#like yeah everything is fuzzy past a certain point but everyone is like that!

[pbpsbff]

i havent worn glasses in like 5 years and finally got a new pair in yesterday and holy fuck i did not realize how blind i was. like my prescription isn't that strong or whatever but i can read a clock from across the room now??????? my eyes aren't burning every time i read something on my computer???????

#i convinced myself this was normal #like yeah everything is fuzzy past a certain point but everyone is like that! #no

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

Part 2 baby, I'll put these up on my ao3 soon as well so they're in one place together

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"Dad... you're dead."

Jack laughed. He probably shouldn't have, Danny seemed to be very genuine in his assessment, and Jack recognised that he should probably take this more seriously. But still, dead?? It was laughable.

"Come on Danny be serious." Danny's face remained stoic, "I'm not dead, I'm right here."

"You're a ghost, dad." Danny's lips were pressed tight, his entire body tense. "You died."

Jack was feeling a little ill at this point, was Danny okay? Was there a ghost messing with his head? He leaned toward Danny and grabbed his hand, it was cold, Danny's hands were always cold.

"Listen to me son, you're not talking sense, there's probably a ghost somewhere tha-"

Danny stood up fast, impossibly fast, his chair skidded behind him and toppled over.

"No! Dad can you just- how did you get to bed last night?" He asked.

Jack hadn't been expecting the question, he'd gone to bed... the usual way right? Like he always did, took a shower, brushed his teeth, got into his pyjamas, kissed his wife goodnight, although for some reason the details felt a little fuzzy.

But before he could answer Danny continued.

"When did we leave the party?"

Party? Jack's brow furrowed, oh the party! It was his 50th, how could he forget his own party, had he had that much to drink?

Oh, oh of course. He'd gotten drunk and done something stupid, said something upsetting. That's why everyone was mad at him, that's why last night was foggy.

Danny kept going, he sounded frustrated, angry, but his voice cracked a little. He was upset, oh boy Jack must have done something truly awful.

"What happened after the toast?"

The toast... He had just blown out the candles on the enormous cake Vlad had bought for him, ah that's right, Vlad had been there! He'd hired the venue, planned the whole party, it had been a surprise.

He had handed him a drink...

Danny asked another question, Jack knew it was the last, it felt heavy and final, it didn't even sound like a question.

"What's the date today."

Jack knew the date, of course he knew the date, it was the day after his birthday why wouldn't he know? He'd never been particularly good with dates but not even he could forget his own birthdate.

He glanced over to the calendar on the wall, just in case, he had a sneaking suspicion this was some kind of a trick question.

Jazz was the one to mark off the days, she used it to keep track of her assignments and her tutoring sessions. Each day would be marked with a tidy little line, not an X because they had 'a negative association with failure' or... something. He didn't really understand a lot of Jazz's ideas.

The days were marked off up to June the 18th... the 18th, it should have been the 10th. His birthday was yesterday, on the 9th, today should be the 10th.

How could he have missed a whole week? Maybe this was a joke, a way to get back at him for getting drunk and embarrassing everyone.

But this... didn't feel like a joke.

Maddie's sobs hadn't felt like a joke, Jazz's silence hadn't felt like a joke.

Danny's eyes gouged into him. Danny had always been an awkward kid, he took after Jack in that way, he was shy when he was young, always had difficulty maintaining eye contact. He had no such difficulty right now. They were so bright, had they always been so bright?

It was unsettling.

Why couldn't Jack remember what happened after the toast...

The drink had tasted strange, bitter. He never particularly liked champagne, he assumed that it was normal. Vlad had been smiling, his teeth were sharp... his eyes...

Danny's hands were clasped together tightly, his knuckles bumping against his lower lip as they shook. His gaze had shifted from Jack's face to the gravy-stained tablecloth.

"You're dead. I'm sorry, I know this is hard, I know you still feel like everything is the same but it isn't. You... you're a ghost, dad. Not the kind you're used to, you're just a haunting spirit right now, nobody can see you, nobody can hear you. You can't interact with anything, not yet."

Danny dropped his hands away from his face and looked at him sadly. Jack felt as though there was more to his expression, but he'd never been particularly good at reading people. Vlad had always been better at that sort of thing, it often felt like Vlad could speak a whole other language Jack simply couldn't understand.

Vlad... something was tickling the back of his mind but he couldn't quite grasp it, like a word on the tip of his tongue.

Vlad had given him a drink. Vlad had smiled. It looked like a real smile, but Jack felt like... there had been something more to it, Jack had never been good at reading people... Vlad had smiled, his teeth were sharp, his eyes... red, they were red.

The champagne was bitter. He could almost still taste it.

Jack jumped to his feet, startling Danny as he balled his hands into fists.

"Vlad." he growled, Danny breathed a sad sigh.

"Yeah, it was Vlad, he-"

"He was overshadowed by a ghost!" Jack roared, "It's still got him doesn't it? Mads is out there looking for-"

"No! Fuck, dad- SIT. DOWN."

Jack sat. Without thought or question. Danny's command was loud, not deafening but loud in a different way, like he'd heard it through not just his ears but his entire body. It reminded him a little of the concerts he and Maddie used to frequent back in their college days, where the music was so loud it vibrated through them, head to toe.

It took him a moment to realise he was shaking, Jack always considered himself fearless, and that was generally true, so true that he almost didn't recognise the feeling as it swept coldly over him.

Danny closed his eyes and rubbed at them in frustration, Jack was almost certain he caught a flash of vibrant green beneath his fingers.

"I'm sorry I... I didn't want to use that- I didn't mean," he sighed heavily. "You just never listen."

He was listening now, if not simply because he felt too shaken to do anything else. His thoughts rattled around trying to piece themselves together, something within him was screaming like he'd just touched a hot surface or a live wire. Danger danger danger danger.

"Vlad wasn't being overshadowed," said Danny, leaning against the kitchen bench, his body almost sagging with exhaustion. "It's... a lot more complicated than that."

"I can't be a ghost." Jack muttered, indignant, "They're monsters, they don't even look human. They don't wake up and hug their wives, they don't want to sit down and eat breakfast with their daughters."

"Not all ghosts are the same." Danny's voice was quiet, it had none of that fierce intensity like before. What was that? It wasn't normal, it definitely wasn't human. Jack glared up at him as a hot flush of rage washed over him.

"How do I know you aren't the ghost. That you haven't done... something to my family, to make them think I'm dead!" Jack growled.

He wanted to stand up, but under Danny's icy stare he felt locked into his seat. His expression was mostly blank, but Jack could see a twitch in his brow and tilt to his lips. He could see it, but he couldn't read it. Ghosts were easier to read than this, ghosts weren't usually very subtle.

"Not all ghosts are the same." Danny repeated, his voice was so quiet now, tentative and fragile.

He walked over to the sink, Jack wanted to get up, wanted to keep his eyes on Danny and the ghost that might be controlling him, but he couldn't seem to make his legs work. The command still rang in his ears. Sit. Down.

"We aren't going to get anywhere like this." Danny filled up a glass of water and placed it in front of Jack. "Pick it up."

It wasn't a command, Danny's expression had softened once more.

"Please."

Jack narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but he did as requested. He could feel the cold glass in his hand, the condensation on his fingers, but as he tried to lift it... the glass remained as it was. His hands simply slipping over it.

He tried again, and again, it wasn't as though it was slippery, or heavy, or even that he couldn't grip it. The glass felt normal, his hands felt normal, the glass just wouldn't... move.

Gritting his teeth in frustration he grabbed the glass and squeezed with all his strength, it didn't break. The water didn't even ripple.

"This is a trick..." said Jack. "It's just a trick..."

Red eyes and a bitter drink, people stood around him, faces blurred. He was falling, someone screamed.

Danny started rooting around in a nearby drawer, he pulled out a ragged newspaper cutout. The ink had run in some spots, he placed it down in front of Jack.

It was an obituary. It was his obituary. Tear stained and rough around the edges, torn from the rest of the paper instead of cut, he skimmed over it, almost unable to take it in.

Jack Jonathan Fenton... age 50... survived by his wife Maddie and two children Danny and Jazz...

There was a list of his degrees, complete and incomplete, engineering, physics, mathematics, it listed the names of his high school and university, his reputation as a local ghost hunter, a blurb about his dedication to his work and his love for his family. Jazz had written it, he could tell. She was so good with words.

"Don't make this harder than it needs to be, please." Danny's voice cracked, his eyes were bright with tears as he righted the knocked over chair and sat back down across from Jack, gripping his hand tightly.

Vlad leaning over him, Vlad gripping his hand, he was smiling, his teeth were sharp. Glass smashed, he'd dropped the drink. It was bitter.

He could almost still taste it.

"No..."

Maddie running past him in the lab, like he wasn't even there, crying. Jazz at the breakfast table, not seeing not hearing, eyes red and puffy. They hadn't looked at him, not once had they looked at him. They couldn't see him, they really couldn't see him.

But Danny could.

"If... I'm a ghost," the words tasted foul and heavy on his tongue, "and you aren't... why can you see me?"

Danny sighed, still holding tight to Jack's hand.

"It's complicated." he said, staring down at the table.

"Vlad, he did this. I'm..." Jack whispered. "But his eyes were... he was overshadowed. It was a ghost that-."

"He wasn't overshadowed." Danny kept his gaze averted, his expression was hard and cold. "It was the accident with the proto-portal, it changed him. He-"

Danny choked up, tears were slipping from his eyes, he gasped a few unsteady breaths.

"He blamed you, he blamed you and wanted to kill you, he's been trying since the attack at the reunion. I tried to protect you dad I tried I tried I'm sorry, I didn't know about the poison until it was too late I'm sorry, I couldn't get there in time I couldn't-"

Danny's sobs shook his whole body, he buried his head in his arms, shaking hands still clasped around Jack's.

Red eyes, sharp teeth, the reunion...

"The Wisconsin Ghost," how had he not seen it? "He's the Wisconsin Ghost."

Then another thought struck him. He looked at his son like he'd never seen him before, sobbing loudly, painfully, his body wracked with spasms as he choked on every breath. He had been trying to protect him, all this time he had known and was protecting him, alone.

When Jack had been told to sit, compelled to sit, unable to move and paralysed with terror, had he imagined the glint of green in his son's eyes? He knew a ghost with green eyes, who could incapacitate someone with a single terrifying scream, who was mortal enemies with the Wisconsin Ghost, who claimed to be a protector, who looked just like a kid.

Danny had been in the lab that day, when the portal turned itself on.

Had the portal turned itself on?

Jack stood, his legs finally acting of his own accord once more, and he rounded the table to pull his son into a tight hug.

"Oh Danny, it was you, the ghost boy, it was you."

"I'm sorry dad, I'm so sorry." The words wouldn't stop pouring from his lips, tumbling over and over. Jack's chest grew tight from the pain in his voice.

He ran a hand over his son's hair and shushed him gently.

"It's okay Danny-boy, it's not your fault, you did your best. I'm so proud of you son, we should have realised, you did so much all on your own, I'm so proud of you." It was Jack's turn to start blubbering.

"I should have told you." said Danny, voice muffled against Jack's chest.

He and Maddie always talked about all of the things that they would do to Phantom if they had ever caught him, they'd talked about it during family dinners. Danny had sat there listening, the whole time he had been right there listening.

"I... understand why you didn't." said Jack.

Danny had stopped shaking, he pulled away from Jack and wiped his eyes.

"Vlad told mom that he'd been overshadowed, she's been out hunting for the Wisconsin Ghost all week." Danny sniffed, "I wanted to tell her the truth, I wanted to so badly but Vlad he... he said he'd go for Jazz next. Said if he got past me once he could do it again. I couldn't risk it."

Jack had never understood why a ghost would choose to remain tethered, why they couldn't just move on and leave the living to go about their business in peace. He always told himself that when he died he would never return, he would take what was to come with open arms.

But that wasn't what happened. He'd gotten up to start his day as usual, but he was already dead. There had been no choice, and were he given one now, he didn't think he could bring himself to take it.

His family still needed him, how could he leave them behind? It wasn't wrong if he stayed to protect his family, right?

Jack placed a heavy hand on Danny's shoulder, and gently knocked his chin with a large fist.

"Buck up kiddo, I might need to get a handle on this whole bein' a ghost thing but when I do," Jack's voice dropped into a low, dangerous growl and, for just a brief moment, his eyes flashed a vibrant green, "I'm not gonna let him hurt anyone else."

#lula's fanfics #danny phantom #Bitter #jack fenton #am I projecting my neurodivergant ass on this man absolutely not how dare you sir #I just find not being able to tell if people are lying to me super relatable #danny phantom fanfiction #thanks y'all who told me how to do the readmores

[celestial-fucking-weeb]

WINTER WARMTH

__________________

Hi, everyone!! This is a part of the Citrus Dome Snowed In collab! I’m so thankful to be a part of this round and super grateful for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten and @tomurasprincess for letting me be on the masterlist! I’m so excited, but I’m not super proud of this one, so please feel free to give feedback.

Masterlist Here!

Go see everyone’s super awesome fics and art pieces they worked so hard on!!

ART BY @brttpaige on Twitter🖤 Go check out her artwork, she’s fantastic!

Warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, AGED UP (mid twenties), fluff, insecurities, smut, body worship, chubby kink, marking (hickies), Papi kink

Pairing: Sero Hanta x reader

The local news station hailed it as “the storm of the century,” and they weren’t wrong. You’ve watched the snow pile up beyond the window, building from a light dusting on the grass to literal knee-high drifts. And it shows no sign of stopping.

The place you’re stranded is stocked up on groceries, you’d charged every electronic device to your name, and you’d cranked the thermostat as high as it would go until the inevitable happens —

The power goes out.

So now you’re stuck indoors, with only a certain someone for company. The same someone you’ve been pining after for ages. Snow stacks up higher and higher outside. As the cold seeps in, and you both drift closer, you realize this was somehow the one thing you hadn’t thought to prepare for…

The snow outside was pretty at first, but now with the doors and windows to your small cottage-type home half covered, it seemed almost oppressive. With the power outage, there was no television to drown out the quiet, only deafening silence and the movement of your new roommate, Sero Hanta.

It didn’t start this way, you hadn’t always obsessively paid attention to his mannerisms. At one point in time, he was just a hero working for the same agency you provided medical care for. You were just support staff, until a dumb villain thought you were “important” and kidnapped you, leaving the heroes you saw as coworkers to rescue you. After that, the agency wanted you to live in the adjacent apartments, but you refused. Magically, two days later, Sero Hanta approached you asking about your spare room under the guise of his lease running out. You thought it seemed a bit suspicious, particularly that this gorgeous man had “nowhere else to go”, meaning no significant other to take him in. Of course, you agreed, being a nice person and maybe bit naïve. He moved his stuff in, didn’t make much of a fuss, and mostly left you to your own devices. That is, until you noticed some... abnormalities. The lingering glances, the newly installed security cameras, the not-so-subtle ideas to spend time with you of having meals together or watching movies, making sure you’d eaten or slept... He cared too much. He was so perfect- gorgeous, tall, easygoing, had similar goals as a rescue hero, funny, and he cared. He cared for you, which made living with him so much harder. You found yourself enjoying nights with him, wanting to sit a little closer, wanting to impress him with new dishes to make for dinner, ditching your ex’s sweatpants for cute sleep shorts, relishing in fantasies of his protective nature and dominating stature with your hand between your thighs... You thought you were going to choke when he started walking around in only gray sweats or a towel after his shower. You tried your best to keep eye contact, not stick around too long, not encroach upon his comfort in his own house. You failed to notice the smirk on his face when you quickly excused yourself or when you turned away too fast after being caught staring.

Sero had originally taken this as an assignment, although he did have a bit of a crush on you from the times you’d patched him up after rough shifts. He thought of himself as your own personal hero, but that mindset soon turned into more than just an assignment. He was protective over you, and he found himself getting defensive if you even mentioned another guy. He had tried flirting within reason, just making dinners and watching movies, but he got cocky when he had walked past your door one night and heard your little whimpers. He decided to test his theory, wearing his sweats lower than he normally would and walking back to his room in a towel, and delighting in strolling past your room to hear your muffled moans and the vibrations of the toy you never used to use. You were getting desperate, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t boost his ego to hear his name through the walls. This, however, was NOT something he’d planned on.

Everything was fine, being stuck in the house together was nice, until the power went out. The heat somewhat remained in the house until night, when you curled up on the couch under every blanket you had and he layered on an extra hoodie and lounged next to you. He looked cold...

“H-Hey... Sero? Um... You look cold. Do you want a blanket?”

“Hmmm, but then wouldn’t you be cold too?” He chuckled and scratched the back of his neck.

“Well... Maybe... But that’s okay! You need to be warm too!!” God, you’re so sweet.

“I mean... You could always come over here, we can be warm together!” He stretches out his arm and beckons you over, inviting you to curl up next to him. You shift over, spreading the blankets over your roommate and hiding your blushing face under the pile of softness, keeping at least 3 inches of space between you before he rests his arm behind your head.

“Thanks, y/n, this is uh... nice!” He hides his disappointment at your perceived rejection, going back to look at his phone.

After 20 minutes of scrolling, you can’t take it anymore. He smells so good, and you can feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“I’M GONNA GO TO BED NOW. Uh, goodnight!” You basically shouted, too loud to be natural. You abruptly stood up before slightly shrinking from the frigid air. When did it get so cold in here?

“Hey, it’s really cold... We don’t really have a ton of blankets, and I’m worried you’re going to freeze, so maybe we could sleep in my room tonight? Just for, ya know... body heat?” He sounds nervous, like he expects you to freak out and reject him completely.

“Well... I-I guess that’s smart... You’re right. So... Let’s go?” Holy fuck, you are so nervous. You were originally escaping to your room like you normally do, too horny to continue hanging out with Sero and retain your sanity, but now you’re sleeping with him?! What the fuck are you thinking?!

He gathered the blankets and lead you into his room, holding the door for you before plopping down your nest of fabric. You stand awkwardly in the center of the room, waiting for something you have no idea what. Sero unceremoniously strips himself of his hoodies and sweats and climbs into bed, seemingly out of habit, before turning his attention to you and holding the blankets open.

“Are you coming?” He smirks, putting on a confused voice that doesn’t quite match the mischief in his eyes.

“I-...” FUCK, he’s beautiful. Lean muscles flexing with every movement, shaggy hair falling over his face, and holy... The tight black boxers are NOT helping the whole “too turned on to function” situation.

“Oh... Sorry, I read somewhere that skin-to-skin contact is better for warmth. You’d probably know better than me, I guess.” He grins, as though this entire thing is nonchalant and completely normal. “I can help you if you’d like~”

“Uh nope, yeah, you’re right!! I’ll uh just... Can you close your eyes?” You are panicking. Every insecurity you’ve ever had is coming to bite you in the ass. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how much space your body takes up, remembering everything those stupid bitches in high school said about you.

“Y/n, you’ve seen me in that skin tight hero suit and you’ve patched up most of my body. It’s totally fine! PLUS, you’re sleeping in my bed, am I gonna have to close my eyes the whole night??” He jokes, not knowing that your shyness isn’t rooted in principle, but fear. Upon seeing your face, his smile falters and he autocorrects, “You know, I think you’re beautiful, but if you want me to turn around, I promise I will.”

“No, it’s-it’s fine. It’s okay. Wait- did you just call me beautiful?” You try to cover your shocked expression as you take off your sweater and slide off your fuzzy pajama pants. Sero is thankful your head is stuck in your sweater as his jaw practically drops. Oh fuck, he’s screwed. His eyes follow your curves from your chest, down your sides, to the pouch of your tummy and the plump fullness of your thighs... If he thought he was having trouble focusing before, there’s no way there’s gonna be enough blood in his brain when you’re half naked next to him... Speaking of... Shit, he’s hard... Okay, it’s fine, just tuck it in your waistband like you did back in school...

You climb into bed as quickly as you can, still keeping a few inches between you and Sero until he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. You squeak in surprise and he chuckles, “You can’t be warm unless you’re over here! C’mere.” He nestles his face into your hair and splays a hand across the curve of your lower back. Feeling very naked and very nervous, you shift in his hold and snuggle closer to the heat he gives off, but halt your motions when you feel him twitch against your thigh. Neither of you are breathing, praying the other didn’t notice the rock hard length pressed between your bodies. Somehow, in the time you spent essentially playing dead, you both fell asleep cuddled together.

Over the course of the night, you had shifted to straddle your leg over his torso and he had turned on his back with his hand resting on the space between your thigh and your butt. Sero was the first to stir from his slumber when he felt you move against him, a small whine escaping your parted lips as your hips rolled against his. Oh... OH... Is y/n-? oh fuck y/n is dreaming... and grinding on me... fuck, this shouldn’t feel so good... He tries his hardest to go back to sleep, but the feeling of your sleeping body brushing up against his cock keeps him wide awake. He was trying to stay perfectly still until he heard your tiny whisper “Hanta~”... His hips involuntarily thrust, drawing out the most sinful moan from your throat as the head of his dick added friction on your clit that woke you up. You start to move away, embarrassed and hoping to check that he’s still asleep, but Sero’s grip tightens around your thigh and presses you harder onto him.

“Good morning to you, too~... If you needed my help getting off, you could’ve just asked, babygirl~” The lust and sleep clouding his voiced, combined with the steady roll of his hips makes you whimper and tuck your face into his neck.

“Awww so shy~ You were moaning my name earlier. Why don’t we see how loud I can make you, princess?” He speaks lowly as he flips you onto your back, hovering over you.

“I- I... Please.” You breathe wrapping your legs around his waist and stare up at him, wiggling your hips and sliding your hands up his biceps.

“Can I- Can I kiss you? Are you sure you want this? I’ve had feelings for you since before I moved in and I just... I never want to hurt you.” Cupping your cheek and searching your face for any hesitation, Sero starts succumbing to his own insecurities. He never wants to hurt you, and he knows he isn’t the flashy hero some of his friends seem to be... He needs to hear you say it.

“Sero... Yes~. I want you, please kiss me... I feel the same way. Please~...” Upon hearing your confession, Sero slotted his lips against yours. The kiss was sweet, gentle. Breathing each other in felt so right, so natural, and you followed his lead when he slid his hold to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss. His hand drifted down, following the curve of your breasts, tracing your sides and resting on the pouch of your tummy. Just as you were starting to feel self conscious, Sero groans and moves to kiss your neck, mumbling “You’re so beautiful, y/n. Fuck, so perfect. You feel so soft, I need you so bad~” The whimper he draws from you when he sucks a deep mark into the column of your throat is absolutely lewd, you can barely believe it came from you. He kisses his way down your body, leaving hickies along your skin and squeezing every inch he can get his hands on. You look down at him, his eyes dark with lust and admiration as he leaves opened mouthed kisses along your inner thighs, making you more needy than you thought possible. He strokes his thumb along your clothed slit and moans at your wetness.

“Fuck- you’re so wet for me, angel. I want to taste you, you’re so cute like this. Let’s take these off, yeah?” He looks to you and hooks his fingers under the waistband of your panties, asking for permission and grinning like an idiot when you lift your hips to help him. Before you can say anything, he’s prying your legs open and diving in, moaning as he laps your slit and sucks your clit into his mouth. You run your fingers through his hair and grip him, pulling him into you and grinding against his face. His groans send vibrations straight to your core, pinning your hips with one arm and sliding two fingers into your dripping cunt.

“M-more!! Oh god, please Sero, just like that- I want more!” You moan so prettily for him, but he wants something more. He releases your clit with a pop and leans up, stilling his fingers inside you and wrapping his free hand around your neck. The pressure and dominance has you clenching around his fingers, and he takes notice.

“You either call me Hanta or Papi, nothing else. You understand? I want you to say my name when you cum.” He commands, and sends a shiver down your spine. “Oh you like that, huh?~ I can feel you squeezing my fingers. Why don’t you tell me what you want, baby?~”

Your brain goes hazy when he leans in and places little love bites on your neck and collarbones. “PAPI~! Yes, I love it! Please fuck me, I want to feel you, I need moreee~” You pant as he pulls his fingers out of you, leaving you unbearably empty.

“Oh baby, I’ll fill you up, don’t worry. But first, why don’t you suck my cock?~” He strips himself of his boxers and flips the two of you, pulling you on top of him. He’s so long, just thick enough to stretch you and reach every amazing spot inside of you. The sight of his hard length has you drooling, anticipating feeling the weight of him on your tongue. You give the head a few kitten licks, relishing in the way he groans and twitches in your hand. He laces his fingers at the base of your head and lets you set your own pace, wrapping your plush lips around him. Bobbing your head up and down, running your tongue along the vein on the underside of his dick and swirling it around the head- you love seeing his reactions. The way his breathing increases and his hips buck when you hollow your cheeks. He looks so pretty like this, you can’t help but rub your thighs together for some kind of friction. Luckily, he notices how desperate you’ve gotten and pulls you up to straddle him with one hand still on your hair and the other gripping your hip, calloused fingers digging in and massaging the fat there.

“As much as I want to cum in that perfect little mouth, I think my baby needs to be filled, yeah?” He fists his cock and strokes the head through your wetness, gathering your slick and making you involuntarily grind against him. “Beg for my cock, babygirl~, tell Papi what you want.” The smirk on his face is utterly sinful, teasing you and enjoying the fucked out expression on your beautiful face.

“PLEASE I want your cock, I wanna be full, just fuck me already!!! Please stop teasing me Hantaaa~” Just as you grind your hips down onto him, he thrusts into you, cutting off your pleading with a needy moan. “Ah~ fuck- so full, so full, oh my god! Yes Papi~!”

“Oh shit angel, fuck- you feel so good.” Hanta grabs your hips and helps you slowly fuck yourself on him, “Just like that, baby, just like that. Ride my fucking cock. Fuck- you’re so tight...”

The dirty talk pouring out of Hanta’s mouth, combined with the stretch of his hot length stirring up your insides, you find yourself embarrassingly close to climax already. Your first orgasm hits you like a train, completely knocking the air out of your lungs and causing you to collapse onto Hanta’s chest. He seizes the opportunity to flip the two of you, holding you underneath him and fucking you into the mattress.

“Ah ah ahhhhh~ Hantaaa~ I can’t! I can’t, I just came, it’s too much!!! oh FUCK Papi!!!” You feel the tears welling up in your eyes from the overstimulation and pleasure.

“Yes you can, babygirl. You’re taking me so well, you’re such a good girl. I know you love it, I can feel your pussy flutter around me. So honest, angel. You’re so perfect like this- fuck.” Hanta grips the back of your thighs and pushes your knees to the bed, hitting even deeper within you. The head of his cock kisses your cervix with every thrust and makes you scream out, nails digging into his back, and egging him on.

“Come on, mi amor, cum with me. I know you can, I can tell you’re so fucking close... Cum on my cock, that’s right. Cum for me.” His long fingers reach down and rub quick circles on your clit. He leans in to sink his teeth into the junction of your neck and your shoulder, sending you over the edge into your climax. Your vision goes white and you clamp down around him, cunt spasming as you squirt all over his thighs and abs.

