#it’s like holding up a mirror right? ‘I’m the shadow that you cast. how much closer could I be?’

[wsdanon]

i feel like this will be quite niche, mostly because i'm not sure how many ordem fans are in my sphere but also because it's not about the main cast lol

but below the cut is an osnf fic \o/! many spoilers for that season. it's based on a canon divergent au me and @factorialsotherfandoms came up with and this one in particular involves the helper and the gatekeeper!

also below the cut for anyone who hasn't seen ordem but is curious about the fic is a brief summary of some world-building elements that will help with understanding the fic \o/ but not the plot because that will take too long lol

reblogs appreciated \o/!! hope you guys enjoy

brief worldbuilding stuff: the helper and the gatekeeper are from a town called santo berço which was a seemingly perfect town apart from the fact that the people are brainwashed to some degree into wanting to stay there and there's a parasite (the saint/a god) feeding on some of them. everyone in the town uses their work titles as their names, and they have an alien-ish appearance (Luzidio) but can switch into a human appearance (Ignaro) at will. the crystals mentioned are healing crystals that have the ability to knock people out if ingested. i can't explain buttery butter. blame felps for this creation

--

The Helper stands in front of the mirror, his Ignaro form staring back. Technically he doesn’t need to be in it right now, but he’ll need to get used to it eventually, so… he’s practicing. 

The eyes are maybe the strangest bit about it. They feel smaller. The familiar blackness now shrunk down and encased by other colours—brown and white. 

He leans closer to the mirror and pokes at his cheek where his markings would be. Maybe if he looks close enough he’ll still be able to see the faint shadow of them—

“Why are you acting like it’s new?” The Gatekeeper says. “You’ve seen this form before.” 

The Helper jumps at the sudden appearance of his voice, and spins around to face him. He doesn’t like having people behind him anymore—an alien distrust crawling through his body at even the thought of it. 

“I know, I’m just… getting used to it. You know?” He shrugs, and tries to force himself to relax. “I never used to use it much before, but now it’s going to be pretty much constant, right?”

“That’s true.” 

Cautiously, the Gatekeeper drifts closer. They don’t have the crystals anymore, and he’s not holding a weapon so it should be fine. 

Really, he wishes his brain would stop thinking so hard about it. He’s one of the few people who actually managed to survive and that was because of the Gatekeeper. 

It’s just… 

It’s hard to put the memory out of his mind of the Gatekeeper approaching him with a knife and wrestling crystals into his mouth.

“It is strange.” The Gatekeeper admits with a small smile as he stops close in front of him. “I only ever saw you like this when we were messing around.”

“And you went on lots of Pilgrimages, right?” The Helper says, knocking their shoulders together gently with a smile that doesn’t quite feel real crossing his face. He doesn’t like it, but no attempts at widening the smile make it feel realer. “So you’re probably dealing fine, huh?” 

“Eh…” The Gatekeeper shrugs. “With this, yeah.” 

He’s in his Luzidio form now. It’s nice. A tiny bit of familiarity to cling onto. 

“What if we lose it?” The Gatekeeper continues, something nervous seeping into his tone. 

“What?” The Helper tilts his head, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you mean?” 

“This form.” He points to himself. “We only had this because of the Saint’s influence. What if we lose it now?” 

“Well, we—“ He cuts himself off as the full implications hit him, a hollow feeling settling into his chest. It’s uncomfortable. He never used to feel this way in Santo Berço, but now it’s almost all he can feel. “We—We get used to it, I guess.” 

The Gatekeeper reaches a hand up—slowly, but the Helper can’t help but flinch away a little. All he does, though, is settle it onto his cheek. Doesn’t try to pry his mouth open. Doesn’t try to force the anaesthesia down his throat. 

“You should, uh…” The Gatekeeper shifts his thumb to line up with where the Helper’s markings would be. Presses down firmly, but not enough to hurt. “You should get them tattooed.”

“Okay.” This smile feels a little more real. “Would you?”

“Ah, maybe.” He shrugs. “I’m still not… sure how I feel about, uh, all of it.” 

“I like them.” The Helper brings a finger up to trace down one before letting it drop to his side again. “I’d miss them.”

“O-Okay.” The Gatekeeper looks away, his cheeks darkening. “Maybe for you, then.”

The Helper frowns. He misses Santo Berço. Misses the simplicity of it. Everything out here just feels like a mess—the selfish desire to keep at least one thing the same, versus the guilt of forcing the Gatekeeper to do something he doesn’t particularly want to do. 

“Only if it’s for you, too.” He tries another smile. “From what you’ve said, it sounds like it’s about time you do things for yourself, hm?” 

The Gatekeeper is still cupping his cheek, so he can feel the moment his hands start shaking. He wonders if they shook when he spilled his blood to fake his death. 

“I…” His voice cracks. He drops his hand from the Helper’s face so he can wrap him in a tight hug instead. “I’m so glad you’re here. My god, I’m so glad you’re here, Helper, I… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

The Helper hugs him back.

“It’s okay. Everything’s okay now.”

For a while they stand there. The Gatekeeper isn’t quite crying, but he is trembling in the Helper’s arms—murmuring things that he can’t make out, but are probably apologies. 

When he pulls away he doesn’t go far. And he’s still trembling a little—his eyes shiny with unshed tears—but he seems more put together than he was a moment ago. 

“I’ll—I’ll figure out how to make buttery butter, okay?” The Gatekeeper promises. 

“Oh, how cool!” For the first time since they got here, a spark of excitement ignites in him. “We can all experiment together! I’m sure we’ll get it right eventually, you know?”

“Hopefully.” The Gatekeeper sends him a watery smile. “I just—I know how much you like it. You did always say it was the best part of Santo Berço.”

That was when he still had Santo Berço. When he didn’t have to miss it. But the sentiment is sweet, and he is clawing for any scrap of familiarity. 

For the Collector and the Nurse it isn’t so bad, he thinks. As much as they might miss it, they know what it’s like to live without it. All they’ll need is a readjustment period. 

The Gatekeeper is in his boat, but it’s different. He’s always hated Santo Berço—apparently. And he’s probably been on enough Pilgrimages to understand how the world outside is. 

“Thank you.” It’s worth being optimistic, though. “I think between the four of us we’ll get close!”

“We will.” The Gatekeeper declares—an intensity to him that the situation doesn’t really require. “I promise.”

They should maybe talk about that. The devotion he feels for them. 

The Helper knows the Nurse doesn’t like it. He’s aware of her wariness every time the Gatekeeper is around. But they all saw the fates of the people still connected to the Saint, and the Helper finds it difficult to hate his friend for his original plan. 

He doesn’t want to open up the discussion and find out she has a reason to still be worried, though. It’s a strange enough thing to know your friend would kill you to prevent your suffering. To not be able to shake the fear that came with the certainty you were about to die by his hands. 

He doesn’t want it to be made worse. He’s lost too much to lose the Gatekeeper now.

“Come on.” The Helper says, nudging the Gatekeeper into action. “The Nurse said you should be resting, and you know she knows what she’s talking about.” 

“If you could say that with less infatuation in your voice I’d be more inclined to believe you, you know?” The Gatekeeper says teasingly. “But you’re right—she’s right—I am tired. Maybe you could carry me?”

The Gatekeeper had collapsed when the Saint was killed. Dropped like a stone before any of them could catch him. It wasn’t as worrying as bursting into flames, but it was still terrifying. 

The Helper had carried him to safety. Held on tightly to him—almost afraid he’d disappear in front of him, just like his dad had. 

“Yeah, okay.” 

And then he scoops him up. 

It’s as easy to carry him as last time, but this time feels nicer. Less terrifying. Instead of being limp and unconscious in his arms, the Gatekeeper clings back to him immediately—his eyes widening in shock.

The Helper laughs. The Gatekeeper clearly wasn’t expecting the request to be taken seriously, but he doesn’t complain or ask to be put down and it’s—it’s nice. 

It’s a short walk to the spare room, but the Gatekeeper is already dozing off. He lays him down in bed gently, but the Gatekeeper grabs his arm before he can leave. 

“Wait, can you—can you stay?” He asks, his voice shaky with something the Helper would label as fear. “Please? Just until I fall asleep.”

“Okay.” 

He was going to wait up until the Nurse got back from her shift, but that won’t be for a few more hours. 

So, he gets into bed, but doesn’t lay down—unwilling to tempt sleep. Just sits there and lets the Gatekeeper curl up against him. It’s a bit of a tight fit, but he doesn’t mind. The closeness is nice, actually. 

“Goodnight.” He cards a hand through the Gatekeeper’s hair. Like this, it’s hard to imagine he could be capable of murder. “Sleep well.” 

“Thank you. Goodnight.” 

The Gatekeeper falls asleep quickly, but the Helper doesn’t leave yet. It’s peaceful. And it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on the Gatekeeper’s health. 

The Nurse had said he’ll probably need more time to recover than them, but she had also asked the Helper to tell her if he seemed to be getting worse. 

He was his dad’s assistant before the Blacksmith’s, after all. And while he definitely doesn’t have the knack for it that the Nurse does, he thinks he could at least figure out if she needs to reassess his condition. 

But the Gatekeeper seems fine for now, and he has a couple of hours to kill. So, he grabs the book on the bedside table that the Gatekeeper’s been reading through and starts reading it himself.

--

hope you guys enjoyed \o/!! i'm happy to talk more about the au's details if anyone's curious

#wsd/f.ics

[izurou]

THE AIR BETWEEN US FT. SUNA RINTAROU

synopsis: your best friend comes to a realization when you go out on a date — leaving him all alone in his brand new home.

contains: female reader. best friend suna. brief mentions and allusions to marriage. reader is a bit oblivious to rin’s feelings. swearing. lotta banter. one small part features jus rinnie (while reader is on her date) 2.8k words.

note: okok i’ve never written smth like this before but i’m so super proud of it and had so much fun ?!? ahhhh :’)

rintarou’s apartment is warm.

a little place about five minutes from the heart of downtown—rather mundane, and lacking a bit of everything. he has a few decorative pillows and other small trinkets, most of which were pawned off on him by his mother as he was moving out.

almost everything else he now owns was bought on a whim, with no regard for how any of it would tie together in a room. luckily, he had no desire for colour, and opted for neutrals when available.

his home is often quiet, lifeless—whether he’s there or he’s not, varying shades of navy blue seep through the blinds and cast dark shadows onto his walls.

he’s adjusting to it—the solitude. getting himself out of bed every morning, no incessant nagging from his father about it being half past noon, no music blaring from his younger sister’s room. it’s just him, the buzzing of his toothbrush, and the little sticker on his bathroom mirror that reads hello gorgeous, courtesy of atsumu.

and yet, out of the handful of times you’ve been there, the space has felt nothing but alive—with artificial orange hues filling the rooms, and the scent of freshly sprayed linen hanging in the air. even with the crisp breeze floating in through the wide open windows, it’s warm.

but sometimes, it’s incredibly loud.

“professional big spoon?” you hear him howling from the kitchen, mock and hilarity woven into each syllable—and immediately, regret starts to bubble in your chest.

you have a date tonight, soon. it’s nothing more than a casual dinner, with a guy you recently met on a dating app. he’s cute, tall, friendly—which is already more than you could say for most of the men on there, so why the hell not?

of course, upon hearing about the whole ordeal your best friend insisted that you come over the day of. you knew he’d want to poke his nose in your business and ask about the man—but the more rintarou talks, the more you begin to think he invited you here just to ridicule your match.

“this has gotta be the world’s douchiest bio,” he scoffs, furrowing his brows as he stares down at the screen. “6’2 my ass.”

he mutters the last part under his breath, opening his near empty fridge in search of something to wash down the sour taste flooding his mouth.

“what does he gain from lying about his height?” you chime, slipping into the room and watching as rintarou tilts his head back, chugging the remainder of yesterday’s gatorade.

he wipes at his mouth with the back of his palm, shifting his gaze over to you. quickly—he allows his eyes to travel from your head down to your feet, and back up once more.

hm.

“more matches,” he shrugs, leaning against the edge of the countertop and averting his attention back to the screen. “a little confidence, maybe.”

“so, you lie on your dating profile too?” you quirk a brow, tossing your jacket over the back of a of dining room chair. you slink a bit closer, preparing to snatch your phone back as soon as the chance presents itself.

“i don’t have to,” he huffs, jerking his hand away mere seconds before yours comes swooping in. “too slow, thanks for coming out though.”

“rin, stop fucking around,” you grumble, tugging on his arm as he holds it above his head. “you’re going to be the best man at our wedding, right? might as well practice not being a giant ass while you still have time.”

tch.

“hey, easy lovebird,” he hisses, feeling your nails dig into the skin on his wrist. his nose scrunches up and his brows furrow—a grumpy, get the hell away from me face you know all too well. placing the base of his palm flat against your forehead, he lightly pushes you away. “i’ll definitely be the best man there, but i’m not giving any speeches.”

“whatever, give me back my phone,” you mutter, glancing at rintarou’s brand new, never been and hopefully never will be used oven. “we’re meeting at eight, i have to go.”

“here, might wanna declaw before you leave,” he hands over the device and frowns, rubbing at the subtle red line forming near his elbow. “fuckin’ gremlin.”

you ignore his comment, reaching for your jacket and slipping the leather onto your arms. you fiddle with it, shifting and repositioning the fabric until it sits on your shoulders just right. it’s a bit oversized, but not too much, and it compliments the black lace trim on your cami. at least, you think it does.

“do i look okay?” you ask, peering up at rintarou who, is now wrist deep in a bag of calbee hot and spicy potato chips.

“mmm, you look like you do every day,” he replies through a mouthful.

“wow, i’m sure there’s thousands lining up to hear that one,” you laugh, and something resembling a smile forms on his lips.

“what can i say?” he agrees, weakly gesturing to himself before bringing his fingers to his mouth and sucking the flavouring off. he strolls over to the front door, where you’re already reaching for the knob—trying desperately to flee. “hey, text me later, okay?”

“will do,” you assure.

“and have fun,” he adds, leaning his head against the doorframe as you step out into the hall. “but not too much.”

“yes, mother, bye now.”

he watches you practically skip down the narrow, dimly lit corridor until you disappear around the corner—and again, he’s alone.

⋆

rintarou props his feet up on his little black coffee table, aimlessly flipping his way through netflix—searching for something, anything to distract his saboteur mind.

it’s dark, the sun has long been set, and hues of navy blue bleed past the blinds. the streetlights outside paint the shadow of a tree onto his living room wall, though it resembles something much more frightening—a monster. could it be the same one who used to hide under his bed when he was a kid?

he continues to scroll until he comes across an anime, ouran high school host club. huh, you like that one. not his cup of tea by any means, but it’ll do—it’s just something to fill the silence after all. a shiver greets rintarou’s spine as he presses play, and he instinctively nuzzles into the collar of his sweatshirt. it’s cold.

craning his neck back, he narrows his gaze onto the window—wide open and practically begging for the frigid air to waltz right in. he inhales, shuts his eyes, and exhales. it’s too far.

he blindly throws his hand over the back of the couch, patting around until he feels the familiar fluff of his old rick and morty blanket. usually, it’d be sitting at the foot of his bed, but he just so happened to be in a similar predicament before you arrived late this afternoon.

he spreads the fleece over himself, and it barely covers three quarters of his body, but it’s a hell of lot better than nothing. he tugs his sleeves over his balled up fists and crosses his arms over his chest, allowing his eyes to close once more.

yes, this’ll do. he can feel himself drifting off, becoming less aware of the sounds emanating from the television, less aware of the nagging thoughts feeding off his brain—except, for one.

vows don’t count as speeches, do they?

⋆

rintarou wakes to a low buzzing—vibrations that stem from the pocket of his hoodie and roll up his torso. someone’s calling.

he reaches, but his hand is forced to take a detour to the back of his neck, where a kink is in the midst of settling into the muscle. a few profanities slip out, all directed at himself for not laying down like a normal nap taking human.

“yeah?” he answers, leaning his head against the back of the sofa while pressing the device to his ear. he didn’t bother reading the contact name—he hasn’t heard from his mother at all today, and she’s made a daily habit of checking in on him, asking if he’s eating proper meals and doing his laundry.

at this point his microwave has stolen the title of best friend right out from under your nose, and there’s a basket of clean clothes that’s been in the corner of rintarou’s bedroom for the past three days. still, he always answers yes.

“rin, did i wake you?”

wait—it’s you. what time is it?

“oh, hey. yeah, you did,” he yawns, squinting at the tv, where a few boys in purple uniforms are talking about—fancy tuna? you are so weird. he pulls back for a moment, peering at the numbers sitting at the top of his screen—9:13 pm. “you home already?”

“no, i’m still here.”

shit, he better start practicing his i object.

“well? did they give him a booster seat?” there’s a teasing lilt to his voice, but his expression remains deadpan.

“he didn’t show up, rintarou.”

yes, maybe he doesn’t have to.

“huh? so you’ve just been sitting there?” he asks, using a finger to push the fluff on his blanket from side to side—against the grain, and with.

“yeah, i had hope for a while.”

he wants to say something—but he can’t decide on what. is this the appropriate time to insert a short joke? usually, he wouldn’t give it a second thought, especially when it comes to you. you’ve been there for at least eight of his top ten most unsavoury comments—such as when he felt the need to guess how many husbands your english teacher has had throughout the years while she stood not two feet away—only to settle on none.

yet, the thought of you sitting all alone at a table somewhere—dolled up and waiting for someone who never even planned on coming in the first place—has the wings of every butterfly in his stomach wilting, causing them to nosedive into his bottomless pit of gatorade and potato chips.

so, he finally decides.

“i’ll come pick you up,” he blurts out, shoving rick and morty off to the side before rising to his feet.

“no, you don’t have to do that,” you protest—guilt lingering in your gut and causing you to second guess your decision to call. he’s been so sluggish as of late—sleeping in past his alarms, napping more often. it’s obvious that life has been doing a number on him recently. the last thing he needs is to be dragged out.

“no? why else would you call?” he hums, shuffling over to the pitch black void where his kitchen is. he feels around a bit until the familiar jingle of his car keys fills his ears. “text me the address, i’ll be there soon.”

he hangs up without warning, leaving you with no choice but to sit and wait.

rintarou grimaces as he nears the door, feeling a gust of wind as it sneaks in through his window and engulfs the entire living room in a frigid hell. he’s tired, exhausted even—and he doesn’t feel like driving right now.

but, he’s glad you’re dragging him out.

⋆

“don’t even say it,” is the first warning you give rintarou when you slide into the passenger seat of his car. he’s sitting, slouched forward a little as he rubs his hands together for warmth. you know the words are right there on the tip of his tongue, but you don’t want to hear them.

“oh come on,” he groans, visibly annoyed by your sudden demand.

“i’ve been embarrassed enough tonight, thanks,” you give him a faux smile—the passive aggressive kind you’d give to an irate customer.

“so, shouldn’t you like be used to it by now?” he mimics your tone, slightly raising the pitch of his voice.

“tch, you’d think so,” you mutter, noting the stray flakes, fluffy and white, that begin to encase his vehicle. huh, first of the season.

a comfortable silence settles between the two of you—nothing but the sounds of wet tires on pavement and an overly enthusiastic radio host.

rintarou’s never been one to offer verbal support to his friends, or anyone for that matter—it makes him feel awkward, vulnerable. he’s more or less always let his actions portray his feelings, so—him taking twenty minutes out of his evening to come get you means something, you’re sure of it.

still, you like seeing him squirm a little.

“why do you think he didn’t come?” your voice is like a dagger, cutting through the silence before settling at the base of his throat.

“dunno, maybe he has trouble getting it up,” he responds, dulling the blade completely.

“rintarou,” you sigh, blunt and a little defeated—but he swears he can feel you breaking skin with the second syllable of his name. eyes on the road rintarou.

“i don’t know, does it matter?” he tries, sweeping your attempt to kill him right under the rug. however, the wound is already there—open and weakening his resolve by the second. “it’s not you.”

“and if it is?”

“it’s not,” he’s firm, hoping that his words drill into that pretty little head of yours. “he’s missing out, would’ve been one hell of a wedding.”

“yeah,” you agree, “i was looking forward to that speech of yours. highlight of the night.”

“what about when i start drunk dancing with this guy’s mom?” he says, glancing over to catch the smile blooming on your lips—and it’s as if that dagger never existed at all.

“you? dancing?” you scoff, watching as rintarou’s skin glows a momentary orange with each passing streetlight.

“just because you’ve never seen it, doesn’t mean it can’t exist,” he’s quick to defend himself—clearly taking your disbelief to heart.

you turn, holding back laughter as a very specific mental image pops into your brain. rintarou—drunk off his ass in a suit and tie, holding the hands of your groom’s mother as he awkwardly tries to dance with her—simultaneously pissing off half the guests in attendance.

you wonder how many drinks it would take for him to get to that point, or if it’d even take any at all—you’re almost certain that a pep talk and a measly twenty from atsumu would suffice.

either way, the thought alone almost has you wishing this date would’ve gone a little better.

⋆

now, the route back to your place is quick—but it’s not the one rintarou took. instead, you’re coming up on the small 24 hour convenience store, which is about a two minute walk from his place.

“rin,” you start, “i thought you were taking me home?”

“huh?” he glances over at you, putting on a faux look of innocence. “all i said was that i’d pick you up.”

“asshole,” you mumble, noting the increase in wind—which is giving the illusion of a horizontal snowfall.

“relax,” he snorts, pulling the car up in front of his apartment. “i’ll drive you home later, now get out.”

you watch as he shoves a hand into the pocket of his sweatpants, lifting his hips ever so slightly to fish a pair of keys out—one large and one small.

“head up, i’ll park.”

he waits for a moment, watching as you scurry up the stairs and into the warmth of the lobby before he drives off into the parking lot.

in a matter of twenty minutes, the weather has taken a turn for the worse—and rintarou braces himself for the short walk to the side door. he’s going against the wind, hands shoved into his pockets, hood blown off his head. he can feel the wind creeping beneath his sweater, penetrating his skin. it’s horrible.

then, it’s not. he’s inside, safe from the storm threatening to tear the building from it’s soil. he opts to take the stairs—remembering what his father once said about taking an elevator during a storm.

his nose and ears are pink, bordering red as he swiftly makes his way down the hall. as he nears his suite—a warm amber glow greets him from beneath the door, and his chest tightens. those damn stairs, maybe he should take them more often.

he swings the door open, and there you are—sitting on his couch, drowning in his blanket, table side lamps on, window shut.

