Che, look at them all spawnin’ at once...
Ruki: We could say the same. What brings you two here?
Kou: I’ve been asking this whole time, you see, but I’m not getting any answers...
Ruki: You should explain then, Livestock.
ー Yui explains the situation to them
Ruki: ...I see. That’s how the two of you fled the human world and came here, correct?
Yuma: Aah? Then why not go to your own part of the castle?
Why come here instead?
Subaru: ...That’s none of your business.
Yuma: Aah? What’s with that tone, huh?
Yui: P-Please, don’t fight...!
( Seems like Subaru-kun is set on staying here. )
( I guess he really doesn’t want to meet Christa-san... )
Ruki: ...Is it because of your mother?
Yui: Eh? How do you know about that, Ruki-kun?
Ruki: I’ve picked up on the rumors through the Familiars. Apparently Christa has been running wild at the Sakamaki castle, they no longer know what to do with her.
Subaru: ...I’m not goin’ back there.
Yui: No way...You can’t say that, Subaru-kun. I’m sure she wants to see you as well.
Subaru: As if!
Besides, even if she wanted to, I don’t feel the same way!
I’m never goin’ back to her!
Ruki: ...Are you sure that’s what you want?
Ruki: You will never see your mother again. Are you positive you will not end up regretting that decision?
( Am I just seeing things or did Ruki-kun’s expression seem somewhat sad for a split second...? )
Subaru: ...She’s off better without me.
Ruki: What do you mean?
Subaru: She has completely lost her mind and even forgot that I’m her own son.
To add insult to injury, she even believes that I’m Karlheinz.
I loathe that guy. Being seen as him is unbearable.
Yui: ( ...I can’t say anything. While I do think it is sad to hate your own Father, when I consider Subaru-kun’s feelings... )
Ruki: ...I see. In that case, I will say no more.
We’ve got a guest room in the back. We’ll lend it to you, so make yourself at home.
Yui: I’m sorry. Thank you, Ruki-kun.
ー The scene shifts to the guest room
Yui: ...Phew. I guess we can breathe a sigh of relief for now.
( Those Wolves shouldn’t come to attack us as long as we stay within this castle’s walls. )
Ah, right. How are your injuries, Subaru-kun?
I’ll tend to them, so take a seat on the beーー
Yui: W-What’s wrong? Subaru-kun...
( I didn’t expect him to suddenly embrace me... )
Subaru: ...I’m scared. Of being with her.
Subaru: Lately she had calmed down a little, but I’m still scared of being near her.
Even more so right now, since we don’t know what might happen because of the lunar eclipse.
Subaru: She yearns for that guy deep inside her heart.
That’s why you become Cordelia in her eyes and she sees me as the Old Man.
Fuck...Why did things have to turn to shit like this? Why...?
Yui: ( Subaru-kun’s at a loss. Too much is happening at once, he can no longer sort out his own feelings... )
Subaru: ...I’m sorry for botherin’ you with this crap.
Yui: Oh no. I’m glad you’re relying on me. Thank you.
Yui: No need to rush. Let’s take a deep breath and tackle one thing at a time, okay?
Yui: ( Speaking of which, Christa-san called Cordelia-san a Founder before but... )
( Could that be related to my heart in some way as well...? )
Subaru: What’s wrong? You’ve suddenly gone quiet.
I wonder if she was actually wrong about Cordelia-san being a Founder?
Subaru: That shitty old hag was the daughter of the Demon Lord, but no Founder.
Yui: But if it does turn out to be true, it might be connected to my heart...
( Am I just reading too much into it...? )
Subaru: Haah...This isn’t the first time I’ve thought this but you’re surprisingly stubborn, aren’t you?
Subaru: Don’t let your mind wander when I’m here right in front of you.
Subaru: If you’re still worried ‘bout it...Nn...
( No way...He suddenly started sucking my blood... )
Subaru: I’ll make it so you can’t think ‘bout anyone or anythin’ but me...
You just keep your eyes on me, ‘kay? Listen only to what I say.
Remain mine and mine only...Forever...Nn...
Yui: ーー Uu...Subaru-kun...!
Starting from the place his fangs sink into my skin,
heat spreads throughout my entire body.
Even though there is so much we have to think about,
my mind is too dazed to think straight.
I wonder why Karlheinz-san won’t just come live with her,
when Christa-san is simply dying to see him?
I wonder if he has a special reason for doing so?
However, I find it hard to believe,
that he is completely ignorant,
to Christa-san and Subaru-kun’s suffering.
In which case, whyーー?
As I begin to have many questions,
about the King of Vampires whom I have never even met,
My consciousness slowly fades.
ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー
→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!
<- [ Maniac 10 ] [ Ecstasy Prologue ] ->
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The hilarious thing about this chapter is all the bannermen saying noooo, Robb, don't go in there! Walder Frey is bad news, he'll throw you in the dungeon and sell you out!
Now that...should seem like misdirection on GRRM's part. What kind of foreshadowing is it when all these characters are saying Lord Whatever is going to do This Thing, and then Lord Whatever does exactly what they said he'd do? That's garbage-ass foreshadowing, is what it is. It's telegraphing. It's the least engaging way to tell a story.
In order to maintain our interest, GRRM needs to keep us wondering what Robb's allies will do. In order for the Red Wedding to be effective, he needs to have us thinking maaaaybe the Freys are good allies to the Starks after all.
Which means, at least at the beginning of the Stark-Frey relationship, Catelyn needs to get the old weasel on her side. So this is how she does it: what does Lord Walder really want, that he can't get with gold or force of arms, both of which he has plenty? He really wants to feel respected. He wants the more powerful lords to treat him like an equal. Of course those powerful lords might take him more seriously if he actually showed up to battle when his force was needed, but the way he sees it, they can bow down to him first and then he'll take risks for them; not the other way around.
It's obnoxious, but it's an answer, and Catelyn can work with that answer. Lord Walder wants to be taken seriously. He wants tangible, transparent connections like marriage, fosterage and squire positions for his progeny. Catelyn gets the old weasel on her side by offering those connections. By agreeing to foster his grandsons and post his youngest son as King Robb's squire and do a couple of marriages, Catelyn lets Lord Walder feel like he's finally getting the respect he deserves.
Whereas, the flip side to that dynamic is that once you've bought into an alliance with Lord Walder, you really, really, do not want to fuck it up. You really do not want to let Lord Walder feel manipulated, or used, or unappreciated by doing something like...promising to marry his daughter and then marrying someone else's daughter.
We learn eventually that when Tywin's sister Genna was betrothed to Lord Walder's second son Emmon, Tywin was vocally opposed to the marriage. This 10-year-old boy stood up in a room full of adults including his own father, and especially including the old weasel himself, and loudly argued that his sister deserved better than to be married into that family. That's exactly the kind of attitude that's always leasing way too much space in Lord Walder's head. The marriage still went forward, sure, but Tywin never apologized. I'll bet that really burned the old weasel's last nerve.
Now...I just can't picture Tywin saying "sorry" to Lord Walder for disrespecting him decades earlier. Nope, not happening. More importantly, Lord Walder makes it clear that words don't help. He doesn't want pretty words, he wants an exchange of warm bodies. The best apology is changed behavior. Lord Tywin offering some relatives up for marriage? That's a good apology. Offering the Tullys' castle to the son who married Tywin's precious sister? That's definitely a good apology. After King Robb failed to hold up his end, that's the kind of offer that's music to the old weasel's failing ears.
In the end, Lord Walder didn't do exactly what the other lords warned he would do. He did much worse.
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*sneaks into your asks* ok I’ve been having such bad SE brainrot, I just want to sit in his lap and play with his hair in silence as he grows sleepy. He looks so nice to nap with ;;; and his hair is so *grabby hands*
Oh no need to sneak in, bestie, the window door is wide open
fluffy tomato… soft,,,🥰
SE Saeran x gender neutral reader | Words: 809
It was quiet. A comfortable, peaceful silence had filled the air that day. Perhaps a little uncharacteristic for at least half of the occupants of this household, but it was… nice.
Saeran was a tired person, exhausted in every sense, and at times he would only have the energy to do little more than gaze at the sky with a faraway look in his eyes — mint eyes that no longer constantly bore such a sharp, saturated intensity but had seemingly faded to a watery blue-green that reminded you of the ocean.
One of the best aspects of this new home was the plethora of windows in comparison to the dark bunker underground. It had been your idea to position a sofa facing a particularly large one, and it warmed your heart to see him sitting here, tiny smile on his lips, blanket draped over his shoulders, watching the clouds lazily traverse the cool, light slate blue of the sky. A dim, white light spilled into the otherwise unlit room.
You noticed the lightest pattering on the glass and the ground outside; it was one of those wet autumn days where the sunlight barely peeked out from behind the cloud-filled sky and the grass and the earth was alive and the trees were truly breathing and the flowers outside each window frame looked rejuvenated, covered in gleaming pearls. There was a slight chill sneaking through the closed windows, hence the blanket (he was always cold), but you didn't mind and he didn't seem to either. If anything, it was refreshing.
You gazed at the man with a fond smile. You couldn't help but note how cosy he looked.