“F-fuck!!! That’s so fucking hot~ I’m gonna- Ah~” He fills you to the brim with his sticky release, the warmth spreading through your core and coating your walls. Hanta releases your legs and lays on top of you, sweaty bodies pressed together until he comes down from his high.

“That was so amazing, angel. You were so good for me. Such a pretty baby, all mine...” He pulls back to kiss your temple and rolls over, petting your hair and lightly scratching your back.

“You have no idea how happy that makes me... I always want to be yours.” You giggle, bubbly at his claim on you and still buzzing from your high. You curl up into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him close. “Mine.”

“Mmhmm, all yours.” He breathes a chuckle and places a kiss to your hairline. “I’m glad I can warm you up, lovebug.” He smiles as your breathing evens out, falling asleep with you in his arms.

#sero hanta #sero hanta x reader #bnha x reader #sero hanta fanfic #fanfiction #mha sero #mha smut

[horunicorn]

Oya Oya

Hewwo :3 I have written much smut but this is my first time making it public. Sorry it came out so long. Feel free to point out any mistakes.

Warnings: choking, dominance

The fusuma slammed shut behind you, rattling the shōji across the room, after he'd pushed you rather roughly into his room at the Shinsengumi dorm. You were honestly surprised the kumiko didn't fall apart.

"What the hell, Y/N?"

You curled your lip up at him defiantly. "What?"

"Don't 'what' me," he warned, pacing to and fro in front of the door, clearly agitated. Then again, the man did have a short fuse. "Who gave you permission to hang with the Yorozuya bastard? Is that what you do behind my back?"

His accusation flipped your entire mood over. You were cheeky before; now you were pissed. What right did he have to point fingers at you? After all, he was the one who pushed you to do it. For three weeks, you had been patient while he worked. Of course, since he lived where he worked, it seemed like he was never free, always balancing his vice commander duties in and out of the headquarters. He did ask for your permission before going on cases, to make sure that you were okay with him doing overtime on certain days. And you always assured him that you would wait for him, no matter how busy some days could get. You always told him that it was okay to put his job first when he needed to. But that didn't mean he could take advantage of your understanding, did it?

The guy was smarter than most; he picked up on hints and cues effortlessly, especially if they were from you. So why had he been so oblivious to your subtle advances these past weeks?

"Who are you to tell me who I can or cannot be friends with?" you snapped back, temper flaring.

"You know very well who I am and what I can and cannot do," he answered, a little condescendingly.

"Yeah, well, you should also know that Gin-san gives me way more attention than you do," you uttered rashly. It was how you felt on the inside. After so many days of neglect by Hijikata, Gintoki's friendly affection towards you had you hooked in like fish to bait. Every smile and head smack he gave you fed your growing hunger for a man you couldn't get to and yet you still went on with it. You hung around Gintoki, longing for Hijikata, for something physical, just to take away the ache of missing the vice commander.

"What did you say?" Hijikata's tight voice betrayed the anger that was sparking inside him. The thought of you just being in Gintoki's presence was enough to provoke him. Confirmation that you let him touch you - nevermind if it was just playful shoves or shoulder bumping - flooded his vision with red. "You let him touch you?"

You scoffed at his ridiculous jealousy. "I'm not a slut. All Gin-san did was listen to me when I was alone. He kept me company."

True, you worked eight hours a day but the tiredness didn't mean that you didn't want to talk late into the night.

"Company, huh?" Hijikata crossed the room to stand in front of you so fast that you had to double check the spot he was previously at, just to be sure. He was a head taller than you. Now that he was all riled up, his presence was intimidating, especially since you had to look up to meet his eyes. "It just had to be him?"

You knew better. If you let him go on, you would have angry make up sex in seconds. This was a matter that needed talking through, not blind fucking. You pushed him away harshly, much to his surprise.

"We're not in a movie, Hijikata." Ah, using his family name when you were alone was never a good sign. "You can't just fuck me and be done with it."

A thought crossed your mind. Maybe it wasn't that he was busy. Maybe it was you who had done things wrongly. If you hadn't dropped all those stupid hints and just came straight forward with your needs, you needn't have had to feel the pain of ignorance from him. Your low self-esteem came racing back to you.

It was my fault. I didn't talk to him.

"I'm sorry," you choked out, turning away from him. Your sudden change in demeanor startled him but it wasn't something he hadn't experienced before.

Just like that, his anger melted away. He stepped towards you, pulling your reluctant form into his arms.

"You shouldn't have to apologize for anything," Hijikata sighed, one hand carefully cupping the back of your head. When his temper wasn't in the way, he saw things much clearer. "It was wrong of me to accuse you like that, especially since I know how much I've been neglecting you. I just didn't like the fact that of all the people to go to attention for, it was him." Hijikata said him with visible distaste. You relaxed against him, calmer now that he was no longer angry, that he had assured you it was not your fault.

"But I like him," you protested.

"Could you not like anyone else?"

"You hate everyone else, except the gorilla and he's infatuated with Otae-chan."

"Are you saying you'd go to Kondo-san if you could?" Hijikata teased, instantly lightening the atmosphere.

With that you ducked out of his embrace. "Please. I don't do stalkers." Hijikata was quick to catch you again though, this time from behind. He placed a gentle kiss to the shell of your ear.

"If you hadn't gotten caught today," he began, "I would have shown my appreciation for your patience in a different way."

"You have something planned?" you asked excitedly, happy that he had been thinking of you too.

"I did," he confirmed in the past tense. "But I can't get Yorozuya's stupid smug face out of my mind."

You knew all too well why. You knew that hanging out with Gintoki came with a punishment if you were caught. Before you could respond, Hijikata had a hand locked around your neck, with pressure not enough to choke but just enough that made swallowing difficult.

"Sometimes I think you let yourself get caught on purpose," he went on in a low voice, free hand travelling down your left arm and tugging it behind your back. He had you in a hold you didn't have any intention of breaking out of. Indeed, just the feeling of his hand on your throat had you weak at the knees, ready to be ruined by him.

"T - Tōshi," you managed, voice strangled by the hand on your windpipe. "Hard to... breathe."

"But you like this, don't you?" He purred. "You want to be choked like the little slut you are."

Oh, there was no denying how much his words were turning you on. Getting choked with his hand was good. Getting choked on his cock was better and you were more than eager for it.

"Choke... me with... your...cock..." Earlier misgivings forgotten, you wanted nothing more than for him to use you. It was all you had wanted since using Gintoki as a filler. His attention.

"Mm, I don't think so, baby girl," he murmured, finally releasing you from his hold only to take your hand and drag you down onto his futon. "I want to give, not take. And I expect thanks."

Translation: I will fuck you senseless and you will be vocal about it.

"Dont you think you can punish me better if - " Your question was cut short by a gasping inhale. Hijikata had somehow managed to loosen the knots of the date-jime that held your nagajuban and kimono together amidst everything and was now shamelessly pushing his fingers between your damp labia, hand disappearing in the folds of the cloth. Immediately, your hips moved up, asking for more when he'd barely begun. He murmured an amused "oya oya" upon finding the absence of underwear on you.

"I think you've been wetter than this, haven't you?" Deviously, Hijikata poked two fingers into your hole without any warning. There hadn't been much foreplay but could you really complain when you were swallowing his fingers like the greedy whore you were? He pulled his fingers out along with your arousal and spread it over your clit, rubbing in tantalizing circles, like a taunt.

"You're going to tease me," you stated, breathless already.

"Just for now," he promised, the sensitive nub slipping between his pointer finger and middle finger. Your nerve endings fired, sending thick coils of pleasure up your body. Again, your hips moved up.

Hijikata chose that moment to take his hands off of you. He sat back on his heels, hands placed perfectly on his lap. Disheveled and disgruntled, you forced your pleasure-weak body into motion, sitting up with your kimono loose around you, one side sliding down to bare a shoulder.

This was no dream: your body had flaws everywhere. Beauty marks on your skin, scars from being clumsy, skin that wasn't silky smooth or creamy white. You felt very small when you walked past some women on the streets but Hijikata always made you feel perfect. He loved every one of your imperfections, which encouraged you at times like these.

"Frustrated?" he smirked and you wondered just what he was playing at. Unbothered, you knee-walked closer, until you were parked right in front of him. Your hands grasped at the lapels of his uniform jacket. The familiar musk of cigarette smoke wafted up your nostrils, further turning you on. His gaze was hot on you; you could feel it despite not looking at him. Deliberate in your movements, you pushed the jacket off then proceeded to unbutton his vest and undo the knot of the white scarf around his neck. You were busy working on his shirt when he caught your hand, bringing it up to his mouth.

The contact of the softness of his lips against your skin made your thoughts fuzzy. His stare lingered on you and your restraint broke. You crashed your lips into his, claiming your pleasure, trying to pacify your desire for him. He indulged you, using a hand to hold your head steady. You kissed and kissed until there was no more breath to breathe between the both of you.

Hijikata pulled back first, dragging a thumb across your lower lip. It was such an intimate move, hinting at the lust he had for you; that was all it took for you to go into full 'I need you now' mode. Impatient, you shoved him back and shimmied up his body, brazenly rocking your hips, smearing your arousal onto his white shirt. Obviously, he felt your dampness through the material and gripped your hips to stop you from moving. The sight of you grinding above him was too much for his already tortured mind. Everything had to go. Now.

Soon you were balancing above him, the tip of his hard cock pressing at your slick entrance. You braced your hands on his broad chest, breath controlled as you slowly sat down on him, the length of him sliding into you inch by inch until your ass touched his lap. The sensation of him in you never failed to make you moan. His girth, his length, everything was just enough to fill up your tight hole.

"My sweet girl," Hijikata murmured, eyes half lidded. "I'd nearly forgotten how good you feel around me." He held onto your hips. "Move for me."

At his demand, you lifted yourself off and back down again, whimpering at the discomfort. Yeah, he was definitely big. Without your weekly routine, your body needed time to get used to him again. It didn't take long, though. Hijikata's soft encouragement and touch had you thirsting for more in no time. You got used to the stretch, gaining momentum and confidence as you moved. No longer did it sting; there was nothing but pleasure with the way you had him sliding in and out of you. Every time you rose left his cock slicker than before, layer upon layer of your arousal coating him.

When your legs got tired, you resorted to bouncing, biting your lip when your ass slapped against his skin in the sexiest way. Hijikata was in awe beneath you. His blue eyes were dark, lips parted in heavy breaths. First his eyes fixed on the way he was entering you, on the way your sweet pussy just swallowed his cock. His rough hands roved up your stomach, fingers dancing over your jumping breasts. That was the second thing he stared at. The soft mounds of flesh on your chest that bounced along with you made his cock twitch. Then he looked at your face. At the way you bit your lip, the pleasure in your expression. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to dominate you.

The feeling swept over him. Having you on top was incredible, especially since he knew you could control the depth and angle of his entrance. But he needed to have you his way. He couldn't yet explain why.

You cried out in surprise when he sat up abruptly, forcing you to remain still on his lap. You pressed your chest to his, feeling him move along with you, in you. The movement brought on a whole new sensation that made you scratch his chest with a low moan.

"Can he do that?" Hijikata asked, voice thick with lust. And something else. He knew now why he needed dominance over you.

"Who - What?" You couldn't register his words and the meaning behind them at first, not until he flipped you both over in a practiced move and he rolled his hips into you, hitting every unclaimed spot within you. Your legs came around his hips.

"Can that silver haired idiot do this? Make you feel this good?" He pulled back slightly, only to plunge back into you with a jolt that pushed another moan from your mouth.

"N - No. Tōshi..."

Hijikata pulled at your hips, angling your lower body upwards and began thrusting into you, going deep and hard each time. He knew very well that at this angle, each slide of his cock was sure to brush your g-spot. And each time his pelvis met yours, the head of his throbbing cock would carass the tip of your cervix, making you buck your hips even further up.

Seeing you this way only fuelled his unneeded jealousy for a rival that was hardly a threat.

"I bet he can't," he agreed gruffly. "He doesn't know your body, does he? Doesn't know how my baby girl likes it. Tell me." Hijikata drove deep, pushing his own hips up. You choked on a moan, hands tight around his wrists. "Who's making you feel good?"

You were unable to answer, eyes in danger of closing, body on the brink of orgasm. As if fucking him wasn't hot enough. No, jealous Hijikata was even better. His need to hear your verbal confirmation of just how good he could drill you was heightening the entire experience.

Hijikata wrapped a big hand around your throat, forcing you to meet his steely gaze.

"Who?" he demanded.

A lone tear rolled down your cheek and you knew once you opened your mouth, you'd be begging. "Y - You, Tōshi. You're making me feel good. Fucking my pussy so good."

He smirked in satisfaction. There was no need to hold back now. With demonic speed, probably living up to his title, Hijikata slammed into you, hips snapping back and forth furiously. He hadn't even gotten to rub your clit yet and you came undone, pulsing around his cock, sinful moans falling from your mouth along with his name.

"One more time," he urged, tempted to stop and savour the way you were contracting around him. Snug in your warm wetness. He was close. Too close to stop. He spit on your clit and rubbed it in tight circles, coaxing yet another orgasm out of you. This was too much after the first and his name left you in screams, your body spasming, legs jerking. The sight of you being ruined by him did it. A few more thrusts and he fell on top of you, hugging your trembling body close as waves of pleasure crashed over him. He bit your shoulder, hard, enjoying the feeling of his seed leaving him and filling you. The others might not be at the sleeping quarters but you doubted that your screams hadn't reached the main block.

Once you both felt calm enough to move, Hijikata carefully extracted himself from you, using his scarf to wipe off any semen that came leaking out of you. You laid your head on his clammy chest.

"I'd never cheat," you said blatantly.

Hijikata pushed a hand through your messy hair, staring up at the ceiling. "I know. I just... wish I could have been there for you. I know it's not fair, having to always put up with my work."

"You're here now." You turned your head to smile up at him and he returned it with one of his own rare ones. The kind that took your breath away and reminded you of how different he could be around you. "Won't the others be looking for you?"

"Let them," he sighed. "I've been long overdue for a day off anyway." There was a brief pause, as though he were thinking things over. "Can I take you out?"

Your heart skipped a beat, delighted that you both could finally spend quality time together. Not that mindless fucking wasn't fun but normal couple stuff had to come in somewhere.

You smoothed your hand over the skin on his chest, loving how only you were allowed to touch him this way. "Yeah, you can."

#gintama #gintama smut #hijikata toushirou #hijikata x reader #smut #dominance #fanfic #gintama hijikata #shinsengumi #toshi x reader #hijikata #lemon #oneshot #gintama oneshots

[theonewiththefanfics]

Shy (one-shot)

Synopsys: She’s shy. He likes her. She likes him. But every time something gets between the ex-Winter Soldier and the cute lab rat that works with Stark. The team has had enough of the pining.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Genre: fluffffffff

Warnings: swearing, as per usual, nothing else really. Just some cute lil fluff I wrote (also this is defo not my best work :D)

Word count: 3042

It was a seemingly ordinary day when the ex-Winter Soldier’s life changed forever.

        Bucky’d plopped down onto the sofa with a disgruntled sigh, making Steve smirk and divert his attention from the show on the TV to his friend.

        “You know, she likes you,” Steve said to Bucky as he sipped on his coffee giving him a side glance.

        Bucky just grumbled and crossed his arms, mind still reeling on the absolute failure that he had experienced earlier that day. It'd been a trainwreck of a mission. No lives lost, but he'd made an absolute fool of himself by making a few bad calls. “Who?”

        “Y/N.”

        “Yeah, as if,” he snorted. “I mean I know she likes me, but she likes everyone. There’s not a single mean bone in her body.”

        “No, I mean,” Steve huffed placing down the cup before he spilt some of it on himself, “she likes you. As in she might want to pursue a relationship with you.”

        Bucky was choking on his spit the second the word ‘relationship’ came out of his friend’s mouth. Y/N? Liked him? As in more than a friend? He’d be lying if he said that thought didn’t send him over the Moon, but it seemed like such a far reach, especially with the interactions they’d had, that he had to give Steve a glare, especially with how she didn’t even give a single sign she might be into him. 

       He raised an eyebrow. “Because you’re the expert on flirting and getting it on?”

        “Wow.” Steve put a hand on his chest in mock hurt. “That’s a low blow. I might’ve not had any game when I was skinny, but let me tell, you after the serum th-“

        “When was the last time you went on a date?” Bucky interrupted his rant.

        His friend broke the eye contact and paused, chewing on his bottom lip before deflecting. “Look that doesn’t matter.”

        Bucky rolled his eyes so much he feared they’d be permanently stuck like that.  

        “What matters is that she likes you, but she’s too shy to do anything about it,” Steve stated.

        “We had a pretty good conversation a couple of hours ago.” They did. If you take saying 'hello', an awkward wave and bashful smiles as a conversation, then yes, it was very successful.

        “Shy doesn’t always mean ‘incapable of holding a conversation’. Shy can mean not talking about how they’re feeling or how their day is because they think no one cares or would get annoyed with them,” Steve said looking over his mug.

        Bucky was baffled. “How – why – how could anyone think she’s annoying? She’s – she’s amazing!” But that’s when it hit him - Y/N never looked him in the eye, she always apologized for talking ‘too much’, and at any point in the conversation, she always diverted the attention away from her or her troubles.

        “So…” Bucky swallowed hard. “You think I should go for it?”

        Steve shrugged. “I think if you don’t, you’ll never know what it could lead to.”

        ***

        It was about an hour later after his enlightening chat with Steve that Bucky found himself walking towards where their resident lab rat usually stayed at when he heard muffled cursing.

        “Work, you absolute piece of shit!” Y/N exclaimed each word emphasized with a harsh hit against a machine’s side. “Top-notch technology my ass!”

        “Everything alright, doctor Y/L/N?” His voice was gruff as he interrupted her conversation with the computer. 

Not that Y/N would ever admit it, but usually just his presence alone set her body ablaze, but this time, it was a distraction and not a good one.

        “Just fucking peachy,” she grunted and slammed her hand against the computer with every uttered syllable.

        “Alright,” Bucky chuckled and entered the lab. “What did that poor computer do to you, since you seem so inclined to completely destroy it?”

        “For starters, it decided to shut down,” she growled at the computer, and if it was alive, it would hang its head in shame. “Then, when I rebooted it, the files were not lost, oh that I could live with, but they were corrupted. Meaning I do have them, but they’re useless, and that means I have to redo everything.”

        “You’d have to redo everything if the files were lost either way.” Bucky gave her a small smile, teasing the woman as she whined.

        “Yeah,” Y/N threw back her head. “But it wouldn’t be as humiliating. I mean, if they’re gone, they’re gone, but they aren’t!” She threw the screen a scowl. “The files are there, just sitting… and useless… just like me.”

        “Well, I wouldn’t say you’re useless." Bucky smirked at her, and she sighed.

        “Please, do tell what I’m of use here right now, right this moment.”

        “Company?” It came out more as a question than a statement, and that’s when Y/N realized how much she’d rattled on, how much of his precious world-saving time she’d taken up by a stupid mistake she made.

        “Sorry,” she muttered, shying away from Bucky’s gaze. “Didn’t mean to bore you with my crap.”

        “You don’t bore me. You could never.”

        He had that love-sick look on his face as she gave him a small smile, and her eyes dropped back to the ground. Not that Y/N ever noticed, but Sam never stopped teasing him about that fucking look. The one where his eyes glimmered like stars in the night sky, and his lips involuntarily lifted up in the corners. More than once Steve had to tell him to close his mouth or someone would slip on his drool. And each time, Bucky would slap his friend on the back of his head.

        “I’m not drooling,” he’d contest and go back to watching as Y/N moved around the lab, delicate fingers replacing whatever was fractured in his metal arm.

        “No, saliva just generally spills out of your mouth when she’s around.”

        Bucky would just grunt and say, ‘fuck off’. But he couldn’t help it really. 

        “Anyway." Y/N brought him out of the daydream. “Did you need anything? Is the arm acting up again?”

        Although she'd never think that Bucky had any feelings for her, there was some suspicion rising in her mind. Tony was the acting engineer, but on more than one occasion he had called her up and asked if she was available to take a look at Bucky's vibranium appendage.

        “Need some assistance, sweets,” the genius would mumble, and then when she would slip into work mode, he’d slyly exit the room and leave the two of them alone. And given how Tony knew, Y/N’s primary thing was chemistry and using the nanotech for cell regeneration, not engineering, it raised her suspicion level. Especially when the super-soldier came to her lab to have a check-up on days Tony was out specifically. 

        But she would never do anything about it. He could be standing at the altar with someone else in white walking towards him, and even then, Y/N, knowing it was her last chance, wouldn’t move a muscle to say what she felt. How could she when Bucky was the walking epitome of a Greek God while she tripped over her own feet while standing? For fuck’s sake, the man even fostered puppies in his spare time as if his day job wasn’t saving the world already how could her watching cells split in a petri dish match up to that?

        “Oh, uh,” he stammered fidgeting with his fingers. “No, I uh, actually came to ask you something. Nothing work or arm… related.”

        If Y/N’s heart wasn’t already beating out of her chest, she was pretty certain she’d vomit it up with the way he was looking at her. “Sure,” she whispered. “Umm, what do you want to know?”

        He twisted a ring on his flesh arm. She had gotten it for him two years ago during a game of ‘Secret Santa’, which Tony promptly had added her to the list. It made her feel all fuzzy and warm on the inside for being included, but then dread settled in. What the fuck do you get a bunch of superheroes that could afford literally anything they wanted? And then she’d pulled Bucky’s name from the tacky Santa’s hat.

        It wasn’t bad enough he was her crush, now she had to get him a gift he’d actually like, and she could barely hold a conversation with him that didn’t involve Avengers stuff. But from the looks of it, he had enjoyed the jewellery immensely, as any time he came over for whatever reason, he was wearing it. He liked it so much there was a lighter line of skin underneath the ring where the sun couldn’t get.

        But the words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Bucky just froze as Y/N stared at him with hopeful and inquisitive eyes. All the things he wanted to say and ask just vanished from his brain as if he’d been put back into that horrible machine that used to wipe his mind.

        “Buck?” Her voice was small as his mouth hung open like an idiot. But he didn’t even get a chance to collect himself when Bruce rushed in.

        “Sorry to interrupt whatever this is, but Y/N I need you. There’s a problem with the cradle.”

        And that was her cue. With an apologetic smile, she pulled off her latex gloves and rushed out of the room, but not before leaning back in through the door. “Hopefully I should be done in two hours tops. Raincheck on that question?”

        Bucky shook his head. “You know what, it wasn’t that important anyway.”

        Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, hand reaching out to touch him, but he pushed past her and was gone, leaving the woman a bit stunned, and in all honesty - heartbroken.

***

        The rest of the day she spent in utter confusion, and Bucky in self-wallowing. Y/N couldn’t understand what had changed his mind so suddenly, what she’d done so wrong, and Bucky beat himself up the whole time about choking and running away. Which is why Steve was absolutely done with it.

        As Bucky sulked on the couch, stuffing his face with M&Ms and the pop tarts he’d stolen from Thor’s stash, Steve with Natasha, Clint, Tony, Bruce and Y/N in tow, all came into the room. 

        Seeing her lab coat swish behind her as she walked, Bucky slid down into the couch even more, as if the granite gray leather could absorb him and erase him from existence. God, how he wanted to be erased from existence. 

        “Hey, Y/N?” Tony drew everyone’s attention as he handed a coffee to her. “Would you mind taking a look at F.R.I.D.A.Y’s intercom system? She’s gotten a bit rusty here.”

        “Umm yeah.” She nodded, kinda confused as to why she'd have to do it, but Tony was her boss, so Y/N rarely asked him much. Unless something he said was absolutely dumb. “Mind getting me a ladder?”

        With a wink from Steve, Clint nodded. “Sure.”

        But instead of just him leaving, all of the Avengers slowly started to ‘disperse’ throughout the living-room, before bolting towards the hallway and telling the A.I. to shut everything down.

        “What’s going on?” Y/N asked looking around the common room, spotting the bright fiery hair of Natasha as she rushed out of the room, asking F.R.I.D.A.Y to override the lock code and not let either of them out. “Why are the doors locked?”

        The smug smile she received from the assassin only infuriated Y/N more. “Tony!” she yelled through the glass, but the genius put hands over his ears and screamed back at her.

        “Not until he talks to you!”

        That’s when she felt someone towering over her from behind. 

Two beautiful Y/E/C eyes looked up at him as Y/N turned around, confusion swimming in her irises. Bucky almost swore he passed out just from that look alone. 

“Buck, what’s going on?"

        The second he’d seen the group walk in, he knew what was happening. He wanted to murder all of them. Rip them apart piece by piece, but not in front of Y/N. No. He’d do that in the middle of the night, blending into the shadows and delivering slow and painful deaths to all of the conspirators. 

        But at the same time, this was his chance. There was literally nowhere for either of them to run unless you counted jumping out through the window and the ninety-story drop, you’d face. Which seemed very appealing to him at that moment, but Steve’s words rang through his head – ‘You’ll never know what it could lead to.” And he hoped it would lead to something beautiful, so taking a deep breath, Bucky confessed.

        “Because I’m a coward…” he sighed, “and I can’t do it without someone telling me to.”

        “Why?”

        “I’m scared,” it came out as a whisper, and Y/N had to take a step back hurt flashing across her face thinking back to all of the times they’d spent together, while in truth Bucky’d been terrified of her.

        “Of me?”

        Instantly he shook his head seeing the pain on her features, and once more Bucky scolded himself. “No… of what your reaction might be.”

        “Buck, you know I would never judge you. You can always talk to me… about anything.”

        “Yes, but this will change things.”

        “How?”

        “I don’t know… that’s what I’m scared of. I don’t want to lose you.”

        “Never. You could tell me you’re hiding a body in the tub, and I would offer you my help to get rid of it.”

        And it was this firm statement that solidified his decision.

        “Would you maybe,” Bucky exhaled deeply not daring to turn and look at the team that was gawking at both of them like hawks pressed against the glass, the same team that had bolted shut every door and window to prevent either of theirs escapes, “would you maybe want to go out… with… me… on a date?”

        Y/N was stunned. The cup of coffee she was still holding in her hand went slack, and it would’ve smashed against the ground had Bucky not quickly stepped forward and caught it stepping to stand in front of her.

        “You don’t have to,” he mumbled, looking at the milk infused drink. It was a light beige colour with a white foamy swirl in the middle like a little vortex that was sucking him in. God did he hope it would pull him in and never let out after what he was going to say. “It’s just that… I really like you.” There. Now it was out there. “I really like you. And not the way a friend likes a friend. I like you in a way that I want to hold your hand when we walk out together. I want to buy you coffee in the mornings and wake you up with breakfast in the bed and smooth out the hair that’s fallen on your face…”

        She wasn’t breathing as with every single word said Bucky seemed to move closer. “I think I might be in love with you, Y/N…” his hand gently lifted and cupped her cheek.