“what the fuck, rin!” you gawk, pulling your knees to your chest and shivering. “close your goddamn windows before you leave.

he can feel it too, this numbing temperature—it’s much worse than it was before his nap.

“also, i cannot believe you were watching this without me,” you cut him off before he has the chance to respond—and he’d expect to be embarrassed having been caught, but he’s not.

he’s happy, because you’re patting the spot next to you while wearing what he thinks has to be the most beautiful smile he’s ever seen. maybe he should start practicing his i do.

because even with the season’s most polar air standing between the two of you,

rintarou’s apartment is warm.

#izurou #suna x reader #suna x you #haikyuu x reader #suna fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x you #hq x reader #suna rintarou x reader #suna hcs #i love him so BAD he’s so stupid #my baby < 3

[crackedpumpkin]

I SMELL COLE FICS

Do you think i could get a drabble? I dont care what or how you write, I will take anything.

Hello hello hi!! I'll be honest, freedom with what to write can be incredibly nerve wrecking but i hope you enjoy this one! I struggled so much to decide on what exactly to write lmao,,,,

|| ᴅʀᴜᴍᴍᴇʀ ʙᴏʏ || ᴄᴏʟᴇ ʙʀᴏᴏᴋᴇꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ||

Your steps slow to a stop, looking up at the sign of the store you’re about to enter. You check your phone, comparing the name that your friend sent you. 

Rockin’ Tunes

You shrug, accepting the name at face value before entering the store. The bell attached to the door jingles, attracting the attention of the only person inside. 

You walk up to the store assistant who has his back turned to you, hesitant to disturb him when he’s restocking shelves.

“Excuse me…” You voice out shyly, only for your breath to hitch as soon as he turns around. Choppy ebony hair casts a faint shadow over his obsidian eyes, his sleeveless top showing off toned biceps. A thin chain decorates his neck, firm hands gripping a vinyl cover.

Yum.

You quickly snap out of your daze, almost drooling over the incredibly attractive boy in front of you. You blink a couple times, hand reaching up to subtly rub away any drool. The back of your hand brushes against bare skin. Good. There wasn’t any drool.

“Can I help you?” His brow is raised, waiting patiently for you to speak.

“Yeah, I came here to sign up for drum lessons. My friend Nya recommended this place, so I thought I’d check it out.” You try to lighten the atmosphere with a bright smile. A flicker of recognition crosses his face at the name you mention, his smile mirroring yours.

“You’re Nya’s friend? Nice to meet you. I’m Cole. If you’re interested in drum lessons, our only teacher is out of the country now, but I’d be happy to help.” He holds out his fist, and you grin, bumping it lightly with yours.

“I’m Y/n. That sounds good. Where do we start?”

Cole steps out from behind the counter, bicep brushing against your shoulder as he walks past you and towards the array of instruments in the back of the store. You gulp, following him.

Nya hadn’t told you that her friend was this attractive. You almost feel betrayed, looking down at your outfit and wishing you had dressed a little more nicely. He stops at a few drum sets that are a distance apart, and you eye the different types.

“So, do you know anything about drums?”

You pause, racking your brain for a good answer. “I know the basic boots-and-cats beatboxing.” You reply dumbly.

Oh my god. 

Your cheeks burn, and you’re ready to hide in a corner from how his eyes shine in amusement, trying to force down a laugh. 

“Okay, so you’re a basic beginner then.”

He sits at a drum set that looks nothing like the ones you see on TV. Everything is coloured black, cymbals made out of rubber. He grabs a pair of drumsticks that rest atop one of the drums in the set, giving it a twirl. 

Suddenly, your face feels rather hot.

“So this is the first type of drum set beginners usually get. It’s an electronic drum kit, and it’s connected to a speaker and device that lets you change the sound to whatever you’d like. This is a snare, this is a kick drum, and this is a high hat. These are what you’ll be starting out with for a basic beat, or the ‘boots-and-cats’ beat you mentioned earlier.”

As soon as he pauses, he starts to play a beat with the three he had pointed at moments earlier, switching it up occasionally. You try to pay attention to the beat and how he manages to keep time; you really do.

But the way his arms flex as he plays the drums is incredibly distracting. 

You tear your gaze away, nodding when his eyes meet yours to check if you’re following along. 

“We can start with this. Sit down here.” He instructs, getting up and moving out of the way for you. You take a seat, taking the drumsticks that he passes you. You hesitate, unsure of where to begin as you attempt to copy his position from earlier.

“First, place your right foot on the pedal, and push down.” 

You’re pleasantly surprised when you follow as he says, the kick drum producing a loud thump. You look up at him, eager for the next step. 

Cole has to hide the amusement in his smile from the way your eyes gleam in excitement, pointing out the left pedal. “Place your foot there, and keep it down.”

You do so, surprised when the high-hats make a slight rattle before they still. 

“This makes the sound tighter so that there’s less of an echo.” He explains, crossing his arms and answering your unasked question.

“Your posture’s too tight. You gotta relax. We have this rule in drumming: no chicken arms.” He mimics how your bent arms are almost perpendicular to your body, and you move them to rest at your sides with a sheepish smile. 

He nods approvingly.

“One of the most important things is that your wrist has to be flexible. You can’t be too rigid, or it’ll start to hurt very quickly.” 

You nod at his words, flexing your wrist and rotating it to loosen it up. 

“We’ll start simple: use the pedal for the kick drum to follow me on this beat.” He starts to clap, acting as a metronome for you to follow along. You do so, paying close attention to the 1, 2, 3, 4 beats he’s giving you.

“Now that we got that down, I want you to use your right hand to hit the high hat with a different timing. The beat goes like this: one-ie and a two-ie and a three-ie and a four-ie.” He instructs, demonstrating quickly.

You take a deep breath, nodding and trying to follow his instructions. You wince when you accidentally hit the high-hat off timing, trying hard to coordinate your body to the different beats you play.

“Sorry,” You apologize. Cole's brows raise, surprised by the sudden apology.

“You don’t have to be sorry; you’re already doing great. Besides, it’s just your first lesson.” He chuckles. You flush, encouraged to try once more. You lift up your hands, ready to start.

“Uh-uh.” He tuts, reaching down and placing his hands on your raised elbows. You glance up, your eyes widening, when you register how close he is to you. “No chicken arms.” He chuckles, smiling warmly as he leans back.

You clear your throat, managing a nod before playing again with the high hats and kick drum. To your delight, you follow along much more easily than the first time, though there are a few off-beats here and there.

“Not bad,” Cole remarks thoughtfully. You grin, resting the drumsticks on the snare, reaching into the bag you had placed on the floor earlier for your water bottle. 

“Thanks,” You reply with a simple smile, sipping your water.

“So, how do you know Nya anyway?” Cole grabs a stool, sits down next to you and leans back against the wall with a curious stare directed at you.

You hum in thought. “Well, I met her brother first at a book fair. I was in the romance aisle when I accidentally spilled a cup of coffee on his shirt.” You wince at the memory, Cole chuckling.

“I apologized so much and offered to wash his hoodie for him. But for some reason, he thought I was hitting on him. I wasn’t.” You deadpan, lips pursed. “Nya helped me scrub out the stain in the restroom, and I guess we’ve been friends ever since.”

“Sounds just like her and Kai.” Cole rolls his eyes playfully. “What about you? Why’d you start working here anyway?” You ask.

“I like music,” He replies simply. He takes a moment to think. “Not the customers, though.” He adds. 

“Oh?” Now you’re intrigued. 

“Earlier, this customer refused to listen to me explain the different types of guitar strings and just did his own thing even though he didn’t know what he was looking for.”

You snort in laughter, wincing at his words. “That sounds fun.” You say sarcastically.

“They ended up spending over a hundred dollars more than they needed. But hey, it’s their money, not mine.” 

“On behalf of all customers, I apologize.” You joke, but his response makes your smile falter, heat blossoming on your cheeks instead as his eyes land on you.

“You’re okay, though.” He muses with a slight grin. He takes you in, almost as if he’s studying you. You feel a flush creep up your neck, fidgeting with the drumsticks you hold as you try to remain strong, refusing to look away from his calm gaze.  

The bell jingles, and the both of you snap out of the daze you’re in. You sneakily fan your hot cheeks, and Cole clears his throat, standing up to greet the customer that walks in. 

“Cole!” You hear a squeal, looking back up to see a girl dressed in a sparkly mini dress practically launch herself at him. He catches her by her shoulders, eyes wide in shock as the smile drops from his lips. He pushes her away gently, keeping the overexcited girl at arm's length. 

“Kate.” He greets emotionlessly, all traces of humour and warmth from earlier now gone. His lips curve downwards into a subtle frown, but the girl doesn’t notice. 

“You remembered my name!” She gasps, “See? We’re practically a couple already!” She doesn’t seem to notice your presence, eyes trained solely on Cole.

Her hands brush against his bare biceps, and he flinches away with a shudder. “Kate, I’m not going on a date with you. I’ve made that clear multiple times.”

“But you don’t have a girlfriend, so going on just one tiny date can't hurt.” She whines with a pout. 

You wince at the dark expression on Cole’s face, racking your brain to come up with a way to help him with this persistent customer.

Oh. There was that one way you had seen your friend do once. 

You stand up, place the drumsticks on the snare, and walk over to a frustrated Cole and whiny Kate.

“Babe,” You sidle up to his side, taking his hand in yours and sending her a nonchalant glance before ignoring Kate entirely, “What’s taking so long? You promised to teach me the drums.” You purse your lips, trying your best to appear like a clingy girlfriend.

He turns to you, surprised before he registers what you’re trying to do. The deep chuckle that comes next sends tingles down your spine, the warmth of his bare arm making you blush as he drapes it across your shoulder and pulls you close. 

“I’m sorry, love. I’ll get back to you as soon as I finish helping this customer find the exit.” He replies, pointedly glancing at Kate who’s dumbfounded by your sudden appearance. You smile up at him and nod, walking back to the drum set and waiting patiently for him. He guides the speechless girl to the door, practically pushing her out.

He returns to the seat beside you with a relieved sigh. “Thanks back there. I’ve been trying to get rid of her for weeks, but she just wouldn’t take the hint, even after an outright rejection.”

“Anytime,” You grin, holding up the drumsticks. “Now, where were we?”

#ninjago #ninjago x reader #ninjago cole x reader #cole x reader #ninjago cole x you #ninjago cole x y/n #x reader #music store au #cole brookestone #cole brookestone x reader #cole brookestone x you #cole brookestone x y/n #asks #requests #x reader requests

[oftenwantedafton]

Secret Smile - College English Professor/Vampire Steve Raglan/William Afton x Female College Student Reader

Chapter 4

Rating - Explicit

Warnings for sexual content, menstruation kink

Also available on AO3

You’re being chased.

You don’t recognize the wooded area you’re in. Tall trees that have endured many seasons. A thick carpet of pine needles and decaying leaves at your feet that helps to muffle your passage. You can’t hear any sounds of pursuit. Perhaps you’ve evaded the hunter. Your lungs burn. You lean against one of the surrounding trees. The bark is rough at your back. A shadow in your peripheral vision.

How foolish to think you could elude this undying creature. An eternal being that defies time. Yielding to none, the only enemy the light of day. The dawn is not present now. Sister night stands guard. You offer your throat to him. His lips press along your pulse, his hand resting on your upper arm. Squeezing. More pressure. The images grow hazy. You’re being pulled away.

You wake up.

You’re lying beside the vampire in his bed, his back resting against the headboard, ankles crossed. The book he’d been reading to you from rests on top of his thighs, face down, the spine creased many times over.

“I feel asleep. I’m so sorry!” You flush and struggle to sit up.

“There’s no need to apologize. You certainly have earned the right to feel fatigued, considering…” Steve leans over to set the book on the nightstand. “I’m sorry that I had to wake you. But I need to return you so you can get some proper rest.”

You glance at the clock nearby. The night is more than halfway over. Soon it’ll be time for him to sleep, too. Maybe that’s not something he likes people seeing. You wonder if he looks…well, dead, when he’s slumbering. Corpselike. You push the unpleasant image from your thoughts.

Your instructor invites you to use the bathroom before you depart.

Your eyes lift from the sink you’ve just washed your hands at to check your appearance and that’s when you realize it: the vampire casts no reflection in the mirror. Another piece of lore proven true. It’s a little eerie. You can feel him standing behind you. The warmth of his body. Hear his breathing. Yet no image of your English teacher in that silvered surface. You see your hair lifting away from your neck. Your jaw shifts as he cups it. Pressure against your lips, an invisible force making an indent.

“I was dreaming about you earlier,” you murmur.

“Were you?” Raglan’s lips graze your throat.

“You were chasing me. Somewhere with tall trees. An endless ancient forest.”

“And then?”

“Caught.”

He hums a little satisfied sound and it vibrates along your skin. “Did you want me to catch you, little mouse?”

“Yes.” You turn to face him.

Pointed teeth poke out in a grin. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes.” You don’t want to. You wish you could have lingered in his bed longer. Cuddling. Exploring. But you’ve got school in the morning. Homework. A shift at the coffee shop tomorrow.

Still you hesitate in the passenger seat of the bearded man’s Rolls Royce now parked beside your car in the deserted parking lot. You lean towards each other. Still a lingering taste of your blood and your sex in his mouth. Your fingers curl around his neck. He inhales sharply. His scent stirs the air. Freshly mown grass. Pine logs newly lit in a hearth. The resinous citrus of bergamot. Your hand releases and slides down his chest. Over his abdomen. You’re nearly at your goal.

Steve’s hand shackles your wrist. His grip is like iron. You’re trapped, immobile. “Gently, rabbit. A gesture of parting. No more than that, for now.” He sighs and relaxes his hold on you. The fragrance fades. “Sleep well, little one.”

You return home and find you’re suddenly exhausted, managing to set your alarm and change into pajamas before you crash dreamlessly into slumber.

***

You feel like you’ve barely slept.

You move in slow motion getting ready for the day. A sluggish drag of your toothbrush. A lazy shower. Clothing chosen without much thought. You’re so thirsty. The sunlight streaming through the window in the apartment’s kitchen is giving you a headache.

By the afternoon you start to feel a little more like your old self. Monday evenings aren’t particularly crowded at the coffee shop. You lean back against the counter, looking out through the shopfront windows. The car that pulls into the parking lot is familiar.

Steve Raglan enters the building.

You immediately perk up, his unexpected appearance the equivalent of a double espresso. “Hey.”

“Hello. How are you feeling?”

“I was dragging earlier, but I’m better now.”

Your coworker is out back. There are no other customers around. “I found myself craving…something,” he amends when the other employee makes a reappearance. “Maybe what I had the other night, only less watered down.”

“Sure, I got you.” You busy yourself preparing the drink. His fingers subtly stroke yours when he hands you the money.

A tentative sip has his eyes lighting up behind the lenses of his aviators and he takes another. “That…is delicious. Best thing I’ve had in ages. Well, maybe not quite the best thing.” His eyebrow lifts and your cheeks flush. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow night.”

You watch him leave and the burst of energy you’d had fades. The rest of the shift passes by quietly.

Back home under the covers the words on the page in front of you swim. You’ve lost track of Melville’s story. Instead you’re thinking of the feel of Raglan’s hands and mouth on you. This is the first night you haven’t seen each other since that first in his office. You wonder what he’s doing right now. Maybe something tedious like a lesson plan. Correcting papers. Sighing over stale inarticulate entries. A respite at the piano. Restless fingers over piano keys. Striking ebony and ivory. A memory of a melody shifting through time.

You close Moby Dick and reach for your notebook. You don’t want to read someone else’s words tonight. You want to gift your own.

You want him.

***

Tuesday morning you wake up to stomach cramps. You’ve started your period. Terrific.

Some ibuprofen and a warm towel heated in the microwave help to take the edge off a little. You make it through your morning class. Manage a little more writing and some homework. Eyeing the clock. Nearly time for your English Literature class. The menstrual pains are coming back with a vengeance.

You’re seated in your usual spot in the corner. Steve sets his weathered briefcase on the desk. His eyes lift and ever so casually glance in your direction. Linger. Something passes over his features. Hunger. Flared nostrils for the briefest of moments. A lift of the broad shoulders when his chest expands, drawing in more air. The tethered gaze breaks. You realize you’ve been holding your own breath and you suck in a lungful of oxygen.

The English professor paces between the aisles, his rough voice deceptively calm as he lectures. Carefully steering clear of getting too close to you. You might have been flattered that he found you so irresistible that he had to maintain a distance if you didn’t feel so lousy. You choose a group at random to join for the discussion. The symbolism of the prevalent pipe smoking featured throughout the novel is being debated. You don’t contribute much. You feel you might have a low grade fever. A prickly sensation on your skin like you might break out into a sweat at any moment. Slightly nauseous. The thought of being hurled into the ocean along with Ahab’s pipe sounds appealing right now. Cold waters closing over you. You can’t wait to take another shower.

The class finally ends. You’re slow to gather your things. The classroom door swings shut and you realize there is a sudden absence of sound. The other students are gone. It is just you and the vampire now.

There’s a door leading to another room at the back. A repurposed space filled with spare desks and chairs. A rolling cart for an overhead projector. Some poster boards from a long forgotten project, the printed text already fading, the glued photo copied images peeling. Your teacher drags you into the darkened space, his fingers wrapped around your wrist.

“Steve, I’m really not feeling well, I have—”

“I know.” He releases you. His voice is a tense rasp of sound. Things suddenly click into place. He can smell you.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.” The word is uttered through clenched teeth. He’s struggling to control himself, more than you’ve ever seen him. The ash scent is strong tonight, tempered with aerated soil and an iron tang. It reminds you of blood.

“I didn’t know.” Dust under your fingers when he crowds you against a desk nearby. “Is it always like this? You know every time someone is bleeding?”

“I can tell, yes, but no, it’s not always like this.” You hear the tremor in his air exchange. Trying to resist inhaling. Shuddering over the fragrance of your shedding womb. “It’s not the blood; there’s less of that than there is tissue. Not the same as drinking it from your vessels. It’s something else entirely. That failed preparation for breeding, a feral awakening…” His voice trails off. “Are the cramps bad?”

“Yes.”

“I can help with that. Uterine contractions when I grant you your little death. A burst of endorphins to accompany the pleasure and numb the discomfort.” A ragged sigh. His breath hot against your face. “I want to eat you right up.” A flash of teeth. Wolflike. Catching the moonlight filtering through the open blinds covering the windows. The recently disturbed dust motes sparkling on those same beams.

“I’ve never, um…done anything with anyone when I’m on my period. Isn’t it going to be messy?”

“I’m counting on it.” His voice sounds raw, ravenous, at odds with the soft kiss he plants on your scarred throat. The scabbed puncture marks are burning again. Aching. Your flesh wants to be opened for him. “I’ll make sure you’re licked clean. Help you empty that hollow space right back out again…”

An answering throb in your sex. Your body desires him.

***

There are too many people around for you to get a ride from your English teacher.

You drive to his house instead, the route already familiar to you. He reaches the destination far sooner than you, waiting for you on the front porch, tugging you inside.

You’re suddenly shy when you’re back in Raglan’s bedroom.

You’re thinking about staining the sheets. You feel bad about him having to clean after that no matter how much he’s claiming he’s going to enjoy it. You give voice to these nagging misgivings.

“Do you think I’ve never had to tidy up blood before? Don’t worry about it.” His hands find their way under your shirt. Your nipples are tender. He massages them gently through the layer of your brassiere. “Let me have you, little wonder. I want to taste you…”

Your sex tingles. You nod softly. He helps you undress. You avoid looking at the stained pad adhered to the crotch of your panties. Another deep inhale from Steve. His hands on you are shaking.

You’re pushed back onto the bed, onto clean white sheets. They won’t be so pristine soon enough.

He climbs over you. Kisses you, surprisingly gently. Hand moving in small circles over your abdomen. “You have a fever,” he murmurs. “So much inflammation. That lining in your womb is eager to escape.” His fingers trail down to your mound. You still haven’t spread your legs. “Open for me.” A slight part. “Wider.” A little further. “Wider.” You let your knees fall open. Your heart races as his fingers glide through your bloodstained lips, painting small circles over your hooded button. Your hips shudder and you whine. “So swollen. So ripe. A bountiful feast before me.” He parts your labia and gently eases a finger inside of you. “Oh, little one. I can’t wait to stretch you with my cock one of these nights.” His thumb massages your clit while he fucks you with his finger. You’re starting to be distracted from the turmoil in your abdomen. Sticky blood mixes with slick arousal. Some of the metallic odor in the air is emanating from your own body. Coppery and sharp.

Your English teacher’s tongue caresses your throat before moving to your breasts. He sucks each nipple into his mouth, still pleasuring your pussy. The points of his upper cuspids dig into but do not pierce the globes of flesh. Incisors pull lightly on eraser point tips. You touch his hair and keep him there, alleviating some of the soreness. Little hums of enjoyment.

His hand lifts from your sex. You see the crimson staining his pale skin. So much of it. He brings it to his lips. Watching you when he begins to suck his finger clean. Eyes rolling back at the taste. Tongue dredging the creases of his palm. Savoring every last drop. His face now between your thighs. A stripe licked through the coated petals. Steve moans, burying his face against you.

Your back lifts off the mattress. His mouth clamps over your nub and he sucks, hard. Two fingers working inside you now, scissoring that engorged interior. “Steve, oh God, it’s…” You’re amazed at how quickly your thinking about this scenario has shifted. Shamelessly grinding yourself against his mouth. Tugging his hair. Begging for more.

That long tongue spearing inside you. Fingers laid flat, rapidly dragged back and forth over your enlarged clit. Both of your scents heavy in the air, mingling. The obscene sound of his mouth sinking into all that wetness. The built up lining in your body makes the sensation of climaxing feel different. More tender, aching. Shaking against him. He eats you right through to a second. His face is a mess, beard stained garnet and a deeper shade that’s nearly black. Bloodied hand wrapped around his cock. White and red and pink where his cum and your blood have mated and merged spread across your abdomen and between your breasts.

In the shower he’s much calmer. Taking his time washing you. Coaxing a third release from you with his fingers. He’d been right. You do feel better. You help him strip the bed, trying not to think about how it looks like a crime scene. Tucked beside him once again. He’s reading the latest prose you’ve created.

“You’re still holding back,” he observes, closing the cover of the notebook.

Your head lifts to regard him. “So are you.” He hasn’t fed from you tonight. The dark feast he’d consumed between your thighs wasn’t an equivalent for drinking fresh blood.

The vampire stares at you for a moment. “You know why that is.”

“But you said you can control it. You know not to take too much.”

