#my brain is utterly broken rn | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

Ooh i’m so excited rn omg...what i need rn is more of aizawa and villian!soulmate reader. They just keep acting like a brat until aizawa takes them home and punishes them X3

Prelude - shoutout to y’all for being so patient with me! appreciate it so so much. Also, there was like one other ask that I wanted to include here but I couldn’t find it, so rip. Also, @bbygirlpastel ty for the “Villain? I’ll show you a villain.”

Pairing - Yandere Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - dub con, non con, NSFW, overstimulation, no actual penetration. Creepy Aizawa, vibrators, uhhh literally nothing good here. Dead dove man, if you look at a dead bird and KNOW it’ll taste disgusting and make you sick to your stomach.... DON’T FUCKIN EAT THE BIRD. listen to the warnings my dudes!!

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/6p8eEdiZLKJH8tcjGZuNTK?si=9r_2kgkoR56h9UkBCybxLw

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Maybe he wouldn’t be this infatuated, this utterly obsessed, this angry with you if you had just given in from the start.

You weren’t even a high-priority villain, just some desperate nighttime thug that preyed on innocent bystanders. Snatching wallets, causing a ruckus, stealing from thrift stores or gas stations a couple of times a week. You were a nuisance, but not big enough to catch Aizawa’s attention - not until you stole a women’s watch right in front of him on the street while he was buying a snack from a food-cart before his shift started.

And yeah, Aizawa tried to keep a low profile, not flaunt his hero status in order to effectively capture and subdue villains, but surely you would’ve noticed the man clad in black, obviously sporting hero gear standing nearby. But you didn’t, and then he was grabbing your shoulder so he could drag you to the police station. Aizawa had been surprised when you wiggled out of his grip and took off, and damn, you were fast.

The game of cat-and-mouse had begun, and while the underground hero failed to catch you that night (and every subsequent night he saw you out on the streets) he was determined to do so. Well, maybe not /as/ determined. When it came to you, the man was easily distracted.

The clothes you wore were baggy, hid your form effectively. But if someone looked close enough, they could notice the curves of your body, especially as you ran, evading capture. Aizawa was loathe to admit at first, but it was tantalizing watching you flee from him.

He beat himself up over it. He’d always had a solid grasp of self-control, and usually he felt no attraction to his targets, even if they were wearing the skimpiest of outfits. One time he had turned in a villain wearing nothing but pasties over her breasts and panties (her quirk was seduction-based), and he hadn’t felt anything but utter boredom as he filled out paperwork at the police station while they found her some actual clothes. It probably had something to do with the “soulmate” quirk he had been hit with once, but Aizawa had never really put much faith in it, nor thought about it extensively. He had always had a bit more self control than other men.

So for him to almost have feelings for some low-life idiot? It made his skin burn with irritation (and maybe something else, but he wasn’t ever going to address that). It didn’t make any sense.

The fact that it didn’t make any sense did not stop his brain from plastering not-suitable-for-work thoughts about you whenever he ran upon you committing some minor crime. It was infuriating.

The satisfaction the man felt from finally pinning you down, taking advantage of a small stumble, tackling you down and pressing you into the cold concrete of the rooftop was probably unholy. It just felt so damn good, catching you, forcing you to submit, getting you underneath him. When he had flipped you onto your back, you wouldn’t look at him, just staring off to the side, almost as if you were ashamed.

You should be - stealing from anyone and everyone, being a brat, making Aizawa’s life difficult as you infiltrated every waking moment.

He had started to lecture you, starting out with his usual cool-headed,

unbothered demeanor, but slowly getting more and more annoyed as you still refused to look at him. Pretending he wasn’t there, refusing to listen - Aizawa felt the urge to slap you, just to make you react.

He settled for harshly gripping your chin, forcibly turning your head so he could look at your eyes. Eye contact was an important thing to Aizawa - it was the basis of his quirk, but he wasn’t prepared for the punch to the gut he felt when he looked into yours.

Words escaped him, mouth dropping open, his body frozen. There was - there was something going on. You took advantage of his pause, shoved the man off of you, took off running. Aizawa could do nothing but sit there, staring after your form with his own eyes wide and wondering. What had just happened?

He reflected on the moment for the entire rest of the night, musing over the strange feeling coiled in his stomach, the weird tug in his chest, his brain wanting and desiring and lusting and it was so distracting, he wanted it to stop, but at the same time, he wanted to indulge.

The realization finally hit him - the soulmate quirk he had been hit with, all those long years ago.

Some lady had come up to him while he was shopping, smiling at him toothily before asking him wether he believed in soulmates. He had stared at her for a second, before blankly responding with a curt “no”, turning back to continue browsing the selection of applesauce packets. A hand on his wrist, a burning sensation from his arm to his heart, and then he was rounding on the woman, ready to drag her to the police station for using her quirk in public without a license.

She had just cackled, citing something about soulmates and how he was going to believe now, he’d learn what it would feel like to find your true love when he looked into their eyes. Some sappy, romantic, crazy bullshit that he had ignored and promptly forgotten, before calling the police.

The lady had been deemed mentally ill, driven mad by the loss of her husband in a hero-based accident. Aizawa quickly forgot about the incident.

Aizawa didn’t believe in soulmates, and even if they existed, there was no way in hell that his soulmate would be a villain.

But apparently, the universe did not care about Aizawa’s opinions.

He tried to ignore it, turn a blind eye whenever he saw you sneaking around late at night, would turn and head the other way. But there was no denying the burning flame in his heart, the yearning to see you again, to talk to you, learn about you, what you liked, what you didn’t, where you had grown up, what your aspirations were.

Aizawa hated it.

But he couldn’t ignore it.

The feelings grew and grew, festering in his body like an open wound, infecting his mind, crawling through his veins and slowly seeping into every aspect of his life, until all he could think about was you. The man needed it to stop.

The cat-and-mouse game was picked up again, except this time, Aizawa wasn’t going to give you any opportunities to get away.

You were able to sense the change, could see the rabid look in his eyes when he sought you out for the first time since the night you had slipped out of his grasp. There was something different, and it wasn’t good, it was dangerous.

You managed to dodge him for a time, and some part of Aizawa swelled with pride that his supposed “soulmate” was so clever. The other part of him wanted to break something.

He was almost frightened by the change in him, this volatile anger, the impatience and the lust. That wasn’t who he was, but ever since meeting you, looking into your eyes, it’s what he had become. Maybe if he tracked you down, got close to you, spent some time with you, this needy feeling would go away. You couldn’t run forever.

Aizawa caught you during the daytime, when both of you were off-guard and not paying attention. It was luck, really, or maybe destiny or fate, that he had looked up to watch as passengers filtered onto the subway. You were wearing the same baggy clothes you always wore, hoodie over your head, earbuds in.

There was a backpack slung over your shoulder, and Aizawa watched you sling it off to place it in your lap as you sat down before the doors closed.

It was easy to follow you home, to the dingy little deathtrap you called your own, on the first floor of an abandoned, moldy motel building. It was even easier to follow you inside, through the broken window , his footsteps undetected through the blare of music in your earbuds.

It was less easy to subdue you, with the desperate fight you put up, trying to kick and punch and scream as soon as Aizawa’s thick arm circled around your throat. Still, the man had been subduing unruly villains for a while now, and it wasn’t hard for him to keep his hold on your smaller from, no matter how you thrashed in his arms.

When you finally passed out from the lack of air in your lungs, Aizawa gently followed you down to the floor, staring at you for a moment (god you were pretty, how had he not noticed how pretty you were?) before looking around the room.

It looked like a regular motel room, except there was no TV, there was signs of rot dotting the walls, and the air smelled decidedly unhealthy. He wrinkled his nose as he took it in - you would be much better living somewhere less unsavory.

Which, Aizawa’s home was perfectly capable of hosting an unwilling guest. Aizawa wasn’t naive enough to think you’d be happy waking up in an unfamiliar room, but he figures it would be better than jail. Like hell was he going to hand you off to the police, not when the ache in his chest was subsiding in your presence, the burning need for something lowering to a slow simmer. Justice be damned, Aizawa was going to be the judge, jury, and executioner in this particular case, and he had yet to decide your fate.

----

“You are insufferable - if you would just give in, everything would feel so much better. Holding out like this is illogical.”

He was tired. Tired of your stubbornness, tired of your refusals, tired of your insults, tired of the way his skin itched and blood boiled every time you spat at him or knocked over the plate of food he brought to you.

When he was met with silence, Aizawa sighed. This was getting old. It had been a month since he’d brought you under his roof, a month of holding back, a month of playing nice, a month of letting you “adjust”. But you hadn’t adjusted, hadn’t even tried, and he was tired.

“You’re only hurting yourself by acting like this.“

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to act like this if you hadn’t kidnapped me.” You spat, glaring daggers at the man.

Aizawa paused, almost humored by your spiteful response. “You would rather I have turned you over to the police? The prison system isn’t kind to pretty little things like you. No matter how tough you pretend to be, you’d be broken in less than a week.”

You scoffed, pulling at the chain that held your ankle to the wall. “As if this is somehow better. You’re a sick man, I hope you choke on your next meal and /die/.”

Aizawa gestured to the room, his patience wearing thin. “I could make it worse.”

And he could. He could take away the thin mattress you were sitting on, shorten your chain so you couldn’t reach the bare-bones bathroom, he could stop feeding you, or make you eat scraps like a dog. Of course, he could make it much better too, but only if you’d stop fighting him at every turn.

“I don’t even know what you want. You’re just an old pervert, you’re no hero. You claim to be good and just, but you’re no better than the villains you put behind bars.”

Within a second, Aizawa was crouched in front of you, gripping your chin, yanking you forward until you could feel his heated breath across your face, could see the tension in his eyes.

“I want you to behave.” He ground out. “I’ve treated you with nothing but civility so far, but if you’re so determined to see me as nothing but a villain, then fine, I’ll show you a villain.”

Aizawa was at the end of his rope. It was uncharacteristic for him to exhibit such anger, such impulses and wild feelings, but when it came to you, Aizawa felt like he was an entirely different person, ruled solely by his instincts.

With a push, you were sprawled onto your back on the mattress, quickly trying to scramble upright, ready for an attack. But Aizawa just watched, letting you panic before you realized he was going to stay put. Well, stay put for a time.

There were some things he needed to go get, to show you how good he had been to you, to prove that he had been nice and accommodating. But if you wanted to play dirty, then Aizawa could play dirty.

He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes locked onto your face. You were such a shy thing, barely able to hold eye-contact, always blushing and stammering and fighting when he made you look at him. It wasn’t his fault that your eyes were enchanting, drawing him in like a spell. If he could, Aizawa wouldn’t mind spending a few hours just watching you, watching your eyes take in the world. Of course, that was an illogical desire, but the man found he was having a lot of those these days.