Slowly, not wanting to interrupt the quiet atmosphere, you paced across the room to stand directly behind him. He didn't respond but you knew he'd heard you. He always did. You placed one hand gently on his shoulder, feeling him tense slightly before immediately relaxing into your touch, knowing it was you. You moved your hand to rest in his vivid curls, and when he didn't resist, you took to combing your fingers through them, careful not to let them tangle too much.
His hair had always been a striking feature (strikingly beautiful), along with his eyes (piercing your soul), but over time it had grown out, healthy and red and so satisfyingly soft.
At first, he'd been far too exhausted to keep dyeing it as he had done in the past. That and in those earlier times, his brother was far too paranoid to let anything remotely, potentially dangerous into Saeran's vicinity (and for good reason, you had thought sadly).
Now, he keeps it this way by choice, because he likes how it feels. And even more, because you like it and he loves how it makes him feel when you pet and play with it, though he never admits this out loud.
He sighed contentedly as you stroked his soft locks and you could imagine the peaceful look on his face. He only turned his head to look at you when you unraveled your fingers from his hair to circle around the side of the couch, taking a seat by his side.
You nudged against him and tenderly placed the back of your hand on his knee, meeting his gaze. His eyes seemed to soften further as he gave you a small nod, as if knowing exactly what you wanted, and you carefully climbed into his lap. He wrapped his arms and the folds of the large blanket around your frame, huddling you closer to his body, craving your warmth. You happily snuggled into his chest, swinging your legs onto the sofa and placing your feet by his side under the blanket. He was wearing a thick, knitted sweater and he smelled like autumn air.
He leaned his head down slightly and you returned one hand to his hair, feeling his breath on your wrist and the slow movements of his chest. It made you happy to know that your presence relaxed him so much, having met him as someone who was on high alert most of the time. The feeling was mutual, though he never understood why someone like him would make you feel safe and calm, like you did for him.
Nowadays there was ample opportunity to allow yourself to be vulnerable in his space, to remind him that he was not only loved but trusted. It confused him still, even after all this time, but he welcomed the feelings that came with knowing this.
No words were spoken, but you don't need them. Slowly but surely, his eyelids grew heavy and he fell asleep, secure in the feeling of holding onto you. You are his sanctuary and he is yours. You feel the weight of drowsiness, and soon you too are sleeping soundly in his embrace.
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Tbh you seem like the coolest chick ever. But the best kind of cool chick who like, secretly you can squeal in the corner with about a boy without changing facial expressions which is basically what I do to you by flooding your ask box with ridiculous rantings about Van McCann
akskdjhfvsjsj anon i love this!! yes i will happily squeal about b*ys in the corner with you any day with the blankest face imaginable because their goddamn ego's don't require any more inflation
anonymously tell me what kind of vibe/energy you get from me
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So what does god taste like?
Hm... It’s easy enough to say. You’ll definitely know what I mean. You’ve already eaten your god after all. But, if you’re now asking it means you chose to forget. I can remind you of course, but you forgot for a reason. Maybe you don’t want to know. It’s worth considering at least.
You sit, naked and a little cold, on the ground. The recent rain accentuates the earthen smells. Your skin sits tight upon your meat and you can feel it constrict just a little as you shiver. I am asleep nearby. You are hungry. You think back to your last meal.
Your last meal - you cannot see anything. I am nearby. You cannot hear anything. You smell rotten flesh. A force pushes on the back of your head and you follow it down. Further than you thought. You expect your face to meet a plate or container or something similar but it does not. You are on your knees bent over mouth to the floor, entirely blind and deaf. A force works its way into your jaw and you open wide. Your teeth sink into the dirt. The ground squelches as you are pushed further and some liquid finds its way into your mouth. You don’t swallow but it’s already at the back of your throat and you try not to retch. The scent of rotten flesh does not help. The muddy ground touches your lips and you find that it is far more coarse than you would have imagined. You can feel individual grains grating against your gums. And then the force is back and your head is pulled upwards a little harder than you might have liked. You gasp and as you do you taste everything. And then the force at your jaw is back and you feel fingers invasively exploring your mouth. They rub the grains of dirt against your tongue and gums like sandpaper until you taste blood. The iron is one of the better flavours of this cocktail and you don’t reject it. Your face is being held and you can feel yourself being examined. You are held very still for several heartbeats. You could not say how long with any certainty. And then it stops. You have been let go. Somehow, this feels worse.
And so you sit here. Hungry. Thinking of your last meal. And I wake up. You tell me that you are hungry and I offer to let you eat me. You consider it. No. You are hungry for. Would I bring you what you are hungry for? I might. It would be some time either way. I leave you with your hunger. And you are alone, save the ground, save the moon, and save your hunger.
You don’t quite know where your hunger is. The moon is above you, the ground is below you, but your hunger? You tried to point to it, but each time found yourself pointing at you. Not true. Not true at all. You had teeth yes, but they were not yours. They were mine. I had loaned you my teeth, had I loaned you my hunger too? Unclear. But you needed rot and blood and to feel flesh tear beneath you. You clenched your fists into a tight ball and your nails dug into the palms of your hands and punctured your skin. Had you been ashamed of being naked at first? Had you been ashamed of feeling pain? You didn’t think so. But maybe when you started. Not now and not before at least.
And then it rained. And you cried. And for a moment you were your hunger. And for a moment you were happy.
And then I returned. And you became aware of the pressure under your feet on the ground. You are standing but you don’t remember standing. The sun shone in the sky but you didn’t remember the moon setting. And I held in my hands the corpse of god. And your mouth was wetter than it had ever been before.
You would have hurt me for it. Though you didn’t want that. It wasn’t necessary. I held it out to you. But you did not take it. You were not interested in holding anything. You thought as hard as you could think and found you did not know if you were me or I was a corpse or if god was eating you.
You are alone in a room with god. He smiles. A flash of white reveals nothing but molars all the way around. You are alone with something that is nothing at all like you. You tasted a warmth and a wriggling meat and a sugary juice. And a red liquid overflows from your mouth and spills down your lips and chin staining them.
You gave my teeth back afterwards. And you could see again, but it wasn’t clear what you hadn’t been able to see. And you could hear again, but it wasn’t clear what you hadn’t been able to hear.
You sat, naked and warm, on the ground. The recent rain accentuates the earthen smells. Your skin sits tight upon your meat and you can feel it relax just a little as you stretch. I am asleep nearby. You are hungry. You think back to your last meal.
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Girl you are beautiful. I’m so glad you have met Seb, hopefully get get to meet Chris soon. I had the chance to see them in Atlanta when they were filming but was not able to due to other work commitments and I’ll never forgive myself for not missing it. Hoping I get to meet Seb and Mackie since F&WS are filming here in Atlanta.
Aahh thank you so much, you’re so sweet!! 🙈💕 Aww I’m so sorry you weren’t able to see Chris and Seb in Atlanta, that sucks! Pretty darn cool that you’re in Atlanta though, and I hope you’ll get to meet Seb and Mackie soon! I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you 🤞🏼🤞🏼
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for the song thing, right on track by the griswolds + nygmobblepot?
this song gave me a really good hype vibe (despite perhaps the lyrics not being quite the same) so i just kinda Rode That Wave and i’m sorry if it wasn’t what you were expecting.
nondescript young adults au, filled with a crushing sense of self-insecurity and maybe a problem with drinking. definitely a problem with drinking. what kind of Blitz Fic would it be if it didn’t include budding alcoholism?
Oswald has no idea how this has become a routine. Routines are things like haircuts, like the route he takes to work, like the meal schedule he’s been trying to stick to; it’s not waking up next to the same person after every party he goes to.
He doesn’t even know their name.
It never seems like they’ve done much of anything. At worst, one of them has done away with their shirts and Oswald’s makeup is smeared, but aside from the headache he always has, things never seem wrong. That just leaves Oswald confused, because he’s spent his entire life afraid, mortified of what kind of mistakes he could make if he weren’t paying attention— and here he is, just fine.
Every time, he tells himself it’s the last time. As he stumbles away, through the halls of a house he doesn’t know, he promises himself that he’s just going to start getting drunk in his apartment like every other pathetic freak his age. But then Barbara invites him out, and he looks back at the bottle of wine he’s been letting breathe on his counter; it reminds him how little he wants to be alone, reminds him of his dwindling youth and how few people he really knows.
This is the third time this month. It’s a weekly thing— parties on Friday nights, wake up midday Saturday, nurse a hangover until his Saturday night shift, tell himself it will never happen again, and then start all over again next Friday night.
(Is it a routine, now? Fuck.)
Usually, the other person is still asleep when Oswald wakes up. It’s all a side effect of his natural internal clock, pushing him out of sleep before noon every single day. It gives Oswald the chance to look at the other person, to consider glasses on the bedside, to wonder just what kind of person wears slacks and a sweater to a house party. Sometimes, next to the glasses, there’s a wallet on the nightstand, and Oswald has to remind himself that it’s an invasion of privacy to leaf through it— this leaves him clueless.
Glasses and a sweater is awake before Oswald, this time. Except the sweater is distinctly missing, and somewhere in Oswald’s foggy mind, he remembers it being lost downstairs, outside— maybe the pool? Christ, did they get in the pool?