        She just stared at him, mouth slightly agape, shallow breaths escaping into the air as her heart beat out of her chest in a manner, she thought it might hit Bucky directly in the stomach. 

        “Say something,” he pleaded, blue eyes searching for an answer in Y/N’s Y/E/C ones. “Please.”

        “I – I don’t know what to say,” she whispered back. And it wasn’t because she didn’t feel the same, not at all. In fact, when he had started his whole confession, she felt like she was about to pass out from all the love that invaded her body, but the thing is - Y/N has never been good with emotions. She never knew how to process them, how to give the correct answer and make people happy. She was shy, awkward and a recluse. And now she was supposed to come out of her safety shell. Which is why for the first time in her life, she expressed herself with her actions by leaning up, grasping onto the nape up Bucky’s neck and pulling their mouths together.

        When her lips touched his, Bucky knew there was no going back. Not that he’d ever want to. He couldn’t help the giant smile that bloomed on his face, as he pulled Y/N closer to him, wrapping his arm one around her waist, the other trailing up to settle between her shoulder blades, pushing their chests together, so impossibly close an ant couldn’t crawl between the two. 

        It became even more of a beautiful moment when Y/N’s own lips pulled up in a smile, breaking the kiss apart, but leaving them grinning and feeling dizzy from the happiness. 

        “Guess we needed a gentle nudge in the right direction,” Bucky gave out a small laugh, both palms securely resting on Y/N’s hips and bringing her closer.

        “I’d say it was more of a shove with a rifle at our backs,” she said, holding onto Bucky’s shoulders fingers skimming against his clavicles and making his breath stop halfway to his throat. “Let’s… let’s go somewhere… the two of us without a bunch of people watching our every move.” Her eyes flitted over to where the rest of the team stood behind the doors listening in on the two, and suddenly the heads of their teammates disappeared from the view, making Y/N and Bucky shake their heads.

        “Yeah,” he chuckled, squeezing her side. “That’s probably the best idea. You truly are a dream, aren’t ‘ya?”

        Y/N could only chuckle and hide her face in the crook of Bucky’s neck as her hold tightened around his middle, and he responded much the same by weaving his fingers in the hairs on the back of her neck and pulling her closer if that was even possible, burying his nose in the Y/H/C locks.

        “Don’t go all shy on me now.”

        “Can’t,” she mumbled back. “You make me turn into mush.”

        Bucky chuckled, pressing a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “A cute mush.”

        “Shut up!”

And he did by pulling her in for another searing kiss. God, how he loved his shy girl.

Tags (crossed out wouldn't take):

Bucky tag list: @thunderous-flower @who-cares-rn​ @projectxhappiness​ @callmebucky-doll​ @coal000​ @killuaenthusiast @courtneychicken​ @sophiealiice​ @raquelbc2003​ @watch-out-for-thorns​ @potentially-kinetic​ @thatonegirljessy99​ @proxinge @bbkenna @buckysclub​ @ulired @fangirlofeverythingbasically @mrsalh32611​ @horrorx570ximagines​ @the-nargles-made-me-do-it​ @pooslie​ @itsisabelanotisabella @httpmcrvel​ @purplebananatragedy​ @pxrrishly​ @parker-barnes-af​ @skulliebythesea​ @california-grown​ @stevehesaidabadlanguageword​ @belongsto-prachi​ @hello-i-am-insane

Marvel tags: @nerissa98​ @happyseagrill​ @asguardiansoftheavengers​ @crazybutconfidentaf​ @wishingforahome​ @pizzarollpatrol​ @desir-ae​

Forever tags: @lumelgy​ @palaiasaurus64​ @supernaturalbaesduh​ @breezy1415​ @crazy--me​ @thatawkwardlittlefangirl​ @sea040561​ @staryeyedgirl​ @deathbyarabbit​ @s-c-a-r-e-d-po-t-t-e-r @reblogger-not-a-blogger @m-a-t-91​ @dalilx​ @i-need-a-hero-i-need-a-loki​ @maladaptive-ninja-returns​ @averyrogers83​ @in-the-end-im-still-trash​ @gallifreyansass​ @dewy-biitch​ @avxgers​ @unlikelygalaxygiver​ @sweet-ladyy​ @magicwithaknife​ @ollyoxenfrees​ @bnhvrdy​ @tvwhoresblog @celebsimagines​ @thatkindofgurl​ @sj-thefan​ @teenwolflover28 @strangersstranger​

A/N: have you ever hated your job so much so, that you can’t sleep, can’t eat and basically live in a well of anxiety? and not because of the work itself, but because of that ONE PERSON that makes it miserable? Cause I do. And I can’t wait to get away from it.

P.S. sorry for being so pessimistic, but it’s just a nightmare.

P.S.S. feedback is always appreciated :) P.S.S.S. if you wanna be added to a taglist, drop me a message :)

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #the winter soldier #winter solider imagine #winter solider x reader #the winter solider imagine #the winter solider x reader #marvel #Marvel Studios #marvel endgame #imagine marvel #marvel imagine #avengers fanfiction #avengers imagine #avengers 4 #The Avengers #Avengers #avengers x reader #Steve Rogers

[kuroosmikasavolleyball]

Her Game

Abendrot

(n) the color of the sky when the sun is setting; a certain afterglow.

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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

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a/n: I’m so sorry this is late! I got really busy with school work and other stuff and Part 4 wasn’t ready to post on Sunday. Here it is though, I hope you enjoy. This is the second to last part of the series(I think). I hope you understand the connection to the series title now a little bit but it gets better😏 I don’t know if this counts as slow-burn but…yeah. Anyways, feel free to like, republish, and message me. Requests and taglists are open! This is a safe and loving place for everyone and any hate will be shut down. Enjoy reading<3

Part 4 summary: Ravenclaw and Slytherin verse in the second and last quidditch game of the season. New strategies, doubt, nervousness from what happened earlier is bundled up for (Y/N), and all she needs to focus on is winning this game. Will Slytherin take the win and bragging rights, or will Ravenclaw emerge victorious?

pairing: cedric x fem!reader(in ravenclaw)

genre: fluff

warnings: uh nothing

word count: 1.6k(how did this happen-)

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“What’s got your mood down the drain?”

Kimball peers at (Y/N)’s woeful face, “Don’t tell me you’re nervous; this new plan has already got me shaky.”

She would’ve told Kimball what had happened last night if Roger wasn’t right next to her.

(Y/N) leans her head on the palm of her hand. “It’s nothing. Can we just continue planning, please?” Roger looks at her, a bit worried as well.

“Maybe..this plan should stay a draft. I’ll go tell the team.” Roger almost gets up but (Y/N) stops him. “No, wait. I’m ok; I promise. Let’s do this.”

Fred and George walk in and (Y/N) speaks, “Just gimme a sec.” and goes towards them.

“Hey hey! How’s my favorite Ravenclaw?” Fred ruffles her hair and she swats the hand away.

“She’s..ok I guess. Kimball and Roger came up with a plan yesterday and somehow the whole team liked it. We’re gonna test it out during the pre-game practice but I’m a little terrified.”

“You smarties always come up with something, huh? Don’t worry about it; you’ll be great. I even got my special edition Ravenclaw hat!” George playfully lifts a blue and bronze homemade hat made by Mrs. Weasley. (Y/N) has the same kind for Gryffindor, but she’s smart enough not to wear it in public.

“You don’t have to cheer me up; I’m fine. By the way, have you seen Ced? He hasn’t come down for breakfast yet.”

“Nope, we haven’t; he must be off on his ~prefect duties~.”

George scrunches up his face in disgust.

They say their goodbyes and head to the Gryffindor table. Just as (Y/N) is about to go looking for Cedric, he walks in with a painful expression.

“God, I should’ve listened to you, these hangovers are not worth it.”

Huh? How is that his first sentence? Doesn’t he rememb-

“You ok? You know you have nothing to be nervous about today, right? Ravenclaw will definitely win.”

“Oh yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just..do you remember last night at all?”

Cedric cocks his head to the side. “Uh.. a bit. I remember coming into the Ravenclaw common room, we played a drinking game..then it gets fuzzy. But I remember you walking me to my common room; thanks for that.”

Oh? He..doesn’t remember.

“Ah ok..that was most of the night so you didn’t miss too much. Go eat and drink water; you’ll feel better.”

The warmth in her ears and cheeks felt a bit too overwhelming once in the Ravenclaw locker room. Normally, a quidditch game wouldn’t have struck up such nervousness in (Y/N), or just the Ravenclaw team in general. They knew how to calm down in time for the game and bring all their assets to the table. Except now, there was only one match that determined everything.

Roger was almost roaring. “Alright guys! I know we’re all a little on edge right now, but let’s get to the point. We know Slytherin plays a dirty game but we’re staying fair. Don’t let rage take you over, think and focus, we got this. Let’s go out there and win this!”

He continued to give separate instructions to the beaters, the keeper, and the seeker. He turned to (Y/N) and Kimball, firing up to go.

“Before you say anything, Davies. We know what to do, we’ll try the plan out right now during the practice, ok? Now calm down.”

Kimball was surprisingly stable today and it was no doubt she was going to have a good match. Roger visibly deflated but kept a smug look in his face.

Hooch told them Ravenclaw was going first for practice so the team kicked off into the air.

(Y/N)’s hair was tied back and the breeze tickled her face. She missed this feeling; so freeing and beautiful.

Before long, Kimball nodded towards (Y/N) and took off. She stayed higher up and Roger acted as an opponent chaser. They released the Snitch, the Bludgers, and the Quaffle, and started a mock game. Roger zoomed past (Y/N) and she went behind him. Kimball followed (Y/N) but from above. (Y/N) stole the Quaffle and headed to the three goals, where their Keeper stayed, and scored.

(Y/N) kept the Quaffle and tried to score again, but Roger stole the ball and that’s when Kimball came into the playing area. She quickly picked the ball from Roger and scored while (Y/N) flew up. This was their plan; have one chaser on the pitch and the other two above, following the movements. As soon as the ball was stolen or the chaser runs out of stamina, another substitutes in. If all three chasers from the other team started tagging the one chaser, the other two will come down to help. Roger had checked with Hooch to see if the tactic broke any rules and she allowed the Ravenclaw team to use it.

The Slytherin team practiced regularly and it was a relief to not see any crazy strategies.

We can win this.

The houses filed in, chattering their heads off as the teams got ready to enter the field. The Ravenclaw team was introduced and they flew up, similar to the Slytherin team except for Lee’s backhanded comments.

“The game is the last one of the season! But don’t worry, I’m sure the Triwizard Tournament will be entertaining! Let’s get on now; today’s match is Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin. I hope you all cheer for the right team!”

He got a slight warning from Mcgonagall and that was it. Marcus Flint and the other players were all mounted on their fancy brooms; (Y/N) was a tad jealous, but her Comet 290 did the job. Hooch gave warnings and blew the whistle, and before (Y/N) knew it, the game began.

The strategy had worked so far except for a short period where Draco Malfoy was chasing the Snitch and almost crashed into (Y/N) and Kimball, who were waiting above and had to move away really quickly.

Roger was running out of breath and (Y/N) noticed, so she flew down after telling Kimball and took his spot. A red-haired Slytherin chaser had the Quaffle, so (Y/N) speeded towards them. One of the beaters hit a Bludger towards the chaser and (Y/N) swooped in to take the Quaffle when they were distracted.

“Nice hit, Jason!” She yelled as she went past him, dodging Marcus Flint.

“and…(Y/L/N) scores! The score is now 50-35 with Ravenclaw in the lead.”

Cheers grew even louder and (Y/N) swore she locked eyes with Cedric as she flew past the Hufflepuff tower.

Ravenclaw’s seeker, Cho Chang was a little quiet and the year below (Y/N), but she was amazing on the field. There was a point in time last year where Cedric took an interest to her, but it faded..(Y/N) hopes.

The game was similar to the last, taking a long time and the players started to lose energy. As the year had just started, it was fall and the sun set earlier. The breeze up above was chilly and the chasers of Ravenclaw went back to the regular strategy, even though the one they were using didn’t require a lot of stamina, they were getting tired of having to fly up and down. The score was 140-145 with Slytherin in the lead.

It was a little early for the sun to have set completely but the horizon line was blending. (Y/N) remembered a time where Cedric told her a word for this scenery...abendrot. The violent tango of the blue and orange hues made for a majestic view.

She was temporarily distracted since Roger had the Quaffle when she heard Lee’s voice booming, “Just as Davies scores..Chang is closing in on the snitch..SHE’S CAUGHT IT! RAVENCLAW WINS!”

The team quickly flew down and cheered for Cho, but it felt like a mutual celebration since everyone did so well. Kimball hugged (Y/N) tight and whispered about how her legs are going to be so sore.

They giggled amongst themselves until George’s voice ripped through the crowd and screamed (Y/N)’s name. The other houses were rushing up too, congratulating their friends and other players. (Y/N) was lifted and hugged by the twins and she spotted Cedric running up.

“Hell, if you think our game was good, this was amazing!” Fred laughed and set her down.

“I feel like most people weren’t watching towards the end since it was so long.”

Cedric finally caught up and spoke, “Nonsense, (Y/N). You did so well today, especially when you swooped in near the goal when Warrington had the Quaffle; you just stole it and dropped it in. He didn’t even realize.” A smile graced his face.

He noticed details..

“(Y/N)? You okay?”

“..Thanks! Yeah..um, sorry that was a really long game so I’m just tired.”

The twins and Cedric went back to their common room as Ravenclaw celebrated in a more calm way than Hufflepuff did.

A few students sat around the fireplace, but most of the players went to bed early.

“Did you see Malfoy’s face? He looked like he was about to kill someone with that grimace.” Inglebee chattered.

Kimball and (Y/N) went back to the dorms after signaling to their friends that they’re going because they couldn’t keep their eyes open.

(Y/N) thought back to how the sky looked when the sun kissed the mountains in the distance and fell asleep thinking about the fond memory of today and of when she learned from a certain someone about what that sunset is called. Abendrot.

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#cedric x y/n #cedric diggory #cedric x reader #cedric imagine #cedric diggory fluff #harry potter #harry potter masterlist #masterlist #cedric masterlist #fred weasley #george weasley #fred and george #x y/n #hp imagine #fanfic #harry potter series #harry potter fanfic #hufflepuff #ravenclaw #slytherin #weasley twins #quidditch #abendrot series #abendrot

[zackcollins]

i can’t sleep without you || penny oleksiak

Author’s Note: Look... She’s the Canadian record holder for most medals at the Summer Olympics. My brain decided that warranted a little piece of writing. I hope I did it and her justice because she truly is an icon. Both for the sport of swimming and for the Oleksiak family. GIF credit to maljic!

Warnings: I don’t think there’s anything! Feel free to let me know if anything should be warned about though. I’ll gladly add a warning for you.

Word Count: 1.5k+

Title: Sleep Without You by Brett Young

Additional: The reader should be gender-neutral. They’re implied to be a swimmer, so I did the best I could. Anyways! I hope everyone enjoys this! Feedback is always welcomed!!

You were humming along to the music filtering through your headphones. On the tray in front of you, you were tapping a pencil against your crossword book. You only had a few words filled in and it was driving you bonkers not being able to figure out some of them. Shifting your attention from the music to the crossword puzzle, you scanned the clues again to see if there were any easy ones that you missed.

 5 Down: Layman’s oesophagus

 Bopping your head along to the music, you smiled as you wrote ‘throat’ in the appropriate squares. You were grateful that you had found at least one easy clue. Filling out a few more answers that you had somehow missed, you tapped his pencil against the book a second time when you reached a stalemate at one of the remaining clues.

 13 Across: Town at Eighth Mile of Boston Marathon

 You paused your music, slid your headphones around your neck, turning to your best friend, Penny, beside you. You put the crossword book on the tray in front of her, pointing at the clue.

 “You’re a trove of useless knowledge,” You said, “do you know the answer to that?”

Instead of answering, Penny grabbed the pencil and wrote Natick across the correct squares. Smiling, you slid the crossword book back in front of yourself. Penny handed you the pencil, turning back to the movie she was watching on the seat display; it looked like Finding Nemo or Finding Dory if you were to guess.

 “Thanks, Penny,” you said, punching her playfully in the shoulder.

 Humming, Penny smiled without looking away from her movie. “You’re welcome, babe.”

 Leaning over, Penny checked her shoulder against yours. Your mouth went dry, face heating up both from the contact and the fact that Penny had called you what she had called you. Despite yourself, your traitorous body felt gooey and fuzzy. You quickly slid your headphones on, restarting the music. The last thing you needed was Penny to figure out how you felt.

 For the rest of the flight to Calgary, you tried to focus on your crossword puzzle and the music you were listening to. You tried not to focus on the lingering gooey and fuzzy feelings the shoulder check and pet name from Penny had caused. Keyword: tried. Even with your music blasted as loud as was safe, you could still hear Penny laughing along to the movie. Every time Penny laughed, the gooey and fuzzy feelings bubbled back up deep within your gut.

 When the plane finally landed about an hour later and everyone was disembarking, you kept to yourself. You knew your face was burning as bright as the morning sun after everything that had happened. The last thing you needed was someone to question you about it.

 Thankfully, the bus ride to the hotel was without incident. You were also able to finish your crossword. Seeing as Penny was the last person you wanted to interact with right now, you went to Maggie for help. Maggie was concerned as to why you weren't asking Penny because she knew the two of you did everything together but she ultimately helped you when you said that Penny just wanted to rest after the long flight. Though, you were fairly certain you saw Maggie give you a sideways glance once or twice as she was giving you the answers to some of the clues. You couldn't be sure if it was because she didn't believe your story about Penny, or because she thought you were an idiot for not knowing the answers. Either way, you kept quiet and thanked her when the crossword was finished.

 When everyone was assigned their rooms, you and Penny were paired together to the surprise of absolutely no one. Penny was talking to you about ways to refine your butterfly stroke when you put the keycard in the door. Walking into the room, you both froze as you dropped your suitcases beside each other.

 Looking at each other after a moment, Penny cursed while you ran your hand down your face and around to the back of your neck, sighing.

 “One bed,” you said, swallowing thickly. “There must’ve been a mix-up with the room assignments.”

 Penny sighed, turning to you. “I’m alright with it as long as you are.”

 You noticed something strange beyond the surface of Penny’s eyes; it looked like hope.

 Feeling yourself short circuit, you nodded quickly. “Yeah, it’s fine.” Your words felt heavy, nervous. If Penny noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it.

 Motioning to the bathroom, Penny began unzipping her suitcase. “I’m gonna take a quick shower. It helps me sleep.”

 Feeling your mouth go dry for the second time that night, you nodded. You had seen Penny after a shower plenty of times; this time though, this time felt personal. Intimate. You would be sharing a bed, something that you had dreamt about for a while.

 As Penny went to shower, you changed into your pyjamas. Swallowing thickly, you wanted to kick himself for packing nothing more than a pair of loose boxers and a skin-tight undershirt to wear to bed. Normally, that would be sufficient; you always had your bed. Today though, some power that existed made it happenstance that you would share a bed with the woman you had a lunar-sized crush on. In other words, loose boxers and a skin-tight undershirt felt insufficient.

 When the bathroom door opened and Penny emerged wearing only sleep shorts and a sports bra, you felt less psychotic for wearing what you were wearing. Shimmying over toward the window, you allowed room for Penny on the side of the nightstand. Penny hummed in appreciation, slipping under the covers. Flicking on the lamp, she rolled over to face you.

 “I hope you don’t mind that the lamp is on,” she said, motioning behind her. “Leaving a light on helps me sleep more soundly.”

 You could see a blush rising on Penny’s face. Smiling softly, you slid under the cover and fluffed your pillow to get comfortable.

 “No,” you said, “I don’t mind.”

 You felt your heartstrings tug in different directions when Penny lit up with a genuine smile.

 “Night, babe,” Penny yawned, closing her eyes. A few moments later, Penny’s breathing evened out.

 “Night, Penny,” you mumbled, rolling over. You closed your eyes, drifting off to sleep after a few minutes. Your mind was transfixed on the fact that Penny had called you a pet name again.

 In the morning, you felt warm. Too warm. Your first thought was that you had a fever. You grumbled and shifted around, trying to get comfortable in your newfound heat. That caused another grumble that you decidedly did not utter.

 “Stay still, babe,” Penny mumbled, “cuddling you is no fun if you move.”

 You sprung up as if you were on fire, looking down at Penny. Penny grumbled leaning on her elbow to look at you.

 “Everything okay?” she asked, sounding concerned.

 You swallowed, nodding haphazardly. “I’m sorry for invading your space like that.”

 Penny ran a hand along your bicep. You shivered, leaning into the touch.

 “You didn’t invade anything. I would’ve stopped you if I didn’t like it,” Penny paused.

 “You mean...” the cogs started to turn in your head.

 Nodding, Penny smiled. “Yes. I have feelings for you. Have had feelings for you for a long time.”

 Sitting up properly, Penny cupped your face. On instinct, you brought your hands to Penny's ribcage. Shivering at the contact, Penny leaned in and ghosted her lips over yours. You felt your lips tremble at the feather-light sensation. You leaned in to chase the feeling, lips making contact with Penny's.

 You kissed each other for a moment, pulling back when you nibbled on Penny's lower lip. Penny looked blissed and content when you looked into her eyes. She caught you staring and smirked.

 Ducking your head, you placed it on Penny’s shoulder. Grabbing your chin, Penny pulled your head up. Looking into Penny's eyes, you could see nothing but tenderness and care staring back at you.

 “You have pretty eyes,” you blurted.

 Penny's face turned a soft shade of pink as she leaned in, kissing you. The kiss was soft, sweet, and the most meaningful kiss you had ever experienced. Unlike the kisses you had had with people in the past, this kiss with Penny felt like it mattered in the grand scheme of things. It felt right.

 Laying down to cuddle some more before practice, you heard one of the phones vibrate on the nightstand. It was Penny's phone that had vibrated but when you went to give it to her, she had already fallen back asleep. You looked at the phone screen and saw that the notification was a text from her brother, Jamie. You knew what Penny's password was because she had trusted you with it ages ago. Sighing, you entered the 6 digits and opened up the text thread to see what Jamie had wanted this early in the morning.

After reading the message, you placed Penny's phone on the nightstand. You kissed her on the forehead before curling around her and drifting off to sleep. The only thing on your mind was that you were grateful that Penny had a brother like Jamie.

 To: Coin

From: Giraffe

You're welcome for getting you two a room with one bed. All it cost me was a signed jersey. Now, it better have worked or else I'm flying up to Calgary myself to get you two fools together. Do you understand?

#penny oleksiak #penny oleksiak imagine #penny oleksiak x reader #swimming #olympic swimming #tokyo olympics #swimming imagine #olympics imagine #tokyon olympics imagine #swimming fic #not hockey #robin writes #writing #self insert #imagine #penny oleksiak fic #penny oleksiak/reader #team canada #fic #fanfic #fanfiction #summer olympics #gender neutral reader #swimming self insert

[toraodwaterlaw]

Taken Apart

Law has made his way from Minion to Swallow, where he has a fateful meeting with Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi. Now he has these three to deal with on top of trying to remove the deadly lead that riddles his body.

This is Pt 2 of a two part AU story where Cora survives Minion. Pt 1 can be found here. 6.4k, more of Law dissecting himself, so a warning for that. Otherwise, a happy ending after all that angst.

-

Law awoke much the way he had in the past few weeks— in pain and with a desire to keep his eyes closed and let it end at last. Just as he had all those times before, he dragged his eyes open regardless.

His brain felt fuzzy and his eyesight was fuzzier still. His cheek was pressed to cold earth, which played a sharp contrast to his burning skin. The familiar flicker of a fire painted his surroundings in shades of orange while the even more familiar scent of smoke filled the air. Was he still on the road with Cora? Was everything else just a horrible nightmare? But no, now that he was more awake, he could hear quiet voices. Voices that he didn’t recognize until suddenly he did.

A bear. Blood. Snow. Two gangly, cocky teenagers with bats in hand.

Law tried to scramble to his feet but he couldn’t find the strength. Instead he managed to slump against a rocky cave wall and mustered up his best glare for the pair of boys at the mouth of the cave.

“You’re awake!” the redhead said.

“We, uh, we were a little worried you might be dead,” penguin hat added.

They both took a step toward him. A growl from over Law’s shoulder stopped them dead in their tracks. The bear… Mink… Bepo was huddled at the back of the cave, teeth bared. He managed to look equal parts like he wanted to fight and flee. Despite his apparent fear, he’d edged enough forward that he was looming over Law.

It made something rare shift in Law’s chest. He didn’t understand. Bepo was bloodied and beaten, they barely knew each other, and yet the Mink was trying to protect him.

Law shook his head. He didn’t need protecting. He reached for his knife but it wasn’t there.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” redhead asked, knife held up hilt forward. Law made to grab it only to be outmaneuvered. “Not so fast. I’d rather be sure you aren’t going to stab us with this first.”

“I don’t need that to put you both down,” Law snarled.

“We know.” Penguin hat stepped forward and put his hand on redhead’s shoulder. “That’s why we want you to train us.”

Law blinked and shook his head, certain that he was hallucinating. “You— what? I don’t even… why would I…?”

He rubbed at his temples. He could feel a headache forming. None of this made any sense and he wasn’t in a mood to figure it out. The two loud boys weren’t deterred by his reaction.

“Look, I get it. You don’t even know us and we don’t know you. Well, I’m Shachi and this is Penguin.”

“Your name is…” Law dragged his hands over his face. “You have your name on your hat?”

He didn’t know why that stood out to him as the most absurd point of all of this. Apparently they didn’t think that was absurd either.

“What else would I have written on my hat?” Penguin asked.

Law opened his mouth and then snapped it shut again. It wasn’t worth it. He turned back to Bepo instead. “They didn’t hurt you more, did they?”

Bepo looked to the others before he shook his head. “No. I’m okay.”

Law very much doubted that. The bear looked fine the way Law was ‘fine’ whenever Cora asked how he was doing. “I can help but…” He wondered how far his medical expertise would help him in this particular case. “You’re a Mink, right?”

Bepo small, black eyes widened. “How did you know? Everyone else thinks I’m just a monster.”

Law scowled. He thought of a city turned into a graveyard and of hospitals on fire. “I’ve seen monsters. I know monsters. You’re not a monster.” He grabbed his pack, glad that at least hadn’t been taken from him. There were some basic medical supplies in it but nothing for the wounds Bepo had sustained. “My— someone told me stories about Minks but I don’t know much about their physiology. I can only treat your superficial wounds.”

Bepo squirmed in place. “You don’t have to.”

Law ignored him and turned to the others. It was almost comical how much they perked up under his gaze. “You.”

Shachi pointed at himself. “Me?”

“Both of you,” Law replied. “You look like you know how to take care of yourselves. If you really want me to train you or whatever, you need to get some stuff for me first.”

“Whatever you want,” Penguin agreed quickly.