You huffed as you felt him watching you. “You’re a creep.” The man didn’t answer, and you deflated, voice coming out small “Please…. let me go. I won’t like, steal stuff anymore, alright? Just let me go.”

Aizawa could bet that you were scared - after all, you were nothing more than a common crook. It’s probably the first time you’ve ever been held hostage, the first time you’ve been immobilized. You were probably used to intimidation, maybe even abuse - someone living in a rotted, abandoned motel and living off of what they could steal each day probably didn’t have a good story to tell about what had happened to them.

Either way, Aizawa didn’t really care. If it wasn’t for the tearing sensation in his chest when he was away from you for too long, he’d definitely have handed you over to the police by now. It was driving him insane, how he couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t live now that his mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of you.

When he went out at night, he worried that you would hurt yourself, or escape - get away from him somehow. When he was at home, trying to do the “right” thing and give you space, not touch you, not invade your space, he was bombarded with the single-minded desire of holding you, feeling the warmth of your body against his chest.

It had to stop. He didn’t know how to make it stop.

Aizawa had tried everything, from leaving you alone, to spending time watching you from the other side of the room - the man had even tried to erase the supposed “soulmate” quirk he was infected with by using his own quirk in the bathroom, staring into the mirror. Nothing seemed to help.

He had tried to be nice, he had tried to be good. But there was still the tugging in his chest, the itch he couldn’t scratch when it came to you. He wanted to do so much, but he wasn’t a villain, he wouldn’t force you.

But there lay the problem.

Aizawa wanted to.

He closed the door behind him as he left your room, the “torture chamber” he had said once, deadpanned tiredly in an attempt at a joke. You hadn’t laughed.

The man supposed that this last month had really just been him warring against the dark, whispering corner of his mind that urged him to just take. To do what he wanted, to lay waste, to ravage you in every carnal way he so desired. To force you to lay by his side at night, force you to give him long, loving kisses, force you into domesticity.

Aizawa knew it was wrong. He had tried to ignore that part of him, push it down, focus on the logical solutions he could think of, the ones that kept his actions pure and heroic. But at this point, with you resisting so strongly? How you called him a villain, a pervert, a creep? Why not let the villain inside take a moment in the spotlight.

That’s what he was thinking as he gathered items into his arms from his room, spending hardly any time picking out what he wanted and needed. He’d had so many dreams, so many thoughts of what he would do to you once you finally submit to him. The man had plenty of ideas, especially now that he was deciding to throw his inhibitions out the window.

The fact that you most likely weren’t going to be willing merely meant that Aizawa added a spreader bar and an extra set of cuffs to the growing pile in his arms.

Stepping back into your room was almost thrilling, seeing your eyes snap up, to the bundle of items he held, then at his face. They were so wide, scared, panicked. It was a good look on you honestly, one that Aizawa didn’t mind seeing more often. He was done being the nice guy.

“This is entirely your fault, you know that (Y/N)?” He mused as he strode forward, crouching to set down a towel on the ground, slowly laying each item down onto it. Might as well build up your fear and anticipation.

“If you hadn’t provoked me so, I would’ve been able to be continue holding myself back.” He could hear your breathing pick up as each item was set down, had to fight down a mocking smirk. “You had to be a brat though, egg me on like that. Well, if it’s not apparent by now, you’re probably going to regret that.”

“Please, please, oh god, this-you don’t need to-you-there’s-“

“Didn’t you just accuse me of being a villain? I’m just trying to live up to your expectations here, isn’t that what you want?”

Aizawa finished emptying his arms, then headed towards you, holding the extra pair of cuffs in his hand. He caught your eyes, watching you beg, try to push yourself back into the wall, away from him. There was no doubt that you were terrified, practically having a panic attack as you hyperventilated, eyes darting between Aizawa, the cuffs in his hands, the items on the towel behind him.

It was easy for Aizawa to grab ahold of your already-bound wrists, pulling them down to the ground, right above the top of the mattress. Quickly, one cuff was attached to your wrist, the other cuff slipped through a small, recessed metal ring in the ground.

After you had…. “moved in”, Aizawa had done some renovations. The angle he had you trapped at now kept your arms stretched above your head, immobile and unable to move more than an inch in any direction. It’d be uncomfortable if you were left like that for too long, but Aizawa was still planning on being somewhat merciful today.

You were still babbling quietly, pleading with the man. “You don’t need to do this, please, please please please please-!” You sobbed out the last “please”, trying to wrench your arms free. Of course it was useless, and you were doing nothing but tiring yourself out, but Aizawa didn’t mind.

It was easy to attach the spreader bar to each ankle, despite the way you cried and kicked, ankles slipping out of his grasp a couple times before he could finally pin them down. Aizawa felt eerily calm, patient, but at the same time seething, excited, almost foaming at the mouth for what he knew was to come.

“Struggling won’t achieve anything, but feel free to do so.” He encouraged, shuffling backwards on his knees to look at you, stretched out body on display.

You were still wearing clothes, a thin t-shirt, a pair of loose basketball shorts - all Aizawa’s. He had immediately told you to leave your old clothes outside the bathroom door when you showered the second day after he had captured you.

You had resisted at first, but quickly relented when the man raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders before advancing towards you menacingly. You had gotten the message loud and clear, immediately backing down, agreeing to wear the clothes you were given.

Aizawa retreated to the towel, swiping a pair of scissors off of it. Brandishing them, he snipped them twice in warning. “You might want to be still for this part. I don’t actually want to cut you, so if it happens, it’ll be your fault.”

And then he bent over, carefully snipping the clothes off of your rigid body.

As soon as the last shred of fabric fell away, you breathed in air, immediately letting out a loud, tearful wail. Aizawa felt a twinge of regret, but the quickly-growing bulge in his pants currently outweighed any other feelings he might be having.

Putting the scissors safely out of reach, the man let himself rest back on his heels, surveying your body the way one surveys their food before taking a bite. And oh, was he going to eat you up.

You were writhing, tears falling from yours eyes, still babbling out nonsense as you begged for him to stop, to reconsider, to think about what he was doing.

“I’ve thought about this plenty. It’s called fantasizing.” He murmured, before gently resting his hand against your naked hip.

You spooked like a wild horse, thrashing the second his hand made contact, crying and wailing, shying away from his touch.

Aizawa was glad he had the foresight to bring a gag.

You were so worked up, you didn’t even notice him grabbing it, didn’t register his hand clamping around your jaw, wrenching it open and shoving the ball gag past your teeth. You quickly fought against that too, outright screaming, trying to shake your head, pull away from the hands fastening the strap around your head. But Aizawa was quick, and good with his hands, and your screams became muffled, nothing more than desperate background noise to the defiling of your body.

Resuming his exploration, Aizawa cradled your head in both hands, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “If you relax, it won’t be as stressful for either of us.”

With another muffled scream, you turned your head, tear-filled eyes glaring at the wall.

“Or you can be a brat.” Aizawa laughed, a sound he wasn’t used to making. “Either way, it’s not gonna change what’s happening.”

Returning to the towel, Aizawa picked up the next couple of items, turning back to see you watching him through teary eyes. He presented the items in his hands, showing them to you. If you were curious, might as well let you see how he was planning to take you apart.

The second your eyes fell onto the lube, the bullet vibrator, the skin-safe tape, you wailed again, closing your eyes in horror, shaking your head. Aizawa breathed out his nose, humored at your terrified reaction. Not so tough when you were tied up, at the mercy of a man, were you?

Your legs were already held apart by the spreader bar, and no matter how you squirmed when Aizawa kneeled next to your hip, you couldn’t close your legs. When Aizawa’s warm hand ghosted over your stomach, you cried behind the gag, and when his hand made contact with your soft pink folds, you absolutely bawled, the sound loud and pitiful even as muffled as they were.

Aizawa wanted to tease, to feel all around, rub against your labia, tickle your clit, skirt around your opening. He let himself indulge a little, before pulling back, squirting out a dollop of lube onto his fingers. When the cold wetness touched you, there was barely any reaction, the way you were already panicking essentially making you loose all feeling.

That was alright, Aizawa knew that would change soon.

He let his hand wander around your entrance, massaging the lube into your skin, taking special care of your clit, your inner labia, the puffy folds. The man got lost in the sensation of your warmth underneath his fingertips, eyes slowly falling shut, a low hum coming from his throat in a natural attempt to soothe you.

The man didn’t know how long he stayed like that, gently massaging wetness onto your skin, humming, but by the time he opened his eyes, your weeping had essentially subsided. You were making cute little sniffling sounds, trying to calm yourself, your own eyes closed, limbs almost relaxed, as if you’d accepted your fate.

When Aizawa took his hand away to reach for the bullet vibe, you barely moved. When he pulled back the lips of your labia, nestling the small, ovular vibrator against your clit, you only flinched. He pinched your labia lips almost painfully, hiding the vibrator underneath them as he pushed it hard onto your clit, before taping thick strips over your skin. When he was done, the vibrator was firmly in place, immovable, covered almost completely by your labia, which in turn was held over the vibe with the skin safe tape.

The vibe was turned on, and Aizawa swore that your back arched so fast and hard he heard it pop. You writhed on the thin mattress, pulling at the chains binding your hands to the floor, trying to turn onto your side, bucking your hips, jerking and twisting this way and that at the overwhelming sensation. Aizawa had never used the bullet vibe on himself, but he’d felt the strength of the vibrations against his hand as he decided on a setting for you, feeling the tingly sensations through your skin through the tape, before kicking it up a few notches.

You were screaming behind the gag - Aizawa guessed you weren’t used to toys, but he felt no remorse. He put a strong hand on your hip, holding you flush to the mattress as your hips moved about wildly.

“This is what a villain would do. They’d tie you up, assault you…. Tear you down and exhaust you until you turn into a broken little cockslut. Aren’t I so much nicer? At least I plan on taking care of you after. Plus, I’ll still lo-“

He cut himself off, grimacing at the words that had almost slipped out. Aizawa wasn’t ready to admit that to himself just yet. He wanted to hold onto the allusion that he could resist you, that he didn’t need you, that you weren’t unequivocally important to him

Not like you were listening.

With a sigh, Aizawa sat back, content to watch you writhe as you wiggled your hips, the movement making your breasts jiggle slightly. Aizawa groaned internally, his erection straining, throbbing inside his pants.