His clothes feel dry. Maybe they didn’t.
The other person is talking. Quietly, albeit, but they’re talking and Oswald is fairly certain it isn’t that obvious he’s awake yet. There’s a clock on the wall, one that Oswald can barely see from his place on the bed— it’s clear enough to him, in addition to the faint sunlight coming through shitty blinds, that it’s too fucking early. They couldn’t have gone to sleep more than a few hours ago, if that.
“Go back to sleep,” Oswald says, horrified by the state of his own voice, “neither of us are sober yet.”
“I—” When the other person looks back at Oswald, it’s charming how they can’t decide where they want their eyes to settle, “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”
“You can make up for it by lying back down,” he gestures vaguely at the bed, but gives up halfway through because his arms feel like they’re full of water, “just looking at you sitting up is giving me the spins.”
“Sorry,” but they do lie down, quickly putting a hand on their forehead and rubbing at their temples. Oswald drops a hand over their waist and falls back asleep before he can even think about what he should do with the rest of his limbs.
The worst thing Oswald has ever done is offer to work the morning shift. Evenings at the cafe are much calmer, much more food orders than coffee. Oswald has never been particularly good at making coffee. The end product is fine, it’s acceptable, but his hands pay the price and end up scalded. It does nothing to improve his mood, either.
He comes into a shift in the middle of a rush, getting tagged onto a cash register without as much as a greeting. People disappear from the front end while the stream of customers is never-ending, and Oswald finds himself making drinks as another team member screams them at him. Awful. It’s just fucking awful.
“I have a quad for—” there are two cups in Oswald’s hands, one unfinished and the other completed, and he ends up putting both down on the counter, “Edward!” He turns back around, rinsing cups and tumblers, unable to find the unfinished drink he’d set down.
“Excuse me,” the voice is coming from the pickup counter, and Oswald almost wants to tell the person to fuck off, because he’s missing a drink, “you left something here.”
Where Oswald turns back for a half-finished slowly melting frozen drink, he ends up face to face with his weekend bedmate. The alarms in his brain scream stalker until his eyes register just how much panic is written across this person’s face— across Edward’s face. “Hey, you,” he says, making an attempt at charm despite the splatter across his apron and the slowly growing burns on his hands. Edward lasts for less than ten seconds, before he bolts from the cafe as though he’s been threatened.
“What if I scared him off?” Edward asks, speaking to his roommate who couldn’t possibly care less, “What if he thinks I’m stalking him?”
“You did, kind of,” the roommate, Jonathan, doesn’t bother taking his eyes away from his live feed of his lab rats, “stalk him, I mean.”
“I didn’t! I looked at his ID once,” he defends, voice screechy. “He hasn’t been to any of the parties his friend has been at,” dramatically, Edward drops into their couch and groans, “he’s hiding from me.”
“He doesn’t know you from Adam’s housecat,” the rats run around on a wheel, and Jonathan scribbles something down quickly, “he can’t hide from you if he doesn’t know you. Maybe he’s sick.”
“He probably thinks I’m a creep.” Edward nears inconsolability, and while this doesn’t bother Jonathan, it makes him wonder. It confuses him, confounds him, even, how someone could get so attached while not even knowing a single thing about them.
“You know when he works,” Jonathan says, finally turning around in his chair, “you could just go see him, or something. Apologize for running off.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?” There’s a look that Jonathan gives Edward, one of clear unawareness, “We’ve never— we’re always— What if he doesn’t like me when we’re not drunk?”
“Ain’t sure why you’d wanna be around him at all, then.”
When his manager finally gives him back his evening shifts, Oswald is elated. He takes back his normal sleep schedule, the blisters on his hands start to finally heal, and he can follow Barbara to parties once again. The entire spectacle with Edward at the cafe has migrated to the back of his mind, as if it were nothing but a mysterious dream that he provided himself. Sometimes, that’s what Oswald elects to believe— to think that he’s so different by the light of day, that without the drunken slur on his voice he doesn’t sound as inviting, that’s more difficult.
So, he follows Barbara into someone else’s party, pounds a few shots, and finds a comfortable place for himself by the stairwell. He pretends that he can’t smell the weed people are smoking on the back porch, and he tries to manage his expression of distaste when he takes sips of his lukewarm wine cooler.
“We can’t keep meeting like this,” he hears, Edward’s voice coming in before the boy invades his vision.
“Can’t we?” It’s hard to tell which of them is more intoxicated, but Oswald figures it’s only a matter of time before he becomes too drunk to remember much else. It’s easy to get there, with Edward around. “Can I call you Ed?”
Edward nods, facial expression somewhere between mortified and overjoyed. What a painful dichotomy. “I’m sorry for running out on you,” he says quickly, having to stand closely to Oswald to be heard, “at your work, I mean. I just—”
“You panicked,” Oswald supplies, shrugging calmly, as if the entire experience didn’t leave him mortified and chain-smoking on his lunch break, “it happens.”
“Very often, to me.”
“I—” After a bit of internal deliberation, Edward reaches out and takes one of Oswald’s hands, placing it against the side of his neck, where his pulse is hammering through his veins frantically, “I’m a very nervous person.” He can see it, in his mind’s eye, where Oswald realizes that his confidence was all an act, a front put on by the strength of the alcohol in his system. Instead, Oswald curls his fingers around the back of Edward’s neck and brings him down, kissing his cheek.
“It’s cute,” he says, smiling. The harsh curve of Edward’s smile says you won’t think so for long, you’ll get irritated, and Oswald becomes determined to prove him wrong, “I’m working closing shift, now. It gets real slow, you ought to come visit me.”
“If I’m being completely honest,” there’s a warmth in Edward’s eyes, something pathetically sweet trying to make it’s way out, “the coffee you made me was terrible.”
Oswald knocks back the rest of his drink, leaving the empty container on the nearest flat surface, “It was full of grounds, wasn’t it? Some woman brought hers back and dumped it on the counter,” just the sound of Oswald laughing makes Edward laugh, too, “just to make a point. The nerve of some people.”
It’s hard for Edward to grapple with, the concept that Oswald is enjoying a conversation with him, one where both of them are sober enough to keep upright on their own. He had planned for most possible outcomes, but this one just seemed so unlikely that he’d avoided it altogether; not to get his hopes up. Yet, here he is, painfully close and only getting closer— it doesn’t even seem like Oswald wants him to go anywhere.
When they wake up the next morning, Oswald can’t remember much of what happened after his third wine cooler. In addition to the shots and whatever Barbara’s girlfriend du jour brought with her when she arrived, Oswald can’t even wager a guess at what he’s had to drink in the last twelve hours.
The midday sun upsets his eyes, and he quickly hides his face in the curve of Edward’s neck. Edward. He’s still there, that’s good.
“Did you know you snore?” Edward asks, hesitantly running his fingers along the curve of Oswald’s back. “It’s surprisingly charming.”
“Did you know you twitch in your sleep?” Oswald bites back, dropping his arm heavily over Edward’s chest, “It’s not that charming. That’s alright, though, because you’re handsome.”
Edward snorts, looking up at the ceiling vacantly. Without his glasses, there’s not much for him to see, and staring at Oswald seems like it might be rude.
“Is it too late to get breakfast?” With a painful series of sounds from his protesting bones, Oswald sits upright and fishes around the side table for his phone.
“Definitely too late for breakfast,” Edward makes an effort to try and calculate the time of day from the angle of the sunlight coming in the window, but it ultimately becomes far more difficult than it’s worth, “It’s never too late to get pancakes somewhere, though.”
“Did you drive?” When Edward nods, gesturing vaguely at where his keys are, next to his wallet, Oswald reaches for his backpack. “We can call this a first date, if you want.”
The words settle into Edward’s skin, searing themselves into his soft underbelly and making their way up to his heart, “I’d like that.”
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//and also I forgot about the twitter memes thing I will hopefully be able to get on that soon sorry folks
slow ‘n steady , bucky barnes
— (fem!reader x tfatws!bucky)
summary; You and Bucky have been dating for a month now, and having a discussion about his past leaves you more connected to each other.
warnings; smut, fluff, trauma, reader has a dirty mouth, oral (m receiving), cockwarming, kinda sub!bucky, body worship, porn WITH plot (sort of), bucky hasn’t had sex in a looooong time, teasing-ish, plenty of pet names, this couple is soft & goofy.
word count; 2,897
a/n; this started out as an old draft from when i first saw tfatws, then i edited it recently to get this final ooey-gooey fic. enjoy <3 - stellie
Things were about as steady with your boyfriend as steady goes.
He was a private person, kept to himself for the most part. He wasn’t vulnerable or even pouty like some guys your friends had gone out with. James was a classic man, strong and quite old-fashioned. He brought you roses on your first date, which no one had ever done for you.
You met James while volunteering at rec-center bingo. He was there with an older man, looking unamused. It made you feel bad for him, which resulted in some very teenager-like flirting, because the stunningly handsome brunette obviously got a little flustered in your bold presence. You and James went out for dinner the following Monday.