“Good to hear,” Law said. He held up his fingers and ticked off the list of things he needed. “I need a pot and water. Or snow. Whatever is easiest. Also bandages or a clean sheet. Clothing. Really any fabric you can get your hands on that I can make into bandages.”

“Anything else?” Shachi asked.

Law tapped his chin. He considered natural pain relievers. Many were dangerous in the wrong quantities and he didn’t have anything to measure. He also wasn’t sure he trusted these two meatheads to grab the right stuff. It wasn’t worth the risk.

“Food,” he said after consideration. “Whatever you can get. But no bread.”

Shachi and Penguin grabbed their bats. After a moment’s thought, Shachi grabbed Law’s knife as well. “Mind if I take this? For hunting. We’ll give it back.”

Law would have rather kept it but the possibility of meat was pretty compelling. He felt unusually hungry. He couldn’t think of when he’d last been actively hungry instead of simply willing to eat to placate Cora.

“Go ahead,” he said. “I can fight just fine without it, remember.”

Shachi smiled broadly. He was too easily impressed. Idiot.

“Alright,” the redhead said, “we’ll be back before you know it.”

“Yeah, we’ll only be gone a second,” Penguin said. “So no running off.”

Law glowered and waved them off. As soon as they were gone, he sank back onto the ground. He wanted to operate and try to get at least some of the lead out, but he couldn’t imagine finding the energy to form another Room. With any luck, food would help with that. He wished he’d ever bothered to ask Cora how using his fruit affected him.

“Why are you doing so much to help me?” Bepo asked.

Law rolled his head to look at him. “I dunno. It was just a whim, I guess. Maybe I just wanted to put those idiots in their place. Don’t think too much about it.”

Bepo stared down at his paws. He looked at Law, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Can I do anything to repay you?”

Law groaned. He didn’t want repayment. He didn’t want idiots following him around, begging to be trained. He didn’t want any of this. He just wanted Cora back and he wanted sleep. Which…

“On top of my pack, there’s a bedroll. I’d get it myself but…” He gestured broadly. “So if you could spread that out for me, you can consider us repaid.”

“Right!” Bepo near shouted, suddenly energetic.

He undid the clasps that held the bedding in place and very carefully unrolled it by Law. Law got up on shaking legs. He barely needed to take half a step but it felt quite suddenly like a mile. When Bepo offered a helping paw, he was too tired to protest. He took it and lowered himself down with as much dignity as he was able, given the way he was trembling.

“Are you okay?” Bepo asked.

“I’m fine,” Law snapped. When the bear winced, he sighed. “It’s… don’t worry about it. I’m sick but it’s not contagious and I’m working on treating it.”

“Okay.”

Bepo didn’t sound so sure but Law would take mild disbelief over the shrieking he usually received. Come to think of it, Penguin and Shachi hadn’t seemed to notice the white spots either. Maybe he was just more lead than healthy skin at this point. It had been a while since he’d looked in a mirror. Fine by him if they assumed he was just that pale. Saved him some trouble when he had more important things to worry about.

For one, why was it so cold? There was a good fire going but he couldn’t stop shivering. He tugged the blanket around him and edged a bit closer to the flames. He knew from experience with Cora just how close to a fire was too close. He would still be safe at this distance, even if he decided to close his eyes for a moment.

He woke up without any memory of having fallen asleep in the first place. He must have, though, because Penguin and Shachi were back and the smell of cooking fish had filled the cave. The world was blurry again when he opened his eyes and he felt even worse than he had before. No matter what, he needed to start removing lead. If only he could so much as lift his head.

“You’re awake!” Penguin said.

“We saved you some,” Shachi added, holding out a skewered grilled fish for Law to see. “And there’s some other stuff, too. No bread.”

Logically, Law knew he needed the energy. Protein would be good for him if he was going to get anything done but the world was spinning again and he couldn’t get it to stop long enough to sit upright. To make matters worse, when he put the back of a hand to his forehead he found that he was running a temperature. That might explain the headache. Either way, those two idiots were being too loud.

A gentle hand at his back helped him sit up. Bepo. Law might have even thanked him if it didn’t hurt to so much as breathe at the moment. Instead he gave him a nod and took the fish from Shachi without a word. When Penguin offered him a canteen, he took that as well. His stomach threatened to revolt over both, so he squeezed his eyes shut until he was certain he would keep it all down.

“We got bandages,” Shachi said with obvious pride.

Penguin’s smile shone from beneath the shadow of his ridiculous hat. “And a pot of water, like you asked. Well, snow, but we melted it by the fire while you slept.”

They had indeed gotten bandages. Good ones, along with some other medical supplies Law hadn’t asked for, like a bottle of pain relievers. He didn’t know how they’d managed in the middle of the night but he wasn’t about to push the matter. He swallowed a few pills dry before portioning some out for Bepo.

“Take these and I’ll work on patching you up,” he instructed.

Bepo did as told. He sat entirely still despite the fact that his injuries must have stung as they were cleaned. Really, he was a much better patient than Cora was. The bumbling blond spent far too much time protesting that he was fine any time he was clearly not and he tended to fidget. It would have been ideal conditions, if not for the fact that every pair of eyes in the cave was watching him work.

“What are you looking at?” Law growled.

“Sorry,” Bepo murmured.

“We’re learning,” Penguin said.

“We said we wanted you to train us,” Shachi added.

Law paused to consider them. “I thought you wanted me to teach you how to fight?”

“We’ll learn anything you’re willing to teach,” Penguin replied.

Shachi nodded. “We’ve gotta make it on our own, so anything that helps with that, we’re down.”

Law opened his mouth to argue and then thought better of it. If they really wanted to learn first aid skills, good for them. He didn’t really care what they decided to spend their time on. He wasn’t about to waste his own time actually training them. Once Cora came for him, they’d be nothing more than a confusing memory.

He sat back and considered his work. He’d done what he could for Bepo. As it turned out, things had looked worse than they were. Blood was an alarming sight against the white of fur. Once it was cleared away, most of the injuries came down to cuts and bruises that would heal well enough on their own. That was a weight off Law’s already burdened shoulders. He might not care what became of Shachi and Penguin, but he’d have felt bad if he’d done a poor job tending to a patient.

He eyed the three of them and came to a decision. “If you want to really learn something, give me my knife back.”

Shachi took the knife from his belt but hesitated to hand it over. “Shouldn’t we have weapons, too?”

Law snatched the knife away before the redhead could react. “It’s not for fighting. I need to operate.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Penguin said, throwing up his hands. “Are you sure you should use that? It seems like a good knife but not for something like an operation.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Law replied as he pondered where to start. “I don’t even really need the knife, I think, but it helps me focus. I could probably just use my bare hands if I wanted.”

The two older boys looked aghast. It was enough to shut them up for the time being, which was all Law wanted. He decided his earlier instincts had been correct and that he would be best off starting with his feet. He most needed to remove the lead from his lungs and heart but he wasn’t about to start practicing somewhere so potentially lethal. Once he had a better grasp on his abilities, he would move onto the more vital regions of his body.

He started by removing his socks and boots, placing them aside, and then rolling his pant legs up to the knees. It was likely all unnecessary but it made him feel more like he was doing things the right way when he actually did something to prepare for surgery. Expanding the bubble of his Room also made him feel like he could really do this. Of course he needed its powers in order to operate but he also felt a sort of ease inside its confines. Everything around him was under his complete control. He could sense it all, from the small droplets of nervous sweat on the back of his neck to the unseen deposits of lead in his flesh.

With fresh confidence, he made the first slice and cut off his left foot at the ankle. His concentration was immediately shattered by a wave of shouting and flailing. Law sighed.

“Oh relax.”

Penguin and Shachi were both standing just at the edge of the Room’s border, as though afraid to let it touch them. He couldn’t see Bepo but he could hear a high pitched whine from behind him.

Shachi pointed accusingly at the disembodied leg. “Relax? You cut off your foot!”

Penguin emphatically nodded his head. “You’re gonna bleed to death and I don’t know what to do with a dead body. Wait… why aren’t you bleeding? There should be blood, right?”

Law rolled his eyes. He picked up his leg with his free hand and reattached it to the clean cut stump. “See? Fine.” He wiggled his toes once to prove his point before cutting it off once more. “I have a Devil Fruit.”

“Oooooh,” Shachi said. “I get it now. How’d you get it? That makes sense, though. That’s how you were able to kick our asses so easily.”

Law rolled his eyes. “No, that’s because you two are pushovers. Now shut up. I need to concentrate.”

Immediate silence followed and Law quickly forgot they were there at all. Now that he’d had a bit of food and rest, he didn’t feel as dizzy. It would be easier to enjoy what his new powers offered him. He felt so aware of everything that he likely didn’t even need to cut himself up… but where was the fun in that? He further dissected his leg so that he could better see the muscles and veins within. There was the soleus and the gastrocnemius, the posterior tibial vein and perforating veins. He could have examined it all for the rest of the day if not for the rapid depletion of his stamina.

Later. Someday after he was healed, he would experiment with it all to his heart’s content. Funny to think that finally felt like a possibility while he was sitting in a damp cave with his limbs chopped to bits before him.

First things first, he needed to cure the Amber Lead before it made the future an impossibility. It would be easier said than done. While he could sense it, the lead particles were too small for him to clearly see. He put the rest of his leg together so that he could focus just on his foot. His ability to manipulate things at will did little for him if he didn’t have the fine control to remove what he wanted from his body. He wished once more that he had time to obtain a specimen to practice on instead. Maybe the remaining fish? Or they might be able to catch something. The problem was, he was already so close to the edge. As had been the case for his entire life, time was his enemy. He needed to use what energy he had to start curing this thing.

He sucked in a breath to brace himself and closed his eyes. Despite all the trouble he’d gone through to see what he was doing, he could only focus well enough if he shut out everything else. He envisioned every bit of lead in the foot, ignoring the rest that lay in deadly wait in the rest of his body. Then, as he’d made the stick dance about earlier and as he’d tossed Penguin and Shachi aside, he moved it. Just one easy flick of his fingers and the lead in that foot was now on the ground.

It might have been easy to do, but it wasn’t so easy to endure. A sudden chill washed over him. He felt winded, as though he’d taken a sharp blow to the gut. He opened his eyes again and reassembled and reattached the foot before he lost his ability to keep up the Room. The sphere of blue stuttered, shrank, and then vanished. Law fell back onto the heels of his hands. He let his gaze slip to the side. Where he thought he’d put the lead, there was a small puddle of blood. That was probably bad. He’d need to work on his control.

“That was intense,” Shachi gasped.

“Are you okay?” Bepo asked as he extended a reassuring paw.

Was he? That had taken far more out of him than he’d expected. He was lightheaded and his arms shook as they held him up. “I’m fine.”

He couldn’t recall dropping his knife but he must have. He picked it up again. He raised it over his other leg and summoned the Room again. Before he could cut down, a gloved hand found his wrist and stopped him. He mustered his best glare— the one that would always send Baby 5 running— but Penguin didn’t shrink back.

“Look, I know we don’t really know each other or anything, but I’d really rather not watch you kill yourself, kid. Maybe you don’t need to be in such a hurry to make your blood exit your body?”

Penguin’s hand was trembling. Despite the front he was putting up, he’d seen what Law could do and he was scared. Good. Law jerked his arm free.

“You see all the white splotches on my skin?” he demanded. “You know what that is?”

Penguin only shrugged. When Law turned his glower on Shachi, the redhead shook his head as well. For a moment, Law was too taken aback to say more. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d met someone who didn’t know, let alone didn’t shrink back in terror when they saw.

He looked back at Bepo. The Mink simply stared back blankly.

“Really? None of you?” Law could hardly believe it but there wasn’t so much as a flicker of recognition in any of the faces pointed at him. “It’s…”  He almost didn’t want to tell them. He never thought he’d enjoy the freedom of being surrounded by people who didn’t know. “A poison. Lead. I was born with it in my blood and it meant I was never going to live to adulthood. I still might not if I can’t remove it. Soon.”

Penguin and Shachi looked at each other.

“Soon…” Penguin said.

“But not immediately,” Shachi finished.

Law sighed. The crackling dome of blue that surrounded them was banished. He had to admit it was a relief to stop. He was nearly spent. He was certain he could push on but less sure he would be able to work effectively with these three set against him.

He crossed his arms, unwilling to cede ground just yet. “Well, what do you suggest then?”

“You should sleep,” Bepo said. “If, uh, you need to.”

Shachi nodded emphatically. “And I can keep guard.”

“And if you’re in such a hurry, I’ll make sure you don’t sleep too long,” Penguin offered.

They sounded so earnest. Law didn’t get it. They’d only just met him. He could handle himself. And if he couldn’t, people died all the time. Maybe that wasn’t the way things should be but that’s the way they were. Flevance had gone before him. It would be so easy to follow. But… Cora wanted him to survive. He was so sure Law could live and be free and be something more than what fate had handed him.

“Fine,” Law grumbled. “If you’re all so set on it, I’ll rest for a bit. But only for a bit. There’s someone important to me who went through a lot of trouble to get me this chance and I’m not going to let him down.”

The three other boys bobbed their heads happily. So damned earnest. Law only just resisted rolling his eyes. He might not have resisted at all but as soon as he’d agreed to their terms, Bepo’s eyes had really lit up. No matter what they might think of him by now, Law wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t going to crush the young bear’s hopes.

“Actually, speaking of that someone,” Law added, “keep an eye out for a giant blond idiot lumbering around out there in the snow. He’ll be impossible to miss. He has a stupid black coat and can’t take two steps without falling on his ass.”

That raised a few eyebrows but they agreed. With that settled, Law kicked some dirt over the blood he’d spilt. It wouldn’t do for Cora to come back to him and see that. He also moved his bedroll to the other side of the fire. From then on, he’d be sure to try to cure himself in one place and sleep in another. An irrational part of him worried that the lead would leech right back into him if he got too close to it.

It didn’t seem like the others needed warning twice to do the same. With all that settled, he laid down and closed his eyes. Despite his exhaustion, he hadn’t expected to sleep. He must have gone deep under, though, because the next thing he was aware of was being shook roughly.

“Hey! You’re not dead, are you?”

Law groaned and rolled over. “You keep saying that.”

“It keeps being true,” Penguin countered.

Law stretched out his limbs. When he sat up, he took a look at the foot he’d operated on. The skin was still extremely pale, with only small patches of tanned skin. It wasn’t white, though. Maybe that was hope. Maybe he really had gotten it all out and could someday start fresh. Maybe. But Law wasn’t one to hang his hat on possibilities. He was going to do what he could right now to remove every speck of lead, if he had to carve it all out.

He was feeling a bit stiff so he walked a short circuit around the cave to keep his muscles from getting too tight. That started a routine. He would move around, maybe take a step out to breathe the crisp, cold air, and then sit to operate. Each time he tried, he was able to get slightly better control. It meant he lost less blood in the process but it sapped away more stamina. Between that and the ravages of the Amber Lead, he barely had the energy to protest when the others would insist he stop to take another break.

He was able to get through three rounds of this— rest, stretch, operate, and repeat— before he passed out cold. He’d expected to awaken the way he had whenever he’d dozed off, with a shake from one of the others, but it was the bright light of day that woke him instead. He groggily rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When he looked around the cave blearily, he saw that the fire was down to flickering coals. Despite that, he was surprisingly warm and he realized it was because Bepo had snuggled close sometime in the night. Penguin and Shachi were also snoring next to each other near the mouth of the cave.

Law wiggled his toes and flexed his legs. He might not have gotten as far as he’d meant to, but he’d managed to remove the lead from both of his feet and calves. They felt a bit odd. Without closer examination, he could only speculate. Likely the feeling was a mix of his powers, which seemed to bestow a bit of numbing, and of whatever damage he’d done in his rough job excising the poison from his veins.

“Oh, you’re awake,” Penguin said. Law couldn’t tell if the other boy had already been awake himself, since the bill of his hat hid his eyes. “Sorry. Would have gotten you up but you seemed pretty out of it. I was a little worried one of these times you really would be dead.”

Law clicked his tongue. “It’ll take a lot more than any of this to kill me.”

Penguin let out a soft laugh. “I’m really starting to believe that.”

Their conversation awoke Bepo, who snuffled lightly in his sleep and then yawned wide enough to show off every one of his sharp teeth. His ears twitched and his nose wiggled as full wakefulness returned to him. His ears flattened back when he saw Law looking at him.

“Sorry. You looked cold.”

“No, it’s…” Law frowned. He had no doubt he’d slept so long because Bepo was there. He’d felt as safe and warm as he did bundled in Cora’s coat. That was a hard feeling for him to capture. “Thanks. You did warm me up.”

Bepo blinked as though he was as surprised by Law’s open gratitude as Law himself was. After a moment’s puzzlement, he smiled brightly.

Shachi was the last to wake up. He stretched broadly enough to knock Penguin in the side of the head. “You were supposed to get more wood for the fire.”

Penguin bumped him back with his shoulder. “You could have done it.”

“I was keeping guard.”

“Yeah, great job with that.”

Their bickering and the small scuffle that followed almost made Law miss Buffalo and Baby 5. They hadn’t been friends, exactly, but the closest Law could claim in the last few years. Then there was Cora, who wasn’t a friend but something else. Something good. Something he could maybe put a name to, like family, if he was given the time. If Cora came back.

Law had been so focused on figuring out his new abilities and curing the Amber Lead that he’d forgotten his fear for a time. It all came back at once and hit him hard. His chest tightened. His heart squeezed. He couldn’t just wait any longer.

“I’m going out,” he announced.

“Wait.” Shachi had his eyes glued outside while he fumbled at his side for his bat. “There’s someone out there. On the ridge. Someone is coming.”

Penguin looked out as well and then yelped. “Holy shit.”

He scrambled to grab his own bat. They stood, bats raised, in the mouth of the cave. It was hardly an imposing sight but the fact that they were shaking really undercut any strong face they might have put up. A hundred possibilities flew through Law’s mind, none of them good. If it was any member of the Family, they were dead. 

“What do you see?” he asked.

Maybe they were dead but if he could get a good idea of what they were up against, he could at least put up a fight.

“It’s Doflamingo,” Shachi hissed.

Law’s stomach plummeted. Even if he wasn’t at death’s door, he wasn’t ready to fight Doflamingo. And what did that mean for Cora? Had he escaped so Doflamingo was forced to hunt for him? Or was he…?

Law couldn’t even think it. He shoved himself up onto his feet, collapsed, and got back up. Screwed or not, if Doflamingo had done anything to Cora, Law was at least going to get one good hit in. If there was an afterlife and they were lucky enough to meet up there, Law would have to apologize to Cora for dying so quickly when he’d promised he would survive.

His legs were still slightly numb from the surgery he’d performed last night. He did his best to ignore it as he stomped out of the cave, knife in hand. Shachi and Penguin scrambled after. They looked like they sort of wanted to puke but they were ready to fight. Maybe Law had underestimated them.

Up on top of the ridge ahead a massive, feathered figure was silhouetted against the morning sun. Fear and anger warred inside of Law. He was smart enough to know he was no match but he would fight until his last breath to avenge Cora. He used both emotions as fuel to summon up a Room. Then his eyes adjusted to the light so that he was finally able to see the figure clearly.

“Law!”

It was Cora-san. Law couldn’t even bring himself to respond. All the fight went out of him and with it, his energy. The Room vanished as he collapsed to his knees. Cora ran, then slid, then tumbled down the snow covered hill. Law let out a breathless puff of laughter despite the hot tears that welled up in his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. He’d hoped but hope had felt like an impossible, foolish thing for so long. To have it really happen, he could barely believe it.

Shachi and Penguin, bats held aloft, formed a barricade that stopped Cora from reaching him.

“Don’t move another step,” Shachi warned.

Penguin tightened his grip and nodded. “You might kick our asses but not before we take out your knees.”

Cora seemed to have only just noticed the other two boys. He looked at them, looked at the blood that still stained their bats, and then looked back down at Law. “I saw the blood in the snow back there. Did you hurt him?”

Cora’s voice was a low and threatening rumble. Law knew from experience that he at least wasn’t above throwing children. He probably wouldn’t hurt them but Law knew that he should probably interfere. He had to admit, though, that he was kind of interested in being on the other side of that for once.

“We didn’t do anything to him,” Shachi said quickly.

“I mean, we tried to,” Penguin added. “But he kinda kicked our asses.”

“Tch, you don’t have to tell him that.”

“What? I don’t wanna die for something we didn’t do.”

They’d completely taken their eyes off of Cora now and were busy bickering with each other. Law was almost embarrassed for them. Cora, for his part, just looked confused. Law decided it was finally time to intervene. He quickly dashed away the tears still pooled in his eyes and got to his feet once more.

“Look at his clothes, you idiots. That’s not Doflamingo.”

His feathered coat was not the vivid pink that Doflamingo notoriously wore but charcoal black. If that wasn’t evidence enough, sometime in the night Cora had traded in his bloodied outfit from the day before for a marine uniform. He’d also wiped his face completely clean, which admittedly did make him look more like Doflamingo rather than less, but that was the most shocking detail for Law. Even on the road, Cora had kept it up, perhaps with some vague intention of staying undercover.

“What kind of Marine wears a coat like that?” Penguin asked.

Shachi’s head perked. “Oh wait… blond. Tall. Black coat. This is the guy you said you were waiting for. He even fell on his ass like you said he would.”

Cora ignored the part where Law had apparently been insulting him and lit up at the rest. “You were talking about me?”

Law groaned. “Of course I was, you idiot. I was worried about you. Last time I saw you, you were full of bullets and off to fight Doflamingo.”

Cora blew past Shachi and Penguin, who at this point were too shocked to do anything about him anyway, and swept Law up into his arms. He hugged Law hard enough that it actually hurt, but Law didn’t care one bit.

Big, stupid tears were already streaming out of Cora’s eyes. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Law sputtered out a wet laugh. He was crying again despite himself. That idiot. That monumental idiot. He was actually back. “Me? You’re the one who went to fight the Family alongside a bunch of stupid marines when you were already half dead.”

“Well, as it turned out, after they had their fill of the Barrells pirates and that cage came down, they ended up getting chased off by Tsuru. I think she’s still hounding Doffy as we speak. So I think I spent more time convincing them I was a marine than fighting. And I got patched up by some field medics. That’s part of what held me up in coming after you.”

Law frowned. He knew who Tsuru was but only because she’d so often chased the Family off one island or another. It was still weird to think Cora was working alongside someone like that. Weirder still to think he was probably the reason old Tsuru had always been on their tails. It was one thing to realize Donquixote Rosinante was a marine and quite another to have all the implications of that laid out for him. He would ponder all that later. There was only one part that concerned him at the moment.

“Marine medics? That’s who looked you over?”

“What? What’s wrong with that? I’m a marine, you know.”

“Let me look you over. I could do a better job.”

“I have no doubt you could but you were barely keeping conscious last time I saw you. I don’t want you pushing yourself, kid.”

“Yeah, well, I spent most of the night working on removing lead, so I’m fine.”

Cora held Law out at arms length, leaving Law dangling nine feet in the air while he faced down a radiant smile. “You did it? You figured out how to cure yourself? I knew you could!”

“I only started. I might have gotten it all out if it weren’t for these guys.”

Law jerked a thumb at Shachi and Penguin who shrank under the returned weight of Cora’s attention. 

“He was going to bleed to death,” Penguin argued.

“We were trying to help,” Shachi insisted.

Cora pulled Law back, snug against his chest. He raised an eyebrow that disappeared underneath his shaggy bangs. “Is that true?”

Law scowled. “They’re oversimplifying.”

“It seems pretty simple to me,” Cora countered. “Was the blood inside or outside of your body? You don’t need to be a medical prodigy to know that.”

“Some blood. I had some very minor blood loss when I started to remove the lead. I’m getting better at it each time, though.” He doubted the second part would matter much to Cora but he refused to let it seem like he was some incompetent hack. Cora only hugged him more tightly. It was enough to make his ribs ache but it felt good after thinking he’d never get to see Cora again. Not that he would say that out loud. “If I’m in danger of anything it’s that you’ll crush me to death.”

Cora ruffled the top of his head so that his hat was left askew. “Good to see you’re doing better, brat. Have you eaten anything?”

He posed the question not just at Law but at Penguin and Shachi below. This question more than anything else that had happened left them looking baffled. They looked over their shoulders as if expecting to see someone else there. When they saw no one, not even Bepo, they turned two blank faces up at Cora.

Shachi gestured between them. “Us? Have we eaten?”

“I don’t see anyone else,” Cora said with a soft chuckle.

“There’s also a polar bear Mink. Bepo,” Law supplied.

“Ah, well, he can come along too, if he wants. But yes, you two. I figured if you all spent the night in a cave, you might want something warm to eat. Then,” he said, turning his attention back on Law, “we can discuss just how much blood loss did or did not happen.”

Law resisted the very strong urge to flip him off and settled instead for sticking out his tongue. “Fine, as long as we don’t leave Bepo. He’s still my patient.”

“I’ll go get him,” Penguin offered.

“And I’ll get your stuff,” Shachi said, already on his way back to the cave.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Law squirmed in Cora’s grip so that he could really turn the full power of his scowl on the clumsy marine. “Don’t leave me like that again. We’re supposed to be doing this together.”

Law almost missed the stupid clown makeup. Cora’s big, dopey smiles almost seemed too bright without that dark edge around them. “I’m sure you’d manage without me. You’re a remarkable kid, you know.”

“I don’t care.” He couldn’t imagine what that would have been like, doing this all on his own. He knew he’d survived worse but he didn’t want to go through more. He wanted Cora with him, alive and safe and smiling. “Together.”

“Alright, alright. I won’t argue with you there.” Cora rested his chin on top of Law’s head. “Together.”

#one piece #one piece au #trafalgar law #trafalgar d. water law #one piece corazon #donquixote rosinante #donquixote rocinante #corazon #penguin #shachi #bepo #fic

[storysofmyown]

Seven stages of love Chapter 3: Ludus

Summary: Ever since the Celestial War, since they all fell, Asmodeus has  dedicated himself to his sin. Not caring about anything else, but  drowning himself in the pleasure and ecstasy of it all. But not anymore,  now he cant even handle the idea of it. But, what else is there to want? After so long of having indulged in his sin, what is there than  Asmodeus is looking for, something that will fill him, and that wont  drive him to destruction? Perhaps his brothers can help him with that. Warnings will appear in each chapter.

Trigger Warnings: Self depricatement (?), anger, mentions of exhaustion. Please tell me if I forgot to add one.

Word Count: 3278

Read on ao3

It had been at the very least an hour, and Asmodeus eyes had yet to focus on the damn page in front of him. His eyes were looking at the words. He was reading and he knew what each word meant, but it all felt like his brain refused to understand what was in front of him. He read the same word over and over again but in his mind all he could think about was Leviathans words and what it all meant to him. His heart rate had been calmer than ever before, but that didn’t mean it was good. That only meant that he was in such a state of confusion he had to look up from the book to realize he was in Satan’s room. A faint memory came to mind of him waking up in the middle of the day and making his way here. But…it was all fuzzy. Perhaps the best way to describe it would be to say it felt like his memories were submerged underwater. There was a faint recognition of things, words, and moments, a faint recognition of his own feelings…of the things that had presented themselves, and how distant they felt to him.