“You’re so beautiful, your body is…. Indescribable really.” The man mumbled, eyes trained on your form. A sheen of sweat was covering your skin, making you shimmer, making you slick. Aizawa’s hands itched as he looked at you, wanting desperately to wrap around your waist, to hold you close as he rut against you. But he wanted to prove a point. He wanted to show you that he could be nice, that he had been treating you good, that you shouldn’t be a childish brat and shout insults at him every day.

But god, was it hard to just sit back and watch you.

He unzipped his pants, reaching past the waistband of both pants and boxers, hissing as he took his erection in hand. He was wet, leaking precum, but did he expect anything else? You were laid out in front of him like a feast, delicious.

You were so overwhelmed by the vibrator strapped to your pussy, you didn’t even notice Aizawa beginning to jerk himself off. It’s probably better that way, he figures - if you realized what he was doing, you’d probably have a fit. Your cries faded into tearful whimpers, long whines, which then morphed into guilty moans, enjoyment that you couldn’t hide. When you came the first time, Aizawa was watching your body, stroking his cock in time to the way your hips jumped against the vibe.

When you came the second time, hair a mess, Aizawa moaned your name a little, his own cheeks flushed with embarrassment and desire as he squished his thumb against the tip of his cock.

The third time you came, screaming out muffled nonsense, Aizawa couldn’t take it anymore.

He leaned forward, quickly undoing your gag, having to let go of his cock to work on the straps. When the plastic ball was free from your mouth, drool slicked over your chin, gulping breaths being taken, Aizawa surged forward, pressing you back into the mattress as he kissed you hungrily.

You whined into his mouth, naked chest pressed against his shirt, crying in overstimulation as the vibrations between your legs didn’t give up.

“Mhm, you taste-“ The man had broken away from your mouth, only to dive back in again for a quick taste before speaking again. “-so damn good.”

“Aizawa-Aiz-aah! Aah!” You keened, a fourth orgasm washing over you, leaving your nerves tingling, buzzy.

“That’s right, that’s who’s making you feel so good. You feel good, don’t you?” He pressed, crowding closer to you. He was in the process of pushing down his pants, his boxers, kicking them off.

“No, no no no, can’t-can’t-it hurts! Mmmfh-!” You moaned, back arching again.

“Don’t lie. Listen to yourself, you sound like a whore.” Aizawa chuckled breathlessly, turning you slightly onto your side. He was feeling hot, flushed, feverish. He wanted to do so many things - fuck you stupid, cuddle you close, give you warm hugs and kiss your pussy until you ground against his face.

“No I…. I don’t!” You yelped, the way he was positioning you pushing the vibrator into a different position. “Aiz-mmmm, Aizawa! Please-oh god, oh god-oh, please, st-OP!”

A kiss shut you up, Aizawa licking inside your mouth, feeling your saliva smear against his stubbled chin, felt you fighting against your bindings again. Where did you get all the energy?

He didn’t break the kiss to look down, to take himself in hand and guide his cock into the tight plushness of your thighs, right up against your dripping, messy cunt.

When he pushed forward, his mouth fell open. There was so much /pleasure/, he felt dumb, thick-headed and cotton-mouthed. You were so warm, so wet, and the vibrator was still buzzing away happily, pulsating through his cock as it rested against your pussy.

He wanted to cum, right then and there.

Feeling his thick cock pressing between your thighs, you wrenched yourself away from the kiss, whimpering as he pressed his cock up to chase the buzzing sensation, increasing the pressure of the vibe against your skin.

“Wait, ah, wait! Please, no more-mhmm! I’ll-I’ll be gO-od!” You whined, hips bucking again as the feeling built up again.

Aizawa thumbed at the wetness covering your face, trying to wipe away the tears, but simultaneously forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, I won’t look, there’s no need-fuck-no need to be embarrassed sweetheart.”

He reassured, knowing you were close to humming again. This time, he didn’t want you to have to finish alone.

With another gentle caress to your cheek, Aizawa grabbed your hips, before smoothly sliding his cock through your thighs, fucking right against your pussy. It felt incredible, better than anything else he’d ever experienced in his sex life - hell, in his entire existence.

Aizawa tried to hold himself back from humping against you, pumping his hips wildly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not when he was so worked up, not when you were moaning and gasping in his arms, shaking towards another orgasm.

“That’s it, almost there, just a little longer.” He reassured, voice strained and almost cracking in pitch as he neared his end.

“I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me! Don’t-aaah! No, no, plea-SE!”

Your muscles tensed, Aizawa could feel it, your body pressed so tightly against his own. Then you were gone, eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent gasp, brows furrowed as you were forced into cumming again.

It made Aizawa burst, feeling your thighs tense around his cock, your cunt convulsing, body trembling. He came easily, covering the inside of your thighs with his sticky seed, before quickly pulling himself free.

He had just had an earth-shattering orgasm, but he needed to get you cleaned up. After all, you had just had /several/ earth shattering orgasms.

The vibe was turned off, the tape gently pulled away You flinched at every tug, skin burning with sensitivity, all of your nerves fried and overstimulated.

Tape off, Aizawa reached up and unbound your hands, quickly throwing the vibe and extra set of cuffs back towards the towel (he hoped - his brain wasn’t working well enough to know if he was accurate or not).

Aizawa felt... good, warm inside. He didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings swirling around in his chest, the contentedness that came from just holding you, but he couldn’t exactly deny all of it either.

The two of you sat there, you lost in your own headspace (subspace? Aizawa didn’t know the terms.. but for you, he’d be willing to learn).

“You did so well, look at you.” The man breathed, looking down at your body. Fuck him, even covered in sweat and cum and fluids, you were still the most enticing thing he had ever seen.

You didn’t respond, just occasionally blinking at the ceiling, still as a mouse.

You were submissive and compliant for the time being, not struggling when Aizawa gathered you into his arms, cradled your head to his chest. His heart soared at the physical contact - you hadn’t let him do so much as look at you without yelling or snarking some mean insult. This was progress.

Aizawa kissed the top of your head, noting that the two of you would need a long shower in a bit.

You were so fucked out, Aizawa almost felt a little bad at your disheveled state.

At least he had been merciful this time.

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certifiedceraunophile · 3 years

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Hi! A fan of your writing here. I just love the way you write Caroline. An Avoidable Heart is my comfort fic and I am constantly in awe with the way you write and craft the dynamics in that story. Caroline's inner monologue is just priceless and God! I just love that intro scene where Caroline is walking into the Mikaelson compound with vampires and hybrids in the surrounding ready to pounce on her.

I would love to hear how you would have visualized Caroline crossing over into TO or not? Like in what season and why? How it would have likely gone?

Thank you!

First of all lovely anon gimme a moment to breathe, asdfghjkl why are people so lovely 😭😭🥺✨ It means sooo much to me that you’d take the time to jump into my inbox and send these kind words, like please I’m not worthyyyyy, But you make me smile and feel really freaking warm so *handcuffs your hand to mine* you aint leaving 💖✨💞🙃

But OK ALSO oh my god dude THAT CAROLINE WALTZS INTO THE COMPOUND AND TAKES ON A COUPLE HUNDRED VAMPIRES BY HERSELF SCENE???? Ughhhhh I’m sorry but I have SUCH a boner for Caroline in that, like my badass -I admit kinda op- QUEEN IS HERE and she’s fucking shit up, I’m sorry but I love that scene so much it’s so dear to me I was killing myself over how self-indulgent and grossly Over powered Caroline is but like idgaf man it’s such a hot scene and Caroline is practically invincible and we just love to see that, so seriously lovely anon, you telling me you LOVE that scene??? Puts the biggest smile on my face and reassures me a LOT bc I was whining and cribbing over how absolutely unbalanced that scene is to literally everyone BUT LIKE YOU JUMPING OUT OF NOWHERE and pointing that exact scene UGHH…...meant to fucking be the both of us 💖💞✨

And ALSO Caroline’s monologue is quite honestly the easiest inner monologue out of the three voices I wrote for that work, Klaus’s is the real pain in the ass tbvh like it is NOT easy writing pretentious besotted losers with a Kardashian complex especially when you need to make them sound cool when they’re the lamest OP dude bros to ever exist - and no I don’t hate Klaus although I seem to try my darndest to convince ppl I do- I just personally believe that a feral fucker like that with a thousand years of existence under his belt can grow a pair and graduate from his kindergarten level of emotional maturity to adult sometime soon, But then on the flipside he’s so grossly adorkably smitten and feral for Caroline plus hella horny for her all the time that its usually easy to write the trashed and devoted idiot he is into something pretentious and powerful and potent when relating to his unflappable arrogance and his narcissism, but sometimes I also need him to be *deep* and ffs profound for the sake of the plot and jfc my muse just wont work with me on that, she’s like I’m sorry I’m not about to bust my ass to make this mongrel intelligible like no sir all I wanna do is make him uncomfortably horny for Caroline and leave him like that.

So smh yeah the struggle is real….but lmao Caroline is just so precious and fiercely protective and just so achingly lonely in that story, so desperate for connection and trust and intimacy yet so guarded and impervious to everyone like it hurts me to write her like that but it really challenges me as an author to balance out her inherent light with the “void” I create in her and through her, so yeah it’s a very fulfilling task and I wouldnt change it one bit, and also I had to balance out her physical op-ness w half a millennium of the ugliest emotional trauma lol so I guess that figures, but the point being….once again I am overjoyed knowing that you liked a facet of the story that I tried so hard to make as authentically Caroline and achingly real and moving as I can and I cannot possibly feel more accomplished than rn for it so ty ty ty ty for reaching out to me and telling me *tackle hugs* It makes me GIDDY knowing that you enjoyed that particular part of the story like ugh stab me please you're too sweet.

And ok NOW, coming to The Originals part of the ask, (also please note that when I say TO headcanon; Hope does not exist, Hayley is a dead in a ditch and ofc Klaus will stop being that lil bitch they tried to pawn off as Klaus in TO)

HEADCANON 1

Honestly my biggest headcanon when it comes to TO crossovers somehow always include non-humanity!Caroline like it’s just so perfect to me?? The opportunity to make shit BLOW UP b/w them like imagine the DEBAUCHERY, the heat, the SEXUAL TENSION, the repression of one Klaus Mikaelson, the EXPLORATIONS, and omg the role reversal when Klaus has to be the voice of moral reason between them and not bc he believes Caroline would not be able to stand herself if she does something heinous and monstrous but bc he wants her to be completely and utterly herself, and yk *aware*, when she DECIMATES ppl to the ground and is in full-on predator mode, like he wants her monster to come out and play with him when no part of Caroline is locked away or suppressed, so obviously when she is w/o her humanity KLAUS exercises restraint on her behalf, like can you imagine that, Klaus restraining himself and being the vague, extremely broken and just largely inaccurate moral compass between the two of them for ALL the wrong reasons- and the entirety of NOLA just standing there watching him herd this baby vampire who seems to be intent on riling him up and angering him when all she is doing is giving him a massive hybrid hard on, like IMAGINE THE GOODNESS of non-humanity Caroline wrecking NOLA and Klaus letting her wreck it bc he is helpless in the face of Caroline Forbes and also bc he is quite honestly *enjoying* the debauchery himself so why put a damper on the festivities.