A week after your first date, he couldn’t hold it back. Maybe telling his shrink about you was a mistake, because she had raised her eyebrow at him, silently saying, “have you told her yet?”
James didn’t want to ruin everything with the most beautiful person he had ever met. Not when it had just begun.
He told you that he wanted to go camping, and you couldn’t refuse his cerulean eyes. Instead of taking you out to the wilderness, you ended up in D.C. at the Smithsonian.
“That’s me,” he said, pointing to the pictures memorializing the Howling Commandos and Captain America’s best friend, Bucky Barnes.
Then it clicked. You weren’t dating James Barnes, the humble veteran and mechanic from Brooklyn, you were dating Bucky Barnes, the war hero turned assassin... now adjusting to life as a civilian.
“It’s okay if you wanna... I get it,” James looked down at his scuffed up boots. “I wouldn’t wanna date a 106 year-old freak either.”
You had heard the stories, mostly the bad ones, about the infamous Winter Soldier. It doesn’t matter now, that wasn’t really him.
“Hey, James... Bucky,” you reached up to cup his sharp jaw in your hands. “I still like you.”
He smiled ever-so-slightly, and you liked the way ‘Bucky’ felt sliding off your tongue. He was the most precious thing in the world.
The car ride back to Brooklyn was silent. You held his hand all the way home, thinking about all the horror he must’ve gone through. Part of you wanted to ask him about it, and the other part didn’t want to poke and prod too much. James — or Bucky — always wore gloves too. New York weather could be cruel, especially when it was hot, and Bucky still opted for a jacket and gloves. Peculiar.
After Bucky had dropped you home, you practically ran to your laptop. The Winter Soldier was a ghost story of sorts, so you had never seen what he looked like. You were never interested in that sort of thing either, you tended to avoid the news.
The internet is horrible. There’s Winter Soldier wikis and everything. Some of the ‘Winter Soldiers’ aren’t even Bucky. A crazy terrorist named Zemo tried to frame your boyfriend once and Steve Rogers went apeshit, you remember that being a top dinner-table discussion when you still lived at home.
The pictures you saw of the Winter Soldier was what frightened you the most. Your smiley, shy Bucky, with a striking metal arm and a machine gun. That same arm again at a different angle, covered in blood, holding a knife. He’s always wearing a face mask that covers his pretty, petal-pink lips. His hair is long, and that’s probably why no one ever recognized him in public.
You had to ask him about this eventually. Now you knew that Bucky had been shooting his way through fights since the forties, and on top of that, was put in a goddamn freezer. Maybe you’d give it a few weeks, let it set in that he’d told you, but now you were even more curious about James Buchanan Barnes.
“Buck...” three weeks later, you were stood outside his apartment door, fidgeting with his gloved fingers in your hand.
“Are you alright, doll?” He sounded worried.
You sighed, a somber expression painting your usually sparkling eyes. “I think we should skip going to the movies tonight.”
Bucky quirked an eyebrow, curling his fingers in your grip.
“I wanna ask you some things,” you said just above a whisper. “About your past.”
He froze, the way you would imagine someone would if you asked them to recall years of trauma when they were just planning on seeing a shitty romcom with their girlfriend. Bucky reached for the doorknob of his apartment. You had only ever been inside for a few minutes at a time, but you had a feeling you’d be getting comfortable.
“We can talk about it. I’m ready.”
Gentle nudges were much better than harsh shoves when it came to Bucky. With delicate encouragement, he had talked to you about some of the things he remembered from Hydra, or at least what he could tell you without breaking down. Sometimes you were worried you might cry, like when he talked about meeting Steve again.
Bucky nestled himself further into the couch when he talked about the forties, almost like he was searching for some sort of warmth. The warmth of old music and his family, maybe. You wouldn’t push him. He discussed more recent things like the Avengers, Wakanda, and his therapist, all of which were something to smile about.
He had said his piece for now, but there was something you weren’t letting off the hook just yet. Bucky may have assumed you knew about the metal arm, marked with a red star, but he’s never showed you his arm or even his bare hands. Hell, you’ve been attached at the hip for a month and he’s only given you a peck on the lips.
Go slow, don’t overwhelm him.
“I-“ you held back the urge to just take his jacket off yourself. “Can I see your arm?”
“So you do know about it?” Bucky turned his gaze away from you.
Your eyes started to well up. What could he be so ashamed of?
“Baby, please,” you coaxed him. “It’s okay.”
The sound of your voice melted him like butter in a microwave, and he reluctantly peeled off his leather jacket and gloves. Low and behold, a very flawlessly made vibranium arm was before you.
“It was made for me, in Wakanda,” he held out his vibranium hand to you and it made a low whirring noise. “The old one is... retired.”
You giggled and held Bucky’s cold hand in your warm one. It was an inviting coldness, something that you didn’t mind feeling. It was comforting, it was Bucky.
Before you could evaluate the impact of your curiosities, you lifted the sleeve of his black t-shirt to see where Bucky’s flesh connected to his prosthetic limb.
“No, don’t do that,” Bucky nearly shrieked the words out as he grabbed your side with his flesh hand.
“Why?” You had never seen his body in a vulnerable state, it was beginning to make you crazy.
He cleared his throat. “Don’t like how it looks.”
Damn Hydra. Tortured him and then wiped him clean for years, thinking he would actually forget it. Torture leaves scars, mental and physical.
“I love how you look,” you clutched his chin between your fingers. “Such a pretty boy, always thinkin’ about you, Bucky.”
“Really?” He already looked blissed-out.
“Yeah,” you straddled his lap, feeling like a confused virgin all over again. Bucky only hugged you if he was feeling frisky, this was definitely new territory.
That’s what happens when your boyfriend has lived two lifetimes, and he was an ice-cube for half of them.
Bucky looked up at you expectantly, waiting on your next move. You dove down into the column of his neck, leaving little kisses and bites there. He’s never let you be so intimate with him.
“James,” you tried not to sound too critical. “When was the last time you... were with someone?”
He tensed up, a blush instantly heating up his neck. Poor Bucky had a hard enough time just being a civilian, being a civilian with a partner had been out of the question in recent years, until you came along and wrecked his plans.
“Nevermind, don’t answer that,” you laughed.
Bucky brought both of his contrasting hands to your face, bringing it back up to his. His oceanic eyes had clouded over with a black-ink color of lust, and his creamy cheeks were tinted pink in the dim light.
“You keep missin’, doll,” he smirked. “Kiss me.”
His lips were magnets to yours as your fingers threaded through his neatly-trimmed hair. You immersed yourself in all things Bucky, because he smells like the woods and he’s warm and you could die happy kissing him like this. You’re so glad you missed that movie and decided to listen to him talk, because now you wish to be inseparable from him. You’ll leave featherlight kisses on each and every inch of that vibranium arm just to prove how much you want to stay.
“I’m gonna take this off now,” you inched the hem of his shirt up.
Anyone would have to squint in order to notice what Bucky hated, but from the way he winced, you knew exactly why he didn’t want that shirt off.
Messy scars littered the skin where man had previously met metal arm, right at his left shoulder. There were also countless battle wounds Bucky had endured over the years scattered across his body, but you made no fuss of it. He was just your Bucky.
You kissed the marred skin of his left shoulder, disregarding how much he despises it. He deserved everything, to be praised and loved on, so that’s what you would do. Every bullet wound and scratch you could see received the tender acknowledgment of your lips.
Bucky was almost sobbing above you as you neared his abdomen. You knew in your heart that he needed this, someone to touch him in a way that felt like a promise. He had been through so much and was still impossibly giving. You held his flesh hand in yours and squeezed it, like you were telling him that you were still there. You wondered how many times you had held the vibranium hand without knowing.
“So beautiful, Bucky. All mine,” you were on your knees for him, sliding your t-shirt off. “My baby boy.”
He smiled shyly at you, face going beet-red when he sees your chest in a nicely fitting black bra. The view couldn’t get any better, really.
Bucky groans when you pop the button of his faded jeans open, like someone had just punched him in the gut. He’s sensitive and trying to hold back, but you don’t mind. You shimmy his jeans all the way down his thick, gorgeous thighs. You’d love to take those for a spin, but now’s not the time. His leaking cock is waiting for you, at least now you know that, but you’re still debating how you want to play this.
“Buck,” you massage his thighs. “Has a girl ever sucked you off?”
“No,” he answered breathlessly.
“Alright, sarge,” you snapped the elastic of his waistband. “Tell me anytime if you wanna stop.”
Bucky whined again and pleaded for you to just do something, angling his hips up so you had easy access to take his boxers clean off.
“Such a good boy for me,” you discarded the useless fabric to the side of the couch.
He watched as you leaned your head closer to his erection. He was bigger than you had anticipated, but it’s not like you were complaining. You dragged your tongue all the way up his shaft, your ears eating up his dirty moans like sweet music. You took him in your mouth, lazily sucking his length, and pulling off with a pop.
“You moan like a fuckin’ pornstar, Buck,” you stared at him with hooded eyes.
“I haven’t felt this good in... years,” his chest was heaving. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Sergeant Barnes,” you sank your lips back down on his cock, gagging on his impressive size.