“It’s more complicated than that. Your body needs time to replenish plasma and create new cells. Even a little constantly drained over a period of time will make you tired. Weak. You admitted it yourself. You were exhausted this morning.” He sees you frown. “Do you really think you know more about this subject matter than I do?”

“I…no. Of course not.” Your fingers pluck at the clean sheet spread beneath you. “Why am I so addicted to it?”

“Something in my saliva. Like the…neurotoxin, as you call it. Also involuntary. Rendering prey more willing. Immobile. An induced evolution as it were. That’s one of the reasons for it, anyway.”

“What’s another?”

He grins. “My devastating charm.”

You shove his arm playfully. “You’re so arrogant.”

“I prefer the term confident.”

“Will you let me stay the night?”

The smile slips from his mouth. “I don’t think you’d enjoy that very much, rabbit.”

“Why not?”

“It’s not sleep like you know it. More of a kind of restful hibernation. Stasis.”

Your earlier suspicions were correct, then. “You’ll look like you’re dead,” you say softly.

“I am dead,” he reminds you gently.

“Who turned you?”

“That is not a topic to be discussed tonight.”

“But you will tell me, eventually?”

“Eventually.”

“What’s your real name?”

The vampire remains silent.

“Why are you so reluctant to tell me?”

“Because there’s power in a name. Because no one has said it in a long, long time. It’s not for tonight, little mouse.” His mouth brushes yours. Again. Lips pressing firmer this time.

The questions scatter from your mind.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x reader #dividers credit @saradika-graphics

[ironstakes]

HermitcraftxNaruto Kakashi-is-Etho oneshot draft. AKA it’s not polished and stuff

Title: I’m Not Myself (I might need some help)

Summary: Kakashi had complicated relationships, specifically with the face that wasn’t his and with blond hair.

To him these things were a tsunami of conflicting feelings that slipped through his mind like sand through his fingers.

-

Kakashi didn’t like mirrors. His face wasn’t right, it hadn’t ever been right, so he’d been avoiding his reflection for as long as he could remember. It was impossible to hide from himself, he’d discovered early on- water, glass, and metal all taunted him with a face that wasn’t right. So he’d covered it, hidden it away so he wouldn’t have to see it. And if nobody else could see his face? Well, that just worked in his favor.

-

Kakashi remembers learning the hell viewing technique.

Minato-sensei had suggested it, the low level genjutsu that would help him learn to cast genjutsu with Obito’s eye. Although he was a little nervous, he did his best to be rid of the sentiment. There was no room for nervousness in a ninja’s life. Still, despite his best efforts some apprehension rose within him as Minato-sensei cast the genjutsu.

What would he see, he wondered. Would it his father, tanto buried in his gut right up to the hilt? Would it be Obito, crushed beneath rocks? Rin, with Kakashi’s own hand speared through her heart? Minato-sensei facing his own demise?

Nothing seemed amiss, at first, and Kakashi took a careful hold of the genjutsu, ready to pull it apart at any moment. Minato-sensei was speaking, saying something about studying the technique’s mechanics, but he was throughly distracted by the dark figure hidden in the training ground’s tree line.

He waited until Minato-sensei had to go and then headed towards it.

Later, Kakashi would curse his younger self.

Standing in the shadows of the trunks towering over them stood a person he couldn’t quite see, but Kakashi could tell it was meant to be himself.

It was the first time he really saw the monster within him, the monster that wasn’t worthy of its father’s love, the monster that killed Obito and Rin. The monster had no compassion for the people nor did it care at all for his beloved village. It looked at him and Kakashi felt achingly hollow. 

It had never occurred to Kakashi that he’d be afraid of himself, but after seeing the shadow he wondered how he could have ever thought it would’ve been anything else.

He turned and ran and almost forgot to dispel the genjutsu.

-

It had been a rough mission. It was one of those high energy in and out operations that always pushed you to the limit. 

They were anticipating resistance but they were not prepared for an opposing team of ANBU to have been expecting them. This fact was disturbing for several reasons, and looking back Kakashi would question the mission parameters and even the objective. But not now. Now he dragged his dying teammate into the sectioned off emergency portion of the hospital, wondering if they were going to die. 

Still on high alert he was still taking in and analyzing everything he could. He heard the hurried footsteps of the medical personnel rushing around in all directions, the machines and the shouting as his unit poured in. The smell of hospital and the blood. The noise, the smells, the bright clinical lights- they were all so much after the mission.

A group of masked medics rushed in and took Squirrel from him. He watched them practically run his teammate out of the entry hall, all except for one. With a resigned mental sigh he followed the medic into one of the small private rooms where all returning ANBU were assessed. 

It was quick as always. After rigidly answering the basic questions about injuries, having a quick physical exam, and providing what information he could about his teammates’ wounds they released him.  

He didn’t remember navigating his way to his apartment, but once he was inside he checked his traps and then made a beeline for the bathroom. 

Firstly, he threw up. It wasn’t that he was unused to the violence or the gore but sometimes it reminded him of things he did mind a great deal about. That, and all the running didn’t help. 

After emptying his stomach he hauled himself to his feet and leaned over the sink. A pale drawn face, expression blank and slack like a corpse, stared back at him and he didn’t feel like he was even looking at himself.

Unable to stand his reflection, he turned his back to the mirror. He flushed the toilet and turned the shower on, waiting for the water to become as tepid as it could manage.   

While waiting for the water to warm up he tired to scrub the blood off. He gave up, it would never come off, and unintentionally found himself looking back at the mirror. He was surprised that his headband was up around his forehead instead of draped over his sharingan eye as it usually was. Now, if Kakashi was less tired, maybe a little less wired, he would have realized that his sharingan eye was closed. The world was overly bright and there was a keen sharpness to everything, but it wasn’t sharingan sharp.  

Maybe if it was he’d have seen the distinct lack of tomatoe in his reflection’s eyes, or maybe he’d have noticed that his reflection’s hair was certainly longer than his. He might’ve discovered that his reflection’s headband bore not the symbol of the leaf village he protected with his life, but something else entirely. He could’ve observed that, while his reflection wore a black long sleeved undershirt that was almost standard uniform, he wasn’t wearing a jonin flack jacket, or even any kind of jacket he’d seen before. He might’ve noticed that his reflection’s hands weren’t bloodstained, but speckled with both red and green. 

As it was he merely reached up to tug the headband down. His reflection did not follow. 

It took him a moment to process that. By the time he had comprehended what he saw it seemed too ridiculous to have happened. His reflection looked back at him, in uniform and bloodstained, and he decided to sleep in the next day. 

After stepping out of the shower he dressed quickly and reached for the door handle, intent on getting to bed. He began to turn the handle and paused. He looked up into the mirror and chuckled hoarsely. He knew he was alone, just him and his own reflection, but he ran rapidly through half the handsigns for a random jutu. His reflection copied flawlessly. Shaking his head, he opened the door and stepped out of the bathroom

-

Kakashi wasn’t hiding, per se, but he was certainly taking a breather. 

He was disheveled, drenched in sweat and blood and tears that weren’t his. Stifling a sigh out of longstanding habit he leaned back, squinting up at the too-bright sky. He lost himself in the endless blue and was struck with a train of thought he later deemed to be born of sleep deprivation and hysteria. 

Why couldn’t he fly? He could close his eye and feel the weight on his back, and knew instinctively that he would need to use his shoulders to control his direction and his legs for altitude. There would have to be something in his hands, because they felt too empty when he pictured flying, no, gliding really, and then it was almost as though he were living it. It was freedom. He could feel the warm sun on his back, hear the wind rushing past him, smell the sea and taste the cool, crisp air in his throat. He was going somewhere, to see someone he loved- 

He jolted out of the daydream, acutely aware that everyone he loved was dead now, dead and gone. He decided he needed to sleep.  

In dreams he would not remember he flew with another man, someone with bright yellow hair. He knew with the certainty of dreams that the man smelled like iron and flowers. 

“Hey!” he shouted, turning sharply but gracefully and taking off in a new direction over the ocean. “Last one there is a stack of rotten flesh!”  

He was laughing as he sped after his friend, the sun warming his skin and the company warming his heart. 

-

In his apartment he’d torn the mirror off of the wall so he could brush his teeth. The only glass besides the windows was the single piece in the picture frame of his genin team. His kunai were methodically cared for and tucked away in the dark were the light couldn’t glint off of them. He never took his headband off. 

And when he was forced to confront himself the mask was always there, his eternal backup. 

People whispered and speculated, or at least they did at first and then again every so often, about why. Why did he always wear the mask? Some thought it had to do with enhanced smell, and that was the most widely accepted reason amongst the upper ranks, that’s what was put in his file. His tracking specialties certainly didn’t hurt that particular speculation. The other theories ranged from the bizarre and unlikely to the creative and mundane. There were too many guesses and they were all wrong. 

Kakashi just hated his face. He hated it more than the Iwa nin that caused the cave in that took Obito away from him, he it more than himself for killing Rin, he hated it more than the nine tailed fox for destroying his home and killing his sensei and Kushina. 

He hated his face, and something inside of him was sure that it couldn’t possibly be his.

-

Kakashi was lounging in a tree, purposefully slouched and orange book held loosely in his hand. Around the field other jonin ambled and rested as Hayate and Yūgao’s blades clashed in an intense kenjutsu match. The sound of clanging of steel was nothing new to him, but for some reason, he felt as though the swords should have sounded different. He must have zoned out uncharacteristically because the next thing he knew, it was his and Guy’s turn to spar. 

“Huh? Were you saying something?” he wondered aloud to cover his lapse in attention, causing Konoha’s self proclaimed green beast to grin and exclaim on his hip attitude. He tried to concentrate, he truly did, but something was tugging at him. He lost. 

Kakashi didn’t pay attention to the rest of the matches. In fact, he departed nearly immediately. He sushined directly to his apartment, something squirming in his mind, something that wasn’t the humiliation of defeat. He dug around for a pen and a blank paper, a scroll, anything while his mind was hazy. 

The copy-nin came back to himself at three in the morning and blinked down at the carefully filled pages on his counter. 

He left them and slept.  

Kakashi didn’t look at the pile of papers until nearly a month later. He flipped through the pages carefully when he did, the contents familiar and foreign all at once.  

There were swords, long, thick swords that looked all wrong for a ninja to use. They were not like any kind of swords he’d seen before, and there looked to be three distinct hilts he’d drawn over and over. 

He straightened the papers and was debating what to do with them. Unsure, he flipped the pile topside down and almost turned away. Instead his eyes caught on the swords painstakingly drawn and detailed on the back. 

He sighed and sat down again, prepared to flip through the pages of swords again and wondering what had prompted him to-

There weren’t just swords on the next page.  

Lone eye sharpening, he took in the man he’d drawn over and over. Sitting on a hill, maintaining his gear, carrying lumber, practicing with a sword, shining his armor, sitting and surrounded by papers, a pencil in hand...

His eyes were supposed to be clear Kakashi could tell, and he had lightly colored hair, a little past chin length when it wasn’t tied back. He’d sketched the man frowning only once. He was otherwise smiling: a grin with a single dimple, a small, satisfied smirk, a slight upturning in the corner of his mouth as he thought. 

Kakashi knew he’d never seen this man before. He’d remember someone like him, if only for the bizarre armor.

The next page was similar only in that swords were somewhat involved; something about the woman with the striped top that he’d doodled told Kakashi that he knew her from somewhere too. She was bisecting an unearthly shadow-like creature with lengthy limbs, she was packing sand into a geometrically patterned box, she was taking aim at a shaped target, she was swimming nearby a one-eyed fish with spikes. Kakashi noticed that she was wearing goggles and his thoughts strayed to both Obito and his sensei’s son, who also had a pair now. Her goggles were more narrow than either of theirs. 

With a shake of his head Kakashi turned to the next page, and then the two were together. They were fighting each other with their swords, they were mixing sand and a powdery looking substance together in a cauldron, they were battling the long limbed shadows, then building a bridge and fishing.

All too soon there was a single page left. He turned it over and his heart leapt into his throat. 

The two of them were high in the sky, misty clouds swirling around them, and they were laughing. They had wings, the strange, beautiful wings that looked like a dragonfly’s but he knew felt like downy feathers. 

What gave him pause was that he’d drawn himself into the picture.  

His hair was longer and his uniform jacket looked thinner, but excepting that he looked like himself. Besides the wings, of course. Picture him had wings too, and he was flying with the man and women he’d drawn on the back of nearly every other page.    

Picture him was laughing under the mask, he could tell. A real, honest laugh.

He felt a sudden, irrational stab of anger. Who were those two? Why had he drawn them? Why was he laughing in the picture, in what world did he have the right to laugh? 

He squashed that last paper into a tight ball, crumpling it without thought, and threw the impressively small wad at one of his bookshelves. It bounced off of the side and rolled under the couch. 

Kakashi tore the other pages up one by one and burned them in the sink. 

-

Kakashi was battling two rain-nin, both males around his age donning full face gas-masks and tanks of toxins on their backs. He defeated them easily, trapping them in genjutsu and moving quickly to help his squad. 

Their opponents were taken care of swiftly, though the last one had been fast. Kakashi was, unfortunately, nicked by a custom kunai, though it was quite literally a scratch. 

But these were rain ninja and he’d be surprised if there wasn’t some poison coating the weapon. 

He downed an anti-toxin and they moved on, the clock ticking.

All seemed well until they were on their way back to Konoha. His squad was resting and Kakashi was resting too, eyes half closed and senses spread. 

When he opened his eyes it was to the blank white ceilings and the overwhelming stench of hospital. 

Poison, he was told, a new variant. 

“Nasty! Poison is the worst,” a foreign accented voice complained. 

Kakashi was too trained to bolt upright but he did anyway. 

An oddly dressed man grinned at him. “Hello, hello, hello! Long time, no see.” 

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” Kakashi said slowly. His face was bare but he had no urge to hide from this stranger, and that in and of itself was concerning. 

“Not in this life,” the man agreed. 

Somehow he knew the man wasn’t lying, but he refused to accept such a thing. Genjutsu? he wondered. Is that why I’m so relaxed? Or maybe, he glanced to the IV, there’s a drug? 

“Who are you?”

The man grinned, his purple eyes shining. “Zedaph, at your service. Well, sort of. If I was going to clean your room I’d have to find and retrieve my maid ensemble.” 

“Um,” Kakashi said. 

“And what’s your name?” Zedaph interrupted before Kakashi could finish processing the absurd previous statement. 

“Shouldn’t you know?” 

“Well nice to meet you, Shouldn’t you know! Nah, I’m kidding,” he said at Kakashi’s expression, and Kakashi was too used to the mask hiding his mouth, “I just assumed you had a new name.”

“I have an old one? What was it?” he wondered. 

Zedaph grinned and shook his head. “That’d be telling! It’s better you don’t know unless you remember it yourself.” 

“Hm.”  He knew that if he was in the right state of mind he’d have been thoroughly unconvinced. 

“So Zedaph,” he said, the name feeling right and wrong on his tongue, “why are you here?” 

Zedaph shrugged. “I dunno. A cry for help? Magic? I was going to ask you the same thing.” 

The hospital had long stopped leaving chairs in Kakashi’s room as they tended to meet unfortunate ends and Zadaph plopped himself gracelessly onto the bed. “Since neither of us know why I’m here, want to play I Spy?”

Kakashi actually paused to consider it, but his mind wasn’t entirely muddled. 

“You said not in this life, and then confirmed I have another name. So did I… reincarnate or something?” he questioned dubiously. Kakashi did not believe in reincarnation.

Zedaph laughed. “Reincarnation? That’s an interesting concept! No, no, this thing is similar? You’re still you, and I know this won’t make much sense but your actual you is sort of buried? Nay, he’s sleeping. Or on a vacation? You’ll understand one day.”

Kakashi decided that Zedaph had no idea what he was talking about. 

The blond continued to talk and his voice was comforting, and he was warm, and Kakashi would berate himself later for drifting off with a relative unknown literally right on top of him. When he was aware enough he alerted the proper channels and was reassured that there had been no such person and Kakashi was told that he must have been hallucinating, which was added to the list side effects of unknown poison. 

Kakashi begrudgingly accepted that explanation, for nothing else made sense, but the thought of having another life before this lingered in the back of his mind. 

-

The war had kept him busy, and then the post-war missions had run him ragged. Then the nine tails attacked and then-

-well, now he was here, in a mess of politics and neck deep in ANBU. He hadn’t seen his face in years. Not since he got rid of his bathroom mirror. It wasn’t on his mind so when he stopped at the moonlit river to wash the blood off of his chest plate to make himself a bit more presentable and he pulled the mask off with the intention of swapping it out for a cleaner one he froze, the distorted sight of his face peering up at him from the river.  

He felt the white hot rage explode across his body, every nerve singing with screams urging him to do something. Kakashi took several breaths and the cold air turned to shards of glass in his throat as his reflection copied his movements. He had half a mind to destroy the river as foolish and illogical as it sounded. 

But the longer he looked the more reluctantly intrigued he became. His fury never abated but he couldn’t tear his eye away from his hideous stupid face-!

He entertained thoughts of taking a blade to his head and carving it off of himself. This wasn’t his face, after all. Wouldn’t it be better if he got rid of this face? 

The haze he’d worked himself into receded as pain bit into him and Kakashi realized that he was pressing a kunai into his own temple, awkwardly positioned like he was going to shave bits of his flesh off as though he were woodcarving. 

He yanked himself away from the river and tumbled backwards with a lack of grace he’d not had since he was two.

-

Kakashi surveyed the village, or what was left of it. 

Pain had decimated everything. 

It didn’t feel as heart wrenching as he would have expected it to, but Kakashi just chalked his lack of emotional response up to battle fatigue, especially since he’d died earlier. 

He pressed his hand to his side and a fresh wave of pain crashed into him, almost knocking him off of his feet. If he didn’t get medical attention soon he’d be dead for sure this time. 

And would that be so bad? 

He was a failure as a teacher, a poor comrade, and no matter how Guy tried, Kakashi just was not a good friend. He was not happy, was barely a shell of a person. He’d been serving as a part in this well oiled killing machine for years, was it really so bad to just want to stop?

But they need you now more than ever, a part of his mind whispered.

They’ll always need you.

No, Kakashi thought mournfully, they wanted a tool. 

He sat on the rubble, a wall torn asunder, and let his blood drip onto the dusty floor.

Would he see his father again? Rin? Minato and Kushina? 

Would he see Obito? 

But what if he didn’t? Kakashi hauled himself to his feet and trekked to where his apartment building once stood. No one paused to give him a second glance. 

Finding what was once his was difficult. He located his book collection, ruined beyond repair, and some of his uniforms. He sifted through the debris and try as he might, Kakashi just could not find the picture of his genin team. 

He did find a crumpled ball of paper. Something tugged at him and he unfurled it, the picture he’d drawn years ago. 

Suddenly, finding the photograph didn’t seem nearly as important. Kakashi clutched the paper between his trembling fingers and a laugh echoed though his mind. 

He knew the man was something called a knight, and that the woman was a deft hand at the sword. 

The knowledge startled him, and unbidden the one sided conversation he’d had with Zedaph popped into his mind, specifically the part about the actual him being buried. He’d never made the connection between his random bouts of imaginative recollections and potential deja vu- they were memories, he knew now.

Kakashi sank to his knees, too tired to stand, and looked up at the sky. He really could fly, and he did at some point. The sky was open and freeing, refreshingly chilling, and he wished he could have flown, at least once in this life.

He smelled iron and flowers.

He laid down to die.

He closed his eyes.

And then he woke up. It was disorienting, to say the least, to be dying in the ruins of his home and then be standing with perfect health in an endlessly grassy field.   

“You aren’t okay.”

Kakashi spun around, reaching for weapons that weren’t there.

A short man in a baggy red sweater looked at him from eyeless sockets. Kakashi was unnerved slightly. Had… was he dead?

The endlessly flat world didn’t yield anything- there was no terrain, no buildings, and no clues. The only source of information stood in front of him. 

“Am I dead?” he asked.

“If you want to be,” the man said with a frown. 

Kakashi paused to consider that. Did he actually want to die? 

“What happens if I want to?”

The man’s mouth twitched oddly. “You come home.” 

“Home?” he repeated, a feeling he couldn’t discern crawling up his spine. Was he never going to see his precious people again? 

He asked.

“Mmhm,” the man hummed unhelpfully. 

Kakashi didn’t reply. 

“You don’t have to decide now. Time pretty much means nothing,” the man reassured at his apparent agonizing over the decision. 

“Alright.”

And they waited and waited, and although they were standing Kakashi never grew tired. Eventually he asked, “Who are you?”

“I’m Grian. What’s your name?” Grian asked.

Kakashi narrowed his eyes. “You know me,” he accused.

“That other you,” Grian admitted, “not this you.”

“Who was I?”

“I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Why not? Why won’t you tell me who I was?” demanded Kakashi, frustration mounting. The feelings that had been haunting him, the phantom sensations of something from before, and the mystery of the drawing and Zedaph all connected to a past Kakashi who wasn’t even Kakashi. 

“There’s a barrier in your essence that basically allows you to be this,” Grian said, waving vaguely at Kakashi. “You won’t be who you are now you if too much leaks through. Knowing your name will tear it apart.”

“Maybe,” Kakashi said slightly peeved, “I don’t want to be me.” 

Grian was quiet. “Are you sure?” 

“Yes.”

“You can’t go back. There’s no undoing this.”

His failures replayed in his mind, every one of them, and the ruined village and his father’s legacy and Sasuke and-

Well, Kakashi didn’t have anything waiting for him there. Naruto had Jiraiya and Sakura had Tsunade, and the village had more than enough competent shinobi- they didn’t need him, specifically. He’d be replaced. He took a breath and made his choice. 

“I don’t care.”

Grian tilted his head and then smiled slightly. He crooked a finger towards himself, beckoning Kakashi forwards, and he moved closer and closer until they were just barely touching, fingertips brushing the space just below Grian’s elbows. 

Grian stood on his toes and Kakashi tilted his head downwards. 

His name was a booming roar, a quietly whispered murmur that tore him apart and hurt worse than the two deaths he’d experienced that day. 

It was bliss.

Kakashi melted, melding with someone greater, something bigger. Something inhuman, someone the universe itself loved. Something that was the universe.

Clutching at Grian’s shoulders, he shuddered. Grian smiled widely, monstrously, genuine and delighted, and wrapped his arms around his friend.

“Welcome back ᒷℸ ̣ ⍑𝙹.”

He didn’t feel hollow anymore.

-

They say death changes a person.