-I might wanna add that I favour this headcanon a lot bc I genuinely do not even remotely *like* the idea of NOLA as Klaus's chosen place to set his roots so like I would love Caroline going to NOLA and destroying everything there just bc I detest NOLA and the storyline behind it in TO. (yes is it petty? Obvi, but like I am a petty soul and I make no apologies ma’am)

HEADCANON 2

So yeah that’s my main TO headcanon, but my other one being, one I talk about very frequently, scream about in tag rants to an obsessive level, and like this is a cracky one but still very valid, where Caroline rolls up to NOLA humanity intact and all, finds Hayley preggo and is just laughing her fucking ass off bc anybody ANYBODY, with half a brain and a two minute convo w klaus would know how UTTERLY stupid the entire baby shit is especially when it’s with an immemorable one night stand, and Caroline’s just losing her shit about how like an entire city is obssessed w this baby and she just straight up tells Klaus he’d SUCK as a dad (which he really does tho like he was a shitty fucking dad canonically too) and Klaus is just like *sigh* girl tell me about it. I mean basically he’s finally relieved that someone is on his side about the whole baby thing and how he definitely does not want his entire millennium of life to finally sum up to this one squalling leaking stinky infant/unicorn Hayley is apparently baking in her oven, and I say this headcanon is cracky bc klaus would never have put up w this mess long enough for Caroline to come in and sort it out, there’s this preferred method of disposal of his called heart ripping that would've been employed quite early on and honestly saved us all a lot of brain cells and minused years of life, bc let’s be real any Klaus who’s NOT a lil snivelling bitch wearing a Klaus skinsuit would’ve yeeted the baby and the mama first chance he got, and that’s just how I see it.

Lmao I really hope I didnt scare you away w my *strong* opinions Ik they can be a bit much but I enjoy having them so theyre not going anywhere, anyways this ask answer got WAYYYY too long but I’m hoping I answered your question well with this or atleast left you slightly confused and bemused over my feral screaming....either ways I’m really really really happy to have got your ask and the chance to rant so much bs, Twas cathartic and honestly I had nothing to do today so I was more than happy to dish this baby out for you. Thank you so much sweet anon for putting a smile on my face today I am absolutely HONOURED by your words you’sa cutie 💖💞✨🗣🗣

#first of all #LONG POST #second #I did rant a LOTTTT more than what was prolly expected but lmao am I sorry?#no #anyway so those are my general drivel-tastic thoughts straight from glitter graveyard brain #hope you enjo navigating through so much bs anon #and I hope someone puts a smile on your face that's as large and bright as the one you've put on mine today #anon asks #ask certified ceraunophile #anti the orginals #tvd headcanons #tvd #klaroline #anon youre the sweetest #shakes hand cuffed hand #you stuck w me lovely #💞💞

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kaitosimp · 3 years

Note

Ok hear me out.

Kaito is Aromatic/ace sexual

Basically a Kaito who has never felt romantically attracted to anyone before nor has ever had any real interest in doing anything with anyone.

At first this might seem a little... self indulgent I suppose but hear me out dude..

The most blunt and thing everyone always points to with other stuff with how ambiguous it is that he loved Maki back after she confesses to him.

He’s odd with his wording and personally even if Kaimaki is one of my favorite ships EVER I’m not sure he loved her back.

More set in stone prof of this is how people go on and on about Kaito being oblivious to his friends obvious feelings for him.. that he’s being blind and stupid but I really don’t think that’s the case.

I personally think Kaito has such a lack of understanding for romantic feelings in general.

Of course he wouldn’t jump to the conclusion of them liking him if he himself as never felt those emotions before.

It wouldn’t register in his brain that anyone has any kid of crush on him and so.. it flys past his head without registering to him properly.

So it’s less him being obvious and more such emotions being directed at him not crossing his mind..

I think this lack of understanding can also explain why he’s so affectionate both physically and with words to his friends.

I don’t think Kaito is trying to be romantic or hint at any crush when he acts like that.

It just seems like he’s being Kaito.

Showing he cares about his friends,

He doesn’t see himself being romantic he’s not trying to.. and doesn’t understand why anyone would would see him being that because once again he hasn’t really felt attracted to anyone.

Also in the game there are several moments where he is obviously misunderstanding about others being attracted to each other or just how that works in general.

Like thinking Maki and Shuichi like each other, not getting Tenko’s attraction to Himiko, ETC.

It just seems like he’s really just NOT understanding.

And like he’s acting like he does to cover this fact up.

Expanding on this I think it could very well explain his issues on so called manliness and what he thinks a man should be.

Because of Kaito’s upbringing was by his grandparents.

People with an older mind set, they definitely influenced this older thinking matters on him.

Including how a man should very well have girlfriends date.. have romantic interests in females..

But.. Kaito doesn’t feel that very important thing and so doubles down on everything else they have told him and desperately pretend he does understand how that kind of things feels like.

That of course he’s been attracted to people!!

(He has not)

The poor guy probably thinks somethings wrong with him, that he’s broken, having no idea what he’s going through is actually a very normal thing.

And even if he was told: ‘hey your probably aromantic buddy’

I 100% believe he would be incredibly miserable.

Because Kaito doesn’t want that!

He wants to feel attraction!

He wants to love other people and make them happy!

But he just can’t... no made how hard he tries.

He would not be happy with the new label at all, but be very bitter about it.

Kaito was waiting for ‘the one’ that everyone always talks about so he could finally feel that spark.. but turns out ‘the one’ will probably never come.

It would make him more sad, upset and miserable than I can fully express.

(I also think he would deny this and try getting into a relationship anyway to force himself to feel something but continue to feel nothing and accidentally trap himself in a relationship he doesn’t feel the same way in when the other person is hopelessly in love with him and he doesn’t want to break it off to avoid hurting them. (This can work with any of the characters really but esepally Maki and Shuichi))

He wouldn’t be prideful of it at all and I personally can’t blame him.

It’s a lot different from being gay or bi..

Kaito almost wishes he was, at least then he could feel something.

Anyway ya!

I have more reasons why I think Kaito is those sexuality’s (mostly ace because I didn’t mention that much) but I don’t want to make this longer than I already have.

It’s a shame no one else seems to see it because I think it’s a real possibility despite being very self indulgent regarding my out very frustrating sexuality.

Aro/ace Kaito supremacy!!!

Oh woah before I talk about the actual ask, can I just say that that drawing is so dang cute and amazing, I LOVE IT!!! 😭😭💜 Even if Shuichi and Maki are crying in the back asdfghjkl poor sidekicks but hEY, Y'ALL BETTER ACCEPT AND SUPPORT THE SPACEMAN RN

I think your reasons and thinking for Kaito being aro/ace are hella valid and make a lot of sense!! Even if it's not something I hc it truly makes sense and it would explain certain aspects of his behavior when it comes to romantic-ish things and him being utterly clueless about this kind of stuff 😩

And also, that stuff about him being sad and frustrated and miserable at finding out he's aro/ace made me sad 😭😭😭 I very much agree, if Kaito were to be told that he'd probably be so miserable and he'd probs think it had to be wrong, he'd be in denial, he'd refuse to accept it, he'd think he was weird and like you said, maybe he would try forcing himself into a relationship just to try and prove himself wrong/prove he was "normal" but it'd just make it all so much worse 😔 It was probs drilled into his head, like it is to a lot of ppl, that he had to settle down at some point with a partner (a girl in his case) and marry her and have kids and all that shit, so the fact he doesn't feel attraction or romantic feelings for anyone while having those ideas in his head would make him think he had a problem and was disappointing his grandparents/the ppl around him who had high expectations for him and that everyone would think he was weird for being like that and it'd just- it'd take such a toll on him and he'd need lotsa time to be able to accept himself and understand there's absolutely nothing wrong with him and that his friends wouldn't think any less of him 😔💜

And what you said is true that I don't rlly see much of this (I've literally only come across oNE fic of Kaito being ace) and it's the first time I see anything about him being aromantic, I think it could be a possibility indeed!! Again, even if I don't personally hc it, it makes a lot of sense and it could explain a lot of his behavior regarding this type of stuff 👀 And even if you consider it's self indulgent there's absolutely nothing wrong with that!!! This is very valid and nobody can say anything about it 🌚🤚🏽💞

#kaito momota #I LOVE THE DRAWING SO MUCH IT'S SO CUTE #this is hella valid and we take no arguments about that in this house #shuichi and maki better dry them tears and go love and support him rn #i loved reading your reasons for this sm it truly is a possibility!!

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ve1vetyoongi · 5 years

Text

remember me | kth - 03

chapters: I, II, III, IV, V

pairing: taehyung x reader

rated: mature - contains smut.

genre: idol!au, baker!tae, french!reader, angst, romance, fluff, smut.

summary: Taehyung wants to be forgotten. Overwhelmed by his life as idol persona V, he longs to just be Kim Taehyung for once. Even if that means forgetting everything he ever knew.

word count: 7.1k

warnings: smut, oral (m receiving), penetrative sex, mentions of blood, strong language, memory loss.

a/n: so. it’s finally here..its chapter three. I’m going to be honest with you - this has been finished and sitting in my drafts since January but for some reason I just couldn’t post it. I got so many lovely messages about the last chapter and truthfully I was scared - just in case this one doesn’t live up to expectations! But it’s like 11pm rn and im making the decision to FINALLY put this out...so let me know what you think, I promise I can handle it! hehe.

The nightmares started suddenly. And once they did, Taehyung couldn’t make them stop.

It was becoming increasingly normal for Taehyung to find himself awake in a pile of shivering limbs at ungodly hours of the morning.

For some reason his mind just wouldn't quit it.

Almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, brazen images plagued his peaceful slumber. They crept into every corner of his brain with a vigour so overwhelming, Taehyung was sure they were reality - until his beating heart went into overdrive and woke him with a jolt.

The nightmares were nothing like Taehyung had experienced before. This wasn’t your run of the mill blood and gore - in fact he was blind; or more accurately, his eyes were covered - by what he couldn't tell, perhaps a mask - only allowing a dull and dampened light to penetrate its cover.

It wasn't what he could see that filled him with dread - no, the thing that had him paralyzed, vulnerable and cold was what he could feel.