Bucky grunted and writhed around, threatening to release in your mouth any moment. Tonight was all about him, but you had other plans about where he would be finishing.
“Doll, can’t hold it,” he squeezed your hand.
You pulled off and hushed him, soothing his anxiety. His face had a look of fear etched in his features, like he was about to disappoint you. God, you wouldn’t be disappointed, you would be proud that he could let go for you.
“Don’t worry, baby, not much longer.”
With jell-o for legs, you stood up, taking your jeans and underwear off. This was all so new for you and Bucky, but it felt like you had waited a lifetime for it. You didn’t want anyone else to touch you ever again, just him.
He grinned at you, with teeth. “You’re pretty.”
Bucky’s dark hair was disheveled and sweaty, his face was flushed, and his voice was low with what could only be arousal. You’ve never stood before anyone more captivating.
“You’re handsome,” you straddled him like you had earlier. “I’m so lucky, you’re incredible.”
He really is. Your Bucky. He’d go to hell and back for you, that’s just the guy that he is.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your forehead to his. He breathed out a “yes”, and you took his cock inside of you inch by inch.
“Jesus Christ,” you gasped as he bottomed out inside you.
“It’s just Bucky,” he answered your non-question in a choked laugh. “God, you’re so tight.”
“I’m gonna beat your ass later,” you sassed.
“Finish what you started.”
You looked down to where your body joined Bucky’s. It was supposed to be sinful according to everything you had ever been told, but it felt loving and exciting. Your entire body was lighting up, and if that’s sin, you’ll take hell.
Bucky kissed you feverishly, surprising you, but you didn’t mind in the slightest. You began grinding and bouncing on his cock, his thick length hitting every electric nerve inside of you just right. He mouthed at your pulse as you convulsed around him, but you weren’t close enough to finish. You snuck a hand between your folds and started to play with your clit, but the whirring of vibranium plates stopped you in your tracks. You can teach an old dog new tricks, Bucky Barnes included. He played your clit like a fiddle until you came around his cock, clenching down on him and moaning his name.
“You’re so good, Bucky,” you nipped at his earlobe while you still came down from your high. “Gonna cum for me?”
He whined almost hysterically, his release close.
“Let go, I’m right here,” you kissed his cheek to calm him and held his hand. “You’re safe.”
Bucky growled and then you knew he had let go. You felt all warm and fuzzy inside as he filled you up, and the way he held you close made you impossibly dizzy. Everything was so Bucky.
You kissed his forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
The bed in Bucky’s bedroom has been made for awhile now. He told you that when you still thought he was a veteran that had done tours in Iraq and slept better on the floor. It was an odd quirk to you, but even with the truth now revealed, you couldn’t judge him. He said in the shower that he wanted to sleep in bed tonight, or at least try.
You both got in, the sheets soft and silky. Bucky left all the lights in the kitchen and bathroom on, but again, you weren’t saying a word about it. He looked at you all sleepily, shirtless with his dog tags on, and you hesitantly grabbed the necklace to observe it.
“It’s awfully quiet,” you ran the pads of your fingers over the letters on the tags. “Is something wrong?”
Bucky murmured something. “Wanna be close.”
You pulled on the tags to bring him closer. “I see.”
His lips connect to yours in a very sloppy manner, drool everywhere from you both laying on your sides. You revel in the feeling of his tongue in your mouth, he tastes like his spearmint toothpaste. The body wash that he used in the shower smells like dish soap, but it’s intoxicating. It’s all so soothing and sensual that you want to burst.
“Closer,” you scratch down his bicep. “Bucky...”
You’re not even wearing any underwear to hide how soaking wet you are, just one of Bucky’s old t-shirts. You’re begging for it, your hand making its way down his washboard abs and to his boxers.
“Not again tonight,” he gave you a peck on the nose.
You shook your head. “It’s not like that.”
This is what happens when you date a 106 year-old man.
“What’s it like?” He asked curiously.
It was your turn to whine. “Just wanna be full.”
Bucky kicked off his boxers under the sheets, sheathing himself inside of your warm walls.
“Would it be a bad time to say I love you?” He grazed a finger over your cheekbone.
“You’re balls-deep inside me, but I love you too.”
Bucky let out a small laugh, and nothing could be more serene, just you and your boy.
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a/n: did i sit on top of my car to imagine this? sure did. a part of the jujutsu hub collab! thank you vee @suna-reversed for organizing this horny event for us horny people.
word count: 3.8k
genre: smut, nsfw, pwp
warnings: dubcon, literally dumbass porn, degradation + praising kink, daddy kink, gun play, mentions of alcohol consumption, dui and death, public sex, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, implied kidnapping
pairing: criminal!toji x f!reader
summary: dozing off in a parking lot seems dangerous but it seems like the right thing to do. that is, until a mysterious man taps on your window.
you shouldn’t have trusted yourself. you’ve vowed to yourself not to drink tonight, especially when you were driving to the city by yourself. maybe one drink wouldn’t hurt, you thought. but that one drink led you to another until you eventually found yourself light headed and could barely walk in a straight line let alone drive home.
so now you decide it’s best to just stop in a random parking lot and doze off for a couple of hours until you’re certain that you’re sober and ready to continue your journey back home. thankfully the lights are on and there are a few other empty cars in the lot, giving you somewhat a sense of security.
even though you aren’t completely sane at the moment, you make sure the doors are locked, turn off the engine and roll your windows down slightly to allow ventilation. if you could avoid a possible car crash, might as well avoid dying from inhaling some fatal gas. so you push back your seat and close your eyes to let sleep take you over.
but it isn’t for long until you hear a knock on the window.
startled and confused, you instantly get up thinking it would be one of the securities patrolling the area, telling you to scram but you’re only met with a rather handsome man, tall and brawny standing next to your car.
he leans down to your eye level and glares at you intimidatingly before he speaks, “get out.”
in such a panicky situation, your heavy cluttered brain doesn’t really tell you what to do nor what the hell is happening so you only stare back at him tongue tied, unable to properly gauge the situation thanks to both chemicals in your system and adrenaline pumping through your veins.
“are you deaf?” he snarls with anger distorting his face.
the sharp eyes piercing through you coupled with the discernible scar on his lips go so well into his menacing demeanor and you’re aware he’s getting impatient. unsure of what to do, your hand reaches for your keys to turn on the engine, thinking it’s best to leave but he bangs on the window as if to tell you that isn’t what he wanted.
“i only told you to get out. so, get the fuck out. now.” toji waits for you to comply, but instead you just sit there frozen and he sighs in exasperation. “look, i have a fucking gun. and if you don’t do as i say, i won’t hesitate to shoot your brains off. you don’t need it anyway, right?”
toji fishes out his gun, waving it in front of you in warning. “and you’d be fucking dumb to think it isn’t loaded.”
the threatening sight of the firearm is finally what makes you unlock your doors and he immediately swings the door open and pulls you out from your vehicle by the wrist. toji eyes you up and down, taking a special interest in the mini skirt you don with a filthy smirk across his face. he peeks inside the car briefly, delighted over the fact that you’re all alone in the middle of the night– in some deserted parking lot, no less.
“where were you from?” he suddenly asks with less gruff in his tone. the eyes raking up and down your smaller frame so flagrantly makes you feel small and vulnerable.
you lick your lips to return moisture lost to parched skin as your eyes shift from his gun to his face. “a party.”
“a party, hm?” he does a double take on your whole skimpy outfit, sending a plethora of titillating thoughts to run in his head and waking up his primal instincts. he hasn’t gotten his dick wet for a while and opportunities don’t come by so easily when he’s a man on the run. he’d have to be an idiot to let this chance slip through his fingers.
“must’ve put a lot of thought on your outfit tonight. why don’t you give me a little twirl?”
toji deliberately taps the gun on the side of his thigh, reminding you what could happen if you either scream or run. getting the hint, you decide to entertain him, knowing well that you could end up with a bullet in any part of your body if you try to escape.
but do you oppose the idea of a sickeningly attractive man trying to check you out with a weapon in his hand? not really. if anything, the alarming nature of the affair only gives a delicious thrill to your already messed up nerves.
his predatory gaze is fixed on your voluptuous curves and the little sway of your hips as you gracelessly turn around in your heels, making blood rush straight down to his cock before telling you to stop.
“get in front of the car.” he urges.
toji cocks the loaded gun in front of you, his expression turning stern and serious once more. “no talking, just do it.”
you walk towards the front with the gun behind your head, careful not to miss your step until you’re facing your car.
“hands on the hood.” he demands, dark eyes silently watching you do as you’re told like a well-trained dog.
you’re certain he can see your ass cheeks peeking underneath the hem of your skirt as cold air hits your skin. the thought of a pair of eyes staring you down hungrily forms an anticipative knot to pull tightly in your stomach as your mind wonders about the dirty things he might and could do to you.
the next thing you feel is the cool metal of the barrel under your skirt, making you shudder as it caresses your puffy folds before dragging upwards to hike up the hem of your unbearably short skirt in favor of checking your panties but oh, what a delightful surprise– not a single thread underneath it all.
“no panties?” he bites back a groan when he notices the glistening slick coated around his black gun. “don’t tell me you’re getting off to this?”