Of course, the saying referred to witnessing death, to becoming acquainted with the smell and taste of it. As of late, it was holding true in a more literal sense.

Ever since Kakashi had died he’d been a bit… off. It was like something had broken; he was an entirely different person.

Killing had always left marks on people but now he was genuinely unbothered, if he decided to kill at all. If he were anyone else the lack of empathy would’ve gotten him flagged and benched, but he was one of- if not the best- ninja Konoha had. 

Most alarmingly, he stopped caring about everything else too. He forgot to feed himself and he forgot to sleep, laughing when people brought it up. He didn’t bother with the minimal social interactions he’d practiced before, though he suddenly seemed very fond of Guy. He even stopped going to the memorial stone and when questioned, was open and frank about his team and their deaths, recounting them like it was something he’d heard about and not something he’d experienced and struggled with for two decades.   

Kakashi had changed fundamentally, and nobody knew why. He was more whimsical than before and somehow even more emotionless. 

But he was still Kakashi, knowing things only Kakashi could’ve known. Sakura and Tsunade suspected some brain damage had caused the sudden shift in his personality, but nothing concrete was found to back that belief up nor disprove it. The working theory was that the building that had fallen on him and killed him the first time had caused the injury, and when Pain resurrected him, it had healed wrong. 

The mind was a tricky thing. It was so frail, so fragile. It could forget all too easily.

The soul never forgot.

#drafts #hcxnaruto #hermitcraftxnaruto #oneshot wip #The earliest draft is from like 2019-2020 if you can believe it #I’ve been touching it up and rewriting some parts #ive stitched like three old fanfic blurbs into one fic #Kakashi #Etho #Zedaph #Grian #Fanfiction #crossover

[ourflagmeansparty]

Creating Jim

Prompt 1: Jim

By: @xoxoemynn (Team Orange)

J - I - M.

They stare at the letters smudged in the dust on the floor.

Out of habit they continue. Another I, then an N.

They curse under their breath and quickly rub out the extra letters.

Jim feels right.

“Psst!”

Jim leans against the door. “Say it.”

“Coconut.”

Jim unbolts the door, grabs Oluwande by the arm, and yanks him inside. “Got everything?” they ask, quickly locking the door behind him.

“Yeah,” says Oluwande. He hands Jim a burlap sack. “Found it right where you said it’d be under the loose floorboard in the cellar.”

“Thanks.” Jim dumps the contents of the sack onto the ground. A long coat, their father’s. A pair of workboots Nana had swiped from the church’s donation pile. Trousers and a shirt taken from one of the victims of Jackie’s nose jar. A fake beard they had spent the past two months crafting; sewing had never been one of their skills, but Nana had helped. And then a sizable tin of wax.

“I, uh –”

“Oh, right,” says Oluwande. He turns around so his back is facing Jim. “Sorry.”

Jim quickly undresses and pulls on their new clothes. Everything’s a bit loose, but they think that will actually be an advantage. Nobody could suspect. “Did anybody stop you?”

“Nah,” says Oluwande. “Jackie was a sight. Once she realized what happened, the entire place was chaos. Nobody paid any attention to me.”

“Good. You can turn around now.”

Oluwande does, and frowns. “Yeah, no offense, but you still kind of look like you.”

“That’s because I’m not finished yet,” says Jim. They dip their fingers into the tin of wax and grab a sizable amount, then begin pressing and molding it into a facsimile of a nose. Once it’s in decent enough shape, they press it to their nose and begin blending it into their skin. “How’s that?”

“Weird,” says Oluwande. “But it helps.”

“Can you tell it’s fake?”

“Not really,” he says. “But it’s also dark in here. I don’t know if it’d pass in the daylight.”

“That’s where the beard comes in,” says Jim. They smear some wax across their cheeks, under their nose, and on their chin, then carefully press their fake beard to their face. They hold up their hands, framing their new face like a magician would a rabbit they pulled out of a hat. “Genius, right?”

Oluwande squints. “It’s a bit crooked.”

“Mierda.” Jim tugs at their beard. “Which way?”

“Here, can I?”

Jim nods. When Oluwande steps closer and gently adjusted the beard, they find themselves holding their breath, which is stupid. It’s just Olu. There’s no need to feel nervous. It’s probably just the adrenaline still coursing through their veins from finally killing de la Vaca. That’s also the only explanation why their heart was beating so fast.

“That’s better,” Oluwande says. “Not bad.”

“Thanks,” says Jim. “Wish this place had a mirror.”

“Yeah, real shame abandoned huts in the middle of nowhere don’t come with those.” He pauses. “I, uh, I got you something.”

Jim raises an eyebrow. “I’m about to go on the run, man. Can’t really take much with me.”

“This’ll help.” Oluwande digs into his own sack and pulls out a wide-brimmed hat. “Cast some shadows on your face and keep the sun off your nose. Wouldn’t want it to melt.”

Jim takes the hat; when their fingers brush against Oluwande’s, sparks shoot through their body. “Thanks.”

Unlike the other elements of their disguise, the hat fits perfectly. As soon as it’s on Jim’s head, they feel complete.

“I’ve been thinking of going by Jim now,” they say.

Oluwande nods. “Okay. Jim. Suits you.”

Jim feels a smile tug at their cheeks. They tamp it back; there’s no reason to get all googly-eyed at someone liking your name, and besides, they didn’t want to mess up their beard now that it’s perfect.

They pick up the small sack they have prepared in the front corner. It’s filled with enough food to get them through a week or so, a bit of money, and some backup weapons. Jim tucks the tin of wax inside and then hoists it over their shoulder.

This is it. It’s always been the plan. Kill de la Vaca, make an escape, then onto the next of the Siete Gallos. Jim’s been preparing for this for ages.

And yet something was preventing them from opening the door.

“I think I know where we can go.”

“What?”

“There’s a lot of chatter about this aristocrat who fancies himself a pirate captain,” says Oluwande. “Built himself a ridiculously over the top fancy ship. He’s been looking for crew members. Says he’ll pay them a weekly salary.”

Jim laughs. “Sounds like an idiot. He’ll be dead in a week.”

“Probably,” Oluwande agrees. “But then we could get a week’s wages, and then whatever money’s leftover before he inevitably gets himself gutted. And in the meantime, it’ll put some distance between us and Jackie.”

Jim shakes his head. “You keep saying ‘us.’”

“Well, yeah,” says Oluwande. “I always figured I’d come along.”

“I’m going on the lam,” Jim says. “There’s no reason for you to put yourself in danger.”

“I like a bit of danger,” says Oluwande. “Besides, I could help. Keep any nosy crewmates at bay and such.”

Jim nods. “You’re sure.”

“Of course I’m sure,” Oluwande says. “What am I going to do here? Wait around for Jackie to ask why I’d recommend she hire a waitress who ended up killing her favorite husband and see if she’s feeling friendly?”

He had a point there. “So,” Jim says, “to the fancy pirate ship?”

Oluwande grins. “To the fancy pirate ship.”

Jim tips their hat, draws a deep breath, and opens the door.

#team orange #ofmd #our flag means death #prompt 1 #mod favourite #aaaaaaah i love jim choosing their name that way & their crush on olu developing so early this is great!!!!!

[yoooespinosa]

hi! i don't know if you write for cedric diggory but i saw in your post that it could be any pair (and also because i love your writings!!). so if it's okay with you, can i please request cedric x ravenclaw!reader. where the reader feels insecure around ced because she's the new gf and is a bit jealous of cho (because they're both in ravenclaw), so ced comes and reassures her that she has nothing to worry about.

a/n: Thank you for your request! Definitely got off track lol.

Ordinary, that’s how you would describe yourself while looking in the mirror. No matter how many times you pinched your cheeks for a flush, pluck your eyebrows or even lather your face in expensive face masks, you couldn’t help but feel ordinary.

You see a dull girl looking back at your reflection, what could you possibly have to offer?

Bringing your face closer to the other you, you try and look. To look and see what he can possibly see.

No matter how hard you search, you find nothing. You sigh, a pout to your lips.

“What’s wrong?” A gentle voice interrupts your heavy observation. “You’ve been staring at yourself for close to an hour.”

You almost groan, you must look like a weirdo.

You turn to face the girl that was leaning against the door frame that leads into your shared bathroom.

She was beautiful. Everything about her was beautiful, her eyes, her hair, her cheekbones, the shape of her lips, even her voice was beautiful. Cho had to be perfect. It didn’t help that she had such a good heart.

She was so perfect, you wanted to strangle her. How could Cedric, your beautiful boyfriend, go after you when he had a girl like Cho before?

You couldn’t possibly comprehend it.

You open your mouth to answer her, but then cut yourself off. “Nothing important.”

You pass by her concerned gaze, heading to your bed, letting your insecurities run wild once your head hits the pillows.

If you had stayed any longer you might have asked something stupid like, “am i pretty?” and you didn’t need the possibility of your fears being confirmed.

Cedric and Cho had broken up a year ago. They both agreed they were better off as friends. A few months after their breakup, he took a liking to you. He did everything in his power to win your affections, it was easy to fall for him. Cho had been supportive of it too, even helping him woo you.

So you don’t know why you have these doubts, even when your months in with Cedric.

You’re not even sure when you started the comparison of yourself. Always questioning everything you did, ‘Did Cho do this?’ or ‘Did he prefer to do this with Cho, rather than you?’

You even started comparing yourself to all the other girls that still shamelessly flirted with Cedric. Knowing he was taken didn’t seem to stop them. It didn’t help that even they were beautiful. You were scared that maybe one day he’d see it too and leave you for them. Or realize he made a mistake with breaking things off with Cho.

You felt like a shadow compared to him, Cho and every other pretty girl that glanced his way. You felt as if you were watching him live his life, while you sat quietly, watching for a little tell sign of his doubts of you.

But he gave away nothing. He gave you everything though. He gave you his love and you wondered why that wasn’t enough to kill those running thoughts.

He looks at you with nothing but love and admiration in his eyes. Yet, you still tear yourself apart every night. Thinking of solutions on how you can just be better. You pick yourself apart, until your numb.

You fell asleep with the echo of your unanswered why’s.

“Ready?” Cedric asks, taking a hold of your hand.

You hum in agreement, letting him pull you up.

You both just finished lunch and planned on heading to his dorm to hang out there. You hadn’t brought up any of the thoughts that were burning through your skull the other night and you didn’t plan to.

You focused on the path ahead, not noticing the stolen glances from the boy next to you.

Entering his dorm, you both take off your shoes and place them next to the door. You put your bag down and just take in the room. Trying to let the familiar space sooth your nerves.

“You’ve been feeling alright?” He asks, looking at you through his lashes.

“Fine.” Nodding your head, but you think the bags under your eyes speak a different truth.

“Cho’s been telling me that you’ve seemed off,” He paused, then adding “lately.”

You faintly wondered why he said it like that, but inwardly shaking it off as you processed his words.

“You and Cho talk about me?”

You wanted to ask that they talked in general, but you knew they did. You weren’t sure why the thought filled you with a sense of dread, why your chest compacted in with it.

That little voice in your head was making up all these sinful scenarios, flashing before your eyes that you almost felt like you were going to be sick.

“We’re friends,” He says gently, almost like he sees how fragile you are, how one wrong word could be the downfall. “she’s your friend also. And she’s just been a little concerned.”

You chewed on your lip, cutting up your gums, stopping yourself from saying anything you’d regret after. “Nothing to be concerned about.”

He sighs and stares at you for a second longer, it seemed like he was searching for something that you weren’t sure you wanted him to find, so you turn your eyes away.

You heard his footsteps walking to the other side of his bed, followed by the sound of his drawer opening.

“Here,” You looked up to find him holding a brown cable knit sweater, your favorite one he owned.

It brought a small smile to your face, making an ounce of relief flood his chest.

You mumbled your gratitude, then taking your leave to the restroom to change. A shadow fell over his eyebrows, you’d always just change in front of him.

He didn’t linger on the thought for too long once he heard the click of the door and your light footsteps.

You made your way to his bed, gently prying the sheets open and sinking into the warmth. You turned your back towards him, closing your eyes, and letting the sound of the changing of his clothes fill the air.

A dip to the side of you and arms enclosing in on you, dragging you into more warmth. Yet, the coldness in your chest stayed.

You clenched your eyes shut and prayed for sleep. This was your favorite part of day, these naps with Cedric, his dorm room empty and the chance to be alone without anyone in sight to compare yourself to.

But even with his arms around you and the smell of him surrounding the space you were in, didn’t stop the whispers of the troubled.

He must of felt how tense you were, different from the way you so easily melted into him.

“Y/n.” He whispers, you felt him shift behind you, his arms loosening.

You clenched your eyes tighter, trying to even out your breaths, but even you knew that it was not possible to fall asleep that fast.

“Y/n,” He hovers over you a little, looking at your face with an unimpressed expression. “i know you’re not sleeping.”

You unclench your eyes, steeling yourself, for the conversation you knew was bound to happen. Opening your eyes, you met his soft bright ones. His eyes, that spoke everything you wished you’d just believe.

“Yes?” You mumble softly, peeking at him through your lashes.

He stares at you a second longer, then kisses your cheek. “Talk to me.”

“About what?” You were never good at playing oblivious.

“About what’s going on in your head that’s making you look at me like that.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Looking at you, like what?”

“Like i’m a stranger,” He mumbles sadly. “like i’m someone you should be wary of.”

Guilt washed over you, you didn’t know you were so translucent. You never wanted Cedric to be affected by the problems you were inflicting on yourself.

“That’s not true.” An obvious lie.

“It is.” He corrects you. “You can talk to me, you know that right? We’ll never fix anything, if you don’t talk to me.”

He was right, no matter how much you didn’t want to talk about this. You knew you needed to at some point. And it was looking as if that time was now.

“I just-“ You tried again. “Do you ever have, i don’t know, doubts?”

“Doubts?” You turn so your laying on your back now, him still half hovering over you. “About what?”

“Like,” A long sigh escapes past your lips, unwilling. “Do you ever regret getting with me?”

He gapes at you, almost looking offended of the question. “Why would you even ask that?” He sits up, causing you to follow.

“I don’t kn-“

“Do you think i regret it?” He rephrases, “Do i make it seem like regret it?”

Every scenario of him and you together flashes in blurs through your head and no he didn’t, the opposite actually. He looked at you as if you were the sun, as if you were brighter than the sun.

“No.” You mumble weakly, ashamed that even that revelation didn’t seem to dampen your insecurities.

“Then i’m confused on what brought this on.”

“Why are you with me, when you can be with someone as beautiful as Cho.” You meant for it to come out as a question, but it sounded like a statement.

Maybe you did mean to say it like that, it’s what you believed, the only thing you weren’t questioning the truth of.

You hear him get up and you feel as if your heart stopped beating. This is it, this was what you were preparing yourself for, you thought to yourself. Eyes already blurring.

Then a warm hand in yours, pulling you up. You stumble a little, but he steadies you, always keeping you grounded. Next thing you know he’s dragging you along to the bathroom. Confusion is clear on your face.

“What?” You mumble more to yourself.

He brings you in front of the mirror, the full body length one in the corner of the room. He stands behind you, towering over your smaller frame.

“Look at yourself.” He demands softly, when you don’t cast your eyes away from his.

You oblige, catching your own eyes. You furrow your eyebrows.

“What are you thinking about right now?” He asks, his hands ghosting over your waist.

“How could you possibly love me when i can’t even love myself?”

He looked pained by your words, that you could even have those thoughts.

“I’ll love you enough for the both of us.”

You give him a weak smile, “It doesn’t work like that.”

“Then i’ll help you love yourself.” He adds, desperately. “I’ll make you see what’s to love about you.”

He grips you harder, taking away the response you had.

“Look,” Because your eyes had ventured to his once again.

His thumbs brushed over your body, the side of your face, until they landed under your eyes. Covering the dark circles from view, he smoothed them out gently.

“Your eyes,” He began softly. “they have to be the most captivating eyes i’ve ever seen. They were the first thing i noticed about you, the first thing that pulled me in.”

His fingers brushed over your nose, curving in with it.

“This adorable nose,” He pinches it softly. “home to the freckles i could spend all my time counting.”

He brushed over your cheeks, leaving a pink blush. His fingers stopped at your lips.

“Have to be the most kissable lips out there.” He drags your bottom lip down with his thumb. “I could spend hours just kissing you, these lips.”

His knuckles brush over your neck.

“Where else am i supposed to leave my marks that show everyone your mine?”

He spends an hour at least, going through why he loved every feature about you. Talking about the way you bewitched him with your looks, with your heart.

“Can’t you see how you’re the cause of my euphoria?” His chin was resting on your shoulder, his eyes burning into yours, you never felt more loved than right now.

Those whispers dimmed in comparison to his loving words.

His hands were still roaming slowly over you, like he couldn’t get enough, you were sure he couldn’t get enough.

“What do you see?” He whispers, once your eyes take yourself in again.

“I see-“ You think for a second, really think. “I see potential.”

Potential to love yourself. Potential to accept the love he gave you. Potential to feel worthy to have him. Potential to see that he picked you.

And from then, every so often he would drag you to the mirror and do it again. Adding something new each time.

Until potential turned to beauty. Undeniable beauty. Until the whispers were nothing more than the self assured.

#cedric diggory #cedric x you #cedric fanfiction #cedric x y/n #cedric x reader #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory x you #cedric diggory x female reader #cedric diggory fluff #cedric diggory fanfiction #cedric diggory fic #cedric diggory smut #cedric diggory oneshot #cho chang #ravenclaw #lexi’s fics ◡̈

[words-etched-in-her-skin]

Hello, my dears! This request came from my Ao3 account after my Alcina mirror sex fic posted. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it  😏🤤 - noooooo please don't leave it there i need to see alcina lose control with that big strap this was so hot 🥵    

****

The refreshed feeling of cool mahogany against your feverish skin, the deep heat that seemed to roll off of Alcina’s body in sweeping waves, the words that now spun unhindered through your bliss hazed mind.. ‘Be a good pet, and brace yourself’’. And god, how badly you wanted to show her just how good you could be. How well you could submit. How desperately you wanted her to destroy you - ripping that safeword straight from your breathless lips. 

Alcina’s heady pheromones swiftly enveloping you - intoxicatingly indulgent - the full length of her leaned over the back of you, casting your body in a deep shadow. You could feel her warm breath ghosting over your neck and shoulders as she leaned in a little closer, sending a prompt shiver down your spine. 

“Such an intoxicating pet you are.” She murmured, placing a soft kiss to the base of your neck. “The things that you entice me to do.” 

You let out a strangled moan as she followed her sweet kisses with the unmistakable sharpness of her teeth. Alcina’s strap still stationary inside you - buried deep within your aching core. And it took everything in you not to buck your hips back into her out of pure desperation. Even if the thought of her punishing you made your whole body fill with heat, fill the uttermost need. At that moment, you wanted nothing more than for her to completely demolish you - to wholly wreck you - stopping herself just short of ripping you apart. 

You shivered as her warm breath skated across your back and shoulder blades. The length of her tongue exploring the base of your neck before finally finding your ear. 

“And so delicious, too.” She whispered. 

“Ah-! Please, my lady.” 

“And so sweet.”

She punctuated her praise with an absolutely indulgent thrust, forcing you to cry out. 

“So obedient.”

Another as she nipped at your soft skin. 

“So perfect.”

Fireworks building behind your eyes as your deeply flushed face fell flat against the vanity. Each praised filled thrust causing an immense and unyielding heat to spill over you. She was meticulous in her movements, as she was with everything in life - a woman in control - slow, teasing you, but always hitting exactly where you needed it. . 

“Mmph… th-thank you, my Lady.” 

“Ah, but shouldn’t I be the one thanking you, my pet?”

She purred softly against the soft skin of your neck before licking over it - relishing in the deep shudder that spilled across you. 

“For.. for what, my Lady?”

“Why, for being so utterly divine, my pet.” 

You whimpered again at her praise, at the feeling of her strap filling you so completely - over and over again - as if she moved her hips to some unknown rhythm. Your fingernails clawing deeper into the smooth mahogany beneath you with each masterful thrust that she gave you. Moaning louder as the width of her hands found your hips, driving your backside firmly into her.

“No coming without my permission, pet.” 

Alcina’s words alone were enough to compel the relentless fire in your core to ignite even further, willing a most delicious whimper to slip past your lips. 

“Y-yes, my Lady.”

“And keep your eyes on me.”

“Mmph, fuck.. Yes, my Lady.” 

Your voice was breathless - barely above a whisper as you did your best to return your gaze back to the mirror in front of you.

“That’s a good pet. Watch mommy as she wrecks you.” 

The sultry tones to her voice, the slight growl that lay dormant just beneath, murmured huskily into your overly flushed skin. The soft skin of your cheeks - the fine lines of your face - every singular detail of your body steadily becoming blurred by the fierce blush that moved unhindered across it. The feeling of her large frame against your backside as her calculated thrusts remained at an achingly slow pace. Each one forcing juices to drip deliciously down your  heated thighs. Her large hands encasing your hips and up to your sides, holding up your body like a lifeline. Half lidded eyes locked onto golden embers as the sheer power of Alcina continued to completely unravel you - slow and steady - a keen smirk curling across her devious lips as her fingers began to roam.  

“That’s it, my pet. You are doing so well.” 

A shudder of a breath, an absolute desperate moan cutting through the cool night air as the imposing girth of her fingers found your clit, circling it slowly. Her other hand at the small of your back, giving herself complete control of every movement you made. Quickening the pace of your hips - large, generous circles over your clit - willing you to cry out for her even more. Forcing you to whimper - to claw, shake, tremble with absolute need for more - for release. For anything that your Lady was willing to give you. Feeling your hips jerk into her as your peak became closer and closer to the edge. 

“Ah.. mmh.. fuck.. I’m .. I’m close, my lady.” 

A spin to your surroundings as the deep seated pleasure swiftly dropped from your body just as quickly as the warmth of Alcina’s fingers left your clit. Her strap completely still - teasing inside you - so desperate for release that you could feel your heartbeat clench  around it. 

‘Mmh.. such a good pet.” 

She stroked over your hair affectionately, bringing a small kiss to your shoulder before nipping at it. Each mark that decorated your body connected like a singular lay line to her heart. Thumping loudly with each soft kiss that she gifted over them. 

“Please… please, my lady..” 

Sometimes you hated how weak she made you, how completely desperate she could get you to be - but in retrospect, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

She chuckled, pushing cool breath across your heated skin, “Always so needy for your Lady, hm?”

“Mmph-!” 