His body, washed in a fiery heat that numbed his entire being. The air, hot and heavy as he gasped around it, lungs ablaze.

He could hear too - a haunting cacophony of broken strings and his own screams, barely noticeable if it were not for the way his throat burned fiercely.

In the dreams everything felt a little too bright, a little too loud and so vivid yet when he woke they were jumbled and faded and somehow out of reach. An untouchable movie reel that played on repeat until dawn pressed pause.

That being said, they were becoming more intense, more clear. Slowly, at least. Sometimes, his fingers were able to loosen the knot and part of the blindfold would fall away, revealing cracks of the picture before him - parts of the thing that was haunting him - like another piece of a puzzle falling into its place.

And that was what Taehyung feared more than anything. For now, the blindfold was his protection, a form of sanctuary from whatever pursuit he was running from.

If the blindfold was gone, Taehyung would have to confront his persecutor face to face. And he was terrified of what - or whom - he may find when his eyes finally adjusted to the darkness he knew waited for him.

Taehyung had tried to hide the dreams from you at first. Back when they were just that - dreams. Back when Taehyung could turn over and fall back asleep, replacing the fear with the cushion of peace and comfort slumber once brought him.

Until they were so intense, so powerful, he found himself shaken awake by his own frantic shouts, legs and arms thrashing around in the satin bed sheets that suffocated his dampened skin.

Suddenly, they were a lot harder to conceal.

Naturally, you were concerned. It was driving you crazy, seeing Taehyung in pain yet being helpless to relieve it.

This wasn't the type of wound inflicted by a knife or a fever and you were out of your depth.

You wanted to know why; or more accurately what - what was turning the man who smiled so easily and lived life with a love so passionate into a child, stricken with fear. What caused him to become so utterly inconsolable?

"I have a book on dreams somewhere," You had encouraged one morning, after a particularly bad night. Nibbling your lip anxiously, you searched through a pile of novels on the floor next to the bed. Perhaps providing the why for Taehyung would help him come to terms with the what, you figured. "It might help you sleep better if you knew what the dreams meant."

And Taehyung wanted to tell you the what. Except he couldn't. Because truthfully, he didn't know himself. And he was more than sure that there was no textbook that could provide him with an adequate explanation.

"Yeah. Maybe." He had responded with levels of enthusiasm lower than he intended to be evident, flashing you a curt smile in an attempt to save your feelings. You were trying to help, he knew that. "I'll give it a read."

Truthfully, besides the knowledge of morning, the only comfort Taehyung could rely on was not something that could be found in a book.

It was you.

When the world was dark and his body trembled, your arms were a tender sunrise as you cradled him in your embrace.

Your fingers stroked his hair with a soothing touch gentler than moonlight and the tears that streaked his cheeks shimmered like a thousand stars.

Your hot breath was sweet as honeycomb while it whispered gentle hushes into his ear, bringing his heart to a steadier pace with your slow lullaby.

And it was then that even though the nightmare still clung to Taehyung, the world didn't seem so dark anymore. You were the sun, bathing him with a warmth and radiance that didn't burn like the fear did.

And for a moment, everything was okay again.

After a while, you found yourself lying awake even before Taehyung inevitably woke you with his strangled cries and sweaty palms. Simply watching as his chest rose and fell gently, exhausted features relaxing as you traced the contours of his face with your thumb. Anticipating the pivotal moment where they would harden and contort with a pain unimaginable to you.

Until another nightmare would take Taehyung away and you would hold him desperately, scared to let go incase he never came back.

Until the sun rose and morning filtered through the curtains and you were sure Taehyung wouldn't slip through your fingers like broken glass.

Until Taehyung was Taehyung again.

Taehyung would be lying if he said that night was like any other; it was worse.

He had already woken up twice that night, plagued by the same demons he had grown to anticipate. Both times you had been by his side, pulling him towards you carefully as you always did, pressing soft kisses to his forehead despite the layer of salty sweat which coated it.

Not long had he fallen asleep again before they were back, except something seemed different - striking a bout of fear in him more intense than ever before if that were even possible.

His body was alight again, hot to his own touch when he grappled with the blindfold which obscured his vision to no success. A voice sounded somewhere behind him - or was it in front of him? - he couldn't tell, but he tried to follow it anyway, stumbling to his feet and outstretching his arms as he blindly navigated the darkness. The voice was bright, almost friendly if his gut instinct wasn't screaming NO! as he approached it.

"Taehyung."

Well, that was new. It knew his name now, huh?

And then, again: "Taehyung."

But this time the voice was different, deeper. Recognisable perhaps, if he just thought hard enough...

His foot hit something and his balance was lost, sending him flying forward. Taehyung's hands came out before him, barely breaking his fall and colliding with the coolness of metal - no, it was glass, he could feel the broken shards cutting his palms, blood surprisingly cold against his boiling skin - and then the voice was back, taunting him this time.

"Taehyung! Taehyung! Taehyung!"

The strings began to play and he must have started to scream because the air was knocked out of his lungs with a colossal force that left him heaving on his hands and knees.

A fragrance so sweet it was sickening filled the air, choking him as a brush of velvet fabric raised the hair on his arms.

The voice was next to his ear this time, lips brushing his lobe.

"Taehyung. I miss you."

Before he knew it, he was running, boots clunking against stone as he tried to outrun the voice that seemed to be everywhere now. Until the ground disappeared, his stance faltering; and he was falling, falling...

Until then, he was awake again.

Taehyung's form shot up, elbows propping his weight as he clutched his chest, face contorting with fierce anxiety.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

His breath came out in short, sharp rasps and his throat was tight and raw. He drew his bare legs to his chest, arms curling around them and cradling his own chin between his knees, waiting for your familiar gentle touch to send shivers across his skin.

Except, it didn't. And for what felt like the first time, he opened his eyes.

Morning slipped between the cracks in the blinds, bathing the room in a yellowish glow. The clock on the wall told Taehyung it was already past 10.

A quick glance to his side revealed you, perfect and still as you slept facing where he sat, arms outstretched as though you were reaching for him.

Guilt washed over him. You had barely slept for weeks - and it was all his fault. You were so worried about Taehyung's sleeping habits that you completely forgot to take care of your own; no wonder you were exhausted, he tutted.

And through it all, Taehyung had been too focused on himself to even realise it. He had been too caught up in his own nightmares to notice the blueish bags beneath your eyes or the yawns you hid behind your hair at the bakery.

He couldn't blame you for not being there when he woke up, not really. But that didn't stop him from wishing you were awake to hold him, relieve the anxiety that bubbled hotly under his skin.

Even though thoughts of waking you nagged in the back of his mind, he resisted. Taehyung's thumping heart felt like it suddenly stilled when he looked at you, utterly tranquil. His hands ached to trace the pink rosé of your cheeks, the soft lips which parted for quiet breaths to flutter between them.

He decided he could not bare to disturb you.

"I'm a grown adult. I can do this." he said to nobody but himself, hearing the uncertainty that was evident in his own voice. "It was just a dream."

With trembling fingers he pulled the sheets tighter around your shoulders, placing a long kiss to your temple before climbing out of bed, feet scuffling against the carpet as he crept carefully out of the room.

The apartment was the same size as it always was however while it usually felt cosily small, now it was suffocating. Every breath felt like the air was thinner than the last and Taehyung wanted - no needed - out.

Quietly, he pulled on a shirt and slipped his feet into his shoes before scribbling a note in his messy scrawl: GONE TO MARKET. BACK SOON.

A walk. That is what he needed. The fresh air would do him good, help him clear his head.

The cane he was used to grabbing out of habit now balanced against the dresser. Gingerly, he applied pressure to his thigh, wincing when an ache captured his leg. Not nearly as painful as before, though.

His fingertips brushed the cane's handle, before retreating to the fleece lining of his coat pocket.

"She'll be happy," he reminded himself of your face, imagining the way it would beam when you saw him walking without assistance. "You can do it."

Hand caught on the door handle, Taehyung turned and took one last look at your sleeping form, lashes pressed tightly to the tops of your cheeks.

And with that, he slid out of the door, pressing it shut with a quiet click before making his way into town.

The morning air was cooler than usual against Taehyung's face, and the light chills that crept up his arms were a welcome relief from the heat that still lingered somewhere beneath his skin.

Preparations for the annual September Fate filled the market with an excited buzz as Taehyung walked beneath the blue and yellow bunting someone had strung between opposing balconies in celebration.

If there was one thing Taehyung could rely on it was that the town was full of life. The infectious warmth was enchanting, drawing Taehyung in with its loud and bustling charms and thawing a sense of normality from beneath the vice like grip of unnerving fear that still clouded his mind.

Herds of people crowded around tattered wagons decorated with collages of fresh produce. Taehyung felt his shoulders relax from their hunched state as his eyes glazed across their familiar faces, anxiety eased by the contagious giggles of playing children.

"Bonjour, Taehyung." An older man behind a vibrant fruit stall called as he passed by, whom he recognized as a regular from the bakery.

"Bonjour, Monsieur," He drawled back in French, his pronunciation not yet perfect but improving. The people here didn't seem to mind though, accepting him as one of their own. The quizzical stares he had received upon arriving were long gone, replaced with knowing grins and tenderness. It felt like family. It felt like Taehyung belonged.

The fragrance of sweet jasmine and white lilies drew Taehyung's attention towards a flower stall which sat nearby. The blooms were as vibrant as the town itself, flamboyant and almost too beautiful not to stare at and before he knew it his feet were shuffling towards the biggest bouquet of sunflowers on display, their dreamy scent lulling him with a sense of familiarity.

Sunflowers were never his favourite but somehow they intrigued him now; they were majestic power and strength, surviving every storm and begging for the sunlight they received so graciously. They were joy on a cloudy day, giving their beauty to the world without regret.

Absentmindedly, Taehyung handed a crisp bill to the stall owner and told her to wrap the entire bunch.

While the age calloused fingers of an old lady began to carefully twist the stems in brown paper, a bell chimed as a door was opened nearby, followed by the click of heels and harmonious, sugary laughter. Taehyung's eyes couldn't help but wander.

A couple stepped out of the store which sat on the street corner, a spring in the step of the young woman whose eyes were filled with stars - almost brighter than the ring her partner placed on her forth finger.

The man's own expression softened as he watched her hold out her slender fingers, admiring the rock that symbolized infinity; eternal love. His palms cupped her chin and he tilted his own so that their lips crashed together perfectly. And Taehyung found a small smile growing on his own face as he watched them disappear hand in hand, filled with a sudden sense of longing.

His heart was laced with a desperation to touch you, to feel you. To tell you that he was hopelessly yours and he wanted nothing more than to make you his, if you would allow him.