“‘m not–” you deny meekly despite the blossoming heat between your thighs growing bigger when you feel the tip of the barrel against your drenched cunt again.
“don’t lie. you’re a little slut aren’t you? went to a party without your panties on– something tells me you’re an attention whore.” he mocks, poking the gun against your entrance only to observe your little squirms.
“not a slut!” you whine giddily as you spontaneously grind against the long barrel in seek of relief for the dull ache that has formed in your core.
“no? you’re gonna tell me you’re not jerking off to my gun right now?” he chastises with a satirical smile on his lips, feeling his cock harden even more from watching the way you’re eagerly rubbing against the gun he currently holds in his hand.
“i– i don’t know what you’re talking about.” you try not to let your words slur as you play coy, even when breaths are already hitching in your throat.
“oh yeah? ‘cause that cunt is positively leaking right now.” you whimper at his words, being bad and filthy never felt so good– especially to a man you don’t even know. “bet you want me to fill that needy cunt.”
“mhm!” you mewl, gyrating your hips even more salaciously once you manage to find an angle to rub your sensitive clit, sending waves of sensations to every fiber and nerve in your body.
“now that’s an honest little slut.” he coos with amusement lacing in his voice. “why don’t you beg for it?”
you tilt your head back towards him, bottom lip jutting out into a cute pout and eyes pleading. “please..?”
toji lets out a huff, “not good enough, sweetheart.”
your eyes narrow at him, hoping he can read the desperation in them as you call him in the softest mewl that you've used to numerous guys before. “daddy.”
“hmm?” he strokes your clit by rubbing the gun back and forth and watches you quiver with a lopsided grin across his face.
“w-want– need your cock, daddy.” you pant in a shameless expression of your need for him.
“what do you need daddy to do to you, pretty girl?” he studies the barrel, now smeared with your slick.
“need daddy to fuck me– fuck my little tight cunt.”
toji draws his gun away and raises it at the back of your head. “then, get on your knees.”
you don’t need to be told twice as you instantly turn around and face him, the gun now pointing directly to your forehead and follows you even until you’re already kneeled in front him.
“you went a little too fast there, didn’t you?” he chuckles, the sound is smoky and alluring. “so eager. now, take off my pants.”
your hand reaches up to unbuckle his belt and undo his button before pulling the zipper down and tugging off his pants and briefs hastily. your mouth waters at the sight; his thick cock is already throbbing, tip flushing red and leaking precum with a prominent vein on the underside – causing you to quickly disregard the life-threatening weapon in front of your head.
seeing you blatantly gawk at him causes pride to spiral in his chest, as if you’ve never seen a dick before. but is it bad for toji to assume that you've never seen a dick as big as his?
“getting nervous now?” he teases. “fuck that. put it inside your mouth.”
toji exhales sharply once your tongue carefully licks off the salty pre on the tip, rousing him further with only kitten licks until the barrel nudges your head in warning, forcing you to stop your ministrations.
“are you asking to get a hole through your head?” he scowls, showing apparent irritation.
“no.” you answer meekly.
“then? i told you to put it inside your fucking mouth.”
“‘m sorry, daddy.” you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and give it a few pumps up and down his shaft in hopes to please him and calm him down. “promise i’ll be a good girl.”
“then stop fucking around.”
without a second to waste, you wrap your lips around his cock and hollow your cheeks, squeezing and milking his cock with your tongue and throat as your head bobs up and down. you graze your tongue on the underside and slowly drag upwards, following the curve of his vein before giving a harsh suck on his tip, drawing out a loud groan from his throat.
“look at daddy.”
and you do, fixing your gaze with his darker ones as you slobber his cock with so much drool and you relax your throat in order to force yourself down to the base, devouring him whole even as he tilts the gun next to your head.
“wish i had my phone right now. you should see how you look.” his other hand reaches the top of your head, holding you in place and causes you to choke slightly before jerking his hips forward and begins to fuck your throat.
squelching noises resonate in the silent air, mingled with his grunts. drool starts to seep from the corners of your mouth and tears begin to well up in your eyes as his heavy balls slap against your chin.
“boys must really love you, hm?” you can feel the tension in his fingers as he puts monumental effort into restraining himself and he finally draws his gun away. “just taking it like a good girl.”
you can only whimper around his cock, the praise making you feel hotter that you find your hand between your thighs to push a finger inside your wet cunt.
“fuck– yeah, keep touching yourself like that.” he growls, the sound rumbling in his chest as the vibrations from your muffled moans are slowly sending him to the brink of an orgasm.
you’re too immersed by your own finger pumping in and out to even care about the ache that has formed on your jaw but the moment you feel his cock twitching, you both know it won’t be long until he breaks down.
“you’re gonna swallow all of it. got it?” he states more than questions, feeling his balls tightening as he starts to lose the last remaining control he owns.
you hum in response and flutter your eyes close and you wait until his hips still before he spurts thick ropes of cum down your throat, invading all your senses with the bitter taste of his load.
once he has emptied, you pull away with your tongue gliding along his length, not forgetting to lick off the sensitive slit to clean off any remnants.
“open your mouth.” he demands. you part your puffy lips and stick your tongue out, showing your obedience to his prior order and a delightful smirk makes its way on his face upon seeing that you’ve downed every drop of his cum. “good girl.”
“to be honest, i didn’t think you’d cum quickly.” you blurt out bluntly.
his brows furrow and his face contorts into a scowl. “‘fuck did you say?”
you shrug nonchalantly. you don’t know where it’s coming from either– the alcohol still lingering in your veins or the fact that you feel beyond proud that you’ve made him, some guy who claimed that he wanted to rob your car cum so fast. “well, all the guys told me i give the best head but none of them ever–”
“get up. face the car.”
toji clicks his tongue as you blink at him in confusion and he grabs your arm to pull you up on your feet before spinning you around and bending you down on the hood with his body pressing against your back. you swallow nervously when you feel a nudge against your ass, his dick is still hard despite the fact that he has cummed just a minute ago.
“you’re gonna regret that. once i fucking ravage that little cunt, you’re gonna be begging for me to cum quick.” he leans down to your ear as he threatens, sending shivers up and down your spine.
“no. i won’t give a shit if it hurts you or when you cry for me to stop.”
toji gives a harsh smack on the plump flesh, making you jolt in surprise. with your hands down on the hood, he lifts up one of your knees on top of the car, causing you to spread wide open in an instant before he impatiently pokes the tip of his cock against your pulsating hole.
“but that’s what you want, right?”
your eyes roll back, lips parting in an appreciative squeal as you feel his fat cock stretches you out accompanied with a delicious burn when he sinks in deeper.
“mmh– s-so big–!”
“yeah? never had a dick this big before?” toji pulls out almost completely, eyes fixed on the cock glistening with your slick under the street lights, not missing the white cream attached onto the skin.
toji cuts you off with one hard slam of his hips, drilling his cock into your tight pussy in a brutal pace while you keen and whimper as it brushes against your walls, each stretch and drag inside you so exquisite while deep crescent shapes of his nails form on your pliant skin as he holds you firmly by the hips for leverage.
“no wonder you’re so fucking tight. stupid boys didn’t know how to fuck you right.” his words thrum in a burst of heat as he growls in your ear, breaking through your every thought.
you tilt your head towards him with heavy lidded eyes and meet his lust addled gaze. your mouth is gaping in breathless moans, tongue slightly lolled out from your lips as you try to reach closer to his scarred lips, wanting to crash your lips onto his before it stretches into a devilish smirk and you feel warm liquid lands on your palate.
“you looked like you were begging to taste my spit.” he mocks. toji watches as you eagerly swallow it down your throat and he lets out a brittle chuckle. “dirty slut.”
your pussy flutters upon hearing how he degrades you, causing you to buck your hips wildly against him in an attempt to meet his thrusts.
“you liked that, didn’t you? i can feel you clamping down on me like a fucking whore.” he derides, fucking you harder and deeper until your world is reduced into nothing but the way he makes you feel completely stuffed and filled, the cockhead kissing your cervix with each deep strokes.
“please– make me cum, daddy–” you keen as pressure pulls taut in your lower stomach, the slick noises are so loud that the both of you can hear them even through your moans.
your body flushes against his, so close together and you can only focus on the sounds of flesh against flesh, the salacious rhythm making you more delirious.
“then, cum for me. let me feel you gush all over me.” toji brings his fingers to rub against your clit, easily tipping you over the edge by pressing tight circles until you find yourself crashing down with an orgasm exploding throughout your body.
“you want more?” he taunts, helping you ride out the aftershock by continuously rutting his hips into your cunt and not giving you the slightest chance to recuperate.
“ah– ‘s too much–” you whimper as soon as the pleasure begins to numb and you clutch onto his wrist tightly to try and pry his hand away from your sensitive clit.
“too much? don’t think that i’m done with you yet.”
toji finally draws away from you, but only turns you around to face him and effortlessly puts you on top of the hood with your elbows propping your weight. with his hands, he spreads and keeps your legs apart before sheathing his cock back inside your pulsing cunt again, completely mindless of your pathetic sobs. he lifts up your top, not surprised over the lack of bra underneath and he intently watches the way your tits bounce with each merciless pound of his cock.