But, it all just felt so out of place. He knew his body was somewhere in the House of Lamentation, but his mind was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Almost as if it was traveling through a cosmic place with all the answers he could ever need; to all the questions he could ever ask. But instead of looking at the answers, he was in the middle. Just starring at the everything of the world through the eyes of an spectator, and not through the eyes of someone that had his own live. Perhaps, if he just reached out into the overwhelming darkness of the water that submerged his entire being, he would feel better. But how to reach out to the unknown? What if what laid on the other end was worse than what he knew now? In the end he let out an audible groan and set the book back on the stand, a pout on his lips.

“This is impossible!” He was incredibly tired. His eyes heavy and mind completely gone as he yawned and turned to Satan who was smiling foolishly at his book. That’s right, Satan had stayed in the room as well, but it’s not like either of them had registered each other’s presence. He had tuned out of the world entirely, and he was sure Satan had done the same. Speaking of which, the blond demon had muttered something under his breath, before proceeding to chuckle.

How in the world did he manage to pay attention to something for so long, Asmodeus wondered, before a sigh escaped his lips as he decided he should just give up this meaningless search that had become his life. Maybe it was time he finally accepted that there was no way he would ever understand the yearning that had kept him awake for so many years in the house. The aching to be simply hugged by someone who wanted to hug him. Perhaps that’s how he was meant to be for eternity. Had his father made it so he would end up as the Avatar of Lust as a punishment so that Asmodeus never felt that?

“Please, you don’t believe him, right?”

Satan spoke once again. Making Asmodeus raise an eyebrow at him as he decided it was enough self-deprecating for a day. Leviathan had made him question his existence enough the other day. And so, he proceeded to approach Satan, standing behind the demons couch and looking over his shoulder at the pages of the book.

“What are you reading?” Satan jumped, hitting Asmodeus in the face with his book, making the lustful demon groan a little as his hand flew to his face, tears burning on the corner of his eyes as he glared at Satan.  “What was that for?!” His comment effectively making the wrathful demon glare.

“Why were you reading over my shoulder?!” He snapped, glaring harder at Asmodeus which only made him scoff.

“I just wanted to know what you were reading, you jerk!” Satan stared at his brothers in confusion for a moment.

“…I thought you had gone back to your room already.” Satan’s sighs as he calms down, sitting in his original position.

“Well,” Asmodeus walked around the couch before propping himself on the other end of it. “you can be quite scary when we barrow your books. Hence why I was going to read it here and then go but…”

“But?”

“…I don’t know. I guess I just don’t have the attention span to spend hours reading.” Asmodeus shrugged, sitting on the couch before resting his back against the armrest, letting his head fall back as he stared at the ceiling. Breathing slower with each passing second, eyes drifting closed.

He was exhausted.

His eyes were heavy. He wasn’t hungry at all even if he had yet to eat anything since waking up. He was so incredibly tired, but during the night he couldn’t sleep. Part of him felt like it had been carrying with the same weight as Beel carried for hours on end, simultaneously feeling  like his legs wouldn’t be able to take him anywhere. It didn’t help that his brothers had been acting so strange with all the space…but perhaps it was his fault for worrying them. After all, Belphie and Levi probably already had told the rest of their findings. Satan was the only one that still treated him with some degree of normality. And even so he knew he was trying to act…gentler with him.

“…you wanted to know to what the book was about?”

Heh, another confirmation of his suspicions. Satan’s voice made Asmo sit up, looking at his brother with a raised eyebrow before nodding. He might as well try to act like his whole world had not fallen apart a few nights ago and unlike each passing day was eating him alive to the point where even the simplest task would make him go into a frenetic state. Oh well, might as well try to keep up the act. He looked at Satan before nodding, the demon not letting go unnoticed the lack of usual spark his younger brother had.

“Yes!”

“Well, in that case” Satan sighed, closing the book and looking at the back, examining it for a few seconds before nodding once more. “Very well, the story is about those two strangers.” He starts, looking at Asmodeus. “Two strangers that become the most important thing the other has.”

“Eh?” Asmodeus answered involuntarily. Shifting in his sit as he looked at Satan properly now. It was a…interesting concept.

Two strangers. They meet in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by everyone yet no one at all. The voices are echoed by how confused and lonely they are. But then…then they see each other. Satan said that they didn’t necessarily feel the sentiments that that word imply. That word...the one that kept coming back to him and placing itself against everything Asmodeus knew. That same word was plastered all over the book, in each page, and even in the cover. But even so, Satan stated the book claimed to not be that. He said…it was about some kind of…superficial sentiment. Some kind of crush they had. A brief moment of passion the two shared for one another after just that one moment.

Satan went on to describe their journey. And how as they slowly got to know each other they started to actually fall into a more intense feeling. But, to be fair, Asmodeus had stopped listening the moment Satan had said the first few sentences. Two strangers. Two complete unknown persons, and yet they managed to feel a certain type of affection towards one another. From all the people he had met, to all those he had merely shared a bed with. No names exchanged, no number, no way to see each other again, to those recurring visitors whom he had even their birthmarks memorized…he didn’t feel like that with any of them.

Were there people that could actually experience that type of devotion? Perhaps it was all just made up. Yeah, there was no way that existed. Have a sudden romantic infatuation for one another? Just like that?! No, Asmodeus refused to believe something like that could happen. It didn’t make sense at all!

“…are you even listening?” Satan’s voice finally registered as he sighed, closing the book and setting it down. “You are free to leave if you are that bored-“

“I don’t understand.”

“You weren’t listening to me. Of course you wont understand.”

“What? No, that’s not what I mean!” Asmodeus protested, half glaring at Satan now. Damn it, he was so damn confused. First Leviathan told him there was an entirely different kind section of that word, which was reserved for friendship, and platonic relationships. And now Satan told him that it was possible for two people to fall in adoration with one another although they were complete strangers?! He could have sworn that each time he learned something new it just helped to…to make him despise his sin even more.

Asmodeus took the book from Satan’s hand, the bookmark he had placed neatly between the pages falling, the page being lost as Asmodeus opened the book and scanned the first page, almost immediately devouring the content of the book like Beel would do with a restaurant if not stopped.

“…I was reading that” Satan protested, glaring at Asmodeus as he got to take the bookmark from the floor. The demon turned to place it on a table, before looking at Asmodeus. He had bag under his eyes. Something his brother would have never let be shown in the past, or let it be seen by anyone at the very least. Be it by an extensive amount of makeup or by his hour-long beauty regimen, it was strange for Asmodeus to let show anything that he deemed a “flaw” in his skin. And the way he was reading the book…he was desperate. A desperation Satan had certainly never seen in any of his family members to this day. “…you can give it back once you are done.”

“Mhm, yeah” Asmodeus answered briefly as he got up and walked over to the door, hitting the wall on his way out as his eyes refused to leave the page.

For the next 4 days, Asmodeus did nothing but be enthralled on the pages of the book. To be fair, he had finished it on the second day, but he had been rereading it. Over, and over again. Each time more vigorously than the last, his eyes jumped entire paragraphs he knew gave no useful information to the questions he needed answers to. How could two strangers fall in such a way for one another? How could it be that two complete strangers could experience more feelings on their first meeting than he had on his long life?! From the celestial realm to this very moment, the only feeling he could remember was that of lust and perhaps pity…sadness. No other feeling had ever made its way to him in the nights before, but now, now it was different. He felt something, and he wanted a certain feeling.

To him it was almost a lie. From all his experiences, never had any of the demons or demoness he had been with looked at him with something other than lust. They never sought to make a conversation that went past the names and the “where are we doing this?” In his mind it was impossible that a feeling so deep be felt so easily. Because if it did…then what would that say about him?

On the fifth night, as the dusk hit the Devildom, under what was the bleak light of the stars coming through the window, Asmodeus finished the book for the third time. His eyes focusing on the very last line. Those words. Those three simple words being muttered from one person to another. And no more words. Not an explanation, not a reason, not even a damn hint of why they felt like that on that very night. Asmodeus could feel some tears burning on his eyes as he glared at the book and threw it on the nightstand beside his bed. The stupid book had only left him with the same exact question that had been plaguing his mind from the night of his revelation. He hid under his covers, ignoring the ache of his heart, and went to sleep, only to dream of his inner broken, soul, and the void.

The next day, he went to Satan’s room to give him his book back. Praying to the father that had hurt them for the demon to not be on his room and he wouldn’t need to even mutter a word. But of course, that wasn’t the case.

“Ah, Asmodeus, I’m guessing you finished the book?” Satan’s voice was heard, prompting a sigh from Asmodeus as he fully stepped onto the room. The demon was on the high end of a stepladder, reaching for one of the top shelves.

“…yeah.” He spoke on a defeated tone.

“Did you enjoy it?” Satan asked, looking at one of the books, taking it out of the shelve and dusting it off. Asmodeus thought for a second. Had he enjoyed it? Well, its not like he was all that invested in the story. His focus was more on finding answers than it was on indulging into the story. And so, he couldn’t even recall the name of the characters, or the name of the book. Much less if he had enjoyed its content. But if he had to give an answer… “Asmo-?”

“No” They spoke at the same time. Setting the book down on the table, just as Satan looked down at Asmo, raising an eyebrow. He was about to ask why, but it would seem Asmo beat him to it. “How can two complete strangers feel something like that?!” He spoke, not even having given his brother another look, passing around the restlessly . Asmodeus tone increased slightly as he walked around the couch, hands moving and gesturing to the book. “Isn’t that sentiment supposed to be worked and developed with time as you get to know the person?! Isn’t it supposed to take years for people to finally realize the extent of their true feelings for another person?! It can’t be that simple! It can’t be as simple as walking into some place and making eye contact and just…and feeling it!”

“You don’t have to shout!” Satan spoke louder as well, before sighing as he watched Asmodeus shoulders drop and look away. For a moment Satan stayed silent as he analyzed Asmodeus words, thinking back to what he had read of the book before finally speaking. “…they didn’t fall for each other. At least not at first.” He states, starting to go down the steps of the ladder.

“Eh?!” Well that was a lie, Asmodeus thought. “Yes they did. The book describes it the first time they meet! They-”

“And upon their eyes meeting it was like the music faded. The bodies dancing around became shadows, all surrounded in black like the rest of their lives, only for the still barely noticeable grayish color the other made them see. With each step they took towards the other, the color became more vibrant, bright. They were like fire on a pitch black room for the other, and they smiled. For the first time, it wasn’t a calm or sweet smile. It was a nervous awkward smile, as they barely managed to announce their names. As they barely managed to exist close to the other.”

Satan finished quoting the book, making Asmodeus stare blankly at the demon as he frowned.

“Show off...” he remarked under his breath, just as Satan reached the last step, sighing. Instead of hopping onto the ground and walking over to Asmodeus he sat down, giving Asmo a look that made him step closer.

“The way it was described, the nervousness and awkwardness…I don't think they fell for each other, at least not in that very moment. Sure, they wanted to meet and get to know the other. And they found the other interesting, and upon that conversation is that they became important to one another…but I don’t think it was as intense as you think it was. It felt more…innocent.”

Innocence…that was something Asmodeus used to be familiar with. But he had lost touch with it the moment his body hit the grounds of the Devildom. Once he discovered this new world and all the things his body was capable of…the things his body wanted, he become detached from that part. Never did he imagine he would be missing that side of him. The side that didn’t need to be touched to be validated, and simply spending time laughing and talking would be enough to make him feel important. He wished he could go back to the moments where he wasn’t aware of anything at all. He missed not being himself. How cruel of the universe. To put right in front of him the description of what he had felt during those first encounters…the feeling he no longer experienced. The feeling of being alive as his skin was set ablaze by the wonderful sensations now he would hid from.

“…how cruel.” Asmodeus whispered, as he proceeded to sit beside Satan on the same step, resting his head on his brothers’ shoulder without thinking, their shoulders bumped together as Satan looked carefully at his brother.

“Cruel?” He raises an eyebrow.

“So…at first…they really didn’t feel anything for each other?”

“…I wouldn’t say that. They certainly felt something…but it isn’t the type of sentiment you thought it was. Truth be told…I think those two were so desperate to feel happiness and desired…that they fell in **** with the idea of a relationship and being wanted…and then it slowly morphed into what they had at the end. True, absolute devotion.”

Asmodeus stayed quiet at the mention of the word. But on his mind, there was such a turmoil that only grew with each passing moment. He didn’t know what he was missing. But he knew that when he found it, he would feel…whole. But each time he went to try and find it, he only came back with a bigger puzzle to resolve and with barely any pieces to put it together. With barely any grasping understanding of the subject that was torturing him night after night.

“…I still don’t understand.” He pouted, making Satan chuckle as he leaned back, resting his weight on his elbows as he tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling.

“Yeah, I think that’s the point. It isn’t something that we are ever going to understand. Not fully, at the very least, it’s just…it’s just something that is.” Satan sighed, before looking back at Asmo who still had the same expression. A lost one. “…but that’s better. In my opinion, at least. What fun is there to have in a question that is so easily answered?” Satan merely got a hum out of Asmo this time.

But the demon was listening. And he was wondering. Perhaps his brother was right…but he was not about to give up finding a concrete answer. After all, it was the only thing driving him at this point.

Ludus: Flirtation, playful, lively. The discovery of a crush, its rooted on having fun.

****

Hello~, I hope you all had enjoyed this chapter. This chapter was so hard to write, honestly. Mainly because I didnt know how to have Satan make the connection and explain it to Asmo, but here it is, and I really hope you all enjoyed it! next chapter will be published on Saturday like usual, until then!

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[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//i wish it wasn't so damn hard to leave

Request: Hi! Big fan of your work! Would you be able to write a Serpent fic based off of the Senorita video? I’m obsessed with it

hey! I hope you like this!!! and i’m sorry its so late. but hey, its hopefully a nice surprise! have a great day!!

The hot summer air hits you as soon as you walk through the out the front doors of Pop’s. You sigh and rearrange the bag on your shoulder, silently dreading the long walk home. 

You moved to Riverdale three weeks ago, and they’ve been the weirdest three weeks of your life. They’ve also been the hardest three weeks of you life. Moving to a small town is like trying to infiltrate Area 51, and not in the fun way. 

Everybody knows each other, everybody talks and everybody gossips. Plus to make matters worse, you’re still not entirely sure where everything is. 

Street names change, certain houses end up being some place other than you thought they were, and old buildings make weird noises in the night...old buildings that you have to walk past after your shift. Based on the stories you’ve heard though, you wouldn’t be surprised if they did. 

A few good things have come out of moving here though. You’re finally able to live alone, the rent here is surprisingly cheap (being the murder town and all), although the more you think of it the more you think it might not be a good idea to live by yourself. You’ve made a ton of new friends, one of which gave you a job in her diner (go veronica!). And lastly and most recently, you met him. 

Sweet Pea

Even the thought of him makes you smile. 

You’d met him last night at Veronica’s club (it’s crazy how many business’ under 20 year olds can own here) last night. She had invited you to come out and celebrate making it to three weeks, and you’d very happily accepted, needing an excuse to get dressed up and get out. It felt like you’d done nothing but live in either your waitressing uniform or your pajama’s for three weeks straight and so it was nice to feel normal. 

Once you’d got there, Veronica introduced you to a few people you had yet to meet, before you all started drinking. Betty had gone to the bar to get drinks for everyone, when you felt a tap on your shoulder. You’d turned around, expecting her to be stood with a tray full of drinks balanced in her hands, but instead you were met with a chest, taking you very much by surprise. 

Your eyes travelled upwards, fighting against the darkness of the club until you met his gaze. He was already look at you, his lips parted and eyes hooded and a small gasp left your lips. 

All night, the two of you had been stealing small glances at each other. He was sat with who you assumed were his friends, a couple of them playing guitar despite the loud music playing through the speakers while the rest talked. 

As soon as you saw him you felt your pulse quicken and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

And so when he was stood in front of you, you felt all of those things and more. A small shiver ran up your spine as he held his hand out towards you. No words were exchanged, he just stood and waited. You quickly glanced at your friends, all of which were smiling knowingly at you, before you carefully placed your hand in his. 

He pulled you into him, your back against his chest and the motion made you breathless. Your faces inches apart, the faintest hint of alcohol on his breath that made you feel dizzy. You swayed together, completely caught up in the moment before he twirled you back out. The bass from the song playing and the heavy beating of your heart swirled together until you could feel both of them pounding in your chest. 

Pulling you back towards him, your hands lay flat against his chest while he held you close, the two of you getting lost in your own world. The rest of the club fell away behind you, it was just you and him and the slow beat of the music. 

But then you started to panic.

Not because of who he was. 

You knew he was a serpent, heard the stories from your friends about the war between the Northside and Southside. But maybe it should have been. The leather jacket with the gang sign proudly stitched onto the back, the fading bruise framing his eye and the spilt lip should have all been warning signs. 

But the thing that made you panic was yourself. You don’t even know why you felt it.

You’d been waiting all night for him to talk to you, but now that it what happening you felt the anxiety rise in your chest, and before you knew it you were running out of the front doors of Pop’s and into the warm summer night. 

You’d been quietly hating yourself ever since that night. 

You didn’t even know his name until Veronica had teased you about the interaction the next day at work. However when she saw how upset you were about it, she’d told you not to worry and that she was sure he’d come back and you’d get another chance. 

You didn’t believe her, not at all. Nobody in their right mind would come back for a girl who ran away from them. 

But the universe is full of surprises. 

And so is he apparently. 

“Are you stalking me?” You stop in the middle of the parking lot, your eyebrows raised as you wait for a response. 

Your question hangs in the air for a few seconds, and you worry that you were just seeing things. That the person you thought you saw stood outside was just in your imagination, that you were just seeing what you wanted to. 

But then you hear the crunch of gravel followed by quick footsteps and you thank the universe for the second chance. 

“Wha-no. Why would you think that?” He stutters, shoving his hands in his pockets. You turn around to face him and a shy smile takes over your features as you make eye contact with him.  

“Because you’re loitering outside the place I work.” You shrug. “And Veronica told me that she say you hanging around inside for a few hours.” 

“Okay, that I am doing. But I’m not stalking you.” He says, a bashful smile twitching at the corners of his lips. 

“So what are you doing then?” 

“I just wanted to know why you ran away yesterday.” He replies and your face falls. You gaze drops to the dusty ground beneath you and you kick a few stones around to try and distract yourself. “Sorry.” He mumbles. “I was just worried if it was something I did.” 

“What, no.” You reply and look at him quickly. 

He looks sad and a frown takes over your face at the sight. 

“Are you sure. Because I’m sorry if I did do something. The last thing I wanted you to do was run away.” 

“I didn’t run.” You mumble and he raises an eyebrow at you. “It was more of a quick walk.” 

“Okay.” He chuckles. “Why did you quickly walk away from me then?” 

“I needed to pee.” You shrug, not even trying to make your lie believable.

“You pee outside?” 

“...yes.” You say, deciding to stick by what you said. 

“Okayyy.” He replies, not really sure of what to say and you mentally curse yourself. “You’re cute you know, even if you do go to the bathroom in weird places.” 

“Thanks.” You giggle, and brush a piece of hair out of your face. 

“Would you like to go for a ride?” 

“Excuse me?” You blink and his eyes widen. 

“Not like that, I meant, I-er. I have a bike.” He says, pointing to the black bike parked right in the corner of the parking lot. “Would you like to go for a ride.” 

“Should I really be going off with a stranger thats been stalking me?” You ask. 

“I wasn’t stalking you.” He rolls his eyes. “Plus, everybody knows it’s almost impossible to kidnap someone with a motorbike. There’s no boot and it’s very easy to jump off a moving bike. I wouldn’t recommend it though.” He rambles making you laugh. 

He looks away embarrassed once he’s finished talking, but it makes your chest feel fuzzy and warm and you desperately want him to continue talking, even if it is about kidnapping. 

“Okay.” You agree and he looks at you surprised. “Where are we going?”

“I dunno.” He shrugs, the two of you falling into step with each other as you make the short walk to his bike. “Where do you want to do?” 

“I honestly don’t know. Where are the best places in Riverdale?” 

“Greendale.” He replies making you snort. 

The sound makes your cheeks heat up and you quickly look away, but you feel him smiling at you making you relax a little. 

“You’re new here right?” He asks and you nod. “Why don’t I give you a tour of the town. Hopefully I can make it seem exciting.”

“I’m sure you will.” You reply and put the helmet he’s given you on. He reaches over and helps you fasten it, tapping your head a few times once he’s finished and the two of you look away awkwardly. 

“...sorry.” He mumbles. “Can we forget I did that?” 

“Of course.” 

“Can we forget that I ran away?” 

“I thought you quickly walked.” He replies making you huff. 

“Shut up.” You mumble. “Can we?” 

“Yeah.” He nods. “Now get on. The sun’s gonna come up soon if you keep standing there.” 

What started as bike ride around the town, ended in the two of you getting a hotel room together and not leaving until early afternoon. 

You lean against the wardrobe doors, memories of the previous nights and the moments leading up to it flicker in your mind. 

The wind in your hair as you drove around the sleepy streets, the feeling of your arms around his chest when he sped up. Dancing in small bit of sand by Sweetwater River and promising yourself never to run away from him ever again. To be honest, you don’t even think you could. 

He’s staring at you through hooded eyes, his lips swollen and red and you feel your knees buckle. Slowly you make your towards him and he wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight to him. He flips you around as you fall, your back landing on the soft bedding and you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you and kissing him deeply. 

You can feel yourself falling for him with each kiss. The feeling of his hands running through your hair, how his fingers graze your skin lightly and the softness of his kisses. 

You’re hooked and there’s no turning back. 

You didn’t even know Riverdale had motels. But they do, and they’re the definition of Riverdale. They look inviting from the outside but once you step through the doors, they’re dim and dingy. The only plus point are the people inside, and you’re very happy to be locked in with Sweet Pea. 

You spend practically the whole day tangled up in bed sheets, and before you know it, it’s time for your late shift at Pop’s. 

So with a heavy heart and a promise of spending another night together, you part ways.  

“Thanks for dropping me off.” You smile and smooth your hair down. 

You didn’t have time to go back home to change, and so suddenly you feel self conscious, your uniform has the same grease stain on it from your last shift and you know for a fact Veronica is going to notice and not let it go. 

“No worries.” He laughs. “You look great.” He catches your hands, stopping you from messing with your hair again and presses light kisses to them. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” You roll your eyes, letting him tug you forward. “Will you be stalking me again?” You wonder, a soft smile tugging at your lips and he rolls his eyes at you playfully. 

“Maybe.” He shrugs and leans down, capturing your lips in a kiss that makes your heart race. 

“I’ll hold you to that.” 

“I really hope you do.” He whispers, his lips grazing your ear and a shiver travels down your spine. 

----

“Maybe, my ass!” You huff, throwing your hands up in frustration. 

It’s been a week since you saw him, and he’s definitely been avoiding you. 

“It’s only been a week.” Veronica asks. 

The two of you are on the late shift tonight, along with a few other servers and Veronica made sure your break was together so you could hang out, although now, you’re pretty sure she’s regretting that because it’s been ten minutes and the only thing you’ve talked about is him. 

“But nobodies seen him. Not you, not his friends, not anybody. And the other day I heard Toni and Fangs talking about his skipping town. They were trying to figure out why he’d done it.” 

“Oh.” 

“You know, there’s a reason we didn’t go back to his place. It’s so I didn’t find out his address so I couldn’t hunt him down. That bastard.” You curse, and flop back in the seat. 

“You never know.” She says, placing a comforting hand on your leg. “He might surprise you.” 

“I very much doubt it.” You sigh. “Why are all men the same. They get they want and then as soon as they do they go.” 

“I dunno.” 

“Or maybe he isn’t avoiding me.” 

“What?” 

“Maybe he’s hurt somewhere. He does go really fast on that bike. Oh, god. I’ve called a dead man a bastard. I’m the worst. Why did you let me do that?” 

“Wha- You know what, never mind.” She shakes her head. “He’s not dead Y/n. And I’m sure he’s got a good reason for doing whatever he’s doing.” 

“Like?” You sigh and look at her. 

“I dunno.” She shrugs. “Why don’t you ask him yourself.” She says and nods behind you. 

You frown and follow her gaze, before your eyes meet his. 

“I’ll leave you guys to it.” She says and stands up, quickly making her way back into the diner. 

“Hi.” He’s the first to talk as he cautiously sits beside you.  

“Hey.” You reply, not bothering to look at him. 

It’s silent for a while. 

There’s quiet chatter from the diner that travels through the air, but apart from that its just an awkward silence. 

“Sorry I ran away.” He breaks it, daring a glance at you. “I guess it’s something we’re both quite good at.” He adds, and you send him a look.

“I don’t run. I quickly walk.” You remind him and he lets out a shaky laugh. “I am glad you’re back though.” You add. 

“Do you wanna go for a ride? And I’ll explain everything at the hotel.” 

“I’m at work.” You laugh and he frowns. “And I’m definitely not that easy.” 

“You were the other night.” He mumbles and you let out an offended gasp, slapping his arm lightly. 

“Ass.” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. 

“Y/n? I hate to be this person, but I kinda need you in here.” Veronica interrupts, sending you an apologetic smile. 

“Sorry.” You shrug, smiling sadly at Sweet Pea. 

“Don’t worry.” He smiles, shifting against on the wooden seat. “I’ll wait for you.” 

#sweet pea #sweet pea imagine #sweet pea x reader #sweet pea x you #sweet pea x y/n #riverdale #riverdale imagine

[dranza]

Tarot

Draco x Reader

Word count: 2232

Draco bumps into you in the slytherin common room, late at night. You both find yourself opening up to each other. I just think its cute man.

Warnings: Parent struggles. If there is anymore please let me know!

Glancing at the clock on the wall I realise it's now half past twelve in the morning. I had officially spent over four hours painting my tarot cards, procrastinating from doing my homework is officially one of my skills. Sighing, I slide the card I was working on over to the edge of the table to dry. I then reach for a mint leaf from my pocket and slide it into my mouth, the taste takes me back to being a child and playing in the manor gardens with my Nanny. I'm clearing up my paints as I hear footsteps coming into the hall that leads to the slytherin common room. Scrambling, I hide the paints under the table and pretend to fall asleep over the charms book I was meant to be reading. Recently, Pansy had been taking her prefect duties a little too seriously and had busted me for being out of my dorm room too many times now. I could easily wind her up and make her leave me alone but tonight I just didn't have the energy to hear her rattle on about how ‘we aren't meant to hang in the common room outside of curfew times’. The thing is, I’ve always been a night owl and not wanting to wake up the other girls in my room, I've made a habit of coming down to the common room to have some alone time. 