He didn't need the wedding - though he had to admit the idea of seeing you in a dress was mouthwatering, the image too beautiful for him to comprehend - just you and him and the security of forever and always.

It was almost laughable. How he had turned up in a new town, an amnesiac and an outsider. Yet somehow the things he had forgotten didn't matter anymore when what he knew was so precious; the love he felt for life here was real and something told him he should hold onto it until death did he part.

But if losing it meant having you, he would agree in a heartbeat. And that's how he knew you were special.

Taehyung's palm cupped his forehead, shielding his eyes from the morning sun as he read the handmade sign balanced above the window of the store the couple emerged from. Someone had scrawled Pawn Shop in French, the red paint a little smudged at the edges but still legible.

It was like some sort of rope was tightening around Taehyung's waist, drawing him closer and closer, all earlier thoughts forgotten as he pushed his way through the small crowd, ignoring the grunts of irritation from those around him.

A glass window separated him from the display of silver and gold jewelry encased in glass, each labeled with prices and carats and styles. His eyes scanned the shelves of rings - each pretty enough to make his heart flutter slightly at the thought of watching it catch the light on your finger but none quite what he envisioned.

Until he saw it. In a box, black and perfectly simple, with an interior of pink satin - elegant yet tasteful. It was luxury and splendor and everything that this town was not.

Except, all of this become a blur when Taehyung's eyes fell on the main prize - something that made every other stone in the world seem like mere rhinestones and crystals in comparison.

Something he had...seen before.

A diamond ring.

And just like that, it hit him. Everything hit him.

Memories flooded back to Taehyung in a flash, his breath catching in his throat as images crossed his mind in an agonizing rush.

Bangtan. The fans. The house. The car.

Remembering felt like a searing heat that ripped through his chest, causing him to buckle as he gripped his throat in a desperate attempt at taking a heaving breath.

The pain was unlike anything he had felt before, worse than any wound a knife could inflict or dream could conjure and it sent his heart into a torturous irregular thump that rattled his rib cage and deafened his ears.

This was no longer a nightmare. It was reality. And for the first time, Taehyung no longer stung with heat but fell numb with the bitter cold of truth.

"Monsieur?"

Taehyung couldn't hear, his vision cloudy yet somehow clearer now that his mind was no longer obscured by the blindfold that he had so desperately tried to remove. The mask that prevented him from remembering who he was and where he came from. The blindness that led him to you.

A gasp left Taehyung's throat, barely aware of his fists against the glass, the sound reverberating through his head over and over until it all became static.

His eyes were wide and panicked, unaware of the commotion he was causing as he stepped back into the street, narrowly avoiding a motorcyclist as it swerved around his stumbling form. His legs were weak and he was sure the world was spinning as he placed his sweaty palms on his knees to steady himself.

Minutes ago, if you'd asked, Taehyung would have said he wanted to remember. But now that he did, he wanted nothing more than to forget.

He wanted to forget the practice room and the choreography and the hardships. The arguments and the paparazzi and the headlines. The photo shoots and the interviews and that fucking ring that his company wanted him to give to a girl who wasn't you.

"Holy shit," Taehyung stuttered, extending his arms in an attempt to steady himself as he made his way through the throngs of people, desperate to escape the sticky humidity that burned his lungs with every inhale. "I need to get out of here."

The market seemed to roar with rage now, the street narrowing around him as he swallowed a scream. The deafening chaos made Taehyung's ears split as he fought to escape the flaming breathlessness.

His feet began to move, finally cooperating with his brain which was telling them to go, go, go, before a slender hand tightly pinned him in place by the forearm, eliciting another breathy gasp to leave his lips as he tried to break free from its grip.

"Your flowers, Monsieur?" A far away voice rang out, pressing a package into his sweaty palms."Extras, free of charge, for your mi amor."

The flowers.

Their scent was utterly nauseating now, no longer providing a sense of hope for the future but rather a reminder of the fragility of his life here. With one paparazzi shot or tourist encounter, his identity could be revealed; and everything he loved, ripped away.

You. You could be ripped away.

You didn't fit into his life as idol Kim Taehyung. And he knew that.

But then again, neither did he. Not really. He had never felt more truly Kim Taehyung than when he was here with you or behind the bakery counter or at the harbor. He wasn't ready to leave it behind. Not yet.

Before his trembling lips could form any sort of response, however coherent, his legs were carrying him back along the path he had grown to know well, past the bar and the bakery, through the alley and up the steps until his fingers were fumbling with the handle of the door he knew led to you.

The same word ran around his mind in dizzying circles, louder than the cries of IDOL PERSONALITY V and YOU NEED TO TELL HER.

Y/N. Y/N. Y/N.

Your name. The only thing that felt familiar and right among the memories of what came before.

His shaky fingers managed to shake the screen door open, no longer able to hold his own weight and landing on his knees against the carpet, flowers discarded somewhere behind him. He didn't care when the rough surface burned his calves, resting his head against the floor as he finally took deep, heaving breaths for what felt like the first time in his life.

A few moments passed and he finally gained some form of control over his limbs again, unsteadily raising so his weight rested on the hinds of his legs. He took in the space around him. Everything was as he left it - the bed messy from where you lay with him the night before, open books pushed aside on the night stand next to chamomile tea, cold now.

Everything was eerily familiar.

How could anything be the same when everything was different now?

Except, things weren't entirely the same - the room was devoid of your presence, leaving the apartment cold as ice even though it was still warm outside. Was it because you weren't in it or because he had arrived?

He couldn't be sure.

Taehyung wobbled to his feet, leaning against the wall for support.

"Y/N?" He called meekly, surprised by the hoarseness of his voice. He sounded as wrecked as he felt. He received no answer, just the echo of his own pathetic state, bouncing from the walls of the empty room until his head throbbed angrily.

Taehyung stumbled feebly over to the kitchen sink, taking a glass between his shaky fingers and attempting to fill it with water from the faucet. Most of the liquid splashed over the edge, the glass chinking against his teeth as he swallowed what he could.

A few moments passed with Taehyung bent over the sink, partly because he didn't think his legs would work if he tried to walk and also as a precaution due to the bile that was steadily rising in his throat as an image slowly worked its way to the forefront of his mind.

Joy.

Her face - one he naively coaxed himself into believing he loved - was enough to wrack his entire body with wave after wave of guilt and self condemnation.

As far as she was aware he had just...disappeared.

Sure, he didn't want to marry her but he also didn't want to make her suffer, unknowingly or not. It pained him to know that there were people probably looking for him right now - he knew that there were people who cared about his whereabouts enough to hunt him down. The fans would be distraught, he was sure of it.

But what hurt the most was that a part of him wished that they didn't care. He wished he could have slipped away without worry or repercussion, without people nationwide caring about whether his hair was pink or blue or if he was coming home. Without his company caring about how much money they could exploit him for.

Idol personality V didn't exist. At least not anymore, not now that Kim Taehyung had taken his place. And he would be damned if he let him slip away just yet.

Taehyung scrunched his eyes shut tight, focusing on replacing memories of Joy's dark curls and pouty red lips with your warmth and your touch. And for a moment, the waves faded to sea foam.

A brush of velvet fabric against his arm. Perfume, sickeningly sweet.

Words played over and over in his head.

To: joy ❤

i will be back in a couple of days. don't wait up.

The last text Taehyung sent before he boarded a plane and landed bang in the middle of a new beginning.

The words rang out in his mind. She never replied.

Or did she?

Before he could think better of it, Taehyung was across the room in a flash. Hot adrenaline rushed through his veins as he ripped the closet door open, heart thumping at a pace he was sure was unhealthy when he located the black bag he arrived with.

He pulled the bandanna from around his neck over his head to prevent his hair from falling in his eyes. Trembling fingers gripped the zipper and he took a deep breath before ripping it open all the way, shoving his fist inside the dark interior and rummaging around until he found the cold metal of his phone.

Waiting for the device to start up was torturous; the loading bar seemed to move slower the more he willed it to hurry. His back was to the door and Taehyung's eyes were trained to the white dot as it gradually crept upwards...

Until the phone in his palm started to buzz uncontrollably, bathing his face in a blue glow and alerting him of an influx of incoming messages to his inbox.

300+ Unread Messages

His heart sank as the pad of his thumb swiped across the screen, revealing the password display. And it twisted in his chest when he carefully inputted the four numbers that separated him from the point of no return.

0309. Her birthday.

Just like that, the barrier was broken. He was in.

The wallpaper of his slightly blurry Pomeranian puppy stared at him as his trembling fingers lingered over the green message app. Taking a shaky inhale, he opened it, scanning the abundance of names that sent pulses of pain with each remembrance.

FROM: JOY

a few days?? what do you mean?? tae?? please reply. im getting worried. im calling the police tae.

Taehyung exited the chat before he could read any more, the messages enhancing the ache in his chest ten fold. Instead he scrolled to the top of the list until he landed on the latest, yesterday:

FROM: MIN YOONGI

please man, if you've seen the news...just come home. we're all out searching for you. please.

News? Before he could stop himself, he was typing his name into the internet search bar and biting his lip as hundreds of pages with his face as the headline loaded in front of him.

Barely glancing at the titles, he opened the first link, scrolling past numerous articles.

"K-pop singer of BTS Kim Taehyung, also known as V, is still missing since his initial disappearance on the 24th of May. His company, Big Hit Entertainment, is still pleading for any information regarding his whereabouts and his safe return."

Sliding his finger down from the top of his phone screen revealed the current date. 4th of September.

He had been gone for almost four months?

"Alongside his family, other members of BTS have finally broken the silence regarding his sudden disappearance. Kim Namjoon, the leaders group told news outlets on Saturday: 'We just want him to come home safely. He is family to us and we miss him terribly. We remain hopeful that he is still out there and we are doing everything we can to facilitate his return.'"

Taehyung scanned a few more paragraphs containing the last witness reports of sightings of him at Incheon Airport before his departure and then -

"Album sales of the bands latest repackaged release, Love Yourself: Answer have soared since the news of Taehyung's disappearance broke, hitting record highs and breaking previous records."

"Of course." Taehyung sneered bitterly, teeth clenched, pinching the bridge of his nose to dull the throb that had settled in his forehead. "That's what they care about. Fucking album sales."

The old Taehyung was consumed by numbers, constantly checking sale rates and celebrating new records and watching the numbers in his bank account climb to a string of figures long enough to require a scroll bar.

The new Taehyung, excuse his French, did not give a shit.

Just as he was about to open another article and bask in his own furious condemnation of society, soft footsteps pattered against the carpet nearby.