The sound that left your lips was one of pure desire - of utter need. Wanting her to take your body as it was - to do everything that she had ever fantasized about - ever dreamed about. You squirmed against her without a moment of a thought, bucking your hips back as the need between your legs turned into a frenzied ache.. Swallowing hard as you watched the dangerous glint sweep over her eyes. 

“Now, now… be patient, pet. You’ve been doing so well.”

She nipped at your shoulder blade hard, drawing beads of crimson swiftly into her eager mouth. Sucking indulgently as the width of her finger pressed firmly against your clit.. An exquisitely intoxicating mix of sensations as she put the trio into steady motion. Her experienced mouth drinking from you as if you were her last and final meal. Her finger generous against you as she circled it steadily over your aching clit. The strap that could easily destroy you, delivering nothing but the most delicious thrusts as she matched the three in perfect rhythm. 

“Fuck.. I’m... “ 

“Always so vulgar.” 

It was barely a murmur against feverish skin - a mutter of a whisper - as Alcina’s masterful hips quickened their pace. The width of her spilling over the back of you as she brought you to the edge of pleasure and back again. Denying you time and time again. Chuckling at every curse that slipped past your lips, smirking at every whimper and moan. Half lidded eyes locked onto hers as you obediently held her gaze. 

 “I can smell how desperate for release you are, my pet.” 

A deep thrust to your swollen core, pulling an utterly desperate moan from your lips. 

“Ah-! Please.. “

“Tell me badly you want it, pet. Use your words.” 

“I need it.. ah.. so badly.. please.. Alcina…”

Her name skipped through your haze filled mind like a fever dream. Echoing against the strumming of your own heartbeat. The only thing able to cut through it was the deep and guttural growl that compelled itself out of Alcina’s body. Suns dissolving into slivers - a total eclipse of her eyes - dilating fully as large fingers wrapped firmly in your hair, pulling you straight back with an unyielding force. The length of you flush against her, every cell in your being set ablaze as she held your body in place. A sneer like smirk, a flutter of her eyelashes as Alcina swiftly brought her mouth to the crook of your neck, sinking the sharpness of her teeth deep into your soft skin. Growling louder as you moaned. Swift euphoria sweeping over you like a tidal wave - a current - an exquisite undertow as she pulled the crimson straight from your heated flesh - panting slightly as she pulled away.

“How easily I could drink you dry, pet. How quickly I could leave your body lifeless, right where you stand.” 

She brought her teeth back into you harder this time, earning a sharp yelp to force its way  past your lips. The width of her hands moving quickly - one to your throat and the other to your hips. A sublime heat as the sharp sting of her claws seeped ever so slightly into your flesh, causing you to whimper. The length of her tongue licking expertly over your wounds as she delivered a forceful and indulgent thrust to your core.

“And yet.. you fear me not.. do you, pet?” 

“N-no, my lady… m-more...” 

She tightened the grasp on your throat, forcing your gaze to her own. An almost primal look upon her face as the hand that held your hips in place moved indulgently to your clit, circling it once. 

“Ah-! Please, Mistress!” 

You knew you were playing with fire - knew that your words were tempting the beast inside - and you didn’t care. You relished in it. In knowing how easily she could destroy you - how swiftly she could  break you - how wholly and completely she could make you hers. And you knew you should be scared, knew that the dangerous glint that now spilled relentless over the blacks of her eyes, was nothing but absolute in it’s warning.

“Oh, my pet… always so unsatisfied, hm?”

“Ah.. yes, my lady… please.”

“How absolutely divine you smell when you beg for me.” Her breath was stifling against you as she leaned in further. “Well… as you wish.”

You watched the tiny beads of crimson drip deliciously down your neck as she tightened her grasp a little more. An absolute predatory look to her eyes as she shifted her stance slightly, widening your legs for her even more. The tips of her barely extended claws teasing over your inner thigh before allowing the smoothness of them to ghost over your clit. You shuddered, dropping your gaze for less than a second before the strength of the fingers tightened once more - pulling your eyes immediately forward.

“That’s a good pet.”

You watched as the blush across your face grew even deeper. Watched as a deep seated pleasure sweeped over the fine lines of your face. As the juices began to flow steadily from your core. As the whites of your teeth found your flushed swollen lips. The length of her strap deep inside you as she started a strong and merciless rhythm. The fingers around your neck, firm - the ones on your clit, generous and indulgent. Both supremely arousing .. both pushing you closer and closer to the edge

Watching obediently as the first orgasm washed over you. A white hot pleasure spilling across the landscape of you - ripping your name from her lips like an prayer. The pace of her hips unyielding as she forced one orgasm on you after another. Each wave of pleasure more delicious than the last - crashing over you in ways that you didn’t even know possible. And you wondered how many times you had screamed her name. How many times she’d made you plead for more -  begging for her not to have mercy on you. Her normally calculated movements becoming more frenzied in nature with each plea. A sheer primality rolling over her in steady waves as she drove her strap into you with unrelenting force. The sun already started it’s ascent into the dawn stricken sky by the time she was done with you. By the time she returned your breathless body back to the smooth mahogany below you. Her cool breath skating over your crimson skin as she whispered softly into your ear. 

“Just one more time, my pet. Just come for mommy one more time.” 

And you did, hard - harder than before - harder than ever. Full white out behind your eyes - the entire room spinning as her words skipped across you like a free wielding star. It was all consuming, enveloping you in a pleasure so thick that you were sure you felt your toes curl - your soul shake. Juices gushing from your core as Alcina’s strap pushed over and past the brink of pleasure one last time. Panting as your whole body shuddered. Your flushed face flat against the cooled wood of the vanity, your hitched breath only growing deeper. 

‘You did so, so well, my pet.” 

She purred the words into you, peppering soft kisses up the side of your neck - a soft smile against your skin as her lips found your temple. 

“Mmh.. thank you, my lady,” 

“Shouldn’t I be thanking you, my pet?”

“Hm? For.. for what?”

“Why, for being so utterly diving, my pet.” 

You chuckled at her on-going quip - letting the blissful haze swiftly pull you under, barely hearing the last words that she muttered against you.

"Rest up, my pet. I expect your tongue in me by breakfast."

#depravity answered #charlottepriestly on ao3 #resident evil village #resident evil #re8 village #resident evil 8 #lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x reader #lady dimitrescu fanfic #resident evil fanfic #fuck #im #djdksjskaaka #gayyyy #i hope you like it 😈

[callme-barnes]

Besitos

*Pictures are not mine*

Summary: Demons can be fun, at least you know you can be. When you go out to claim a soul as yours, Bucky finds you and it only adds on to the fun.

Pairing: Demon!Bucky x Demon!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: SMUT (Demon!Bucky is a sin), oral sex (f! receiving), rough sex, slight daddy kink, blood kink (if you squint), talk of religion (not much), dirty talk

IF YOU ARE A MINOR PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT! THIS WORK IS FOR THOSE 18+ ONLY!

A/N: Again, this work is 18+ only!. Do not repost my work anywhere! This is a one-shot based off of a series I really want to put out at some point. I've been having a tough go of it and this work Ade me feel better to write. Please do not judge my smut writing as I am still pretty new to it. All mistakes are mine. But otherwise please enjoy and feel free to interact with me if you liked it! Enjoy ladies & gents!

___________________________________________________

Y/N watched from the comfort of a dark corner at the bar at all the bodies dancing underneath the strobe lights of the club. It had hit its peak at about 1 in the morning, and it was the right time for you to strike the target you had come here to find.

His name was John, a pretty good looking man by human standards. Tall, dark and handsome as you once would’ve described him. Had a beautiful pregnant fiance at home by the name of Lily who was ready to give birth to a handsome baby boy any day now by what you could gather from Lily’s pleas for help. You had overheard her one night, crying herself to sleep as she prayed to God to help her make sense of her situation. She was stuck at home, waiting for a man who would go out and have fun with his friends. And other women.

She had prayed for clarity, safety and a change of heart for him. And strength and courage for herself. To be able to keep her fiance and to change what was wrong with her. Of course nothing was wrong with Lily. She was pregnant, ready to burst at any second. She was bringing a life into this world, risking her body and her health and for what? For a man who refused to change his way of life because that’s what he had grown accustomed to? Or in his words, “To be a slave to a family?”

You had found yourself in that situation once, praying to God for a man that couldn’t give a shit less if you had dropped dead. As long as he maintained his freedom and habits all was well. Instead the man you had grown to love had left you for a cute petite brunette, claiming you had been smothering him with your “jealousy” and your “excessive” calls when you only wanted to be with him.

Your praying touched upon deaf ears of course and it was then that you realized no one was out there to protect you. You were on your own to deal with the hardships of your life.

Until you met him. James Barnes.

He had been your savior when you were ready to give up all hope. Bucky, as you’ve grown to call him, had given you strength and a new life. A life devoted to taking what you wanted and not being sorry about it. A life devoted to him. But that was a tale for another time.

That’s how you ended up appearing to the poor young woman. Sat in her bed, in pain both physically and emotionally. You had appeared before her dressed in a beautiful black dress, the slit high up your thigh and a pair of your favorite black stilettos. She had been scared. As she should have been. Your power emanated before her, putting her in a trance before you disappeared into the shadows, sending her a small devilish grin.

You set your plan into motion when you saw him headed for the restroom area. He was intoxicated beyond his logical mind, which was just the way you liked them. Downing the remainder of your drink, you made your way to the back area, the sea of people splitting as you walked past them making a direct walkway to your destination. When you stood in front of the mens room, those who waited in line stared with hunger. Intensity. Desire. Your hand reached out to touch one of their gawking faces before sending him a wink and walking in after John. The light cheering on the other end of the door made you smile as you locked it behind you and walked towards the sink counter. You perched yourself on top of it, the red lights casting a hellish glow across your skin.

The stall door opened and you felt your insides twist in anticipation as John walked out, his eyes blinking to focus and his hands holding onto the wall for stability and guidance.

Showtime.

You watched as John made his way to the sinks before finally realizing he wasn’t alone, stopping just a foot in front of you. Your leg shifting up to cross over your other, the slit in your dress falling to either side to give him a nice little peek of your ass.

“Hey there handsome”

You were laying it on thick sure, but you weren’t going to lie, you were excited for this one. It hit a little too close to home for you and you were practically bursting open at the seams.

“Who...who are you?”

“I’ve been watching you all night you know. Trying to muster up the courage to approach you and talk to you”

He almost immediately dropped his guard, his vibrations shifting from reserved to open and ready. Good.

“Well hot stuff here we are. And you found me, here all vulnerable. Naughty girl”

You smiled at him as you stood up, your heels clicking on the tile as you reached over to grab his shirt and pull him close to you, pressing your body up against his own.

“Oh I can be very naughty”, you said and leaned up to kiss him. Your tongue slithered against his own, your pace slow waiting for him to respond. Which he did and quickly. His hands reached out to rest on your ass, his hands squeezing and bringing you in to rub against the hard on he was sporting. You sent him a small moan in response, obviously fake but that only spurred him on further.

His hands reached down to just underneath your ass before you pushed away from him and moved to perch yourself back up on the counter making sure to make a show of opening your legs to invite him in.

“I’ve been really lonely. I haven’t had a man in so long baby”

He was entranced by you, his focus resting on your open thighs and practically foaming at the mouth.

“You know how hard it is to find a single honest man in this city? I noticed you weren’t wearing a ring and you came here by yourself. Are you lonely too?”

This was it, the opportunity for your prey to make amends. You weren’t completely heartless, you had been human once. You had made mistakes too, so you always gave them a chance. Yet 99% of the time, they failed. So you got a chance to have some fun. Your eye contact didn’t falter as you ran your hand down between the valley of your breasts, the other trailing up to reveal the lacy thong you were wearing.

“Fuck...yes I’m....I’m so lonely”

There it was. The opportunity you were looking forward to because let's face it you knew this piece of shit was too set in his ways to repent. You sent him a smile as your fingers began to rub at yourself over your panties, letting out a small moan to coax him in.

“You wanna fuck me? It’s been so long since I’ve had a real man fuck me good”

He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath before walking over and settling himself between your open legs, his hands grasping at your thighs, “Fuck me Johnny boy”

You moved up to kiss him again, this time more aggressively as your innocent facade began to slip away.

“Now I know there’s a God”

You stopped yourself from laughing or scoffing as your hands moved down to rub at his cock through his jeans, watching him as he tore his lip open with how hard he was biting down and you leaned up, making sure you pressed your body against him to give him one last little feel, moving your lips to his ear

“No God here John. Only me”

As you made your way to unbuckle his pants he hesitated a bit and you leaned back “What’s wrong baby? I thought you wanted to fuck me? Don’t you want to?”

“Yes I...fuck I do. Did you ask my friends my name? I don’t think I ever got yours?”

You watched a shadow move from behind John and before you could respond you saw him. Coming out of the shadows looking as handsome as the devil himself. Bucky.

“What does it matter? Don’t you just want to get inside me?”

As you spoke you made eye contact with Bucky from behind John’s shoulders as you leaned back and opened your legs up to give him a view. You smirked to yourself as Bucky’s demeanor changed and before John could get another word out you watched his eyes widen in fear, finally catching onto Bucky in the mirror’s reflection but by then it was too late. Bucky’s hand had reached into John’s back and grabbed onto his heart, squeezing tight before John collapsed lifeless onto the floor.

You watched him, standing up and looking down at him before shifting to Bucky with a smile, “That was my soul to take”

Bucky watched you, his eyes darkening in discontent “I really wish you’d keep your hands to yourself when taking your souls babygirl”

You leaned against the counter and shrugged, “Where’s the fun in that? Besides, how else would I get you all riled up and angry?”

Bucky was in front of you in a blink, his hand wrapping around your throat as he pressed himself up against you. The proximity of the man in front of you made you melt, your body immediately submitting to him as he stared at you. If you had a soul you were sure he’d be looking into it.

“Is that what it is? You like when I’m angry and jealous?”

You fluttered your eyelashes at him, “You’ve been so busy baby. I’ve had to fill the void with what I could take”

That didn’t make him loosen his hold or react, he just kept staring at you as if to say it was your move now and who were you if not an amazing actress.

“We both know I belong to you. And I wouldn’t want to fuck anyone else but you”

You moved your hand to grab onto his own that was pressed against your neck, leaning down to take two of his fingers into your mouth and began sucking on them. Bucky’s chest rumbled with a growl as he stood before you mesmerized, his dick twitching against his black dress pants he had on.

“I brought us an audience daddy,” you said when you pulled away from his hand a small trail of spit following your lips “You know how much I love it when people hear us fucking. It gets me so wet just thinking about all those guys out there wanting to get in my panties while my one and only is fucking me stupid”

That had done it for him, he slammed you against the mirror behind you causing it to break and fall around you as he took your lips in his, kissing you sloppy and animalistic. You let out a moan and a smile in victory, pressing your body into him not caring if you cut your hand on the shards that surrounded you. Bucky grabbed onto the point where your dress slit ended on your hip and tore the fabric open, making you gasp “This is my favorite dress”

“I’ll buy you another”

His growl tore through you, going straight to your aching core causing you to begin grinding against his dick for some relief. You reached your hand up to lick the trail of blood from your hand that was cut open making a show of it, your tongue trailing against your finger before motioning for him to get close. You pulled him into you and kissed him, hearing him moan into your mouth as you shamelessly continued grinding against him

“I want your dick daddy. Fuck I want it so bad. Need you to fuck me please. My pussy is so wet for you”

Bucky reached down and tore your panties from your body, his fingers trailing along your slit and gathering your wetness onto his fingers before slipping them into his mouth, moaning in response “Fuck you know just how to get me going little one. Want me to eat you out you little minx? Do you want to come on my tongue?”

You whined as you nodded and lifted your legs, your heels propping themselves up onto the counter to open up for him “Please. Want to cum on your tongue daddy. Make me cum please”

Bucky kneeled down in front of your open thighs and wasted no time as he leaned in and began to lick at every crevice he could reach and even some you didn’t know he could reach. His tongue worked from your entrance all the way up to your clit, making quick work of it. You moaned out obscenely, your hand reaching down to grip his hair and pressing him further into you as you grind your pussy down onto his face. You pleaded and moaned louder as he sucked and licked at you, your heels falling onto his back and digging into his skin. He hissed in response but otherwise kept at it, licking and sucking and repeating until you felt that familiar twist in your stomach.

“Oh fuck...yes please. Please give it to me, make me cum for you daddy. Shit yes!”

You made sure to be as loud as you wanted knowing the audience that had gathered on the other side of the restroom door. Bucky hit that one spot on your clit over and over again, causing your toes to curl in your heels and your back to arch up dramatically. Your eyes rolled up as you came loud and hard, your body convulsing and your thighs squeezing his head as he continued to suck. You attempted to push him away as you felt your body become too sensitive which only caused him to pin you down harder on the counter as he continued

“I...I can’t. Wait….oh fuck”

But he was a demon possessed as he kept going before you felt yourself come again, harder this time as you gripped onto the sink the pressure causing you to snap one of the handles clean off. You felt your release flow out of you as Bucky pulled away and wiped his lips with the back of his hand “Shit I love it when you do that for me”

His shirt was wet with your orgasm and he sent you a smirk as he undid his pants, bringing his cock out as he stroked it. You watched him in awe as you smiled at him, your eyes just as black as his as he reached over to pick you up and slammed you against the nearest wall. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his hips to bring him close, feeling his cock hard against your core.

“Fuck me. My pussy wants you so bad”

Bucky smirked at you before lining himself up and pushing into you fully in one thrust. You let your head rest back against the wall, unable to form a sound when you tried to moan before he began to slam up into you. He fucked you like an animal, all teeth and hands and no emotion. The air of authority fell off of him and made you moan and squeal every time he slid past that spot inside of you. Your nails made work, scratching at his neck when you tried to hold on, at his back causing his shirt to rip open and at the upper part of his ass so you could bring him closer to you.

“I want another out of you little one. I want you to cum all over my dick before I cum inside of this tight pussy you understand me? You gonna do that for me baby? Gonna….shit, gonna give me another one?”

“Oh fuck yes daddy I’ll do it. Anything for you, anything”

He pounded into you at a relentless pace, the vibrations coming off of the two of you causing the lights to flicker in small space and the doors to the stalls to shake on the hinges. When you felt your third orgasm coming you leaned in to kiss him and bite at his bottom lip roughly. You graced him with the most pornographic sounds you had in you, urging him on before you came, your walls gripping onto him like a vice not wanting to let him go. Bucky groaned and let his head fall back before he gripped your hips and began to take full control, using his strength to pull you down on him harder to get into you deeper. The force caused you to slam against the tile wall as you held onto him for salvation.

“Talk to me baby” he said as he used a hand to grab your jaw and made you look at him, “You know how much I love hearing you talk filthy to me”

Your walls spasmed around him as you felt what could have been another orgasm coming as you kept eye contact with him

“Oh daddy, I want you to come inside me. Want you to fill me completely with your cum. I want to be able to feel you inside of me for days. Please give it to me, please cum for me. You make me feel so good baby. Give it to me, fuck give it to me”

Your words drove him to the edge, his hips stuttering as he pushed into you again and he spilled himself inside of you, his orgasm also spurring on another of your own. Bucky’s hands grabbed onto you and pulled you in tightly as he rode out his release into you, pulling out slowly and pushing any cum that was slipping out back into you. You had a dumb smile on your face and you kissed him and pulled away.

“Want to finish this somewhere a little more private?”

Bucky listened to you finally hearing the cheers on the other side of the door and he smirked to himself as he leaned in to kiss you once again and set you on your feet so he could adjust himself, “You really are a bad girl”

You hummed in response as you looked in the mirror and fixed your eyeliner a bit, stepping over the dead body on the floor and you looked down “Almost forgot he was in here”

Bucky chuckled to himself and moved to take a hold of your waist. “What did this poor bastard do?”

“He has a pregnant fiance at home. Figured someone should teach him about consequences so he could use it in his next lifetime”

Bucky let out a deep but loud laugh as he squeezed you to him, “Let’s get outta here”

You smiled as you moved to unlock the bathroom door and allowed it to open a bit before walking back to Bucky and shifting out of the bathroom. You stood right outside and when you heard screaming and commotion you grinned in delight before walking towards Bucky who was waiting for you.

“Thank you”

You leaned up to kiss his cheek and looked down at you with admiration, “What for little one?”

“For blessing me with a new life worth living”

Bucky smiled as you both made your way down the busy street, ignoring the looks you got at your obvious physical state. His lips kissed your temple and he pulled you closer into him, “You deserve it. Now, my place or yours?”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes smut #james buchanan barnes imagine #demon!bucky #demon!reader #marvel smut #bucky barnes #dark fic #demon smut

[xxxsweetdreamzxxx]

warnings/tags: dom!Jaehyun sub!reader, fanfic, smut; cursing, hook up, fingering, cunninilingus, unprotected sex, cream pie

summary: a chance meeting while shopping for bathing suits turns your summer vacation a little hotter

word count: 4.4k (help)

===============================

this was interesting to write as the beginning and ending are based off of separate dreams this time, so hopefully I was able to link them in a way that made sense. please enjoy!!

===============================

"How does this look?" You asked your friend Jamie, holding a skimpy neon bikini set to your body. 

It was the first full day of your annual summer beach trip with your bestie, and you'd arrived in the seaside town you always traveled to late last night. After eating a mediocre breakfast provided by your hotel, the two of you had headed to a nearby mall to buy new swimsuits. She'd had luck finding one relatively quickly. But the reason you were still there, on the second story of a large department store several hours later, was because you had yet to. 

She made a face. "No offence, but it's not really your style..."

Sighing, you put it back on the rack. "I know."

Rounding the stand that contained the bikini you'd just put back, you briefly glanced over at the neighboring section, which had swim trunks. Movement had caught your eye, caused by three guys walking through. You barely even paid attention to them at first glance, but the one in the back caught your eye, and you did a double take. 

At this second glance, you saw they were all young, probably close to your age, and very attractive. 'Are they models?' You wondered. But again, it was the one behind the first two that really made you look on in awe. He had muted fluffy purple hair that covered his forehead, and dark eyes that shone like diamonds even from this distance. His soft features and perfect skin made you wonder if he was an angel. His thin white shirt hugged what was probably toned muscle underneath. When the taller of his two friends said something funny, he smiled and oh my God, he had the cutest dimples. 

At that moment, he shifted his eyes up and saw you standing there, staring. Like a deer caught in headlights you froze, embarrassed as fuck you'd been caught. But his smile only widened, and he gave you a slight nod in greeting. 

Ripping your gaze away, you acted like nothing had happened and tried to return to shopping. 