“Stop being so pathetic, I know you're not asleep y/n” Draco announces in a chuckle as he walks in front of the table I'm at. 

“Oh, what do you want Draco?” I lift my head to look at the white haired boy towering over me.

“Don’t worry, I'm not here to kick you out.” He pulls at a stool with his foot and sits opposite me, picking an apple from the bowl on the side table “I was just coming to pick up a snack. What are you doing awake at this hour anyway?” 

I lift a paintbrush from under the table in response. “I don't even know where to start on the charms essay so I thought I'd add to my collection instead.”

He places his elbows onto his knees and leans closer to the three cards I had set on the edge of the table. “These are pretty good, I didn't know you could paint.” 

“I didnt realise I had to inform you of everything I do.”

Draco huffs contempt, tilting his head a little “fair enough.”

“What are you doing awake?” I ask as I lift my wand and clean my paint brushes.

“Just finished the reading for potions class” he takes a bite from his apple and lifts the middle card.

A confused giggle escapes my mouth and I tease “I didn't know Draco Malfoy actually cared about his grades.”

Under his breath (more to himself than to me) he whispers “my parents would probably kill me if I didn’t.” Switching to a smirk, he echoes my words back to me “Well, I didn’t realise I had to inform you of everything I do.” He places the card back onto the table and drags the subject back to me “anyway, everything you need for the charms paper is in the fourth and fifth chapter.”

“Ah, thankyou.” I open up the charms book to the suggested chapters and place in a book mark. I stretch out my legs and lean back onto the sofa behind me, sitting on the floor for so long has made my legs go dead. “So, do you want me to do a reading?” 

Dracos body stiffens slightly, and he straightens his back. “I don't think so, it's not very accurate anyway is it?” His thin fingers pick at his loose black pajama bottoms for fluff that wasn't there. 

He clearly was one of the people who thought divination wasn’t actual magic. Back at Durmstrang, divination was such a popular subject that I was shocked when I came to England and saw so many columns popping up in The Daily Prophet about it just being a hoax. “Oh, for goodness sake Draco, it is accurate if it's done correctly. One card wont hurt you. Also, accurate or not, at least I'll get some practice.” I offer an encouraging smile.

“Please... my father says it's purely based on chance and calculated guessing. I don't imagine you'll be very good if you've had Trelawney teaching you anyway, the woman is out of her mind.” he says in a huff, scrunching his nose in disgust.

“One card?” I lift my eyes to meet his and pout in an exaggerated way.

He cocks a brow and flashes a look at the cards “one.”

I sit up instantly, leaning to the chair that I dumped my bag on earlier that night and pull out a full tarot deck. I clear the table, shuffle the cards and spread them upside down in a row. “What do you want to know?” 

“Errr,” he squeezes his eyes shut and sways his head trying to think of a question. “What do I need to focus more on right now?” he asks unsurely. 

I smile softly at him, surprised that he actually asked a decent question. “Perfect, now just really concentrate on that question and pick the card you're most drawn to.” He seems to hesitate a bit so I add “Don't think too deeply about it, just go with your instinct.”

He lets out a loud breath as he bows over the table to be closer to the cards. With a single finger he slides a card out slightly from the deck and then sits back, looking down at me tentatively.

Sitting on my knees, I take the card he selected and flip it over. 

“The magician? Really? What may this suggest y/n? Well, we're at school and maybe I need to focus on my magic skills.” he word vomits in such a patronizing manner I resist the urge to punch him.

“Will you just shut up Malfoy! Let me concentrate…” 

He lets out a sharp nose exhale but obeys.

“I think it suggests you have an opportunity to right a wrong, it's something you've been putting off but you finally have all the tools you need to be able to make it happen.” I look away from the card to him but his gaze is locked to his hands now. “This has really been weighing down on you, hasn't it? You just need to focus and manifest on the outcome. Is it… is it to do with your father?”

“What?” he lifts his head in a sharp movement at my final question. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I told you this is all a load of rubbish. I'm heading back to bed.” He throws his half eaten apple into the bin. “As should you, we have potions first thing tomorrow and I doubt Snape will let you nap in class.”

“I’m sorry Draco…” I break, realising I had touched a nerve. “You don't have to answer me. Don't just… you don't have to leave.”

He runs his fingers through his messy white hair. “I just… well, I’d just rather not focus on that right now.”

 Draco’s father (Lucius Malfoy) is meant to be having his final hearing, for conspiring with Voldemort, this weekend and whispers all about the Malfoy family have been wandering through every hall at Hogwarts. Last year Voldemort had tried to take over the wizarding world and Draco (much to his parents' alarm) had apparently joined Harry Potter in destroying the horcruxes. Still, everyone was questioning his intentions. He has been putting on a brave face but it's obvious he's been more reserved since the news broke out.

“That's ok.” I try a sympathising smile. “I get it, I’m not trying to pry.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the only one then.” he says with a sigh.

I look around to try and change the subject, “what's your favourite colour?” I blurt out. I sink inwardly, was this really the best I could come up with.

Draco smiles, raising a brow. “Black.” he states confidently. 

“Ha, dytto.” I pick at the dry paint on my hands. “It reminds me of ink... and wolves... and outer space.”  

 “Yes, that. Also,  you always look great when you wear black” Draco chuckles softly. “Well, I mean not you personally. Although… I'm sure you also do look great in black. But I mean generally, no one can ever… really go wrong if they’re dressed in black.” A blush creeps up his face as he stammers over his words.

A funny little giggle escapes me as I watch him, a similar pink tinting my face. “I know what you mean.” I nudge his arm slightly, noticing his all black pajamas. “I think there’s still a certain skill in pulling off a black outfit though.” 

Draco picks up one of my paint pots and twists it in his hand, trying to look at anything but me, his blush deepening. “Yeah, I guess.” 

“You know, I would have pinned you more as a bright pink kind of guy myself.” I kick myself for trying to be funny but it lifts his nervousness. 

“Not quite.” His laugh is deep and sensual, sending a warm fuzziness through my body. 

“Do you ever paint?” I ask, signally to the pot in his hand. 

“No. I’ve never done any intricate stuff like this anyway.” he gestures to my cards. “These really are quite amazing.”

“Thankyou.” I try not to stare at his face as he studies my work, but the candle light bouncing off his eyelashes and his soft, bottom lip kind of tucking under his teeth is making it very difficult. “To be honest, I don’t really like them.”

“What? Why?” he shoots at me.

“It’s not very neat around here…” I point at the first card, I’d spent half an hour trying to get the shading right on the bricks of the tower earlier tonight. “And her hair just looks like a wig.” My finger grazes the back of Draco’s hand as I point to the Empress card.

“No it doesn't, plus no one else would notice these things you’re bothering about” 

“My mother will.” Quietly correcting myself, I add “would.” I clear my throat lightly to continue “And she would definitely reveal a few more mistakes as well.” I take in a long breath and rub my eyes. “I know this sounds terrible but sometimes I think it's not so bad that she's gone.” 

“Oh, I'm sorry, I… I didn't know.” He stretches his arm across the table towards me but stops just before his hand touches. “Are you OK?” 

“Yeah, I was never really close to her anyway.” I sadly shrug. I realise I’ve never told anyone else any of this. I'm clearly over-tired. 

“And your father?”

“He died when I was 3, I don't remember him. It’s why I’ve had to move here after my mum passed, Uncle Filius is the only member of my family that would take me in.” 

Draco questions in surprise “So it’s true. You are Professor Flitwick's niece?”

“The one and only.” I give him a side smile. 

“Hmmh, well, I know this means nothing… but I don’t think it's all that terrible that you don't feel bad you mother is gone. Sometimes parents aren’t as perfect as they seem.” Draco clicks his fingers and continues, “As you probably know, I’m meant to be meeting my dad this weekend. I have no idea how to explain myself to him. The last time...” Draco stops abruptly at the sound of footsteps coming from the hallway. Two 3rd year students walk in carrying a whole load of sweets whispering to each other in rapid conversation. Draco swiftly stands and informs them that they cannot be out of their dorms so late. They try to oppose but after a stern look from the tall, blonde-haired prefect they give in and return. He takes a second before turning back to me and saying “I think we both ought to go back to our beds as well, it has gotten quite late.”

I look up at him confused, “don't you want to finish what you were saying?”

He shakes his head while holding out a hand to me. “Maybe another time. I’m guessing this won't be the last time we bump into each other, here at this hour.”

I accept his tight grip and with a strong motion he lifts me from the ground. “No, I hope not anyway. This was nice.” I squeeze his hand gently before letting it go and picking up my things. 

His hand combs through his thick hair as he smiles shyly “It was.” He waits as I pick up the last of my books and we walk out together. As we get to the end of the hallway he stops and looks down at me, “are you sure you don't need help taking that stuff up?” I shake my head and with that he yawns. “Well then… good night y/n.” 

“Goodnight Draco.” I glance back as I’m walking up to my room and catch his eyes looking back at me. He instantly pulls his gaze away and for some reason I feel a little disappointed. Goodness me, was I really forming a crush on the Draco Malfoy?

Im writing a few different one shots that can be read on their own or in order for a full story. Here’s the masterlist!

#draco malfoy #Draco x reader #Imagine #Harry potter #Draco is so hot #Tom felton #Hogwarts #Slytherin #common room #dungeons #voldemort #lucius malfoy #cute draco #slow burn #filler #getting there #mine

[firefly464]

The Gilded Cage - Chapter 1

if you cant tell the first part of this was written by pami a couple weeks back when we first decided to actually do a prequel :D

Written in collaboration with @i-have-this-now :D

Thank you @rivys for beta reading, editing, and writing :D

Master Post

First - Next

~~~

The first thing that Eret noticed when he woke up was the aching pain in his head. Before he even opened his eyes, he could feel the side of his head throbbing. Every tiny movement sent another wave of pain through his mind. 

Tentatively, he cracked open his eyes, only to shut them almost immediately as a bright light pierced his vision. The light only caused his headache to grow ten times worse. A wave of nausea washed over him, making him groan internally. The last thing he could clearly remember was being on stream, with each memory after that fuzzy and unreachable. 

All things considered, he was probably hungover. He couldn’t remember ever getting drunk, which probably wasn’t a good sign. 

Eret tried for a second time to open his eyes, this time pushing through the pain in his head. As he looked around, he noticed his surroundings were blindingly white. It was as if someone pointed a flashlight directly at his face. Squinting, he tried to see where he was. 

It was way too bright to see anything he recognised, but even with the weird light he saw, he couldn’t see any of the familiar outlines of his desk or chair. It looked like he was inside some sort of strange room from the looks of it, only just barely able to make out the bright outlines of a couple windows. Oh god, did he get kidnapped? Was he already in the second location? What was going on?

“Whoa, slow down. You’re going to make yourself sick. The potion still hasn’t fully left your system,” Eret was forced to swallow a scream of surprise as he heard his friend's voice. Wilbur’s voice was coming from somewhere beside him, though it was far too bright to actually see him. “Wait, here’s your glasses.”

Glasses? Since when did he wear glasses? “My wha-” Eret began, cut off as  an object was pushed into his hands, plasticine and cool to the touch. A pair of sunglasses. He slipped them over his eyes and immediately realized why Wilbur had given them to him. Everything darkened significantly and he could see a lot more than he could before. He was in some sort of van, metal sheets were hammered into the walls of it, as if it had been built by people who didn’t really know what they were doing. 

“Hey, so uh, how are you feeling?” Wilbur asked, his voice filled with tension. 

He glanced over, surprised to find his friend wearing a strange, revolution based outfit. Maybe they were at a con? That would explain the strange cosplay, but it still didn’t make sense. For one, Eret couldn’t remember ever actually going to any conventions, and besides, he was fairly certain that all all conventions were canceled because of covid.

“I feel like shit,” he admitted, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position. 

Will chuckled slightly, but it sounded forced. “That makes sense. The potion took a toll on all of us.” 

“Potion…?” If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t know where he was, or why Wilbur was there too. He didn’t know what was going on. He was confused, lost, and just wanted to go back to bed. 

The door to the strange van creaked open and someone poked their head in. “How’s he do- oh! You’re up!”

Eret had to do his best to suppress a shriek of surprise. Entering the van was Fundy, but he was… well, different. Peeking through Fundy’s brown wavy hair were two pointed fox ears, and swishing behind him was a fiery orange tail, tipped with a patch of snow white fur. What the fuck?

“Fundy?”

Wilbur furrowed his brow. “He might be experiencing some memory loss. Eret, do you remember who I am?”

“What?” He shook his head, trying to focus. “Yeah, I don’t-- Memory’s good. Just uhh…” He tried to think of a viable excuse, but nothing came to him. “Y’know.”

“Right.”

A tense silence fell over the room as the three of them stared at each other, unsure of what any of them would say next.

Fundy cleared his throat. “Well, sir, I’ll assume my post at the door again. Let me know if he causes any trouble.”

Wilbur nodded in return. “Make me proud, son.”

With a sharp salute, the fox began towards the door of the van. “Of course, father.” Just as soon as he had entered, he was gone, his tail flicking behind him.

Eret furrowed his brow. Father? That didn’t make sense, Wilbur was only three years older than--

Oh.

Memories came rushing back to him as the pieces clicked into place. He remembered the Final Control Room, the strange falling sensation and... being in the game? No, no. That can’t be right. It wasn’t real, right?

“Eret. I need you to focus. I’m going to ask you a few questions.” Wilbur asked, now more forcefully.

“Er, sorry about that. What- sorry- what was the question?” Eret was tempted to ask him what was going on but he thought he should just answer the questions for now.

Wilbur sighed, as if disappointed. “Why didn’t you press the button?”

“Why didn’t I- what?”

“The button was supposed to open up the walls, wasn’t it? You were going to open up the walls, let Dream in, and drug us all. You were supposed to betray us, why didn’t you?” 

“I- I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Eret, don’t lie to me, we found the needles in your bag-”

“I’m not lying.” He steadied his voice, there’s no use shouting at Wilbur. It would only end up making things worse. “I didn’t know what was going on. Wilbur, you have to believe me.”

“You were going to betray us. Why should I believe you?”

Eret didn’t know what to say. This wasn’t real. This isn’t supposed to be real. It was just a game. It was… It was right in front of him. Wilbur didn’t act like himself, he was stern and precise. Was he really even Wilbur? The one he streamed with and joked around with? The one he gathered resources for in Minecraft? He just didn’t understand. 

“Wil, what the hell is going on?” Eret started. “One minute, I’m at my PC. Next, I’m here in this… whatever this place is.”

“What do you mean? Eret, you-” Wilbur was cut off.

“Wilbur, I don’t think I’m from here.”

“...what?” 

“I- This whole world- This isn’t supposed to be real. I’m not supposed to be-”

Click.

Darkness creeped into the edges of Eret’s vision, spots dancing in front of his eyes. Blood rushed past his ears, drowning out any other sounds. It felt as if his mind was filled with static noise, whizzing and humming. “What the…” He blinked a few times to clear his vision. Wilbur sat on the wooden stool, his eyes glazed over. “Uh, Wilbur? Are you alri-”

Wilbur snapped out of his strange trance and shot to his feet, his gaze filled with anger and hatred. “Eret. You heartless bastard. Do you have any IDEA-”

“What? Wilbur, why-”

“Why the fuck are you even here?! To mock us?! To rub your victory in our faces?!” he was screaming now, his voice echoing through the small room, making Eret’s head pound.

"What the hell are you talking about?! I didn't do anything!" he was on his feet now, his arms raised to protect himself. He didn’t know what was going on, but the look in his friends eyes was enough to make him fear for his safety. 

The door to the van slammed open as Fundy came rushing inside. A rush of emotions flew across his face as he took in the situation before him, going from confusion, to shock, and eventually settling on pure hatred, mixed with a hint of fear. His tall, pointed ears were flattened against his head. In any other situation, Eret might have found it funny, but in the moment he was in no mood to laugh. “What the fuck is going on? Why is Eret here?” 

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to figure out. This son of a bitch was here when I came in, who knows what he might have done.” Will snarled, never taking his eyes off Eret.

“What the fuck do you mean? Wilbur, you brought me here! I’ve been here the entire time! You- Fundy, you saw me!” 

“Excuse me? What the hell do you mean by that? I’ve been standing outside this entire time!” Fundy’s hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready to unsheath it and attack at any moment. 

Wilbur’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Fundy, trying to figure out what Eret was talking about. “Enough!” he cried, “Fundy, I want you to go and ring the alarm bell. I need everyone here at once. Understood?”

“But what if he-” 

His eyes narrowed even further. “Now.” 

Eret’s mind raced a thousand miles a minute as he watched his friend scamper outside, most likely to go and sound the alarm. He needed to run, to escape. He didn’t know what was going on, or why Wilbur was so angry at him, but he knew that he needed to leave. The murderous look in his friend’s eyes made it very clear that he wasn’t just going to let Eret walk away peacefully. 

The far off sound of a bell ringing echoed through the small van. Eret could feel his heart rate increasing. Any second now, the others were going to come into the room, and it would make escape ten times harder. If he was going to make a run for it, this was his chance. 

He glanced at Wilbur, then to the door. Although the taller man was in a defensive stance, he wasn’t armed. There was no weapon in his hands. This could be his only chance. 

He crashed through the door, and didn’t look back.

~~~

Master Post

First - Next

Taglist (feel free to send me an ask if you want to be added) @hismilw @violet–majesty​ @chiera99​ @koi-boye​ @waffle-time-god​ @miss-oleum​ @porkgavor​ @crafted-dreams @harley-the-pancake @lemonaid-ruru @luminousart @somethingtocrowabout @bee-tubbo @firepowder @boombahey @rayjayo

#and so it begins! #this is pretty much all i worked on last week #eh #oh well :D #the eret #eret #wilbur soot #wilbursoot #fundy #The Gilded Cage #Split Realities #mcyt #mcyt au #dream smp #my writing #fanfiction #Dream Team #dreamsmp

[spiderman-homecomeme]

i wish i knew how (your eyes are like starlight now)

🎄The Twelve Days of Promptmas🎄 - Day Ten

concepts: baking, cold sleepy cuddles, holiday smut ❆❆❆

Peter’s mind buzzes as he fumbles with the sack of flour, nearly spilling it all over the counter as he trips over his own feet. He feels as if he’s in one of those dumb infomercials—“there’s got to be a better way!”—when he opens the top cupboard and he’s immediately pelted with the box of disorganized seasonings and extracts. There’s a sense of relief when he manages to catch the red, green, and blue food coloring before it hits the ground, though the feeling fades into a mild panic when he can’t remember if the recipe MJ had sent him called for baking soda or baking powder.

It also does not help that his hands might be the tiniest bit sweaty. 

So he’s a little nervous for some reason. It’s fine. It happens to everyone when they invite their best friend over for some holiday baking. 

Just some casual, friendly holiday baking. 

Sure, Ned’s not coming, but that doesn’t mean that this is any different, right?

Right?

So why does his heart skip one or two beats when MJ sends him a text that says she’s five minutes away?

It’s strange. 

MJ’s great, she really is. She’s smart, funny, just an all around cool, amazing, good person. The best that he knows. There’s absolutely no reason to be nervous around her. Yeah, she can be a little mysterious, closed-off even, but as he’s gotten to know her, he’s seen glimpses of that soft, gooey person that’s inside. 

Yet, even with all of that, lately Peter’s been feeling the exact opposite of “at ease” around her. His stomach always feels like it’s training for the olympics when she’s around, his brain going all fuzzy anytime she talks to him, like he’s stood up way too fast. 

It’s the exact feeling he gets when he hears a knock at the front door. 

And again, he nearly spills sugar all over the tile. 

His body’s kind enough to carry him to the door, and he takes a deep breath, gathering himself before opening it. “Heyyyy.” 

He mentally kicks himself for being so weird. 

“Hey,” she gives a single wave, lips pressing together into a thin, casual smile. “You ready?”

Nodding quickly, he swallows, folding his arms across his chest. “Yeah. Yeah. Of course.” 

He stays like that a moment, his eyes unconsciously taking her in—her soft-looking hoodie, the cozy looking joggers, her black converse. 

“Uh… can I come in?”

Peter immediately snaps out of whatever daze he was in, huffing out a laugh as he steps aside. “Shit. Yeah. Sorry.”

She gives another small smile and a single nod, walking past him, her hands twiddling together. 

It’s odd, Peter offhandedly thinks, as they walk into the kitchen, as they each put on one of his old hand-me-down aprons from May and Ben, how quiet she’s being. Of course, MJ’s not normally a loud person, by any means, but there’s usually a lot more snark when it comes to anything Peter does. 

He’s especially surprised when she only lets out a quiet snort when he drops one of the bowls in his haste to get everything out and ready. 

She’s still quiet as she whips out her phone, pulling up the recipe, lips twisting in thought as she scrolls. “Wow, I’m so glad that this lady decided to tell us about the time her sister smashed her gingerbread house before telling us the recipe,” she deadpans, though the corner of her lip quicks upward into a slight grin. “Every cookie recipe needs a good backstory.”

Peter snorts. “If there’s no plot, what’s the point? What’s the motivation?”

He feels MJ’s gaze drift up to him from behind her phone, and he can see her smile growing from the corner of his eye. 

For some odd reason, it’s enough to make his ears burn. 

A beat passes, neither of them saying anything as MJ continues to read and scroll through the recipe, Peter absentmindedly twiddling with the rim of the mixing bowl. 

The silence is broken when she clears her throat, her hand moving to smooth over the back of her neck, resting there. “So, um—I guess uh, preheat the oven to 375. And… Prepare baking sheets by lining with parchment paper,” she reads. 

Peter nods, inside of his lip caught between his teeth as he turns to the oven, a slight jitter to his movements as he presses the appropriate buttons. “What next?” He asks, as if he’s just completed the hardest part, grabbing an old cookie sheet from the cabinet beside the oven.

MJ cracks a smile, though it fades quickly when she goes back to the recipe, reading off the list of dry ingredients for them to mix together. The bowl is too small at first—a lapse in Peter’s judgement of what small means—a few patches of flour spilling out onto the counter when his overexcited mixing gets the best of him. The light teasing that MJ throws his way makes his heart do backflips, his stomach leap up into his chest. 

It’s the strangest sensation that he’s starting to not really mind all that much. 

MJ mixes the butter, brown sugar, and egg in one of the bigger bowls, tongue sticking out between her lips as she wrangles the electric mixer, deep in concentration when they add in the molasses and vanilla; it’s a look that Peter offhandedly thinks is very cute.

Especially with the bit of flour dusting her nose when they start to add the dry ingredients. 

And it’s even cuter when they start cutting out the shapes in the dough, the Hanukkah cookie cutter set he’d gotten from May when he’d first moved in finally getting good use. There’s only one man, and they grab for it at the same time, both of them yanking their hands back when their knuckles brush. 

MJ takes it, smiling quietly. 

It seems like all of these feelings should feel new, given that he’s only just now noticing them. But, in a weird way, they feel nothing like that. Almost the exact opposite. Like they’ve been around forever and he’s just never thought too much about them, whatever they are. 

It’s more confusing than anything. 

Especially when, after getting the cookies in the oven, and they start mixing the icing together, MJ’s hit with a bold streak, swiping her blue-icing covered thumb over his forehead when he’s busy mixing his own bowl. 

“Simbaaaaaa,” she says, her voice comically low and raspy—her best Rafiki impression. 

“Hey!” Peter jumps away from her, a laugh bubbling up from his chest as he holds in hands up in self-defense. “What the hell?!”

“You got a little something—” she gestures to her own forehead, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. 

He feels his own smile nearly take over his entire face, feeling a challenge flaring in his chest when he dips the tip of his finger into his own icing bowl, booping her on the nose before she can dodge him. 

“Hey—”

“You got a little something,” he says, mocking her from two seconds before, unable to keep his smile from growing even more. There’s a giddiness in his stomach, and he feels as if he’s lighter than air itself when she laughs at him. 

MJ’s so cool, he can’t help but think. 

And pretty. 

Peter shakes his head when she doesn’t look away, and he wipes at his forehead, trying unsuccessfully to get the sticky blue off of him. 

“You’ve still got some—right there,” she gestures to herself again. “Do you want me to get it?” She asks, a jitteriness to her tone as she lets out a chuckle. “I can lick it off.”

Peter’s sure that his face is every shade of red at this point. He nearly chokes on nothing, and he suddenly finds that he’s lost all ability to speak as he stares at her with furrowed brows, thoroughly dumbfounded. 

“I’m kidding,” she says quickly, laughing it off, looking back down at her hands, stained blue and green from the dye in the food coloring. “Jeez, Parker.” 

There’s a hint of something to her tone, but he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is; maybe nerves, maybe the awkwardness from him literally not saying anything at all in response. He’s not sure. 

And he tries to brush it off as they clean up while they wait for the cookies to finish baking. A quiet falls between them, both pleasant and at the same time wildly uncomfortable. He clears his throat, placing the mixing bowl in the sink, his focus as he scrubs the dough from the sides failing. 

When he turns around and catches her eye, his heart skips as she snorts at the sight of him, blue icing still caked onto his forehead. 

“God, okay, let me get that,” she huffs out, grabbing a paper towel. He can almost smell the soft lavender notes of her shampoo when she leans over him to wet the paper towel in the sink. It’s dizzying, he finds, especially when she smiles at him as she wipes across his forehead. And he finds when her eyes meet his, he can’t look away, drawn in. He offhandedly thinks how pretty her eyes are, how soft they look, even when they’re teasing him.  

“There,” she says, giving him one last, playful, less than gentle pat on the forehead. 

“Thanks,” he mumbles, still seemingly lost in his trance, blinking slowly. “You’ve uh—you’ve still got some. On your nose.” 

And almost disappointingly, she wipes it off herself with the same paper towel. 

Why he’s disappointed, he has no idea. 

MJ’s quick to change the subject—or, start one—before he can even think of anything to say. She’s warmed up by now, less tense, though there’s still a jitter to her movements, a certain breathiness to her laugh that makes the butterflies in his stomach seem to kick into overdrive. 

And it’s a back and forth as they start decorating the cookies—after they’ve cooled, of course. MJ wouldn’t let him anywhere near them when she’d taken them out of the oven. 

“What did you do to that Menorah?” She asks him through a laugh as he struggles to even out the too-big dollop of icing he’d put on his first cookie. 

“I’m not good at this, okay?” He laughs back, letting out a comically quiet scream when the icing drips down onto his hand. He does a double-take though, looking at her cookie. 

A man with a too-big, borderline dumb smile, eyes nearly on opposite sides of the cookie, wearing all red and blue. “What is that?”

“It’s you,” she says with a toothy grin, as if it’s obvious. “Do you like it?”

“Why does he look like that?” Peter finds himself laughing more. 

“I think he’s cute,” she says simply. 

Peter nearly short-circuits, but he honestly has no response. At all. 

Because she can’t mean what he thinks she means, right? No. Absolutely not. MJ’s calling the cookie cute. Get your shit together, Parker. 