"Taehyung?" A voice drew him from his ministrations - your voice - and he twisted so fast he was convinced he pulled a muscle, throwing the phone filled with hatred and toxicity somewhere behind him and wincing at the audible thud that followed.

Then, you appeared - hair still wet and wrapped in a white towel. In his haste he had not noticed the gentle hum of the shower.

"What are you doing in there?" You questioned with an eyeing smile, nodding towards where he stood nervously inside the closet staring past you with empty eyes. "Are you looking for something?"

Just reading about my nationwide search party. How about you?

Taehyung simply blinked at you a few times before he realised your question warranted an answer. "O-oh no, I was just - "

Before he could finish, you were already occupied by something else, face suddenly lighting up with the glow of a smile that still managed to make his stomach somersault despite the circumstances.

"Are these for me?" You asked quietly, letting out a breathy sigh of admiration while picking up the bouquet which lay limply on the carpet. You fixed the petals which had been crushed in Taehyung's earlier haste. "They're beautiful."

They were beautiful. A shade of vibrant yellow which stood out against the muted background of your apartment.

"N-not..as beautiful a-as you." Taehyung managed to stutter, finishing his broken sentence with a smile as if that would do anything to conceal his anxiety.

"Oh, shush." You grinned, spinning on your heels to place the bouquet on the countertop. "I should get a vase - wait, are you okay?"

Worry was suddenly evident in your voice as you locked eyes with Taehyung. His face was paled and his eyes vacant, fingers fidgeting with each other and he shook his head lightly from side to side.

"What? Oh, yeah." Taehyung mumbled, finally shuffling out of the closet and into the apartment. "Just a little tired."

Your heart hurt at the sight of him - he seemed so off. "I'm not surprised, Tae, you were awake all night."

Running your hands through your dripping hair as a makeshift comb, you carefully treaded closer to him. It was strange; you were almost nervous to touch him for the first time. As if he would turn to dust with the lightest pressure.

"I was?" He scratched the back of his neck nervously, eyes slotting around every edge of the room except for where your eyes sat. "I don't...I guess -"

"Hey, hey," You couldn't stand it any longer, reaching forward to pull his large frame down next to you on the bed, legs crossed as you cupped his face in your palm. "What's up? You can tell me?"

Taehyung knew he should tell you. But he also knew that if he did, nothing would be the same. This wouldn't be the same. Just you and him.

Privacy doesn't exist when you live in a house with 3 walls, the nation always watching through the window. He couldn't subject you to that. Or himself, quite frankly.

And that was the moment Taehyung decided. He could never tell you.

"Nothing, baby. I promise." Forcing what he hoped appeared to be a natural smile to grace his lips, pressing his thumb and forefinger to your chin in gentle reassurance. "Don't worry about me, yeah?"

Still not convinced, you narrowed your eyes, pout forming on your lips. "But you seem so tense."

Your hands rubbed circles into his neck and shoulders, highlighting the tight pressure that he hadn't noticed resided there. Your eyes shone with interrogation and he tried to relax his muscles in an attempt at putting you at ease.

"I just need to lay down and rest for a little - "

"You know, I know a way to get you to relax." A small smile played innocently on your lips.

Taehyung's breath caught in his throat as he felt you tracing featherlight circles against his inner thigh, voice electric as you hooked your leg over his lap.

His hot palms came to rub your bare shoulders. "I don't know if we should right now -"

"It was just a suggestion," you snap, instantly jumping from his lap like he was a live wire. Taehyung's stomach sank. "I just - I don't know what to do anymore Tae."

"What do you-"

"I feel so helpless," you explain, drawing your knees to your chest as heat threatened to prick your eyes. "I'm trying to help but however hard I try I can't stop it."

"Stop what?" Taehyung couldn't resist lacing his fingers with yours, relieved when you made no attempt to pull away.

"I don't know - whatever is hurting you...whatever you can't tell me."

"Y/N..."

"It's okay, Tae." Bare feet against the carpet, you turned away from his piercing gaze. "I understand. You don't want me around anymore."

Is that what you really thought? He wanted to tell you just how much he needed you - he practically relied on you to get through each minute of the day lately - but the words just wouldn't come.

"Y/N, I'm serious okay. It's just these nightmares..."

"Then tell me? What are they?"

You can't. Don't tell her.

"Okay." Taehyung pulled your body back towards him, gripping your waist until you slid onto his thigh.

"Okay wha- oh."

"I'll let you help."

"Really?" You bit your lip, searching his eyes anxiously. They were empty. "Let me just help you relax. Please?"

"Oh yeah? Relax?" He let out a breath shakily, hands coming to grip the rough towel that covered your hips as confidently as he could. He felt far away as you teased his neck with light kisses that trailed from the base of his jaw to his earlobe. "And how would you do that?"

You can't do this now, the voice of reason in his head screamed, not after you lied.

Your nimble fingers came to the buttons of his shirt, twisting each one carefully until the fabric slowly fell from his shoulders. Taking your time, you drew light circles against his chest, avoiding eye contact by focusing on tracing a dot to dot with the freckles on his collar bone.

"Just like this." You whisper, finally tilting your chin so that your calm breaths mingled with his own anxious ones. To your surprise, it was him who closed the space between you, his lips cushioning your own with a gentle tenderness that almost erased the uncertainty that had settled into your stomach.

He was still Taehyung. Your Taehyung.

Bringing a hand to his jaw, you deepen the kiss. His lashes fluttered closed against your cheeks and you could almost feel the desperation which coursed through his veins.

Taehyung was overwhelmed by the scent of your shampoo and the softness of your skin as it brushed his bare top half. It clouded his judgement and silenced the voice in his head that screamed STOP!

Your hips dropped slowly, dragging agonising circles over his groin. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, a string of soft whimpers leaving your lips as the heat between your legs grew stronger, a towel and his sweats the only fabric separating you from what you wanted most.

Taehyung watched you with lidded eyes, enjoying each twist of your hips against his length.

Really? You are hard right now?

"See," You whispered, dragging your hands down his back and enjoying the way he shivered under your touch. "You're relaxing already."

Taehyung nodded, silently agreeing to your words. His hands shakily came to the place where your towel crossed, glancing at your face for permission. A quick nod of your head was all he needed before he was pulling away the fabric, leaving you completely bare on his lap.

You sat back a little, allowing his eyes to rake in your form. Taehyung watched the way you shamelessly dragged your heat over his clothed hardness, leaving a noticeable wet spot. He lingered on your breasts for a moment before he dipped his head, sucking hot kisses into the exposed skin of your chest.

The pace was slowly picking up, a small moan leaving your lips as you raked your hands through his hair gently, pulling the locks to draw his face to yours. Taehyung's forehead crashed against your own and for a few seconds, he just stared at you, as if debating something.

Don't do it. Don't do it.

His nose rubbed yours sweetly and his tongue snaked out to coat his chapped lips. And then his mouth was on yours, hot and hungry as his hands seemed to leave a scorching heat wherever they touched.

Never leaving his lips, you reached between your legs to fumble with his zipper, desperate to feel him. After a few failed attempts, he smirked into the kiss before reaching between your bodies to undo it himself, knuckles brushing against your dripping folds and drawing a whine from your lips.

Taehyung let out a gasp as the cool air hit his length and choked back a grunt when your small hand wrapped around it. He was hot and heavy in your palm, hand gliding against the ridges on the underside of his cock as you stroked him slowly.

Your gaze never left his as you climbed down from his lap, pulling his pants a little further down his legs and pushing his thighs open with your hands to make space for you for fit between them. Taehyung couldn't help but hiss when he felt your breath fanning his cock, nails scratching his hips while you stared at him alluringly.

"Y/N you don't have to - oh my god." His words caught in his throat when you pressed the first kiss to the underside of his length, lips warm and plump against the hot pulse between his legs. Your tongue dragged sinful stripes up the shaft, blowing cool air across the trails before swirling around his engorged head at a pace that had his eyes rolling into his skull.

Taehyung rested his weight on his elbows you watch as you gently slipped his tip between your lips, hollowing your cheeks and savouring the saltiness of the precum which leaked from his head. His length was already a stretch as you tried to fit as much as you could into your hot mouth.

You pressed your tongue to the underside of his cock as you began to bob slowly up and down his length, wrapping your lips tightly around his shaft as Taehyung resisted the urge to buck into your mouth.

After a few long strokes of your mouth, you drew back with a pop, using your hand to stroke the base of his now glistening dick before attaching your mouth to the head once again.

"H-holy shit, Y/N." Taehyung had given up hiding his pleasure, openly moaning lowly as your eyes bore into his own. He wanted to watch the way his cock slid in and out of your wet mouth but he couldn't bare to look away from your enchanting stare for even a moment.

Your free hand searched for his wrist, pulling his fingers towards your hair and encouraging him to lock them around the strands. He obliged, taking a loose hold and using his other hand to stroke your cheek encouragingly.

You let your jaw fall slack, blinking at him for a moment until he got the message. His hand tightened in your hair, pulling you back and off his cock before thrusting you back down. He was gentle though, scared to push you too far and you placed your hand on top of his own to assure him you could take it.

You are selfish. How can you take from her when you're lying?

The pleasure was becoming too much and Taehyung could feel his climax building, white hot in the pit of his stomach. "Y/N, I'm gonna -"

And with that, you popped off his dick abruptly, snapping Taehyung out of his daze. "I - what?"

With a sly smirk, you climbed back onto his lap again, palms pushing his chest so his back rested against the bed.

The throb between your own legs was almost painful, your clit begging to be touched and even the lightest of brushes against Taehyung's cock had you moaning loudly. Taehyung caught on quickly, dipping his hand between your wet folds and rubbing fast, hard circles into your sweet spot.

"No, no - " You stuttered, pushing his hand away. "I want to cum around...around you."

Taehyung smiled at your nervous admission, large palms gripping your waist firmly.

"I'm all yours." He said, voice husky with arousal and desperation. But he meant it. He was yours.

And before he could fathom it, you were sinking down onto his cock, walls hot and velvety around his sensitive length.

The ridges of his dick rubbed your walls perfectly and you clenched around him, drawing desperate groans from the both of you as you began to bounce up and down, setting a pace that still wasn't quite fast enough.

Taking the hint, Taehyung began thrusting his own hips up into yours and this time it was perfect. Each upward push left you writhing above him, hands fisting your hair as the head of his cock rubbed against the spot you wanted it most.

His pubic bone brushed against your clit with every thrust and you knew you wouldn't last much longer. Taehyung was near too, desperately trying to focus on the feeling of you around him to distract from the deafening voice which plagued his mind.

TELL HER! TELL HER! TELL HER!

But then, you were coming around him, head falling forward to fit between his shoulder and walls clenching so perfectly around his length that he fell over the edge too, white hot pleasure consuming him as he came inside you.