“s-stop– please–” you whimper feebly as you try to shut your trembling legs together but he doesn’t budge and only keeps his grip on your thighs even tighter, stretching out your pussy for him wider.
“fucking take it.”
toji ignores your plea and his head dips low to your chest, latching his mouth onto one of your nipples and starts to flick it with his tongue coupled with harsh sucks until he pulls back with a pop and watches as the nipple stands erect before assaulting the other, swiftly sending sparks of pleasure down to the bundle of nerves.
“might as well keep you around. be my personal fucktoy. would you like that?” he grins up at you to see your jaw slacking, mouth falling in a wide ‘o’ as the burn down your core begins to cease.
“yesyesyes– make me your slut–!” your toes curl, making your heels drop down to the ground while your knuckles turn white from squeezing your hands into balled fists too hard.
“yeah? you’d do anything for a good fuck, huh?” he sneers at you, although he’s fascinated with your state of arousal.
“mhm– need daddy to fill me up with his cum–” your back rests against the car, reveling in the feeling of his cock abusing your swollen cunt like you’re nothing but a sex doll.
“but daddy’s not gonna cum yet. not even when you’re tightening around him like this.” toji slams your hips down closer to him, fucking into you deeper and harder with his heavy balls smacking your ass.
“t-too deep–! daddy, i’ll–” you babble, losing the ability to form cohesive words as you feel a strange knot twisting rapidly in your guts. the feeling is too intense and unbearable– the refined drags of his vein brushing against your spongy walls is anything but agonizing.
“come on. use your big girl words.” he drags out slowly and quickly pumps back into you ruthlessly. “or are you too dumb already?”
toji lifts up your legs over his shoulders as he leans down closer to you and he nips on your pulse point, causing your body to tense as your hands find home in his dark locks and tight shirt.
as soon as he lets go, your pupils are blown wide as pleasure washes throughout your body and you feel yourself gushing around the cock still buried inside you along with a broken moan from your lips. the release is oddly more relieving than your prior orgasm, making your body feel lighter as your mind ascends to a state of euphoria. you find yourself panting heavily as you squirt all over him, staining his black shirt with clear fluid and with some of it dribbling down to his thick thighs.
“making such a mess on daddy.” he groans as he feels your walls convulse around him rapidly, milking his cock dry and slowly dragging him down to his own high for the second time of the night.
you can only look at him in a cockdaze with no particular thoughts running inside your head, each one formed gone like popping bubbles. your eyes glued onto every bit of his features; the brows furrowed in concentration, the lips parting in grunts, the damp matted hair against his forehead and you drink the sight of it all even when you’re not sure if you’ll remember it all the next morning.
“fuck– it’d be a shame to not cum inside this pretty cunt, right?” his thrusts turn sporadic, dick twitching as a telltale of his pending orgasm that’s soon to crash down over him. he didn’t need to hear your answer as he ruts into you faster, hips stuttering out of control before a low, guttural sound escapes his throat as he shoots hot ropes of cum, flooding into your womb and stuffing you full with his seed.
and once he lets go of your legs you can feel your whole body sore all over, but you can’t bring yourself to care nor whatever is going to happen after this when the man in front of you has given you what you truly wanted and made you feel satiated like you’ve never felt before.
toji pulls out his spent cock and runs a hand through his hair before putting his pants back on. a cocky smirk graces his lips at the sight of your fucked out body, still splayed on top of the hood with his cum dribbling out from your pussy.
he presses your cheeks together with one hand and forces you to look at him, even as your lids are getting heavy to lift.
“i was serious about you being my fucktoy– and stealing your car.” he cackles. “so, do you wanna be in the back seat or do you prefer the trunk?”
duskamethyst © 2020 • all rights reserved. do not modify, translate or repost anywhere.
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Jujutsu Kaisen hcs- “please don’t leave”
alt. title- needy late night moments
Characters- Yuji, Gojo, Sukuna, Megumi
Tags- angst if you squint but mainly fluff
- You fell asleep on him while watching a horror movie late night.
- His one hand clutched the popcorn bowl, the other coming around to cradle your head subconsciously as your body slumped over into his side.
- His main task for the next hour was to not move a single muscle in fear you’d wake up and go inside the bedroom to sleep.
- He’s just been a little touch starved and liked the warmth you were radiating.
- His task proves to be quite difficult considering he was watching a horror movie with jump-scares every two minutes.
- It takes 5 failed attempts at Yuji trying not to jolt up whenever something pops up for you to finally stir awake, and you find your eyes meeting with the absolutely terror filled ones of your lover.
- “Please don’t leave” he whispers in a voice that makes your heart break. You end up taking that as him being scared of the movie
- Still in a sleepy daze, you crawl over into his lap, affectionately nosing at his neck while his strong arms come around to hold you tightly,
- “I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here mmkay?” A smile of pure tenderness forms across Yuji’s face, soon enough turning into choking laughter as you sleepily mumble, “I’m ready to throw hands with them dead people”
- “Zombies, babe. They’re zombies.”
- “The only thing they’ll be once I’m done with them is...dead” You slur out that last part, falling back into slumber with a small smile on your face as you feel Yuji shake with silent laughter, his hand coming up to gently pat the back of your head,
- “Thank you baby, I’d throw hands with zombies for you any-day too.”
- You rolled over in the empty bed for the thousandth time that night. You had learned long before that on most nights you’ll be sleeping without your Satoru.
- So what was different today? Maybe it was the fact that he had informed you of his return. But it had been 2 days since then, and Gojo had never not shown up the same day that he’d told you he was coming back.
- Despite knowing the man you loved was practically undefeatable by most, your mind had considered every single possibility, from him getting captured by a curse to him tripping over and falling into an abandoned sewage line.
- Your stomach churned with anxiety as you considered whether calling Nanami this late to check on Gojo would be a good idea.
- You were halfway into typing his number when you heard the familiar click of the door unlocking, your feet carrying you to the front door faster than your mind could process it.
- And there he was. The bag of sweets he gets you each time in his left hand as he apprehended you with a raised brow and cocky look,
- “Couldn’t sleep without me sweetheart?”
- He was met with eerie silence as you continued to stare at him. Your sleep deprived mind still processing that he was home. He was safe.
- Gojo immediately sensed that something was wrong, but before he could react, you were walking towards him, crashing into his arms as he brought his hands around you when-
- Did you just...punch his chest?
- “I was- I was so scared” you sniffed into his chest. “...you idiot.”
- Gojo’s heart twisted in pain as he heard a sob escape you, his arms tightening around you as he rested his chin on your head. He let you cry it out, gently picking you up and carrying you to the bedroom in midst of you murmuring various swear words at him
- He finally felt you beginning to calm down as he tucked you in the on your side of the bed. But, as he pulled away, he felt a hand clutch onto his wrist,
- “Please don’t leave” you said, your voice quivering.
- “Baby...” he said with a gentle voice, “I’m just going to go change, okay? I’m not going anywhere”
- Even as Gojo changed, he felt your eyes digging into his back like he’d disappear if you let him out of sight for even a moment.
- He quickly pulled on a pair of sweats, opting to not wear a shirt as he moved into bed with you, your limbs immediately coming to wrap around him.
- You laid in silence for a while
- “y/n?” You hummed in acknowledgement, face still buried in his chest
- “I’m always going to come back home to you my love. That’s a promise okay?”
- You nodded in response, eyes turning glassy once more as Gojo leaned forward to pepper kisses all over your forehead, cheeks, and nose.
- Gojo lifted his blindfold as he felt your breathing slow down, his ocean eyes filled with utmost adoration as he simply let himself admire your sleeping form.
- The curse found itself being stuck in its vessel at the most useless of times. -
- After a late night mission when the brat crashed at your surveillanced apartment, while you completed the formalities and paperwork to submit to Nanami the next morning.
- Walking out of the guest room, Sukuna found himself amused by your ability to fall asleep in the weirdest of places
- Currently, you sat hunched over the kitchen table, head resting sideways in your arms, tiny snores leaving your mouth as your eyes remained shut.
- The curse looked back to a few days ago when it had found itself in it’s vessel’s body unwillingly again, a strange warmth curled in his left side. Looking down, he had realised that the strange warmth came from your huddled up body.
- You had immediately snapped open your eyes and moved away as soon as he had let out a low chuckle.
- So this time, he approached you carefully. But even then, he had expected you to sense someone’s presence so close next to you.
- But there was no reaction from you, even as he pulled the chair right next to you and sat down on it.
- “Oi brat”
- Still no response.
- Oh, had you finally let your guard down?
- A dozen different malicious ideas filled Sukuna’s mind, but he found himself simply sitting there, awaiting for a reaction from you.
- He wondered how you could sleep so comfortably on what was practically a wooden slab. And he found his answer questioned as he curiously leaned down on his own arms, facing you, your noses merely an inch away as he regarded your calm face with a raised brow.
- He had imagined you to be snarky and biting at him even in your sleep.
- Why had he imagined you sleeping at all?
- He found himself avoiding the question.
- He stilled as your eyes fluttered open, a cocky smile making it’s way on his lips as he awaited your fear filled eyes.