"Oh wow y/n, you saw those guys right?" Jamie exclaimed, following you. "Now that's what I'd call eye can-"

You interrupted her, face flushed, by holding up a pale blue gingham bikini. "What about this?"

Before she could answer, her eyes focused on something behind you, mouth falling open slightly. A deep voice then responded to your question. "I think it looks cute."

You whipped around, only to come face to face with the man you couldn't keep from staring at. Your eyes widened and you gulped, startled. Up close, he was simply breathtaking. Literally; you felt your breathing become strained as your heart pounded in your chest. 

"Th- Thank you, um..?" You stuttered before taking a deep breath.

"Jaehyun." He answered. 

"Ah, Jaehyun." Damn, even his name was cute. You gave him a shaky smile. "So I should get it?"

"Definitely." He encouraged. He then looked to Jamie, who'd been speechlessly watching the exchange. "What do you think?"

Turning around, you waited to see her response. After looking between the two of you for a couple of seconds, she grinned and gave a thumbs up. You weren't sure if she was approving of the bathing suit or... 

"Hey, what are you guys doing the rest of today?" Jaehyun asked. 

"Oh, not much." You replied quickly, not planning to elaborate. 

"We'll just be at the beach!" Jamie said louder and at the same time, speaking over you. "Wanna come with?"

You gave her a look, trying to shut her up. She looked back at you as if to say 'what?'

He smiled. "Sure. Let me ask the boys if it's okay with them."

He beckoned the two of them over, who didn't hesitate to comply. Jamie introduced you and her to the group, as you were still majorly distracted by the million thoughts running through your head. The tallest of the three then introduced himself as Johnny, a friendly guy with a round face and sculpted arms that were on full display thanks to the tank he wore. The other was Mark, who shyly said hi to you and Jamie. He had a boyish and youthful aura about him that made you immediately assume he was the youngest. They both readily agreed to head to the beach. 

Still not fully registering what had just happened, you walked to the check out in a near trance and bought your swimsuits. Then you exited the mall, and made your way to the parking lot. Jaehyun went to get his car while the rest of you waited at Jamie's. When he pulled up, the guys got in. After quickly entering her car with her, Jamie pulled out of the parking lot and followed them as they lead the way to the beach.

"Y/n, you okay?" She asked, taking her eyes off the road for a split second to glance at your face. Your prolonged silence had prompted her to speak.

You removed yourself from your racing thoughts. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just surprised."

She grinned. "Well, today's not gonna be boring, that's for sure. It'll be a lot more eventful than if we'd hung out at the beach by ourselves."

You nodded in agreement. You knew there wasn't much harm in doing this - there would be plenty of people on the beach around you - they couldn't try anything. And besides, you didn't even get those vibes from them. That wasn't what made you uneasy. It was the thought of spending a day at the beach with such attractive guys that made the tips of your ears turn pink and your heart rate increase. You just prayed you wouldn't say or do something utterly embarrassing. 

Jamie drove into the public beach parking behind their car, parking a few spaces away from them. Exiting the car, you and her first made your way to the bathrooms to change. This beach was well maintained, a stone walkway lead to them and then continued on and up to a wide bridge that arched over the barrier dunes and then down onto the sand. Palm trees provided shade, which was made good use of as it seemed wherever a tree cast a shadow there was a cool bench to sit. 

Locking yourself into a stall in the women's bathroom, you undressed and then pulled on your brand new swimsuit. Thankfully, despite not being able to try it on in the store, it fit extremely well. The gingham pattern, pale blue color, and small ruffles on the waistband and straps made you conclude this was the cutest bikini you'd ever seen. Exiting the stall, you briefly peered into the mirror above the sinks to pull your hair into two low pigtails. 

Turning back around, you found Jamie standing there in her new suit, smiling at you. 

"Ready y/n?" She asked. 

You took a breath before replying. "Yep."

Arm in arm, you walked out to meet the boys, who'd already changed and were standing there waiting, beach bags in hand. Johnny got excited as he spotted you both and practically ran towards beach, Mark trying to keep up with him. Jaehyun looked unbothered as he stayed behind to walk at a normal pace with you. By the time you'd crossed over the sand dunes and strolled onto the beach, Mark and Johnny had already found a good place a little ways away to set up. They'd brought two large towels, big enough for multiple people to sit on, and had spread them out over the sand.

Jaehyun sat down on one, then patted the ground next to him, motioning for you to sit next to him. After a few seconds of contemplation you complied, folding your legs to the side as you still kept a couple feet of distance from him. Jamie sat down with Johnny and Mark on the other towel. 

For the next hour or so, the five of you talked about various topics in an effort to learn more about each other. Gradually, you loosened up as you got used to their company. Johnny and Mark were college friends of Jaehyun's, who'd came into town a few days before you to visit him where he now lived on the coast. Funnily enough, the two boys were staying in the same hotel as you and Jamie while they did so - it was the closest to Jaehyun's apartment.

Noon came and went, and the air continued to heat up around you until it was unbearable. You looked out at the ocean water longingly,  but didn't want to leave by yourself, and the others seemed to be having such a great time...

Glancing over at you, Jaehyun made a suggestion. "Who's up for the water?" 

Despite your assumptions, the agreement was unanimous. As one, you all rose and ran towards the rolling sea, chasing each other. Diving into the waves, you ran out until the water was up to your waist. Johnny swam out farther than any of you, while Jamie and Mark stayed in slightly shallower water. 

You heard the sound of someone sloshing around in the water directly behind you. Spinning around, you were met with his chest - his white shirt was now wet and you could see some of the muscles through it - as your eyes widened and you looked up into Jae's eyes. He smiled down at your face, less than a foot away, dimples on full display. 

"Hi." He said in a way that made your heart melt. Then: "Feel better?" 

"Y- yeah, it was really hot before." Your words betrayed your body - being in the water wasn't cooling you off at all anymore. 

You stood there for a few awkward moments in silence, not knowing what to say. 

"Um-" You began. 

"Woah y/n look out!" He cut you off, sudden panic on his face as he closed the small distance between the two of you.

Suddenly, a large wave crashed into your back. It pushed you straight into the only thing that would keep you standing - his body. Instinctively, you gripped onto his shirt tightly so you didn't fall, tugging it towards you. He didn't hesitate to wrap his strong arms around your waist to steady you. Only after the wave had passed did you realize what you'd done, quickly releasing the fabric from your hands. But he didn't let go. 

"Are you okay?" He asked, worry in his tone.

You nodded, heart pounding loudly in your ears. However, you were shaking slightly. 

He began leading you back towards the shore, not convinced. Stumbling onto the hot sand, he guided you back to the towels, sitting you down once you got there. Getting a smaller towel, he wrapped it around you so you could dry off, then he sat down next to you. 

You looked at him, embarrassed. "You can go back if you want, I'll be fine here."

"No, I'm good." He leaned back a bit. "I'm not much of a swimmer anyways."

He then lifted his arm and ran his fingers through his damp hair, brushing it back off his forehead. You gulped, incredibly bothered by the motion. 

He looked at you with a slight smirk. "Thirsty?"

"Yeah." You replied. 

Smirk widening, he handed you an unopened water bottle. You drank, trying desperately to calm down. 

Jamie ran up to you, Mark following close behind. "Y/n are you okay?" She asked, confused and concerned. "What happened?"

You explained without including the details that made you blush when you thought of them. She sat on the towel next to you, deciding not to go back out. Mark followed suit and shortly after Johnny joined you again when he realized everyone was out of the water.

After a bit, you began to get hungry and got up to try and find some food. Luckily, there was a food truck nearby with some cheap lunch. Returning to the towels, you ate in relative silence as the sun moved slowly west overhead. The rest of the afternoon was spent walking, playing with a frisbee, and sunbathing. You noticed Jaehyun seemed to be keeping you within a few feet of him the entire time, never leaving you alone or with the others. Even when you went back out with Jamie into the shallow water, he followed - even though he tried to appear like he wasn't. 

            .•°•. ♡ .•°•. ♡ .•°•. ♡ .•°•.

Once the sun went down, everything was packed up and taken back to the cars. You threw back on your shorts from earlier before heading to a nearby bar, open to the sea and cool night air. It was already crowded with many tourists, and once you entered you quickly lost sight of the others,  later catching a glimpse of Jamie talking to Johnny off to the side with a drink in hand. 

Seeing the bar, you made your way over to it by yourself and sat on one of the barstools. You beckoned the bartender over to order your drink. 

"What can I get for you?" She asked, polishing a glass. 

"A margarita please." you answered.

She then looked at the seat next to you. "And you sir?"

"A margarita for me too, thanks." A familiar voice answered. 

You turned around in your seat to face Jaehyun, blinking at him.

He smiled and nodded in greeting, those adorable dimples reappearing on the corners of his mouth. Feeling your face heat up, you quickly turned to look at the bartender as she made your identical drinks. 

You cleared your throat a little. "So... you like margaritas too?"

He chuckled softly at your attempt to break the awkwardness. "Truthfully, I've never tried one. Thought tonight was good first time."

You could feel his eyes on you, boring into your soul in an attempt to get your attention. When you couldn't take it any longer and tilted your head to look at him, his eyes immediately met yours. A slight smirk spread across his lips.

When your drinks were served, he was the first to take a sip, eyes not leaving you for a millisecond. You drank and shifted in your seat, fully aware of how he was checking you out as his eyes began to roam. You wondered if maybe you should've put on a shirt over your bikini top to cover yourself better. But that thought was quickly dismissed as a new one took its place. You liked it - the way his attention was focused on no one but you. There were plenty of other hot girls there that night,  but he paid them no mind. 

The hours drifted by as those around you melted away and it felt like you and Jae were the only two in the entire world. The music and voices of patrons were only a buzz in the distant background as you focused on his soft words. You found you enjoyed each others company - he made you comfortable with the idea of spending as much time in it as possible. 

When the clock struck ten, you could feel the beginnings of fatigue creeping into your mind. An incoming text made his phone buzz. He checked it, relaying the message to you after briefly lifting up his eyebrows in surprise.

"Your friend's heading back to the hotel with Johnny and Mark, she's driving them there."

"Oh!" You replied in surprise, glancing around the bar but finding them already gone. You knew what was probably going to happen to Jamie, but you didn't voice it. 

He looked at you for about a minute before speaking again, slowly. "Do you.. wanna come to my place?"

You met his eyes again, heart and mind racing at his invitation. The implications of his question didn't slip by you, they were fully realized. Still, it didn't take you long to make up your mind - in fact, you'd already made it before he'd asked. 

"Yes." You replied. 

He smiled wide and grabbed your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. You quickly slid off your barstool and exited the bar, making for the car. You giggled as he pulled you along. The moon shone down on you from high overhead, lighting the way. Once reaching the car, he opened the passenger door for you and you hopped inside as he then closed it and rounded the car to his seat. Getting in, he started the car and drove out onto the road towards his apartment. 

Your mind raced as you made the silent drive to his apartment, listening to the low sounds of the radio coming through the speakers. It only took a few minutes before he was parking, getting out, and coming around to help you out of the car. Grasping your hand tightly again, he lead you into the building. The lobby of his apartment had only dim lights on at this time to illuminate the room. No one was around. Jaehyun took a left after guiding you through the main doors. 

"This way." He practically whispered, taking you into the elevator. 

He hit the three and the doors closed, leaving you alone in the small space with him for a few moments. He didn't waste any time in turning you around to face him, closing the gap between you. Locking his lips with yours in a heated first kiss, he backed you up into the elevator wall, driving you up it slightly with his strong arms. You instinctively wrapped your limbs around his body to steady yourself and kissed him back. You could taste both him and the drink he'd had at the bar - the mixture was heavenly. 

A ding signified your arrival at his floor, forcing you to part. Thankfully for the both of you, his door wasn't too far away. Pulling you down the hall quickly, Jae stopped at his door and took out his keys, fumbling with them for a few seconds as he tried to rush. When the door was unlocked, he pushed it open, letting you both walk through before harshly closing it again. 

For the few seconds it took for him to throw the keys on a small table next to the door you glanced around the dark apartment. Through a cracked door to your left you could make out a bathroom. A small kitchen stretched across most of the right wall from the door, a long bar separating it from the rest of the room. In this main room was both his living area and bedroom. His bed was pushed up against the farthest wall, which was taken up entirely by two giant windows. The moonlight shone through them, illuminating a balcony on the other side that looked out into the night and the street below, where palm trees waved back and forth in a light breeze. 

The sudden grip of his large hand on your waist from behind made you jump. He spun you around, and gave you that soul piercing stare that made all your self-control fade away. You leaned in this time, seeing a smirk spread across his face right before you closed your eyes. As soon as your lips brushed against his again, he picked up were you'd left off, kissing you relentlessly and leaving you breathless. Slowly, he backed you up further into the apartment until the backs of your legs bumped up against the edge of the bed as you struggled to bring air to your lungs. 

He lifted you just enough to clear the mattress and sit you down on top of it. Climbing onto it himself, he gently laid you down onto the sheets underneath him. He kept himself up with his knees, one on each side of you as he started to move his plush lips down to your neck. He proceeded to mark you, painting several dark spots onto your skin that would surely be there the next day. 

"Ah, Jae." You moaned out for the first time, when the tenseness that had been building between your legs became too much to stay silent.

He paused. "What is it princess?" 

"I need..." You began, heating up at the petname.

"Yes?" He asked patiently, waiting for your commanding words. He smiled down at you, raising a hand to your cheek to stroke it soothingly. 

"You." You finished, meeting his gaze. "I need you."

He smiled wider. "Sure thing."

Removing his hand from your face, he moved it down to the waistband of your shorts. Unbuttoning them with both hands, he slipped them off and down your ankles with ease. Placing his strong hand on your upper thigh, he spread it away from the other and began moving his fingers closer to your heat. Shivering at his touch, you sunk deeper into the bedsheets. He let his fingertips get to the edge of your bikini bottoms, but stopped there, teasing you. 

"Hey-" You breathed, scolding him when you realized what he was doing.

He looked down at you, hair messily splayed around your head as your chest rose and fell beneath him. Your skin was beginning to glisten with perspiration, your eyelashes fluttering slightly every time you blinked your half-closed eyes. "Hm?"

You took a moment to respond. "Touch me Jae."

He smiled a dark smile as he brushed your bikini bottoms to the side. The first touch of his fingertips against your slick clit had you lifting your hips up off the bed, curses falling from your lips. He forced them back down, pinning you to the bed with his body. He quickly resumed his actions, running his fingers back and forth over your folds as you moaned at the pleasure. He then suddenly inserted a finger into your dripping core. 

"Ah-" You gasped in surprise as he continued, using his thumb to trace circles across your clit. It was all too much for you to handle. He watched as you gradually lost control beneath him, writhing about in pleasure. The dangerous combination of things he was doing to you quickly brought your first high like a rising wave that crashed into the beach before it. 

You didn't have time to warn him before your walls clamped down on his finger and your juices spilled out onto his hand, sheets, and down your legs. He let you ride out your orgasm and calm all the way down before removing his finger and sitting up, licking every last bit of you from his fingers. You peered down the bed at him, watching in fascination as he lapped it up like a man starved.

"Shit, you taste good." He complimented, making your face feel flushed. 

When his hand was clean, he bent down and stuck his head between your legs. A second later, you felt the flick of his tongue on your inner thigh. He left a trail of wet kisses up it, making his way back up to your heat. Without warning, you felt his lips brush against your folds as he proceeded to use his tongue to clean you up as best he could. His hot breath against your pussy made you squirm and draw your legs up closer to your chest. Once satisfied he sat up again, licking the last of you from his lips. 

He then repositioned himself above you. Removing his swim trunks, his hard member sprung free and stood erect, precum trickling from its pink tip. Slipping a couple of fingers into the waistband of your bikini bottoms, he pulled then down your legs, leaving them with your shorts at your ankles. Lining up with your entrance, he held himself up with his strong arms, caging you in. You looked up at him, his faded purple hair messy across his face. He gave you a reassuring smile - dimples and all - before pushing into you with ease and rolling his hips down onto yours. Matching the pace he set, you pulled his face back down to yours to kiss him again, softer this time. He complied, kissing you deeper and slower as he pushed further into you with each thrust.

When he bottomed out, he speed up the movement of his hips, gripping yours to bring them closer to his. The lewd sounds of sex filled the apartment, combined with both of your increasingly loud moans.

"Jae." You moaned out, breaking your kisses. You felt the tenseness building in your abdomen again. 

He groaned as you felt him twitch inside you. "Fuck, you sound so hot saying my name like that."

He then hit your g-spot with the tip of his cock, pushing you over the edge. You came undone all at once, flexing your walls around him, gasping for air. Seconds later, hot strings of his cum shot through you, spilling out onto the bed along with your own. Riding out your orgasms simultaneously, your heavy breathing gradually quieted until he pulled out and sat up on the bed beside you. Watching him slide off the edge and stand up, your eyes followed him as he made his way to the bathroom entrance, ducking in for a second and returning with a towel.

Climbing back onto the bed, he leaned over you and gently cleaned you up with the towel, being extra careful around your sore clit. When most of it was wiped up, he discarded the towel onto the floor and laid down next to you. You rolled onto your side to look at him in the moonlight.

His skin had a visible sheen to it and his hair was a fucking mess - it stuck partially to his damp skin. But that only made his perfectly sculpted features more beautiful. You felt him wrap his arm around your naked waist, holding you to his body. Brushing a loose strand of hair away from your face, he spoke for the first time in minutes.

"Let's do this again tomorrow."

In your fucked out state, you couldn't respond with much else than an excited nod as you snuggled up to him. He gently kissed your swollen lips, happy. 

Brushing your nose with his, he whispered: "Night y/n." 

You replied by kissing him back, closing your eyes, and drifting off to sleep in his arms. 

#nct #nct smut #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct jaehyun #jaehyun nct #jaehyun #jung jaehyun #nct jaehyun smut #nct jaehyun imagines #nct jaehyun fanfic #nct 127 #nct 127 smut #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 jaehyun #jaehyun nct 127 #kpop #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #smut #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction

[melon-wing]

Hi :D

I got a prompt for you that can go from cute and fluffy to cute and horny, depending on how you want to write it:

Gridoc, Massage, maaaybe Pirate AU if you are up for it (I am still a sucker for that AU)

Like I told you on discord, not a real massage, but whatever :D This is set some time after Dread and Despair. Read back on the Pirate AU here. ~*~ Doc stood at the beach right by the sea, looking out at the waves, the last rays of the setting sun reflecting off the water. He could feel the wind softly caressing his hair, bringing with it the smell of the ocean, the feeling of being home.

And he stood there and waited.

He waited until the sun disappeared and the light of the stars got a chance to be seen. And he still waited. Ren would roll his eyes at Doc, but he’d smile fondly at the same time. His brother was always far too impatient and would have never gone to the length that Doc had. It was only the third night he had been waiting after all. His breath hitched slightly as he looked at the sea. If someone didn’t know what to look for they might not have noticed, but Doc did. He saw the way the waves seemed to move forward further, staying on the beach longer as if they yearned to come closer to something - to someone.

“It’s dangerous to come here alone.”

Doc smiled at the voice and turned around, looking at Grian standing in the soft sands just a few steps in front of him. He was still wearing his navy uniform, but a dark cloak covered most of it, a hood pulled over his blonde hair.

“I’m not afraid.”

“I could have sent the whole navy after you when the letter arrived.”

Doc laughed softly and shook his head. “You wouldn’t. You never do. You don’t want them to catch me.”

Grian’s mouth turned to a thin line, caught in a dilemma of admitting that Doc was right and defending his honour as a part of the navy. He opted to say nothing and Doc didn’t make him.

“I needed to see you. I was worried”, Doc said softly.

Some of the tension seemed to fade from Grian’s body. Doc felt like he could hear the water come even closer, but he didn’t look back to confirm his feeling.

“I’m doing well. Being back on active duty helps. You really shouldn’t contact me, Doc.”

“I trust you.” His voice was filled with so much honesty it even surprised himself. But when he was alone with Grian he felt like he didn’t need to hide anymore. Hiding his emotions had almost cost him everything before.

There was a small smile on Grian’s face for a second, but it gave way quickly to a worried expression. “Don’t. I’m just human… Well, mostly human. I make mistakes. What if anybody had gotten ahold of the letter?”

“I’m capable of defending myself, Grian.” Doc stepped forward, half expecting Grian to step back, but he didn’t and Doc felt emboldened by it, taking a hold of Grian’s hand. The sound of the waves moving against the shore sped up, as if the sea mirrored Grian’s heartbeat. “You’re worth taking the risk. You’re worth taking any risk.”

Grian looked up at him. His eyes seemingly reflected the stars of the night sky, just like the ocean itself, deep and full of emotion. “You know we shouldn’t meet up like this.”

“And yet you’re here, aren’t you”, Doc said as he moved his fingers gently over Grian’s hand, softly caressing the rough skin there. “We both know the risk and we’re both here.”

Doc felt like he could get lost in those eyes, get pulled in and drown. He felt like back when the siren had put him under the spell, only this time he willingly went down, getting lost in the sensation.

“Join me, Grian.”

It wasn’t the first time he had made this offer. If it had been up to him he would have never let Grian leave after rescuing him. And like all the other times Grian shook his head, avoiding Doc’s soft and longing gaze, head turned to the side. The hood of his cloak was casting a shadow over his eyes.

“I can’t. I need to stay.”

“They’ll hurt you. When they find out who you are.”

“You mean what I am”, Grian corrected him, his eyes becoming unbelievably sad. Doc raised his free hand, pulling down the hood of the cloak to be able to glance into those deep blue eyes again. He let his hand move down, putting it on Grian’s cheek, gently turning his head so they looked at one another once more.

“No. Who you are. You’re not a thing, no matter the blood running through your veins. You’re a person. You’re Grian.”

Grian gave him a little smile, though it still felt too sad.

“Please, Grian. Leave the navy. You don’t even have to join me. I have connections. I can find a place for you where they won’t bother you.”

He knew he had no chance. They both knew. Grian didn’t even need to answer him.

“Why did you call me here, Doc? I don’t think you’d take this risk just to ask me to join you again.”

Doc hesitated. He knew what he was going to say wouldn’t be something Grian wanted to hear, but he had to.

“Bdubs is moving again. He met up with that boy from the navy. Sam.”

Doc could feel Grian tense up under his touch immediately. The ocean behind him no longer seemed calm, the waves suddenly almost crashing into the shore, droplets of water spraying them.

“My contacts have told me that he’s planning something. I got a map of his planned route. Try to avoid it, yes?”