He does feel her glance at him a few times after that comment, almost as if she’s waiting to see if he’ll say anything. Then again, that’s literally just his brain making him think that, making him see and feel things. Obviously. 

There’s no way MJ likes him like that. 

And it doesn’t even matter really. They’re just friends. 

Just some good pals. 

The cookies are even more delicious than they’d smelled, and Peter finds himself caught up in just how cozy and safe it feels to be eating gingerbread cookies with his best friend, even when said best friend pointedly bites off the bottom half of the cookie that supposed to look like him. She can’t keep a straight face, though, nearly choking on the gingerbread when he snorts, crumbs flying. 

“Gross,” she says through her mouthful, unable to keep herself from laughing. 

Peter finally swallows, struggling to get a word out. “You started it!” 

They turn on some documentary—though, if he’s being honest, Peter’s finding that he can’t pay much attention to it. He keeps wanting to look at Michelle, glancing at her every few seconds. It’s a sight that makes his whole body flood with warmth, seeing her curled up on the other end of his couch, absently munching on a cookie as she stares at the screen. 

There’s a moment where she catches him looking at her, the corners of her lips twitching into a quick smile when they both immediately look away. 

Peter swears he can feel his heart beating in his ears. 

Though he has no idea when he started feeling this way about her, this weird nervousness, he now realizes how not new it is. He’s always thought Michelle was cool. That she was smart. That she was funny. That she was so pretty. 

But if he’s always thought this, then why is this… realization suddenly hitting him like a train? Why is it that he can’t even look at her without his stomach wanting to jump right out of his body? Why when every time she so much as talks to him is he smiling like a damn idiot? 

Why now?

And then, it dawns on him when she looks over at him, her lips pressing into a shy smile before quickly looking back at the TV, curling her legs to her chest more. 

Oh. 

Oh. 

Well, shit.

There’s been a number of time’s where Peter’s questioned his own intelligence. Sure, he’s good at school—ignoring the late and missing assignments—he’s made his own web formula. 

But, fuck, he’s a dumbass. 

Because he’s been stupidly, deliriously, ridiculously in love with his best friend and he’s only just now realized it. 

He’s lost track of time by the end of the documentary, barely registering as the credits roll, and they sit there, neither one saying a thing. Peter feels the awkwardness—again, not entirely the worst thing, for some reason—creeping up his neck. He jumps up from the couch, needing something, anything to do. 

With this new realization, Peter feels almost more nervous, terrified of doing something stupid like exposing himself. 

It’s almost midnight by the time they finish putting the cookies away, saving the rest for later, of course. 

MJ stretches her hands above her head, moving them down to hold herself. “It’s getting pretty late,” she says, her voice soft, tired. 

Peter nods, pressing his lips together, leaning on the counter. “Yeah…” 

Neither of them move. 

“I should probably go…” She trails off, rocking back on her heels, though she still doesn’t make any kind of move to the door. She looks out the window, groaning at the sight of the heavy snow falling. She huffs out a nervous laugh, her eyes meeting his expectantly. “It’s so cold though.”

“I could… lend you a coat? Or something?” He can’t help but cough into his arm, glancing around the apartment as his lips curve into a shaky smile. 

MJ seems to get a kick out of that. “Nah. ‘Cause then I’ll have to give it back… and then I’d just end up keeping it.”

There’s nothing that can stop the faint dusting of pink on Peter’s cheeks as he thinks about he wouldn’t mind that at all. 

After a beat, however, Peter’s brow furrows in concern, altogether missing the way she’s looking at him. “Did you walk here?”

She purses her lips. “Yeah.” 

“I—” Peter clears his throat, not wanting to seem to eager at the idea of her staying. “I could call you an Uber?” 

She shakes her head, brow pinched. “No. No, that’s fine. Then I’d have to pay you back.”

“Yeah, you’d probably forget that, too,” Peter finds himself teasing. 

“Hey!”

“Kidding…” Peter clears his throat, biting back his smile. 

A beat passes again where neither say anything, the two of them awkwardly shifting on their feet as they wait for the other to speak. 

Peter’s the first to break. “I mean, if you want, you could… stay here. Wait the storm out.” It feels like it takes about five-hundred years to get those words out, and even longer when MJ’s eyes meet his. And it’s not his best idea, given he’s just figured out he’s in love with her. Having her in such close proximity overnight seems like the las thing he should do. 

But he can’t seem to stop himself. 

“When it’s not so… cold.”

Her fingers drum against the other side of the counter, the inside of her lip caught between her teeth. 

“Good point,” she finally replies. 

Peter breathes out a smile, finding himself relieved, though he’d never admit to it. “So…” He clears his throat again, disguising it behind a cough into his arm. “Sleepover?” He asks lamely. 

MJ’s expression breaks, and she snorts out a laugh, a sound he wants to hear over and over again. 

It goes quiet again though, MJ seeming to be deep in thought before she says anything again. 

“I hope it’s okay, though…” She glances left and right, a tint of insecurity in her gaze. “I like to sleep without pants on. If that’s cool… with you.”

And for a moment, Peter wonders if he’s died, or if he’s having a really vivid, cruel dream. He’s short circuited for a split-second; getting any kind of sentence out is damn near impossible. He blinks. Once. Twice. 

“Um—” He finds himself saying, though he has no idea where that thought is going. “I mean. Whatever. Makes you… more comfortable. I guess?” He huffs out a nervous laugh, the idea of sharing a bed with a very pantsless MJ drilling it’s way into his brain. 

There’s a minuscule upward twitch of her lips as she looks at him. 

“I can take the couch,” Peter says dumbly, and instantly, he’s mentally kicking himself. 

But it’s for good reason. 

MJ needs to be comfortable. 

She doesn’t feel the same way, and he doesn’t want to push himself on her. He doesn’t ever plan on telling her how he feels, so there’s no reason to make this any more difficult for either of them. 

“And you can take my bed?”

He doesn’t see the way her expression falls ever so slightly. 

“Oh—” Her head jerks back slightly, mouth tugging into a faint frown. “I mean. Sure. I guess.” 

Peter only nods, feeling his shoulders squeezing up to his ears, every muscle in his body tight. He nearly trips over himself as he walks past her, leading her to his bedroom. She only throws him a fleeting smile as he pulls out a spare t-shirt for her to wear—what friends do—leaving just as quickly as he’d come into the room. 

In his haste to get her out of his sight, he’s forgotten to grab his own pajamas. Or blankets. Or pillows. 

Oh well. 

It’s not like he’s going to walk back into that bedroom. That would be the most dangerous thing he could possibly do. 

But then, as he lays down on the couch in just his boxers and his shirt that still has a few flour stains on it, his brain decides to bring back the cruel thought, the tempting image of Michelle in his bed. Without pants on. 

It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does. He’s an adult. Not some hormonal teen anymore. 

But everytime he closes his eyes, he can just see so vividly, and he can’t help but wonder what she’s wearing—

No. 

Bad Peter. 

That’s your friend. 

Stop that. 

He shakes his head, squeezing his eyes shut in an effort to rid his mind of the idea of her long, bare legs tangled in his sheets. 

Damn it!

It feels like the entire night’s passed by the time he opens his eyes again, only to realize that it’s only been thirty minutes. He huffs, flopping onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. It’s a fruitless endeavor, he knows, trying to fall asleep. He knows that as long as MJ’s in his room, there’s no way he’ll have any sort of peace. 

He debates getting up and checking the cabinets in his bathroom for some melatonin or maybe even benadryl, when the floor at the entry to the hallway creaks. “Peter?”

He jolts upright, looking over the back of the couch to see MJ standing in the archway, the Stark Internship shirt he’d loaned her just reaching the tops of her thighs. 

One wrong move, and he’d definitely see what she’s wearing. 

He swallows, whispering a pathetic, “hey.”

“Uh, hey,” she responds breathily. “So… It’s like… really cold in your room.”

“Yeah?” Peter sits up more, the throw blanket pooling at his hips as he rubs his eyes. “Do you want like an extra blanket or… something?”

She shifts on her feet, her hands toying with the hem of the t-shirt, Peter finding his eyes instantly drawn to the movement. 

He drags his gaze back up to meet her face. 

“I was actually—uh… wondering if you could just come get in bed?” 

He wants to say that all the blood’s left his body, but it’s honestly gone in two different directions. His face, and… well.

A faint, nervous chuckle spills out of him as he reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. It’s a terrible idea, saying yes, but there’s nothing he can do to stop himself from nodding silently and getting up from the couch. “Another blanket would… would probably be too much.”

A wavy smile tugs at her lips. “Yeah. Exactly.”

It’s strictly for that purpose, he reasons with himself. MJ’s cold. She needs another body next to her. Nothing more. No, sir. 

And it stays that way in his mind as he crawls in next to her, as they turn to face each other, their knees barely brushing one another’s. It’s dark, but he’s close enough that he can just make out the soft curls on her forehead, the slight uptick of her lips as she looks at him. 

It surprises him when she scoots just the slightest bit closer, the way she tilts toward him. A shiver ripples through her. 

“Still cold?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper. 

A light chuckle bubbles up out of her. “Yeah. Could you—” 

“Do you want me to hold you?” He asks before he can even think. 

She laughs again, a breathy, borderline nervous sound.

And he’s frozen solid, a ringing in his ears, unable to move as she nestles against him, his arms wrapping around her. He has no idea what else to do, every muscle in his body tensing when she breathes out, and he knows then that this is where he’ll be the entire night. No sleep. 

His eyes squeeze shut, and he tries not to concentrate on the feeling of her bare legs slotting against his, the warmth of her skin making his brain go all fuzzy. 

“Is this… Is this better?” He asks, clearing his throat again. 

She hums into him, and he can almost feel her smile into his chest. But she pulls back slightly, twisting so that she’s on her back and he’s propped up above her. “Almost,” she says softly, her eyes never leaving his. 

“Are you sure you don’t want another blanket? I can—”

His words are cut off as she leans up to press her lips to his, her hand gently resting on his cheek. 

It’s brief, barely five seconds, before she pulls away, biting at the inside of her lip. 

Peter’s barely had time to process it; the softness of her lips, the warmth of her hand on his cheek. But it hits him in a dizzying flurry as she looks up at him, eyes sparkling, a glint of vulnerability in them as she waits for his response. 

“What?” Is all he can ask, breathing out a giddy laugh. 

“Was that okay?”

Peter’s smile widens. “God, yeah. But I mean—I’m just… Um… I’m a little surprised.”

Even in the dark of the room, Peter can see the way her face contorts. “Surprised? How?”

And then, it’s Peter’s turn to be confused. Was he not supposed to be? 

“Uh… I don’t know it just kinda… came out of nowhere. Again—” He breathes out a chuckle. “—Not a bad thing. At all.”

She stares at him for a few seconds. She blinks. “Peter, I’ve been throwing myself at you this whole night.” 

He almost falls off the bed. “What?!” He hisses.

“I thought I was being obvious,” she says, a laugh bubbling up from her chest. When he does nothing but stare at her in shock, she shrugs. “I was.”

“The… I—what? You…?” He laughs. “How?” 

“Well—” Her fingers drum over the blanket. “—the icing fight was kinda classic flirty shit. Eating the gingerbread version of you that I said was cute.” 

“I thought you were threatening me,” he quips. 

“Who says I wasn’t?” She deapans, though he doesn’t miss the way the corner of her lips twitch upward. A beat passes. She blows a puff of air through her lips. “I mean, I dunno, I thought for sure you’d get the message when I said I slept without pants on.” 

Pursing his lips, Peter nods slowly. “I did not.” 

The silence afterward breaks when MJ lets out a sudden snicker. 

“I’m such an idiot,” Peter scoffs to himself, covering his eyes. “God.” 

MJ’s hand falls on his shoulder, gently—yet stiffly—patting him. “There, there,” she says. He can hear the smile in her voice. “I still think you’re cute,” she adds quietly. “So there’s that.” 

He peeks out from behind his hands, unable to bite back his smile. “I’m a cute idiot?” 

Her smile widens, even as she presses her lips together to keep it from growing. She reaches out, smoothing down his curls that had fallen onto his forehead. 

“The cutest idiot.” 

And as gross and sickly sweet as it is, Peter never wants this to end. 

But when she leans in to kiss him again, he doesn’t mind. Not at all. 

Her lips are soft against his, gentle and wanting. Her hand falls to his cheek, moving to cup his jaw as his arms coil around her waist, pulling himself closer as he leans over her. It feels like a dream, the warmth of her skin under the fabric of his t-shirt, the soft sighs she lets out as he deepens the kiss, and there’s a pang in his chest when he wonders if he’ll wake up from this, cold and alone. 

But he knows it’s real. All of it. All of her. 

His hand falls to her hip, slipping just underneath the hem of her shirt to draw soft lines into her skin. “MJ,” he says simply, breaking the kiss only for his lips to find a spot on the underside of her jaw. “I like you. So much.” 

He hears her breathy laugh, a sound that makes his heart skip. “I like you, too. So much.”

And he grins against her neck, lips and tongue dragging back up to meet hers again in a searing kiss. Though the room is cold, there’s nothing but warmth underneath the blanket, under her touch, and he thinks that he could stay here forever. 

Goodbye college. 

Goodbye anything that’s not this bed and MJ.

It’s been a whirlwind; for one, realizing these feelings only just a few hours ago, and now he’s kissing her. His head’s spinning, slowly finding himself getting more and more addicted to the feel of her soft skin under his fingers and palms as they smooth down over her behind, along her bare thigh, drinking every inch of her in. 

The sound of her moan against his mouth causes a flooding rush in his brain, the heat pooled in the pit of his stomach to burn, and he’d give anything to hear it again. His hand travels up the inside of her thigh, settling on her stomach, thumb resting on the trim of her cotton underwear. 

She breathes in sharply, her muscles twitching underneath him. And he breaks away, muttering an apology into her lips. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” she breathes back, and he can feel her smile against his lips as she pulls him back down. “I’m cold.” 

It’s at the moment that he wonders if his heart will actually burst through his ribs with the way it’s pounding against them. He laughs breathily before eagerly kissing her, his fingers toying with the waistband of her panties. It almost makes him chuckle again when she subtly raises her hips, encouraging him, but he holds back, still not able to keep from smiling against her as his hands moves to cup her over the fabric of her underwear. 

It’s so dizzying, how much warmer she is where his hand holds her, the heat radiating from her, and he has to screw his eyes shut to concentrate, beginning to draw slow lines up and down her center over the thin, damp cotton. 

She sighs shakily against him, her head falling back, breaking the kiss as his lips find a home on the underside of her jaw. He brings her closer to him, nestled into his chest as he continues his ghost-like touches. 

When his fingers finally brush over her clit, she sucks in a breath, one of her hands coming to comb through his curls. 

He’s achingly slow as he circles the bundle of nerves through the fabric, matching the relaxed rhythm with his kisses on her neck. He knows he could go faster, that he could just get a move on, and judging from the way MJ’s grip in his hair tightens when he increases his pressure, she does, too. 

But this moment is one he wants to stay in. To savor. He wants to pack up everything he owns and live in it. 

But he also knows that his self-control might not last that long. 

Again, for the nth time that night, he finds himself smiling, both at her soft whines as he picks up his speed and at the way her hand falls to cling to his shoulder. He can hear in how her breath hitches and quickens, feel how her muscles start to twitch underneath him, how she stiffens, that she’s close. 

And right at that moment, he pulls away. 

“Peter—” 

Her whine is cut off by his hand dipping under the waistband of her underwear, finally touching her. Her mouth hangs open, a choked gasp spilling from her as he dips his fingers into her entrance, gathering her arousal and swirling it over her sensitive clit, and he can’t help but groan into her neck, feeling how wet she is. 

How wet she is for him. 

Her back arches as she pushes herself into him, his pace on her clit quickening when she moans out his name. And he murmurs hers back, his soft kisses on her skin a contrast to his feverish touches as he eagerly works her heat. 

His fingers dip down again to her entrance, teasing faint circles before he slides one in, his eyes once again screwing shut at the warmth, at the feeling of her clenching around him. He works a steady pace, pumping his finger in and out, smiling at her wet gasp when he pushes a second one in, instinctively curling them as he glides through her wetness. Her grip on his shoulder tightens even more, nails digging as he finds that perfect spot inside her. 

But then, when he feels her getting close again, he stops, and he wonders if she might hit him by the way she groans in frustration. Still, he smiles—cheekily—as he grabs the hand on his shoulder, guiding it down to her center. 

“Can you touch yourself?” He asks, his tone too innocent for such a request, and he knows it. 

MJ finds it in herself to laugh, shaking her head and closing her eyes as her hand sneaks under the waistband of her underwear and starts toying with her clit.

And for a moment, in all honesty, Peter almost forgets that he’s a part of this, too entranced in watching her face as she touches herself. 

But then, he remembers. A true gentlemen, he peels her underwear from her legs, helping her kick them off before sneaking his hand down again to play with the wetness at her entrance, drowning his fingers in it. An airy smile tugs at her lips when he pushes his two fingers back in, languidly pumping in and out of her. 

“Teamwork,” he mutters dumbly into her neck. 

Her laugh is a beautiful sound, but it’s broken by a low moan when Peter’s fingers curl inside of her, her eyes screwing shut as she matches her pace on her clit with his buried in her cunt. 

“That’s it, MJ,” he whispers hotly as she clenches around him, her muscles fluttering, feeling her teetering on the edge as her thighs start to close around his hand. He watches her expression for a moment, seeing it building and building, before moving to capture her lips into a heated, messy kiss. It’s clumsy, all tongue and teeth as her high climbs. 

And she comes with a loud cry, breaking the kiss, her other hand clinging to him for dear life, nails digging into his skin as her muscles flex and twitch. Her breathing is ragged as she comes down, her hand on her clit moving to grab his working her heat. She holds his hand for a moment, leaning up to kiss him again. 

It’s slower, yet just as hungry. 

Peter moves to wipe his hand on his boxers before placing it on her hip, his thumb rubbing soothing circles against her skin as he kisses her. 

When they break apart, she pushes her forehead against his, smiling dreamily. 

“Still cold?” Peter asks, a sly grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “Is that better?”

She huffs out a breathy laugh, planting another quick kiss on his smile. She curls further into him, nuzzling into his neck, her breath tickling. 

“Much better.”

#spideychelle #petermj #petermjane #promptmas #promptmas 2k20

[crash-cinematic-universe]

A Speedster, A Nuclear Bomb, and a Worn Down Walkman (Ch.1)

pairing: peter maximoff/fem!Wilson!reader

summary:  Y/n Wilson is the only child of the renowned X-Man Deadpool. When Y/n is asked to enroll in Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters by Charles Xavier himself, she has no choice but to accept; much to the dismay of her father. Y/n isn’t used to the knew surroundings or the constant stress of her mutation. All she wanted to do was disappear. Little did Y/n know, she caught the eyes of a certain speedster who wasn’t planning on letting her fade away anytime soon.

req:  Hey, I was wondering if you could write something about dating peter maximoff and being deadpools kid - @8-eight-8

warnings: none, rlly

notes: FUCK YEAH!!! IM BACK TO WRITING THIS SERIES BABEY. sorry this took so long, i swear it wont take this long next time. also 2.5k words to make up for it hell yeah!

PREVIOUS: prologue 

taglist: @creator-appreciator, @wallows-spring

            Saying that life at the academy was hectic would be a severe understatement; your first few days were filled to the brim with endless placement assessments and class work and first impressions. It was as if you were meeting every person at once, each new smiling face and unique name immediately leaving your brain after mere seconds of talking. It was overwhelming and chaotic and at one point you felt as if you had begun to spiral in the first week-- worst of all, you were beginning to miss your father. However, there was one person who stuck in your mind like a fly to a gluetrap-- Peter Maximoff. 

            Peter was made of pure adrenaline, constantly on the move at high speeds as if he would cease to exist if he were to stand still. Nevertheless, he somehow managed to land himself right next to you anywhere you went. You’re not exactly complaining, though, you quite like having Peter around. He’s like your anchor, a person you can lean on when everyone and everything becomes too much-- not to mention Peter’s physical appearance. His features were refined and smooth, as if he was carved from marble by Michelangelo himself. He always had a grin on his face, his eyes lighting up like Fourth of July fireworks that you just can’t look away from. 

            Similarly, Peter was still having trouble processing… you. You were like an ethereal being, an inhuman gracefulness and beauty following you everywhere you went. You brightened up rooms, your laugh could make the saddest person feel uplifted, your eyes were abyss-like pools that made Peter feel fuzzy whenever they locked with him. Peter couldn’t stay away from you if he tried-- you were magnetic, an invisible force pulling him closer and closer until he got close enough to smell the shampoo you use. Everything about you was amazing and perfect and pristine to him-- he would be lying if he claimed he didn’t have a crush on you. Unfortunately for Peter, you were completely and totally out of  his league. In fact, you were so out of his league that the mere thought of you liking him seemed about as realistic as a fever dream. For now, Peter was content with being your friend.

            Meanwhile, Charles was attempting to settle on one of the hardest dilemmas of his lifetime. Originally, Charles had invited you to the academy to attempt to control your mutation. Hank had run various tests to get an idea of exactly how strong you’d become, and the results were shocking. Long story short, both Charles and Hank had come to the conclusion that you were a ticking time bomb. With every day that passes your manipulation of energy expands, reigning in more and more force by the second. The process is gradual and slow, but with time, you would lose your ability to contain the energy. Keeping you in the academy would be your only chance at stopping your inevitable destination, but that would also put the rest of the students at risk. Then again, you were useful; having you on the X-Men team would help save so many people. For the first time in what felt like years, Charles didn’t know what to do. 

            “Hank,” The British man called. “If you were the equivalent to a timed explosive, would you… would you want to know?”

            “I’m sorry?” Hank’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. 

            “I just… I’m not sure if I should tell Y/n about her… situation.” Hank nods in understanding before inhaling deeply.

            “Charles, she’s only been here a few days. She’s barely settled in-- give her time to… warm up to the place.” Hank replies. That doesn’t help Charles’s situation.

            “And after that? After she’s settled in?” Hank sighs. He’s not sure what to do either-- all Hank really knows is that he wants whatever's best for you. Hank had come to enjoy your presence through the last few days. You were kind and paid attention to Hank and his interests. It was refreshing-- Hank wasn’t used to having some be genuinely impressed by his work.

            “You have to tell her eventually, Charles. You’re only hurting her by hiding it.” Charles groans and leans back in his chair. He was truly dreading this conversation-- he had no doubt in his mind that you’d want what’s best for the other students; Wade mentioned that you had a habit of putting others' needs and feelings before your own.

            “Thank you, Hank. That’ll be all.” He waves the other man out of the room, allowing himself to be left to his own thoughts. Charles’s head ached as he glanced at the report Hank had written on you, one specific observation jumping out at the distressed man: “Y/n Wilson is as much an evolutionary breakthrough as she is a safety hazard-- she must learn to contain her power; if she’s successful, she’ll be one of the most powerful mutants ever recorded. If she fails-- if we fail, the consequences will be as catastrophic and destructive as a nuclear explosive. Proceed with caution.”

______________

            The sound of confused giggles and hurried footsteps echo through the hallway as Peter gently tugs you along, turning to glance at you every now and then. Peter knew you were having trouble getting comfortable with the other students, and he was determined to change that. He had a small group of friends that were eager to meet you-- Peter managed to bring you up in every conversation he’s had with anyone in the past week.

            “Peter, where are we going?” You question as Peter turns around a corner. He just shoots a smile back at you before quickly pulling you into his bedroom-- a bunch of students sitting in various places on the floor. You can recognize a few faces from the hallways, but other than that they’re mostly strangers. Except for one-- I can recognize Kurt from the library.

            “Alright, so, uh, I thought that maybe you’d want to meet some of my friends. Just to-- uhm-- just to get more used to some of the people here.” Peter’s stomach flutters as you grin at him.

            “You did this for me?” Peter nodded before your attention was quickly drawn away from him and to the people around the room. Peter is quick to introduce you to all his friends.

            “Uh, Kurt, Jubilee, Scott, Jean, Ororo, this is Y/n,” A blue teenager materializes in front of me almost instantly. 

            “We met already but it is nice to meet you again,” He grins a toothy grin, his hand extending to shake mine. I’m soon met by a boy wearing odd goggles, presumably Scott, then Jubilee, then Ororo, then finally, Jean. They were all friendly and unique and oddly comforting in a way, regardless of the fact that they were all a full decade younger than you and Peter. 

            “What’s the best way to get to know someone?” Scott asks, glancing at Jubilee. She smirks back at him.

            “In all 16 years of living, I’ve come to learn that the single best way to get to know someone's personality is via the ancient practice of Truth or Dare.” She grins wildly.

            “Oh, uh, I don’t know if--” You can hear Peter inhale sharply as Scott pulls him onto the floor, the other students following suit and soon forming a circle on the floor. Jubilee tugs you down by your sleeve.

            “Alright, who’s first?” Jean quips. Everyone exchanges a look before settling on Peter.

            “Oh, uhm… Kurt, truth or dare?” Everyone seems to be disappointed by Peter’s selection, but they continue nevertheless.

            “Truth.” Peter bites his lip while he attempts to think of a question to ask, and you can’t help but stare. The silver speedster is undeniably cute-- you’ll willfully admit that any day. “Out of everyone here, who do you think is the smartest?”

            “Well, both you and Y/n are much older than ze rest of us, so it’s one von of you two-- sorry Jean, zey just have more experience. Uh, I guess Y/n since I vonce saw Peter try to catch a bird with his bare hands.” You laugh out loud at this new discovery and Peter’s face burns a light red. 

            “Alright, Kurt, it’s your turn.” Jean says. The blue boy scans the crowd before choosing the next victim. 

            “Y/n, truth or dare?” All eyes turned to you expectantly. You were never a coward, so you took the most logical route.

            “Dare.” The entire group jitters with excitement, anticipation for what odd things Kurt would make you do circulating in the air.

            “I dare you… to hold hands with Peter for ze rest of ze game.” Scott and Jean both huff in disappointment as Jubilee and Ororo gaze at Kurt with such fury it was as if they were trying to kill him. This dare was odd, sure, but you weren’t one to back down.

            “Easy peasy,” You quip as you hold out your hand for Peter to take. He laces your fingers with yours and immediately your entire arm feels as if it had just been jostled awake. The feeling of Peter’s hand in yours is foreign, but incredibly welcome. His hands are warm. 

            “My turn, right?” You ask, trying to forget the fact that Peter’s hand is entangled with yours. “Jubilee, truth or dare?” 

            “Truth, and make it good.” She grins. 

            “Whose mutation do you think is the least useful out of everyone in this circle?” Jubilee glances around the circle.

            “Depends. I don’t know what yours is,” she trails off for a moment. “And I don’t wanna be mean…”

            “My mutation is energy manipulation-- I can control the energy that’s constantly being produced.” Peter’s grip on your hand tightens a bit as Jube’s eyes widen. 