- Instead, he found you simply staring back at him, the most of a reaction being you furrowing your brows slightly
- He didn’t know whether he was a little offended by your lack of response or highly unsettled by your piercing gaze. Nonetheless, he found himself turning his head away, almost in a petty childlike manner.
- Why did he not get up and leave?
- He felt a hand come to the back of his head, and his senses instantly got ready to go into offensive mode.
- But this was something much much worse than an attack.
- He found your fingers gently brush over his hair, almost like you were absorbing it’s softness into your fingertips. The breaking point was you gently scratching his head with your nails. He almost purred.
- But he also found his own hand coming up to grip your wrist, stilling your hand in place.
- “What-are-you-doing?” He emphasised each word as he turned his towards you again, hand still holding yours above his head.
- You continued to stare at him with a look he didn’t quite understand,
- “Your hair is...soft” You slurred your words a little, wiggling your fingers that were trapped in his hand. He let go, only to find you entangling your hand back into his hair, quite shamelessly this time as you closed your eyes once again.
- He didn’t know whether it was the tiredness of that night or simply your sleepiness, but you didn’t acknowledge it the next day. He chose not to either even though he had spent all night thinking of how he’d get to tease you with this.
- But, the king of curses did find himself leaning more towards you whenever you were in his presence. Your hand brushing with his every now and then. Him gently tugging on a strand of hair before tucking it behind your ear and you letting him. Staying right there if he woke up with you on his shoulder while on the train back from a mission.
- Eventually, you show up to Yuji’s room on a day much similar to the night where you first touched the curse, eyes sunken and shoulders slumped, desperate for any sort of comfort and almost relieved at the fact that he was there.
- He was taken back as you climbed into the bed, arms wrapping around him, hands going straight to tangle themselves in his hair as you buried your face in his chest.
- “Please don’t leave”
- He found his own arms pulling you further into him because who was he to deny you when your touch felt so divine?
- Getting a call from Megumi at 2 am after you had just returned from a mission was the last thing you had expected
- Megumi had grown considerably close to you for a boy who didn’t always wear his emotions on his sleeve.
- However, perhaps it was the fact that you had ended up giving him a tiny huge scare by going missing for a few hours on the mission
- It wasn’t anything major, you had gotten injured and accidentally strayed off the path you were ordered to follow
- Nonetheless, the news had reached the school, particularly Megumi, who was halfway out, ready to go and save you from whatever had taken you when the message had come that they had found you unconscious in some corner of the forest. He had only left the infirmary after being assured countless times that you were fine and being pulled away by Yuji.
- Still, he found his mind running and all he wanted was to hear your voice to make sure you were okay.
- He honestly hadn’t expected you to pick up, but he hadn’t known that the nurse had allowed you to go back to your dorm once you woke up.
- So he found himself speechless as he heard your voice
- “...Megumi? Is everything okay?”
- “Yes” he murmured.
- “The nurse told me you were there with me for quite a while…”
- There was a beat of silence before he said,
- “You scared me”
- He immediately hung up after that.
- You knew that it was difficult for him to express such emotions and so you found your feet carrying you to the front of his door
- You weren’t exactly sure of what you were going to do, but you didn’t have to figure that out as the door opened in your face, Megumi gesturing for you to come in.
- As soon as you shut the door, you felt your body being pulled into his warm embrace. You sighed, taking in his familiar scent of night-chilled mist and cedar as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.
- You eventually ended up on his bed, limbs tangled with each other under the sheets as he traced random patterns onto your arm to convey the words he couldn’t say, till he fell asleep.
- You found yourself noticing the time, sighing as you got ready to go back to your dorm, but Megumi noticed the slight movement,
- “Angel...” he murmured sleepily, nuzzling his head into your neck, “Please don’t leave.”
- Your heart melted at his words and the consequences of sleeping in another student’s room seemed to fade from your mind as you tightened your grip on him,
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⤷ oikawa, akaashi, kenma, iwaizumi; [gn!reader]
warnings/genre: fluff, pda (iwaizumi + kenma), oiks and the reader are in the shower together but it’s not sexual, mentions of jealousy in iwa’s
notes: please reblog !! i’ll pinky promise to give u my first born <3 /j
call him pretty boy. call him pretty boy. call-
he’s really easy to fluster tbh he just won’t admit it
1000/10 v cute when he’s flustered
“baby?” he hums, stepping into the living room, where you’re currently sitting. your eyes don’t leave the tv screen, though you’re listening to him nonetheless.
“yeah?” you respond, eventually looking over to him. a towel hangs around his hips, his hair dripping, and a bottle of his shampoo in one hand.
“you- uhm,” it’s now that you notice the blush coating his cheeks, turning the tips of his ears pink. “do you wanna wash my hair?”
it takes a moment for you to understand. earlier, he’d mentioned the long day he’d had, and you assumed that’s why he disappeared to the bathroom to shower. you were right... partially, anyway.
you smile. “yeah, i’ll be there in a minute.”
it didn’t take long before you were stepping into the shower behind him, letting him press a quick kiss the the place between your eyebrows, losing your hands in his wet hair.
he sighs as he leans into you and rests his forehead into the crook of your neck. you can feel his breath against your skin, the ghost of his lips.
“what, do you like that?” a bubbly laugh escapes you.
oikawa doesn’t answer, he just hums as you continue you run your nails through his hair. when you get out, you’ll assume the red coating his face is from the heat of the water... you’ll be wrong.
he’s so soft !! (and easy to fluster)
it’s easier to fluster him in public but it’s so much more fun to do it in private, you’ll get more of a reaction
as opposed to the “akaashi.exe has stopped working” you’ll get in public
“do you know where my—” akaashi didn’t finish the sentence. he had his answer now, emerging from your shared bedroom and his eyes landing on his sweatpants.
the sweatpants that you were wearing.
“hm?” you asked innocently, momentarily unaware of why he was staring at you. “oh, i can take them off if you want. they just looked comfy.”
“no!” akaashi said all too quickly, and then again quieter. “no, you can leave them on. i have a different pair somewhere.”
you just stared at him for a while, trying to make sense of the look on his face. for a moment, you thought that he was anxious or... maybe embarrassed? you couldn’t quite tell.
what you were sure of, however, was that his face was dusted pink all the way to the tips of his ears, and he was playing with his fingers.
he was about to disappear back into the bedroom when you spoke again.
“is everything alright?”
he cleared his throat as his eyes darted to the ground. “yeah, i’m okay. i’m alright.”
if you try to fluster him it won’t work, it’s honestly just random, seemingly insignificant things that make him malfunction
tbh though you can just kiss him and he short circuits </3
also pda,, any small amount of pda,,
“y/n!” iwaizumi called, maneuvering through the crowd of people. it always got like this after games.
despite not being able to see him, you could hear the smile on his face. a similar expression crossed your face as he finally reached you. his hand found the small of your back and he pulled you towards him, staring directly at the random guy that had decided to start flirting with you.
“hi, i’m iwaizumi.” he said, giving a tense smile and holding out his hand.
the stranger introduces himself as well and moves to shake your boyfriend’s hand. you watched iwaizumi’s knuckles turn white with how hard he gripped the other guy’s hand.
its a rare occasion that iwaizumi gets jealous. nevertheless, it’s almost heartbreaking after the fact; he gets insecure and cuddly, giving you a pitiful look that you wouldn’t be able to find in any other situation.
you grab his hand, causing him to look over at your beaming face. a blush begins to creep across his face, but that’s not what does him in.
“he’s actually my boyfriend.” you say, still smiling, like he’s the best thing that ever happened to you.
there might have been more to the conversation — iwaizumi’s not sure, he’s still processing what just happened. the smile on your face is imprinted in his mind by now, but he doesn’t have any complaints about that.
the guy makes up a quick excuse and leaves, giving you an opening to press a quick kiss to iwaizumi’s cheek and begin pulling him away.
pls kiss him while he’s streaming
or really just do anything affectionate while he’s on stream
words cannot describe the pride the fills his chest when his chat explodes with compliments about you, saying how lucky he is
from the next room, you could hear kenma talking and the loud clicks of his keyboard. what you failed to notice was the time; you assumed he was talking to his friends, not streaming.
you knocked lightly on the door, walking on in before he could even answer. he took his headset off on one side and his eyes flicker over to you. a smile crosses his face.
“i’m almost done,” he says. “i cant really pause right now.”
“that’s fine, just missed you.”
you make your way over to him, wrapping your arms around him and setting your chin atop his head. you move to press a kiss to his temple, then glance at his screen. it’s then that you notice that he was not, in fact, just talking to his friends.
you feel your face heat up. quickly, you step out of view of the camera and almost begin to apologize. the laugh that escapes kenma is what stops you.
“i’ll be done soon, promise.” he says, and there’s no denying the blush on his face. kenma looks back over to his computer screen, seeing the comments flood it.
‘wait was that y/n!!!!?!!??!’
‘STFU THEY’RE SO PRETTY??’
‘if he treats them wrong i’m right here </3’
needless to say, “i want someone to look at me like kodzuken looks at y/n” became a popular template for a while.
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