Grian nodded, not speaking, breathing heavily. And as Doc pulled back a bit to get out the map he had spoken off he noticed Grian starting to shake. And it only got worse as Doc completely let go to hand it to him. He stared at the map, hands trembling, before folding it up and putting it into his pocket.

“Grian. I’m here for you. He won’t hurt you again. I promise.”

Grian only nodded. He seemed so small again under the burden of the past and Doc wished there was something he could do to turn back time. When he looked at Doc again he seemed hesitant, opening his mouth and taking a moment before finally speaking up.

“Hold me. Please, just hold me.”

And Doc did. Pulling Grian into his arms, breathing softly, listening to the sound of the waves calming down again. He could feel Grian’s racing pulse slow down when he started tracing circles onto Grian’s back, slowly easing the tension out of his muscles.

He wished this moment could last forever. He wished he could take Grian with him. He wished they could have each other’s backs instead of standing on opposite sides. But none of his wishes were granted. And the moment they just shared was soon interrupted.

“Doc!”

Doc looked up as he heard Ren’s voice from beyond the beach. His hold on Grian tightened slightly. He wasn’t ready to go. He wasn’t ready to let go.

“The navy is on the move. We have to leave.”

Reluctantly Doc let go of Grian, his hands still lingering on the other's arms for a moment.

“Be careful. I can’t lose you. I love you.”

Grian smiled and nodded, never returning the sentiment as always. He just raised his head and put a chaste kiss onto Doc’s cheek before fully stepping out of the embrace.

“Leave. They can’t see us together.”

“I’ll be back”, Doc said as he started backing away slowly, eyes still on Grian standing in front of the ocean, the moon illuminating his body from behind. “In a month. Meet me at this beach again in a month. Please.”

Grian smiled softly and nodded and only then did Doc move to the treeline where Ren was waiting. He could see lanterns in the distance. Probably a patrol moving around to check the area.

He heaved a sigh, casting one last longing look in Grian’s direction.

“Stay safe”, he whispered softly into the night before finally turning around.

#🍉 stories #pirate au #hermitshipping #hermitship #gridoc #hermitcraft #fluff... ewwww #requests are still open #but I'm slow

[superhero--imagines]

Part 2 Here! / Part 3 Here! / Part 4 Here! / Part 5 Here! / Part 6 Here!

A/N: not superhero themed. I just read midnight sun and had this idea and I don’t feel like making another blog so.... hope you like twilight lol

There will be a part two, and just a reminder, I’m still looking for beta readers so DM if you’re interested!

* It probably starts with you reading midnight sun, you remember reading the books/watching the movies when you were younger.

* Man, you really forgot how bad this book was. The writing itself is good, but the plot...

* It’s like everything revolves around Bella, everything is created for her.

* You almost feel bad for the other characters

* Well, whatever, you’ll finish the rest of the book tomorrow and never think about that awful franchise again.

* When you wake up you feel an ache in your head. But you didn’t drink last night, maybe you’re dehydrated

* You shift, noting the smooth silk of the covers. Now you’re alarmed.

* You don’t have silk sheets

* You see a mirror in the corner of the room, and rush over

* The face that looks back at you is different then yours

* It’s the same in some ways, but different all the same

* The curve of your nose is slightly off, your lips are thinner, eyes a little closer together.

* The memories begin to flood in, in this world you were on a graduation trip with your parents, you got an all inclusive package. Three days of sightseeing in Volterra.

* You got sick on the last day, when you were signed for a tour of the castle, your parents went without you

* That was the last you saw of them

* You dumbly followed, asking question where you shouldn’t. And ended up at the volturi’s door

* Aro had grasped your hand to see how much you knew, only too see nothing. Likewise Jane’s powers did not work as well

* They were astounded by this, it appears this was several years before Bella was introduced to the story

* And so, you became a prisoner of the tower

* Your soul must have been in this body for quite some time, but you’ve only remembered now, that’s the only explanation for why their powers didn’t work on you. Your consciousness is not of this world.

* There’s a short knock on your door

* “Are you decent?”

* You call back and Alec pops his head in.

* “Ready to go to the library?”

* He looks so kind. The boyish grin that stretched across his face as you shook your head.

* It was in direct contrast to the sadistic personality you had become accustomed to in the books

* “I need a few more minutes”

* You half expect him to lash out at you for being slow. By he only nods, closing the door and waiting outside for you to finish.

* He was you friend. You realized

* He IS your friend

* You think back as you turn on the faucet. He didn’t like you at first, being assigned to guard a human was insulting

* But he started to warm up to you once he heard you play the piano

* This body was quite used to the ivory keys. And so you charmed him as best you could, half for your survival, because the happier you kept him the less likely he was to kill you.

* And half because- you were so lonely, the Loneliness echoed in this body like an ache. Suddenly an orphan, in a continent where you knew no one. All you had was this boy.

* How long have you been here? You kept a talley at one point, but abandoned it after the thirtieth day. What was the point? You would either die or become one of them

* A shiver erupts through at the thought, in your past life you were a vegetarian, you didn’t relish in the idea of killing something alive and moving.

* You pull on a sweatshirt, ripping of the chanel tag. They bought you the nicest things money could buy, the most lavish food you could have.

* They did the same thing with the tourists they lured, keeping them happy and well fed, the same way the cows that became wagyu beef might be cared for. That way when it came time to slaughter, the meal was that much more delicious.

* You suspected this was similar, that should you be an unnecessary addition, you would make a meal suitable for their palette

* Alec basically talks your ear off the entire way to the Volturi library, mostly about literature

* “What are your thoughts on Anna Kerenina?”

* “That the patriarchy needs to be burned to the ground.”

* “That is.... valid”

* He even talks when you’re at the library, much to the annoyance of a few of the other patrons

* “Which book are you looking for now?”

* You stop mid motion on the ladder and turn to look at him. His ruby eyes glowing, he looks bloated. Like he’s fed too much.

* “Alec, why are we friends?”

* You really should keep your mouth shut. Alec was the only real ally you had, you shouldn’t say anything that might put him off

* And yet, it unnerved you, because the Alec in front of you was a very different character then the one you had come to see.

* He looks at you like you hung the moon,

* “Because you’re the most interesting human in the world”

* You burst out laughing, earning several glares.

* “I-I’m sorry Alec, but I’m not, I’m just the most interesting human you KNOW, there’s way more people who are more interesting than me.”

* You expect to see him offended, and he does, but there’s a twinkle in his eyes

* “I’m not so sure about that”

* The days creep by, reading books, eating snacks, it’s nice

* You learn, that Alec hasn’t talked to a human in a very long time. Outside of the screams he heard after devouring one.

* He hasn’t been outside the castle walls in many years, possibly a century.

* “What’s the best part of the human world?” He asked you once

* It’s the 90’s, so smartphones haven’t been invented yet.

* “One tree hill and friends”

* “Well you have a friend right here”

* “No friends the show”

* “The what?”

* And that’s how you got Alec hooked onto cable television

* Who knew the cure to vampire- sadism was a healthy dose of Jennifer Aniston fumbling about on screen

* “Is this what life is like?”

* You shrug, it was what college had been like for you in your past life.

* “It’s kinda what schools like, but i never got to be on my own”

* This body was only 18 after all.

* Alec doesn’t say anything, but his expression falters

* Alec’s only now starting to understand the life you will be denied once Aro decides when to turn you

* Jane joins later

* One day when you and Alec are lazing around the library when she appears, she says nothing, just sits down next to Alec and reads a book

* You’re sure they hear the uneven thumping of your heart as you turn back to your book. Her power doesn’t work on you, you remind yourself

* Not that she even needs it, she could snap you apart like a Kit Kat bar

* And if it came down to it, you’re sure Alec would let her, he might like you but his loyalty’s always remained with his sister

* “So... you watch human television together?” Her bright red eyes flickered from Alec to you.

* You nodded, never sure what exactly it was that would set Jane off

* You had seen enough in the books to know her moods were compatible at best.

* “I would...like to join” she awkwardly looking away, and you were sure if she could, she would be blushing.

* Honestly it’s kind of cute.

* “Sure, the more the merrier”

* And that’s how you basically adopted the sadist twins

* It’s a little harder to get Jane to open up, but once you make a comment about how Phoebe was the best character in friends, she starts to open up

* “Humans are cruel, even when they’re kind it’s only because they want something from you.”

* “Is that what you think about me? That I’m only nice to you because I want something?” she meets your eyes for a few minutes before turning away

* “I’m not sure”

* You understand very gradually why they’re so twisted

* They’d been treated terribly during their human life, in every kind act lingered a dark shadow, in even minor misunderstanding the image of a monster

* Their centuries in the Volturi didn’t help. Under Aro’s ruthless tutelage, and Caius’s sadistic tendencies, They had no one they could trust but each other.

* They were only surviving just as you were

* “Sometimes I wonder how much of my loyalty is real, and how much of it is Chelsea.” She whispers one day, so quietly you barley hear it

* You rest your hand on hers, it’s the only comfort you could think to offer

* When Jane grasps your hand in hers, she breaks every bone in your hand

* She doesn’t understand the pained screams or your mangled hand fit a second, and then she realizes what she did

* Alarmed she carries you halfway around the castle screeching for someone to help

* You pass out from the pain, when you come to you’re in your bed, a very cold hand holding your own

* “How are you feeling?” You don’t recognize this vampire, but you don’t really know anyone outside of Alec and Jane.

* You feel light headed, a warm feeling washing over you, you must be on some strong drugs

* “My body’s still grieving, but my mind is sharp.”

* It’s incoherent at best, but there’s truth to it, your body is still grieving for your parents and the life you’ve lost, but your otherworldly mind is ten steps ahead, cross referencing every action.

* The man offers a short chuckle

* “You really did a number on your hand. I’ve done what I can but...”

* You look down to your hand, half surprised by the bright yellow cast encasing it

* You had figured you would wake up to be a vampire, it just made sense, these were unfamiliar human aches to them after all and vampirism was a simple and effective cure

* They must want something from you, if they’re keeping you human

* You suspect it’s something along the lines of how they waited until Jane and Alec were burning at the stake to save them, so their power would be that much more potent

* Maybe they’re doing the opposite with you, trying to make you as happy as possible to see what effect it has on your ability

* It’s too bad you don’t have one

* “Thank you for your hard work.” You mumble, being human for a little bit longer is well worth the pain.

* “How did you break your hand?”

* “I held Janes’ hand”

* Your doctor let’s out a short laugh

* “That sounds about right”

* You smile, it does sound right, of course you would break your hand that way

* The conversation flows naturally after that, you talk about all sorts of things

* “You think vampires have souls?” He quirks an eyebrow

* “I’m of the opinion that a soul is something you create through hardship and struggle, being able to live longer means that you have more opportunities to have the experiences that result in a soul”

* “That’s an intriguing notion, I wish I had brought my son with me.”

* You’re about to ask about his son, when you’re interrupted by the door swimming open

* “I heard you were awake, are you alright?” Alec rushes in, his eyes frantic

* “Yeah these drugs are top notch” you press the button that releases the pain killers and let out a giggle

* “Is that alright? Humans are awfully sensitive.” Jane pipes up from behind Alec, you hadn’t noticed her in your haze.

* Your doctor chuckles

* “I’m aware,” he’s smiling but it’s strained

* “What’s wrong?” You ask, he was so calm until a second ago, he doesn’t answer you

* “I’ll give you three a moment.”

* You only register he’s gone when you hear the door close

* The twins rush over to you, Jane is kneeled by your side, while Alec hovers over you

* “I-I’m sorry I hurt you, I forgot-I didn’t remember.” You we’re sure Jane would be crying if she could

* “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.” You raise your cast encased hand and give her a gentle pat on the head. “From now on, physical signs of affection will just be one sided.” You joke, which makes Jane grin

* “I’ll practice with some animals before I try touching you again”

* The three of you chat for a bit, they’re both surprised by your cast and ask several questions about its “primary function”

* “I didn’t know there was a doctor here” you murmur, feeling drowsy

* “Carlisle’s not with the Volturi, he’s from another coven in the new world.”

* Your drowsiness flies away in a second

* “That was Carlisle?”

* Jane looks somewhat confused but nods.

* A flutter of hope erupts in your chest, it’s so strong even your grief stricken body feels it

* You might have a chance. It’s slim, Carlisle has a family he loves and needs to protect. But still, they were strangers once too. No different than you.

* It’s a way out of here

* The next few days follow in a drugged haze, Alec and Jane visit every so often, and Carlisle engages you in occasional conversation while checking progress on your hand

* “Why are your eyes gold?” You know, but well, you need him to believe the lie

* “It’s a bit of a long story” he says with a wary smile.

* “I’m not going anywhere”

* He sighs, a genuine smile encompassing his face as he recounts the tale.

* Even though you’ve already heard it all before, it still makes you cry

* Even in the haze, you know something’s.... off

* There’s something about the way Alec won’t meet your eyes when he talks to you, and the uneasy weight that lingers in the air whenever someone else is in the room

* On the third day, it’s Aro who visits you, Alec and Carlisle in tow behind him.

* “Oh my, all that internal bleeding, how awful”

* Even you can feel the insincerity, but it’s the first you heard about internal bleeding

* So that explains it, the drugs and the aches all along your body, it wasn’t just your hand, you were dying

* “Don’t worry, we’ll save you” Aro’s smile is cruel “won’t we Alec?”

* Alec looks afraid, almost pained, but he nods

* Ah, so this was punishment for Alec too. Until that moment, when Jane broke your hand, Aro must have been ignorant to how close the three of you had gotten.

* You close your eyes, you knew this would happen eventually. There were only two ending to this story, and it seemed one had finally been picked

* You feel a pinch on your neck, right above your collar bone, no worse than a flue shot.

* You wait for the pain, the vivid screams you remember from the books and movies, but it never comes.

* Instead it’s just a warm numbness that spreads across your neck and left shoulder.

* “It doesn’t hurt” you murmur, you feel a cold hand rest against your forehead, Alex’s hand.

* It’s so gentle, he must have practiced on some animals first, you think.

* “No the pain comes later.”

* And so you drift into inky black unconsciousness, the last sleep of your human life in this world.

* You dream that you’re sitting at the bottom of a tree, a fig tree, like the one Sylvia Plath wrote about

* Each fig a different path, half of them have already fallen off, dark, as they rot at your feet

* “How do you do it?”

* You look to your side and find the person who’s face you see in the mirror, they’re hugging their knees to their chest, dark circles under their eyes

* “How do I do what?” You ask, they bite their lip

* “How can you be so strong when you’ve just lost everything?”

* You see their eyes brim with tears, and you look away, to the tree that looks over you both

* “I don’t know” It’s the truth, you have an unfair advantage in this world, because you know all the secrets each person carries, while yours remain shrouded in darkness. And yet... it’s not why you persevere

* “All I do know, is that I want to give them hell”

* Your counterpart grins at that, and to your surprise, you feel a smile stretch out across your face

* Yeah, it’s not about power, you just want raise some hell in this backwards misogynistic world.

* “I guess that’s the one you’re picking then huh?” Your counterpart points to a fig, it’s on the tallest branch of the tree, so far out of reach it almost seems unobtainable

* But you only nod

* “Yeah, I think that’s the way I’m going to go”

* They look at you and smile.

* “If you ever get the chance, I hope you punch that jerk Aro right in the face”

* You laugh.

* When you finally awake, you’re still laughing. A smile etched onto your face.

* Everyone’s there, all looking at you with concerned glances.

* Yeah, you’re going to have a lot of fun in this world.

#twilight #twilight saga #twilight imagine #twilight headcanon #Volturi headcanon #Alec imagine #edward cullen imagine #carlisle cullen #superhero--imagines

[tj-wrote-things]

𝐇𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝗼

Nikolai Lantsov x fem!Grisha!reader

Based off of this ask

A/N- Hey besties, this is kinda late,, and i hate it but only a little bit. Can you guys like -stop requesting arguments??? pls its breaking my heart.

Mega thanks to @itisroe e for being my editor and shoulder to whine on :)

*Id like to take a moment to say that Nikolai is a bit of a dick in this one, and id like to reiterate that its never okay to invalidate or insult a so. I dont condone that type of behavior, im just writing it

enjoy:)

•

•

•

If there was one thing Nikolai Lantsov knew how to do, it was pout. You caught him— more than just a few times— slouched over on the blush red couch with his arms crossed, face smushed into a scowl as he studied you packing your bag.

You sighed, casting an increasingly irritated glance at him as you folded the coarse cloth of your winter coat and tucked it away with the rest of your belongings. The weight would be too much to bear, but you knew it would be cold up north where you were headed alongside Zoya and the Bataars. 

“I’m leaving at dawn, whether you like it or not, Sobachka.” 

The King looked away briefly at your words, hating understanding that you were right. He hauled himself out of his seat and redirected his sulking to the world outside the large window. It was beautifully blanketed in steadily falling snow. 

“Will you really make our last night together a bitter one?” you commented.

“It wouldn’t be our last night if you’d just let me come with you,” Nikolai huffed. 

You exhaled, dreading that this would be the third time you had this discussion, which, in his world, was more so a debate.

The reason was simple: Nikolai had no business accompanying them. The objective of the mission to Fjerda was a peace treaty between the Drüskelle and the Grisha populous. As Nikolai fit neither category, it had been decided that he would stay back and continue to hold the country together.

“We’ve been through this: to bring more people on the expedition would only irritate the Fjerdans. Especially, the king of a country with which they’ve been at war for a considerable amount of time,” you reiterated. 

Nikolai shook his head again, unwilling to accept it. He refused to welcome the fact that the love of his long life would be away and in perpetual danger for weeks. 

The wind whistled as it bounded against the window, filling the room with a violent creaking.

“It’s dangerous, Y/N, why can you not understand—” 

You cut him off swiftly as his voice began to rise, “You watch that tone, Lantsov, or I’ll—” 

Now, it was Nikolai’s turn to cut you off: “You’ll what? Leave early?” The young man turned to you from the window and met your incredulous gaze. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. We both know it's your only vice.”

“My only vice,” you mocked cynically. “In what regard?” 

Nikolai spread his arms patronizingly as if he were explaining the obvious to his childhood self.

“Your heart craves adulation,” he said, pointing a sharp, accusatory finger your way. “You’ll take any opportunity to leave Os Alta— leave me— and flaunt your gifts.” 

Your heart thudded heavily in your chest. In anger or despair, you could not tell.

You would not lie to yourself. You knew with all your heart that, all things considered, your mastery of the Small Science was a blessing, hidden behind the mask of a devil. In the days you served faithfully in the Second Army, your gifts were revered and you were respected in the highest regard amongst your Grisha peers. However, in the years following the war, you became like everybody else. 

It was at the behest of your husband that you progressively began to use your power as an Inferni less as the days passed. Ever the political mastermind, he had approached you one summer evening and begged you refrain from using your power in public, claiming that the presence of a Grisha Queen was too much for his fragile country to bear. In the beginning, you had agreed, for if there was one thing that surpassed your love for your husband, it was your shared love for Ravka.

You knew that relations between the Grisha and the others were strained, and so you agreed, taking your husband's hand and promising to limit the displays of glowing orange flames which had burned your enemies as well as warmed the hands of your allies. 

It was becoming increasingly difficult to train behind a closed gate, under a roof, beneath the watchful eye of First Army guards armed with fire extinguishers. In fact, it had grown so stifling you had begun to resemble Alina Starkov when first she came to the Little Palace, with her pallor skin and brittle locks.

You brushed the aforementioned hair, now soft and healthy from the effects of tailoring, behind your ear as you placed the brush down and sharpened your stare at Nikolai’s face, shrouded in silver shadows from the icy light of the moon.

“Craves adulation,” you grumbled, knowing that if your voice rose any higher, it would betray every emotion storming around your heart. “Have a look in the mirror, Nikolai, and tell me which of us truly fits your description.”

His description, in all its insulting glory, fit Nikolai Lantsov to the tee.

Nikolai Lantsov, who would smile and wave to a crowd with a Sun Summoner on his arm, allowing you to watch with disdain from your place on a horse beside Mal. Nikolai Lantsov, who would hide behind a pair of gloves to escape the truth of what he had become. Nikolai Lantsov, who had pushed his wife into a state of sickness, albeit unknowingly, sacrificing her life’s blood for the sake of his country.

Nikolai Lantsov, who resolutely shook his head, running a hand through the already dishevelled hair on his head, before waving it dismissively, as if swatting a fly. “Please. You’d flick your hands for anyone who’d ask— if they clapped hard enough.” Nikolai moved for the bookshelf, drawing out a novel as if his words were mere small talk with an old friend.

Your anger blurred to shock. “Flick my hands—”

“Honestly, you take every opportunity to flaunt it. I’m surprised the Little Palace is still standing after having you inside for twenty years!” 

There was no sense to his vile declarations now. Though, Nikolai could not see it. The anger, betrayal, and frustration at being left behind were all that clouded his boyish mind as he hurled one unkind word after the other.

“Nikolai,” You moved towards him, arm outstretched, eyes beginning to water. “Lapushka, please—” As your hand approached his, the storm heavier than ever. He wrenched his arm away from you, leering his head back to look you in the eyes.

“Truly, I can’t be sure why you haven’t left already.”

“For saints’ sake, Nikolai. Look at me!”

The dam broke as you flicked your hands, removing the tailoring to your appearance, unveiling the truth of your restrictions.

Nikolai stared with an open mouth and hard eyes as the warm winter flush of your cheeks was replaced with dulled skin, and the sleek shine of your hair was redefined with a brittle and unkempt bush.

“The only person from whom I crave adulation,” you whispered, “is the only man who’s too thick to look past a wavering mask.”

The Lantsov King swallowed, flipping the book restlessly in his hands. “Y/N—”

“Get out.” You left no room for him to argue, even when he opened his mouth once more. “I said leave!” You stalked to the door, pulling it open with a loud shriek of wood. “Now.”

Nikolai Lantsov, who spent the night in a guest room, in a state of perpetual regret.

No amount of tossing and turning brought any comfort to his aching heart, nor his pounding head. He flopped halfheartedly in the guest bed, stiff from lack of use, and from lack of you, revisiting the disgusting words he’d spat. The reason for them, however unjustified, sat heavily on his chest, suffocating him at an agonizing rate.

Nikolai Lantsov, who was afraid that— like his mother and father— you would grow to resent his blood, resent it for its stark difference to yours. The fear that you would  regret your marriage to what your people called an otkazat’sya: the abandoned.

The King figured it was only a matter of time before the title served him fully. 