            “Okay, that’s fucking awesome so definitely not yours,” she exclaims. “Kurt and Peter are useful in combat, Jean is useful in getting information, Ororo and Scott are both super powerful-- I think my mutation is the least useful.”

            “Don’t say that, Jubilee,” Scott says from across the circle. “You’re useful sometimes.” Jean cringes at his words and both Jubilee and Kurt laugh aloud. Scott seems unaware of his mistake. 

            “Thanks, Scott,” The young girl said before returning to the game. “Alright, my turn again? Ororo, truth or dare?”

            “Dare,” Ororo smirks. She’s quite pretty, her hair looked soft and shimmery-- not dissimilar to Peter’s. 

            “I dare you to knock the power out of the entire mansion for a full five minutes.” Ororo complies, a large clap of thunder echoing through the mansion as the room goes dark. Ororo had created a large thunderstorm to cover for the power outage, lightning and rain wailing down on the windows. Peter grips your hand tightly, his muscles tensing as he shuts his eyes for a moment. The other students are consumed by their chatter and laughter in the darkness.

            “Hey, you okay?” You ask softly. Peter is jumpy and nervous, but he doesn’t want to seem cowardly in front of you. 

            “Y-yeah, I’m just not the b-biggest fan of thunderstorms,” You can tell he’s trying to act tough. Gently, you run your thumb over his knuckles in an attempt to calm him down.

            “Don’t worry, silver, the storm will pass. For now, I can distract you if you’d like me to,” You offer. Peter looks at you for a moment, and his heart skips a beat. You’re kind and sweet and selfless, you’re considerate and caring and wonderful and Peter is in awe of you. 

            “A distraction would be nice.” Peter said quietly, wincing at the weakness in his voice. He was almost 30 years old, one of the oldest among the group in the room and he was cowering because of a little thunder. He felt ashamed and small-- it really was no shocker that you were out of his league. However, when you flipped his hand over and began tracing shapes on his palm with your finger, all of his worries melted away for a moment. 

            After a while, Ororo switched the lights back on and dispersed the storm outside, the group  of teens returning to the antics almost instantaneously. You pulled your hands away from Peter reluctantly.

            “Well, uh, I better get going-- I have some work to do.” You say as you stand up. “It was lovely to meet all of you, this game was pretty fun. I’ll see you around.” You can hear Peter scramble behind you, quickly following you out of the room as if he were a lost puppy. You walked in silence for a while, Peter’s strides in sync with yours as you made your way to your bedroom. You admired the detailed architecture along the walls as you walked, various small symbols were scattered across the wallpaper. You didn’t realize you’d reached your bedroom until you were standing face-to-face with the door.

            “Thank you.” Peter says, his voice low and raspy. He’s not looking at you, his eyes glued to the floor.

            “For what?” The shameful feelings returned as Peter kept his eyes on the floor. He feels like a baby-- a whiny baby who gets afraid during thunderstorms and has trouble articulating his thoughts and feelings. It made him so frustrated when he couldn’t find the words to say what needed to be said-- his mind just moved too fast to grip onto any coherent thoughts. When he glanced into your eyes, he managed to get something out.

            “It’s just that I know a lot of people who would make fun of me for being as old as I am and so easily scared.” You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. Peter didn’t want you to pity him, but at this point he just needed to express his gratitude. “Thank you for… not being one of those people.” You took his face gently in your hands and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.

            “Anytime, Maximoff. Anytime.” You smiled before opening your bedroom door and stepping inside. The first thing you notice is that the books on your desk have been knocked over. Then, you realize that there was someone standing behind you.

            You yelp, whipping around and shooting out a blast of energy. You didn’t even expel that much force, but the figure is launched into the wall. It’s only then that you realize this figure was actually your father.

            “Dad? What the fuck are you doing here?!” You shout as you rush to help him off the floor.

            “What, I need a reason to come see my daughter?” He jokes as he pops his arm back into its socket. He looks worried, but he masks it with a smile. “It just happens that Charles wanted to see me the same day I came to visit you.”

            “Charles wants to see you? Why?” You ask as Wade pulls you into a hug. A cough from the doorway startles you apart, and a very anxious looking Hank is standing in the doorway.

            “Looks like we’re about to find out,”

#Evan Peters #peter maximoff #peter maximoff x reader #peter maximof x reader #quicksilver #quicksilver x reader #xmen #xmen fanfiction #xmen imagine #xmen series #wade wilson #wilson!reader #peter maximoff x wilson!reader #a speedster a nuclear bomb and a worn down walkman series

[norealnameshere]

Arie Rambles About Text Hypnosis!

(A long writing/essay about what I’ve learned about text hypnosis and the stuff I commonly tell people when they ask about it. :3 )

I adore text hypnosis. I’ve had chances to experience all of the main hypnosis mediums (other than in person, text, voice, video being the others) from BOTH sides, as a tist and as a subject, and text hypnosis is still probably my favorite. 

It also seems to be the least known and least liked of all the mediums, and I’ve found myself writing and rewriting information about and defenses of it time and time again, and I had the idea to write up a neat little document to share and save myself some time. X3

In this (extremely long) piece of writing, I will mostly be addressing a lot of the questions and complaints I’ve heard from people when I tell them I do text hypnosis. The main parts will be a discussion of trance states, the complaints people tend to make, a list of advantages vs disadvantages (and some suggestions for dealing with them), and a bit about tips and tricks and advice from what I do and what I’ve done. X3

Before I begin, I still very much consider myself an amateur, please do not take this as straight fact, it is merely a writeup of my opinions and what I’ve experienced. (At the time of writing, I’ve been doing text hypno as a subject for about a year and a half, and as a tist for about a year.)

Introduction, mostly about kinds of trance states

A lot of the misconceptions about text hypno are at heart misconceptions about hypnosis itself - I’ve also done a LOT of working with newbies and introducing them to hypnosis, and I always tell them that the first thing to do is to toss away pretty much whatever their preconceived notions are. Film/tv shows/books and stage/street hypnosis are fun to watch, but what they portray are very specific ways of approaching trance - possible, yes, but not common in actuality.

The popular image of hypnosis is of someone going limp, eyes closed, unable to move, barely able to respond aloud. Or, as in many thriller/spy movies, someone hypnotized against their will, brainwashed and able to be set off with a single word to go do...whatever they’ve been programmed to do. And those are POSSIBLE, just not at all common. (The second usually requires a great deal of drugs and other bad shenanigans, but that would be another topic for another informational writing. Perhaps I’ll write on subject agency one day. Likely I’ll not. xD)

However, trance states come in a HUGE variety of appearances, and there are some that happen in everyday life, outside of hypnosis. The most common one mentioned is if you’re driving along and find yourself at your destination without really noticing the journey along the way. Another is reading a page of a book and realizing that you can’t really remember any of what you just read. ‘Zoning out’ is a type of trance state. I like to consider those uncontrolled trance states, and hypnosis and meditation guided trance states. (And the difference between those, to me, is like someone walking ahead of you and leading you down a path (Meditation) vs someone taking your hand and pulling you down a path (Hypnosis))

(I always tell newbies in a first session that if they feel lightly relaxed, I consider it a success. Like any other skill, it is something you can build on and deepen *pun intended*. ;3)

And people can trance differently at different times - most of the time I’m ‘down’, I’m just very still and seem to focusing intently on the computer screen, either waiting for words if its text hypno or listening for words if its voice or video. I have gotten to a point where I can go body limp, face blank, completely out of it levels of trance, but it’s not something that happens commonly, and not something I want to have happen commonly. I very much prefer the kind of trance state where you can listen and react and are in an incredibly suggestible state. ;3

Complaints and Misconceptions, Mentioned and Addressed.

WITH THAT SAID, let’s get back to text hypnosis. 

There’s a few major complaints and misconceptions about text hypnosis, and I’ll go through them one by one with the common points I make in response.

“Text hypnosis can’t be real, because in real hypnosis the subject goes completely limp and there’s no way they can type.” (This is an actual thing said to me by a supposedly trained and credited tist I was negotiating a session with. When I tried to say actually, that’s not true, he sent pictures of his girlfriend to ‘prove real trance looks like this’, and jumped down my throat when I asked if he had permission to do that. I’ve had some interesting people in my DMs in the past. xD)

- Those paragraphs up there about trance states? Yep, that, that’s how I usually respond. (Although I may or may not have gotten REAL detailed about some of the things I’ve done while under in text hypno when I responded to the interesting individual I mentioned. x3)

“I don’t understand how someone can type while they’re tranced.”

- Unless you’re someone who genuinely struggles with typing and has to consider every key as you press it, in general typing is not exactly an active thought activity. Most of the time you don’t go ‘I need to type yes, so I’m going to press the y key now, and the e key now, and the s key now. Often, you don’t even think ‘I am typing the word yes now.”, you just...think words and type them as you go, without even directly thinking about the keyboard.

However, it is also something you can work on making easier and more natural. When I’m working with someone new who is uncertain about typing while in trance, I will start by not making them for the first session, I’ll take them down, then bring them up again and check in on them and ask for feedback. I tell them that any questions they see during trance they can answer aloud or in their mind, whatever works well for them. When they’re comfortable with that level, I’ll start having them answer with a y for yes and an n for no (and make sure to ask only yes/no questions). We’ll work up from there as necessary. :)

“I hate text hypnosis because there’s no feedback.”

- I will grant that feedback is not as immediate as it is in voice/video/in person. You cannot hear or see the person and know, moment by moment, how they appear to be doing. However, there are many ways of getting feedback, and sight/sound are not the only ones by a long shot. 

Especially in a first session, I tend to do a series of short drops - taking someone down a little bit, bringing them up, and checking in on how everything is going, what’s worked well, what hasn’t worked as well, etc. Not only is this a good way of getting feedback of how things are going, it also serves to fractionate the subject a little. ;3

As you do more text hypnosis, you also get to know things to watch for - responses starting to slow down, grammar and spelling changing, fuzzy typing (oh gods, I love fuzzy typing~), etc. Having that history of what was typed means you can also have your subject read back over what happened and give you feedback based on that - I know quite a few people whose memories get fuzzy about what actually happened in sessions, but having that record can jog the memory and help them go ‘oh yeah, that happened, and this could have gone better, and...”

Sometimes I feel like it’s *better* feedback in the long run, because I can scroll back through the history and see what I’ve done in the past and how it’s worked. Since I started doing mostly voice hypno with my pets, I’ve missed having that record, because I have a terrible memory. ^^”

“Text hypnosis is fake, it’s all just roleplayers.”

- Sometimes, yes. Usually that’s something you can figure out if you make sure you have a good, thorough discussion and negotiation beforehand, to find out what everyone involved wants out of the session. If it’s something that really bothers you, make sure to include it in your list of questions.

I would say this is a VERY important thing to find out if it’s someone you’re planning on doing an extended number of sessions with, but that’s also the kind of person you should have constant ongoing discussions with anyways. (Hell, I’ve been with my tist and my pets for a long while now, and we still periodically have negotiations. Things change and need to be rediscussed. It happens. :3)

If it’s a one off session, well...at least you’re getting practice with your writing, right?

(I will update this from time to time with other frequent questions or complaints I hear or receive.)

Advantages vs Disadvantages

Now for something a little more fun! Advantages of text vs the other mediums, as well as disadvantages and how to overcome them. :3 (This is definitely a section I’ll update over time, as I think of more things to add. ^-^)

Advantages:

- One of the absolute best things about text is the record it leaves. Unless you record your sessions, voice and video and in person sessions are left only in the memories of the participants. In text, unless the place you’re typing in is deleted after a certain point (or if someone edits their text afterwards, tho’ that actually can be fun too, and I’ll address it later. ;3), you have this useful record of what you did, what was said. 

This is great for multiple reasons. The first and biggest one for me is how much it helps, considering my memory issues - I have a shitty memory, and forget things way too easily. On both tist and sub side, it’s great to be able to scroll back and reread what happened in a session. Second, rereading is a great way to relive and refeel those memories (especially if you miiiiight possibly have the ability to reexperience memories almost as strong as the moment they were made, coughcough) which is also hella good for conditioning. (;3) Third, it can be fun to link back to certain points or use bits of the written record against people. You can tease them with things they wrote, reference past experiences, or (and this is definitely absolutely completely hypothetical and not something I’ve had done to me at ALL, oh no. >.>) leave little ‘traps’ if you know they reread - “When you reread this, send ‘this message’ to me so I know you did, and then forget~” kinds of things.

This fact can also help if you have different schedules or are in different time zones, you can leave short written bits for the other, delayed action traps so to speak that go off when read - not as a replacement for active sessions, but a fun supplement. :3

- Related to this idea but in a different direction, you can create...hmm, kind of ‘homework assignments’ for a subject to read later, or read over and over again. VERY useful for conditioning, especially if you have a suggestion or an order of ‘once you have finished reading this, write [this sentence] to me to let me know you have read it.’

- Another HUGE advantage of text is privacy. I still live with my family and, while I have the benefit of a basement room, interruptions are common and curious ears are a possibility. For people who live with roommates or with bedrooms in the house closer to family members, privacy becomes even more critical. On the subject side there might be some visual signs of what’s happening, depending on what’s being done and how they trance, but overall on both sides it will just look like concentrating intently on the screen and typing, just like writing an email or visiting with people on a discord. 

As a side note to that, you can also do fun things like be innocently sitting in a voice channel with them, chatting with other people, while sending them suggestions or triggers in text, and watch them try not to react, try to resist. ;3

- Just like there are certain tricks only doable in voice or video or in person, there are things you can do in text that aren’t easily replicated in text. 

Just a few ideas off the top of my head are using formatting for various kinds of emphasis (italics and bold are great for helping to add ‘tone’ to your typing, strikethrough can be a fun way to tease someone or to say something you’re too flustery to admit openly, spoiler text can be used to tempt someone and trick them or trap them); italics can be used to denote ‘actions’, which some people either have or can develop the ability to ‘feel’; making use of brackets for different effects (anything I write within {these} you obey immediately and then forget doing is a big one. I’ve created an ability for like...the back part of my head to communicate with my tist even when the active part of my head is dropped, which is pretty useful to be able to go {hey, that thing you suggested got interpreted wrong and I’m kinda stuck now}, and report on things without having to actually come back up. x3); tying triggers or suggestions to emotes to have innocent seeming ways to play with someone or fluster them; and so many more. X3

- Text hypnosis is a godsend for people with hearing or speech problems. I have certain hearing issues that make it hard for me to hear people with certain voice pitches, especially when over a phone or a voice channel. It can break immersion and be frustrating if you have to keep asking for someone to repeat what they’ve said or repeat yourself for someone. You don’t have to worry about volume control or if your microphone is picking up everything you’re saying, don’t have to worry about people misunderstanding your accent, don’t have to worry that you’re mishearing something and responding in the wrong way. 

- One of the biggest reasons I love text hypnosis is the small amount of space I have to think about what I’m writing before I send it. I am WORLDS more creative with my phrasing in text as opposed to in voice, because I don’t have to worry about stammering or stuttering or hesitating while I figure out where I’m going next. Plus I have a tiny amount of time to change what I’m sending before I hit send, if I realize mid sentence that its not what I want to say. I can be thinking about the next line while I’m still typing the last one, but I can’t think of the next sentence while I’m in the middle of saying the current one.

- Seeing a whole page full of typed mantras is lovely, just saying. ;3

Disadvantages (and potential fixes!)

- Biggest one is lack of immediate feedback, which I discussed earlier. :3

- Those who aren’t as skilled at typing or reading may find themselves having some issues. One of the things that brings me out of trace the fastest is having to wait for too long - this is a major disadvantage for tists who are slow typists. ^^”

This problem does present more of a difficulty to get past than some, but I do have some suggestions to try. One thing I’ve done (and that can also be useful if internet flickers and having ‘buffering time’ so to speak, for ANY medium that uses the internet) is to account for that at the beginning with something like “If there is quiet for a moment, you’ll find yourself quietly rereading the last few lines you’ve received, each line you read helping to keep you calm and keep you deep.” or “Any time there is a pause in the words you read for more than a few seconds, you’ll find yourself focusing on [some spot on the screen].’ Specifically on discord, the ‘someone is typing’ message can be useful as a focus anchor.

I don’t approve of copy/paste text hypno in the most part, but perhaps if speedy typing is not something you’re good at, and if it’s a basic induction, AND if you tell your subject what you’re doing, then I could see using it to help make up for slower typing. It’s often easier to keep someone in trance with slower typing than it is to take them down in the first place. You could also possibly give them a written induction file to basically prime the pump. The key is to talk to the subject and find out which, if any of these options are potentially usable. (Also make sure you write your own induction, don’t just copy someone else script.) I would suggest being ready to throw in some in the moment typed lines as well, reacting to things the subject may say. Be ready to improv a little.

- This is more of a problem with manipulative, bad tists than with text hypnosis specifically, but a written record could be used against you (in the same way that someone could secretly record you in the other ways and then use them against you). Be very careful about what information you share with people, basic internet safety stuff, okay?

Also watch out for if someone edits or deletes that record in an attempt to gaslight you or mess with you. If that’s a concern, you can make backup copies of sessions to keep on your computer so you always have the original to consult. Most chat programs that allow editing will also indicate that the original has been edited, so that can also help.

And finally, a few tips and tricks I’ve picked up, basically things I’ve found fun to do, from either side. X3

Assorted Tips and Tricks

- Text is AMAZING for teasing. I am actually known and am infamous for my teasing (there is a server where I helped contribute to a week of so much teasing in general chat that they designated a separate channel for heavy teasing. x3) - I started dabbling in teasing for weeks before I actually tried my hand at any actual hypnosis. (Teasing is wonderful in voice, too, but I have noticed sometimes if someone is chatting normally, then suddenly throws out something teasing, it can be easy to miss it among the normal chat. It’s much harder to miss when it’s in text, especially if accompanied with an emote. ;3)

In text you can also leave teasing messages for someone to see later, maybe after they’ve gone to sleep, or while they’re playing games, or distracted in voice chat somewhere. Like a fun little trap they spring later, and you get a lovely ‘hfouiwenfkwje!!’ later. x3

It’s also fun to have ‘in jokes’, so to speak, and to slyly slip those words and phrases in with normal talking, and get people flustering that way. (For instance, if you use a certain kind of imagery to drop someone, like balloons, and then find ways to slide balloon references into your typing to remind a subject of that session.)

- Group hypnosis is a lot of fun - there’s a few places I’m in that have text channels that allow open hypno, and slyly twisting around the conversation and playing with words until you catch a bunch of people and set them drifting is fuuuun.

It’s also sometimes easier than in voice, because either you have everyone mute and you feel like you’re talking into a void, or you have a chaos of overlapping voices. In a group text session, you can often begin with something like ‘the more you see others type the same kind of responses you do, the more the phrases affect you.’ I have seen cases where you have almost group mantras going on, and the people involved said seeing the others typing definitely added to the experience.

- If you DO have an opportunity to do voice at least once, or once in a while, you can make use of that to add to your text hypnosis - I have some people I have done BOTH with, and they said that they were pretty quickly able to ‘hear’ my voice in my typed words - I actually try very hard to match my written style to my talking style for that very reason. :)

I also have a few emotes that apparently really resemble expressions I’ve done in video before, and I can make use of those emotes to evoke memories of those expressions, and things I’ve done while grinning just THAT way~ ;3

Conclusion

So!

Almost a month after I started and many pages later I am done with what was supposed to be a quick little writeup of ‘things I tend to tell people when text hypnosis comes up’, and knowing me I will continue to edit and add to this as I think of new things.

However! It is done for now, and I hope my rambling was useful as well as entertaining. :3

I am more than glad to expand upon anything I’ve written, my DMs are open for questions or you can track me down in a discord server and ask there, I’m in a few different ones. ^-^

#hypnosis #text hypnosis #guide #of sorts? #mostly just me rambling #all the things I usually say in defense of text hypno #^^"

[kodzumie-archived]

Another Daddy Nagito fic by Big sis Alexis!

(I think I'm about to get a cavity from all the fluff I bring out, I gotta have some bitter angst to balance things out. So enjoy this story! I may even make a part 2 if you want a happy ending. Tell me what you think, pwease??? I love hearing your thoughts, they really help me improve and inspire me to do more, so tysm!) 

Oh how Hana loved her father. She was told from her Uncle Hajime and Aunt Chiaki that she inherited several traits, many charming ones, from him. Down to his platinum colored hair, to his pale skin, she was almost the splitting image of him. However, the one person who amplified this fact was her mother, (Y/N) Komaeda. The (H/C) has expressed a great interest, not in physical attributes, but personality wise. Hana has developed a love, near identical to her father’s, of bagels, beautiful things, but most importantly, hope

However, after this awful day at Hope Peak’s elementary, she was starting to reconsider if her passion for hope was something to be proud of

“Is it true? Your father was a psychopath? And his excuse was that ‘it’s all for hope’?” 

“I heard your father is a freak! All he blabs about is hope! I’m so sorry for you” 

“The poor thing. How does she stand him everyday?”

“I bet she’ll turn into a hope obsessed creep like her daddy!” 

The toddler let out a sniffle as she exited school grounds, wiping leftover tears with her gloved hands. The fuzzy fabric irritated her puffy eyes, producing the opposite result that she wanted. More streams of salty water left her (E/C) eyes, staining her usual pink cheeks. It was too late to cover up her post sobbing expression, as she saw her father waiting for her outside the building

“Hana! There’s my flower of hope. How was school?” Nagito crouched down to his daughter, gently taking her backpack off her shoulders. He slung it over his shoulder, carrying it for her. However, Nagito’s cheerful persona was replaced by a worried one in a split second, analyzing his daughter’s rare, depressed mood

“H-Hana? What’s wrong? Oh! Mama is knee-deep in work. She may have to spend a few days at the office. She’s so sorry, but sends you hugs and kisses!” He assumed the reason his daughter was upset, as he began to walk her home, the other parents too invested with their own children—Hana’s classmates that bullied her own father

“N-No, Papa. That’s not why I’m sad…” Hana mumbled, interlocking her tiny hand with her father’s free one. She knew her father was more intelligent than he gave himself credit for, especially for reading facial expressions. There was no point in hiding her melancholy mood

“Oh? What happened, darling? Did someone bully you?” Nagito asked, reaching their home. He pulled out his house key, turning the metal inside the keyhole until he heard a click, signaling the house became unlocked. Hana cocked her brow for a split second, as she entered with the white haired male. She could’ve sworn that her father’s happy-go-lucky demeanor was swapped for an indignant glower. Although, it seemed his discontented scorn only lasted as long as the word “Bully” did. Pushing this side thought away, Hana shook her head, crawling onto the fuzzy living room sofa

“No, Papa. It’s not me they are bullying. Umm….the other kids at school….said some things about you….” Hana spoke in her soft-spoken voice, making Nagito furrow his brow. He placed Hana’s backpack on the coffee table, taking a seat besides his precious flower. Gently guiding his hand towards her back to rub soft circles, he racked his brain for a moment. He knew that he wasn’t the most liked person back at Hope Peak’s academy. He knew that his former classmates would have hammered their negative opinions about him onto their own children—making them despise him even without meeting him. Even so, Nagito didn’t expect Hana’s classmates to single her out so fast—Hope Peak’s elementary has grown to become a large community, as Hope Peak’s academy’s high school program was

Snapping out of his thoughts, he turned back to Hana, keeping a warm smile on

“Oh? What kind of things?” He asked her, making Hana blush. The toddler looked down, biting her glossed lips. The subtle flavor of strawberries filled her tongue as she tried to convey what her classmates have said about Nagito. Psychopath? Creep? Freak? How did her classmates even know those words? Certainly their parents didn’t hate Nagito that much…..

Right? 

“Umm….they said….they said….” Hana let go to her bottom lip, releasing the flavor that once filled her mouth. Nagito turned his head, seeing a box of colored pencils and a notepad on the coffee table. He reached over for both items, handing them to Hana

“Would it be better if you wrote it down?” He offered, making her nod. Hana took a black colored pencil and the notebook, setting it on her lap. She thought for a moment, retrieving the correct words that her classmates have used in their unsavory dialogue about Nagito. After two minutes, Hana ripped out the page she wrote on, folded it, and handed it to Nagito. She hesitated before letting go of the other end 

“Can you not to read it until after I go to bed?” She asked her father, making Nagito blink for a second. Until she goes to bed? Is it that bad? Nagito paused for a few seconds, but nodded, taking the paper in his hand

“Anything for you. Now, how about you play for a bit, my little hope? Take your mind off of the bad day you had, yeah? Papa will order some food for dinner,” He patted her head, making Hana force a small smile, getting off the couch. She scurried off to her room, forgetting her backpack on the coffee table. Nagito watched his flower of hope run to her room and reverted his green orbs back on the folded note he held his his hands. He pondered what the kids could’ve possibly told Hana about him. Nothing too bad….hasn’t Nagito atoned for his actions? He tried his best to make amends with his classmates. His mental health and illnesses have warped his actions. But wasn’t his heart in a good place? He had everyone’s best interests at heart, did he not? 

Mentally apologizing to his daughter, his curiosity got the better of him, and he began to smooth out the crease marks of the once folded message. After trying to make sense of the five year old’s messy handwriting, Nagito felt his heart drop. His ghostly green eyes widened, a few sweat droplets rolled down from his temples, staining the nasty letter that he had to read 

The other kids at school called you an evil psychopath that no one liked cuz you were a freak. And they called your talks about hope stupid and creepy….like you were

⤷ Kodzumie; AAAAHHHH THIS IS SO DEPRESSING BECAUSE IT FEELS SO, SO REALISTIC. LIKE—IF NAGITO HAD A CHILD, THIS IS A SCENARIO I’M CERTAIN WOULD HAPPEN AND THAT MAKES ME WANT TO CRY FROM HOW REAL IT’D BE. YOU MADE THIS ANGST SO REALISTIC THAT IT HIT EVEN HARDER, IF POSSIBLE.

It’s written so phenomenally, every bit of it. The flow of the entire piece is incredible and everything is articulated to absolute perfection. It’s not too fast as to where various information is collected, but it’s not too slow that the anticipation dies down; it’s seriously perfect.

And the realism—I can’t get enough of how realistic this scenario would be for Nagito—brings this entire piece together and is like a boulder falling atop my heart. It feels so genuine that it hurts; it hurts to think of Nagito’s former classmates to speak so lowly of him, even to their kids; it hurts to think that he’s worked so hard to make amends; it hurts to think that after all this time, he can’t escape his past.

I adore angst, it’s my favorite genre. And this truly hit the mark for what I’d consider a remarkable angst. It’s sad, it’s a real pain in which the reader can feel from Nagito and his daughter. The pain is so vivid, I’m truly in awe at it all.

Hey, big sis—Alexis—this is genuinely phenomenal. This is incredible. This is everything that words are unable to describe because it’s just that good.

Thank you for allowing me the honor and pleasure of reading something so amazing. This is a celestial piece of writing. Thank you.

#kodzu.submissions! #kodzu’s.loves! #submission