It was reasonable, wasn’t it? To lash out at a time of vulnerability? Nikolai couldn’t be sure, having grown up in a family of despots who had never given him the time of day when it mattered most. 

Watching the tailored facade fall from his wife’s face, Nikolai was reminded solely of his mother, who, like you, was coerced into moulding her face into that of the perfect queen, at the behest of her husband. He knew then that all he had said and done was wrong. Wrong to her, and wrong to her people.

How could he bring himself to apologize? To walk into their bedroom and beg forgiveness? Would she forgive him? Even if he stooped— a king in tears and on his knees for the woman he loved perhaps more ardently than the country he vowed to govern— would she, in all her scorned glory, crouch beside him, take his face in her hands, and kiss away his regret?

Could he expect her to?

Dawn came around all too swiftly, rousing husband and wife from their fitful sleep in separate rooms, and with it came your departure to the northern lands.

You stood side-by-side with Nikolai as the carriages were loaded with provisions, luggage, and gifts for the Drüskelle, refusing to look at him. Instead, digging fruitlessly in your shoulder bag as an excuse to keep your head down.

The call came from the footman as the time arrived for you to leave. You didn’t make it more than one step forward with your hand gripping the leather strap of your bag before a firm grasp was on your waist.

“Wait,” whispered Nikolai, tugging you back. He cast a glance at the guard, letting him know that they would need a moment. “I can’t let you leave— not like this.” 

You held your gaze to the floor. Gently, he tilted your head back up with his thumb and forefinger. “Not now, not when you can barely look at me,” he continued. You held his stare as his hand shifted tentatively towards your jaw. “Not when I can’t be sure you won't come back to me, Milaya.”

You sniffled softly at the nickname, moving your own hand to his face and pausing to tuck away a loose golden curl.

“Please come back to me,” he said softly as if he were sharing a secret. There was an unspoken apology apparent in his reddening eyes while the seconds ticked by.

“Of course,” you murmured back, tipping his head down as you pecked his brow, then his cheek. “Nikolai, there’s not a thing in this world that could keep me away from you.”

You kissed him soundly, your hand running across the expanse of his jaw as he leaned into the tender forgiveness settled in your palm. When you broke apart, Nikolai took your hand from his face. He kissed your palm and walked you to your carriage. The King watched with concerned eyes as you took your seat.

Nikolai kissed your hand once more from his place on the ground and looked up at you. “Swear you’ll write,” he said. “Or I’ll crash the proceedings.”

You barked a hearty laugh, squeezing his hand as he tried to let you go. “I will,” you promised. “And I’ll see you when I come back.”

It was another moment before you let go of his hand. His palm hit the carriage door bearing the Lantsov crest. You watched as the carriage travelled further and further away, Nikolai’s frame disappearing into the horizon. 

“I promise,” you whispered.

•

•

•

#grishaverse #nikolai lantsov x reader #fanfiction #nikolai lantsov #seige and storm #will graham #ruin and rising #shadow and bone #x reader #squaller #corporalnik #etherialki #heartrender #fluff #angst #will graham x reader #materialki #mal oretsev #zoya nazyanelsky #alina starkov #tamar kir bataar #tolya yul bataar #tolya and tamar

[darthmaulification]

all these maul x pregnant reader asks have me thinking savage x pregnant reader,,, he’s just such a softie he’d be so good at taking care of you 🥺💗

STOP PLEASE I CAN ONLY TAKE SO MUCH 🥺🥺🥺🥺💕💕💕💕 my heart 😭😭

while maul would be nothing short of amazing for pregnant reader, savage on the other hand...

... listen, savage gives maul a run for his money. full stop.

okay, let’s start from the beginning. you tell savage you’re pregnant. first thing he does: gets worried. savage has a lot of duties on his plate, he’s maul’s apprentice, he has to help with mandalore, and crimson dawn, and death watch, and— “Savage, honey, there can be room for a baby, too.” you’ll have to interrupt his rambling and the moment you say “a baby” he kinda freezes because the word is really sinking in this time, and then he’s all like “... a baby.” and when he says it his whole demeanor changes.

your giant yellow husband is already a ray of sunshine, but he becomes all stars and fireworks when it finally clicks. savage literally whoops, cheering as he lifts you into his arms and hugs you, kissing your face all over. it makes you cry, because you’re happy and also pregnancy hormones, and you just let him kiss and hug you as much he wants.

“Thank you.” he rumbles against your neck, where he plants kisses and nuzzles against your skin. “Thank you.” he says, and it’s the only thing he can say.

~

savage goes 110% and the extra mile with helping you through all the not-so-pleasant aspects of pregnancy, as much as he can that is. while maul is cognizant of your and your growing baby’s needs (and excited too, he’s going to be an uncle), he still does need savage as his right hand man. so, when you do have savage with you, believe me you’re not lifting a finger.

he does everything for you, cooks, cleans, holds your hair when you’re upheaving your last three meals, rubs your back, gives you massages, fuck you senseless when you get horny for no reason, hell, savage will even bathe you when he gets the opportunity. he fully and truly pampers you, and it’ll be a tad annoying, only because he gets very... possessive over you as well, but he lets up when and if you tell him “Look, Savage, you’ve been nothing helpful, and I love you for that, but please let me go to the bathroom by myself, it’s starting to get ridiculous, big guy.”

~

as the months tick by, savage gets more and more anxious. if he wasn’t already worried before, he’s a wreck as your belly starts to swell, when your pregnancy becomes more and more noticeable. of course, he’s happy when you are, like when you first started showing and wept out of joy at your reflection in the mirror, cupping your belly. he’s happy when the baby first kicks from inside you, and when your breasts swell because he’s a simple man, and when he catches you talking to the baby, murmuring all the sweet things in the world as your stroke your belly.

believe me, he is excited and happy for the arrival of the baby, his baby, but he also worries too.

he worries about what the child will think of him, if they’d be frightened by his height, his breadth. savage worries that they’ll despise him, that he’d be a terrible father. he worries for them too, the galaxy is a dangerous place for children after all. he also...

... he also worries if he has a son.

the oppressive hierarchy on dathomir was one that savage lived under his entire life. he’s seen how nightbrothers are treated, experienced the horrors as well. and savage knows that daughters are more valuable than sons. that a girl is celebrated, and a boy is cast into the shadows, just another mouth to feed, a potential brute or breeder like all the nightbrothers are subjected to be.

savage worries that if he’s potentially given you a son, that you’d be disappointed in him. he fears that you’d cast him out, the baby too. it’s what nightsister mothers did, and still do on dathomir, and it’s hard for savage to conceptualize any other outcome.

deep deep down, he knows it’s completely irrational and entirely false, but it’s engrained in savage through trauma.

he’ll tell you this only when your far into your third trimester, when the time is right around the corner, and when he can’t wallow in his worry any further.

“I’m sorry.” he’ll say and you’ll be caught completely off guard because he just says it out of nowhere. “For what, big guy?” you ask and it concerns you to see this distant, haunted look appear on savage’s face which makes him look so so sad... scared too.

“If... If I give you a son.” and that will prompt you to go nearly ballistic because “Savage, I will love a son!” and “This isn’t Dathomir, and I am no Nightsister.” and “Savage, I love this baby more than life itself, I’m not giving up on it just because it may have a penis.” and it’ll take a bit more convincing, but once you waddle your way over to him, guiding his hand to your swollen belly, and look up at him with those eyes he loves so much, he’ll be sold. especially when you say, “We made this together, honey. A little piece of you and me and our love. There’s nothing I’d want more.”

“... Thank you.” savage would say again, like he did eight months ago when you first told him you were pregnant. and you’d just smile, all teary eyed and soft, especially when he smooths his large hand over your stomach, feeling the baby move around inside. “No, Savage, thank you.”

and he just kisses you silly.

~

(a month later, a week and a half overdue, your baby boy arrives.)

((he smiles the moment he sees savage.))

(((and there’s nothing but joy and celebration.)))

#savage opress x reader #savage opress #savage opress x you #anon #anon ask #orion answers #im crying please its all too much #so soft so sweet #the end got a little angsty there ngl... #whoops #idk what to name the baby tho

[deborahmessingsfingers]

I’m Tired

pairings: bo burnham x reader

word count: 3283

tags/warnings: explicit language, mental health issues, mental breakdown, angst, hurt/comfort, sad Bo, gender neutral reader

also on ao3

Bo had been off for a while. He’d only been working on the special for a few months when you noticed the first sign. He started to talk a little less, which at first glance, you weren’t too worried about. He often became quite reclusive and introspective when it came to his writing process, channeling all of his energy into planning and drafting.

It’d happened before, when he was in the early stages of producing Eighth Grade. Conversation grew thin and infrequent, all of his time and energy was spent planning, writing and ruminating, though as the process progressed from writing to filming, his sparkle returned and you could see the life and excitement dancing around in his eyes once more.

Since he started Inside, you were lucky if you got to see his eyes at all.

At first, he’d come bouncing back from the guest house each evening, excited to discuss his latest ideas and concepts, eager to receive your feedback and the fresh perspective you gave.

This routine was quick to disappear.

Every day, he’d come back from the guest house a little later and a little more deflated until your interactions were limited to a kiss good morning and a kiss good night.

Eventually he stopped coming to bed all together. You never went into the guest house so as not to disturb his flow, but you assumed he’d taken to sleeping on the fold-out couch. You’d hoped he was sleeping at least, for the sake of his well being.

You missed him. God, you missed him, more than you ever thought possible. Despite the fact that he was a mere few feet away from your front door, you felt more distanced from him now than the times he’d been on the other side of the country, touring, performing, and seeing the world.

He’d always been like that. Limitations in physical proximity could only wedge such a divide between you two, it was always the inner demons and anxieties that caused the rifts.

You attempted to rip the bandaid off after a month of the same, silent routine. You anxiously approached the guest house with the best olive branch you had available; a peanut butter sandwich and a cup of coffee. Your free hand knocked on the door of the guest house tentatively, not wanting to disturb him in the middle of something.

No answer.

You knocked again, still quietly, but with more intention.

No answer.

You shakily grasped the doorknob and twisted, your mind flicking through every dreadful outcome. Opening the door, you see one outcome you didn’t quite anticipate.

The room was dark and humid, the space overwhelmingly cluttered with miscellaneous cords, lights and stands.

And in the middle of all of the chaos, he was just… sitting there.

Hunched over the keyboard in the corner of the room. He just sat and stared at the keys, his white-knuckled fists resting on his thighs. You immediately noticed just how long his hair had grown, long enough to cover his eyes, the rest of his face hidden in it’s shadows. He appeared completely immersed in his own world, clearly missing all your attempts at grabbing his attention.

“Bosey,” you said, your tone just short of a whisper, head cocking to the side to see him a little better from the doorway. Bo inhaled sharply as his head turned to face you, seemingly pulled from his thoughts. His brow was quick to furrow.

“What’re you doing in here?” he asked. His voice was raspy and hoarse, not unlike how it sounded first thing in the morning. It reminded you so much of all the mornings spent waking up next to him, often in his arms, spending hours upon hours talking until noon about anything and everything, at least until you were cast out of your cloud of bliss by your worldly responsibilities. God, how you missed those moments.

“I thought I’d just come check on you. Didn’t think you’d eaten anything in a while so,” you paused, setting the peace offering down with a quiet clink, “thought I’d make myself useful.”

You smiled, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, and his thanks was expressed simply by mirroring your unconvincing grin. He tutted, running his hands through his hair, as he often did when nervous. You could tell he was exhausted; the bags under his eyes were so dark and he could hardly make conversation with the one person who knew him best.

The air was thick with tension, the awkwardness quickly made you both uncomfortable and your head was reeling with anxieties on how you wound up feeling like this; like an unwelcome stranger in your own guest house.

“You been sleeping okay?” you asked, hand gently gesturing to the fold-out couch behind him as you lent against the doorframe. You felt slight comfort at the sight of tangled bedsheets, though the relief was quickly expunged as you lost count of the wires and equipment covering the mattress.

“Y-Yeah, i’ve been... It’s fine,” he sighed, his large hand wrapping around his jaw to scratch the sides of his beard, “I’m just a little busy right now honey, I-I gotta get back to it.”

His hands slapped his thighs matter-of-factly before he stood up, shuffling towards the back of the room. He began to fiddle with equipment, pointlessly messing around with a tangle of cords he’d picked up from the kitchen bench.

Your eyes instinctively closed shut as you felt a wave of dizziness hit you. His avoidant nature and impatience all but confirmed it; he was not doing well.

You felt incredibly and painfully torn. You knew him better than he knew himself sometimes, but if there was one thing you were both unsure of, it was how to handle situations like these. Pressing any harder would only prove to make him snap, though leaving him to his own devices would only further encourage his bad habits.

You could ruminate on this dilemma for the rest of your life to no avail, but an instinct deep within you pushed you to query just a little more, to try and reach out as gently as you could.

“Have you thought about, um…” you faltered, scrambling to find the right words, “taking a break soon, honey? Even just a little one? I know how important this is to you, but I know in the past you’ve burnt yourself out, and maybe even if you just came inside for a shower, just to reset and maybe just-”

“I said I’m fine.” he interjected harshly. You were caught off guard, now feeling sheepish and bewildered, truly feeling like an intruder. You kicked yourself inwardly for pushing too far, you knew this would happen. You opened your mouth to try and apologise, to take back the supposed infringement, but his voice came through when your own refused.

“I’m about to start filming. Could you…” he asked, hoping you’d get the message and leave without having to ask you explicitly. You were too befuddled to push any further, already regretting the attempts you’d made.

“Of course, sorry honey.” you replied, shaking your head. Your lips pressed together in a tight, forced smile until you left and shut the door behind you. The slam was enough to bring tears to your eyes.

You shook your head to try and clear it, trying with all your might to move on from the incident and figure out a plan moving forward.

He said he was fine.

You knew he wasn’t.

There were a few times you thought it was all going to be okay. Shortly after the guest house dispute, you were surprised by the sound of the back door being opened. He greeted you with a tired smile and you quickly snaked your arms around him, holding on to him for dear life, telling yourself you’d never let go again.

He sat with you in the kitchen, peacefully watching you cook. You could tell he missed your company just by the soft smile on his face, the first one you had seen in a long time, and you beamed at the very sight of him sitting contently with Bruce on his lap. There wasn’t much conversation over dinner, though compared to earlier, the awkwardness was nonexistent. Until dessert.

You wanted to pull out all the stops, utilising every second of this rare quality time to enjoy his company and to show him how much difference a few hours of luxury and relaxation can make.

You left him lounging on the couch to make his favourite dessert - sticky toffee pudding with vanilla ice cream. You were so relieved you could scream at just the simple thought of him zoning out in front of the television with the dogs, truly letting himself just be, for the first time in a long time.

When the pudding was ready however, your cheesy grin quickly dropped as you realised you were presenting dessert to an empty room. The dogs were quick to start barking, running back and forth between yourself and the back door, and you nearly dropped the plates at the sound of that heinous shed door closing once more. You couldn’t believe it. Just when you thought things were starting to look up, he waltzes straight back towards the problem itself.

Not thinking for a second, you set the plates down and marched over to the guest house. You didn’t bother to knock this time, instead assertively opening the door to see him already settled with a keyboard on his lap. His head flew up at the sound of your entrance, mouth flying open with silent questions. You stopped for a moment - both of you did, a little surprised at your bold entry. Coming to your senses, your gait quickly softened, hands clasped loosely in front of you so as not to alarm him.

“I-I made dessert. Your favourite.” you explained meekly, watching him from the doorway once more. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed deeply, filling you with a sense of dread. You knew what would happen if you pushed it, but here you were. You were so desperate at this point, missing the man you fell in love with and frightened of the shell he’d become. Even more so than that, you were frightened for him.

Bo had always had trouble accepting help, and the idea of him asking for it was inconceivable. He’d opened up to you over time about a lot of things, but every time it got a little more serious he’d close up like a clam, refusing entry into his world until the situation simply dissipated.

“I can’t, I’m busy.” he deadpanned, fiddling around with the microphone stand. You could feel the wave of disappointment wash over you once more. For a few hours, you really thought things had taken a turn for the better, for a few hours your hopes had been lifted, all for it to just come crumbling back down tenfold. The adrenaline quickly hijacked your brain, talking on your subconscious’ behalf before you had a moment to strategize.

“You’re always busy.” you snapped. Your voice wasn’t that loud, but you knew he could hear it shake, months of anxiety and concern finally bubbling over. Your fear only grew when you saw a glint of rage flicker behind his eyes.

“It’s my job.” he rebutted with a swift, disapproving shake of his head.

“But you always push yourself too far, Bo. I know you’re just so passionate about what you do, but you always end up so burnt out and I-”

“Stop saying that!” he bellowed, finally placing the keyboard aside and standing up to face you. His height has never intimidated you, but the way in which he towered over you made you feel so small and powerless.

“You keep saying that when I'm not, it’s like you want me to be, like you want me to stop working.” he explained sternly. You felt your words get trapped in your throat, hyper-aware and petrified of digging this hole any deeper.

“I don’t want you to be burnt out, Robert,” you explained, using his full name in hopes it would better emphasize your sincerity, “I just care about you. I’ve seen this happen to you before, when you just go and go and go until you can’t anymore, you stop eating, you stop sleeping and you never talk to anyone about it, you just bottle it all up and let it eat you alive. And I mean, I miss you. God, I miss you so much, but more importantly than that right now, I’m worried about you.” you blurted.

You could feel your body tremble, your veins flooding simultaneously with relief and pure fear after finally airing the grievances you’ve fostered for months.

You watched as he processed your words. You might have just been projecting, but for a moment, you swore you saw his face soften, a part of him wanting so desperately to give in, to surrender and let you help. Lamentably, he huffed out a tired, contemptuous laugh.

After all you said, he simply turned his back to you, picked up his keyboard and continued on like you hadn’t said a peep. For a moment, you stood there, truly gobsmacked, but the piercing screeches of his synthesizer were enough to usher you out the door and back to the house, not stopping until you were in bed and crying into your pillow.

Your mind wouldn’t let up, over-processing every word he spoke, every breath he took, looking for illusory warning signs that this was it. All the years you’d spent together, all the hard work and love and dedication you’d poured into the relationship, all of the sacrifices, all of the rewards, it was all now null and void because you’d pushed him too far.

At some point, your mind had crossed over into the world of paranoia, manipulating every once-pleasant memory of the evening to fit your new narrative, that this was the end.

You don’t remember falling asleep, but the slightly-damp pillow was enough to indicate that it happened pretty fast. Your brain soon caught up with your body, picking up the very noise that woke you up - the shower.

You rose from your bed with a furrowed brow and made your way down the stairs as quietly as you could, as if your presence would scare him off like a fly. You made it face to face with the door of the guest bathroom, the shower was undoubtedly on, and from the excited state of the dogs, Bo was undoubtedly in there. You gently rested your hand against the door, unsure of what to do.

Eventually, you backed up and took refuge on the couch, allowing him space to wash away the day and hopefully clear his mind.

Ten minutes passed, you sat patiently, silently on the couch as you waited for the shower to stop.

Another ten minutes later and you hadn’t moved from your spot, save a few adjustments for Bruce who had curled up under your arm.

It had been half an hour since you sat and your nerves were multiplying by the second. You were using every fibre of your being to hold yourself back from going in there, no longer trusting that gut instinct that, once again, reared it’s ugly head. You could hear it’s faint screams echoing in the back of your head;

‘Push’.

The impulse grew more enticing with every passing second until it had been forty five minutes since you awoke and you could no longer wait.

Pacing up to the door, the hesitation that stopped you from going in last time revealed itself once more. The hesitation was quickly silenced, however, by the sound of muffled sobs.

Your heart was in your throat, your stomach twisting and churning itself into impossible knots in response to the muted lamentations. Your body turned to jelly as you dubiously opened the door, wincing at the creak of it’s hinges. You could feel your heart drop to the floor and shatter at the sight before you.

Bo was curled up in the corner of the bathtub, arms around his knees as his hair completely concealed his face. He was seemingly unbothered by the harsh, hot stream of water hammering against his head, and you could only just make out the shaking of his shoulders through the steam.

Without a moment of hesitation, you stepped out of your shoes, well beyond caring about the clothes you were wearing, and stepped into the bathtub fully clothed to sit behind him. Your legs splayed out on either side of him, and your arms quickly wrapped around to sit atop his own.

You could truly feel him crying now as he leant into your touch, too exhausted to fight any more. You could feel his laboured breathing, you could hear his wordless whispers as he tried and failed to speak. So you spoke for him.

“I’ve got you, Bo.” you said quietly, beginning to rock him back and forth and softly kissing his head. Finally, he managed to squeak out a few words,

“I’m so fucking tired.”

It was punctuated with a sob, and you had to muster every ounce of strength you had not to cry yourself. You’d never seen him like this before. You’d seen him stressed, you’d seen him deflated, you’d seen him tired, overworked and depressed. But never quite this broken.

“I’m so fucking tired. I’m so tired, please” he continued, repeating his mantra over and over again,

‘I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired’

You couldn’t imagine how much he must have to say, and neither of you knew quite where to start. But after all these years, he’d finally hit the breaking point.

You continued to slowly rock him back and forth, gently kissing his hair as the both of you sat under the scalding hot stream of the shower.

He tensed up for a moment in your grip, his demons seemingly coming back to remind him he isn’t worthy of help. A vague suggestion of ‘You shouldn’t have to do this’ was muttered under his breath, but this time when you pushed back, he let you. Your hold on him endured, soothingly rubbing small circles on his arm with your thumb until he settled once more.

“I’ve got you.” you reassured him once more, hoping to god that this time you got through. And as you felt his shoulders start to shake once more, you think you just might have.

“Why am I doing this?” Bo asked, voice raised to compete against the strong pelt of the shower. You stayed silent and let him continue.

“What’s the fucking point? I can’t even tell what I'm doing anymore. It’s all I can think about, all I can do is just work on it but I hate everything I come up with, it just makes me so fucking miserable. And sometimes I just wanna stop, for the night, and get into bed with you, and the girls, and just forget about everything for a few hours but I can’t switch my fucking brain off and I’m just stuck in this fucking endless feedback loop in my head and I’m just so tired” he cried, gasping in a loud breath.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, pulling him a little closer to you, “you don’t have to be okay. I’ve got you.”

Bo didn’t know how to say it, he didn’t know where he’d begin, but he was so thankful that you persevered, that you were still there with him, that you were right there holding him through this.

#bo burnham x reader #bo burnham oneshot #bo burnham imagine #bo burnham x gender neutral reader #z’s writing