Your breath was hot against his neck and Taehyung’s strong grip brought you closer to him.

And for a moment, the voice was gone.

#thebtstown #kwordsmiths #bts smut #bts fanfiction #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfiction #taehyung fluff #bts fluff #bts scenario #taehyung scenario #i hope you guys like this and im sorry it took me so long to pull up my big girl pants and post it #pls be nice :(#ily #ve1vetyoongi #my work

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theonewiththefanfics · 6 years

Text

At Arm’s Length (Part 4)

Part 1- Modern!AU

Part 2

Part 3

Pairing: CEO!Bucky x Reader

Genre: angst

Warnings: swearing

Word count: 1597

In the end, Y/N had to switch her phone off, the incessant ringing driving the girl mad. She didn't know what to do. On the one hand, her heart was doing summersaults from happiness, on the other, she just wanted to cry her eyes out at the simple thought of the many miles between her and Bucky. He’d done a thing neither could reverse that easily. And Y/N had enabled his actions, so she had to take at least half the blame. If the woman hadn’t agreed to the announcement party, if she hadn’t allowed him to kiss her cheek, maybe things would’ve gone differently. My Chemical Romance’s ‘Dead!’ started to blast through the little portable speaker and she could only wish to be six feet under. How Y/N was going to deal with the fallout of this situation was beyond her.

Meanwhile, Bucky was not fairing any better. He’d just confessed his love for a girl on live TV even though for the past two months she had been pushing him as far away as possible. But the guy was done. Done with running from his feelings, done with his one true love fleeing, done with being unhappy. Steve patted Bucky on the shoulder bringing the co-owner of ‘Barnes and Rogers’ back to the reality of brightly flashing lights, fancy suits and dress gowns. “That was a bold move, punk. You sure Y/N isn’t gonna come back just to rip your head off?” “Well if she does then phase one is complete- get her back to New York.” A smirk was plastered on his face while his heart stuttered. What if confessing wasn’t enough? What if any grand gesture would always be too little? Bucky was sure he’d wait forever for the Y/E/C eyed beauty, but at the same time, it didn’t mean he would simply give up in the meantime. “And what is phase two?” came the voice of Tony Stark as she sauntered up to the two men, giving the photographers a dazzling smile, proudly having linked his elbow with Pepper. “That… that I’ll figure out…” Tony hummed, extending an arm as a signal for the four to move further down the carpet. “She called me, you know.” Bucky’s head turned so fast he almost got whiplash. “And?” “And she was on the verge of a panic attack. Told her to contact you as soon as possible. So once she calms down, and hopefully gets her three brain cells working, she’ll drop a message. Heaven knows that the girl has never taken her happiness into account. Maybe this was the push she needed.” As the night went by Bucky felt his insides twist more and more with each passing moment. Y/N hadn’t called him nor sent a text message and it made him jittery. Tony, Steve and him announced the merge of ‘Stark Industries’ with ‘Barnes and Rogers’, bringing their focus on the development of prosthetics and artificial limbs. Champagne had flown, merry chatter had flittered through the air, yet all the brown-haired man could feel was nervousness, rather than the joy of this momentous occasion. “What if I totally pushed her away?” he turned to Steve, a glass of white wine sitting on a small table in front of them. “What is she just completely blocks me and never wants to see me again?” The blond sighed, chugging down the last drops of his own alcohol before meeting the gaze onto his best friend. “Listen, you just dropped an atomic bomb on a girl, who without a question is completely head over heels for you. Yet you did it on live TV, while she is away in a different country let alone a continent. You can’t expect Y/N to be completely collected after something like that.” A smaller hand rested atop his. Looking to his left he saw Natasha. The redhead was clad in a deep burgundy cocktail dress, her hair straight and framing the beauty’s face in the most complimentary way. “You did the right thing, Mister Barnes. Y/N… she didn’t even tell me or Wanda that she was moving away. And we were very close. So I cannot imagine how hard it must have been to even think about explaining this situation to her childhood friends, let alone the man she's in love with. Give her a little bit of time. If by the end of the night there is nothing, I promise to fly over there and beat some sense into that head of hers.” Bucky smiled, squeezing Nat’s hand in his bigger one as a silent thank you. But unbeknownst to everybody in the room, silent clicks of cameras immortalised the moment forever.

***

He didn’t stay at the event for much longer, the anticipation of a call or any sort of message from Y/N had become almost physically painful. And as much as he wanted to be the one to contact her first, Bucky knew he had to let the woman process what had just happened. If someone had done it to him, the man was sure, he would’ve passed out. Bucky loosened up the little black bowtie before it completely came off, the small piece of fabric discard somewhere on his beige sofa. He was just about to make himself a drink when his computer lit up, the unmistakable sound of a Skype call shattering the quiet of his house. Immediately he was by the desk, sitting in the armrest and pressing answer. There could only be one person who would wish to communicate with him during such late hours and through Skype. Y/N’s face lit up the screen and Bucky swore he felt his heart melt. It had only been a little over a week since he hadn’t seen her, yet nothing had changed. The woman’s Y/E/C eyes sparkled just as brightly, her Y/H/C hair looked just as soft and her features were just as beautiful as ever. “Doll,” he breathed out, a wide smile splitting up his face. But her reaction was completely opposite of his. “Why would you do something like that?” She sounded so small, broken even and only then did Bucky notice how there were tear streaks marking a way down her cheekbones. “Because I love you. And I’m not going to run anymore. Nor will I let you do it.” Y/N hung her head, the man’s words stinging more than they would’ve if they hadn’t been so painfully true. “You do realise what kind of a problem you just created?” “A problem? Y/N, I just said what my heart felt. I’m in love. And I simply told who I love. Is there anything wrong about it.” “No…” she huffed looking around her new room. Bucky saw a picture of him, Steve and the girl herself, set up on a nightstand, instantly wishing he was actually there with her. “Then what’s so bad about me confessing?” “Because you did it on live TV in front of millions. My phone is unusable because it keeps blowing up. You are my new boss thanks to the merging of yours and Stark's companies, and to top it all off- I’m thousands of miles away! I told you it would never work and now you’ve made a whole nation believe in this Cinderella story but Bucky… I’m not coming back… This is a permanent move. Yes, maybe I’ll have to fly over for some meetings and work stuff, but other than that…” His heart was breaking with every uttered syllable. “Buck, I’m trying to start a new life here. And unfortunately leaving you behind is a thing I have to do. Otherwise, I won’t be able to move on.” “Then you shouldn’t!” Bucky was almost shouting, angry tears rolled down his own face. “Tell me one good reason why” Y/N sat there, eyes boring into her opponent's cerulean gaze. “Because you love me.” The girl hung her head. It was a simple answer. And it was completely and utterly accurate, that is why the clenching in her heart became almost unbearable. With tears in her Y/E/C she looked up at the man. “Well, sometimes that is not enough.” “No,” Bucky shook his head. “It is enough. You’re just scared. And I get it, I completely do. I’m terrified myself, but, fuck… just give us a chance… just one chance.” He saw the conflict raging inside Y/N. It hurt him to see the woman he was utterly infatuated with, in such turmoil and pain, but maybe that is what she needed to allow them to try at least. Yet her response obliterated every piece of hope. “I’m sorry.” The call disconnected leaving Bucky to stare at the black screen of his computer and with a broken heart, thudding harshly in his chest. Instinctively he pressed the little green icon to make a call, but it didn't go through. He tried again and again, but Y/N wouldn’t pick up nor would she respond to any of the messages he sent. It was almost midnight by the time Bucky gave up, a whiskey glass clutched tightly in his palm. Blue orbs scanned the twinkling lights of New York City. He hadn’t even bothered to switch out from the suit, his expensive Calvin Klein button shirt and Hugo Boss pants still adorning the businessman’s body. Bucky ran a palm through his hair, pulling at the dark locks before abruptly he stood up, determination rushing through his body. “That's it,” Bucky placed the empty glass on the marble countertop as he moved to pack a suitcase. “I’m going to Barcelona.”

Tags (crossed out wouldn’t take): @impalatobakerstreet @slender--spirit @janineabad @salty-buchanan @chrisevans1fan @dyanna-corona @chook007 @lost-and-wandering-alone @goalie-love @nerdgirljen @jediviolet @fandomly-writings @densewaffle @hawkxyes @mizzzpink @nishanki1 @misplacedorphan @dylan5573 @onespideyboi @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 @lumelgy @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @breezy1415 @pizzarollpatrol @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 @nerissa98 @happyseagrill @asguardiansoftheavengers @crazybutconfidentaf

A/N: A little bit shorter, but still :) I’m so super stressed about everything that I had an absolute meltdown last Saturday like it was bad. And I still don’t feel on the top of everything, so I know, I’m already very inconsistent, but this is a really big problem, like I’ve never felt this bad, so I might actually go and find someone to talk to, like a professional, because I’m practically to tears every night and even during the day.

P.S. tell me what you thought :)

P.S.S. if you have a request or wanna be tagged in future stories, drop a message :)

P.S.S.S. please, don’t repost without credit :)

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varyinglevelsofdisaster · 5 years

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Let’s Get Personal!

Originally posted by animetitle

Tagged by: @yzareenxiv by virtue of tagging everyone

Star sign:

Sagittarius!

Put your playlist on shuffle and list the first four songs that pop up:

I don’t have one! But here’s some songs that come to mind!

Rasputin - Boney M

Oh My Lover - PJ Harvey

Boomin’ - Mindless Self Indulgence

Yellow Ledbetter - Pearl Jam

Grab the nearest book to you and turn to page 23, what line is 17?

You might think that making pesto is simply a matter of throwing basil, garlic, and cheese along with nuts and olive oil, into a food processor, but you would be wrong.

America’s Test Kitchen: 100 Recipes - The Absolute Best Ways to Make the True Essentials

Ever had a poem written about you?

Nope!

When was the last time you played the air guitar?

More of an air drums or bass man.

One sound you hate and one you love:

Sound I hate: Cat wretching noises Sound I love: My wifes laugh

Do you believe in ghosts?

Yessir

Do you believe in aliens?

Yessir

Do you drive and if so have you gotten in a crash?

Yes I do and yes I have. A very minor vehicle to vehicle crash that just dented my door a little and I also utterly totaled my wife’s car by driving it up onto a curb at 5 mph. It was truly amazing how much damage I did.

Do you like the smell of gasoline?

Last movie you’ve seen?

Venom, very good movie.

Worst injury you’ve ever had?

Probably one of my concussions. I’ve never broken a bone or had stitches but my brain has taken a bit of a beating.

Do you have any obsessions rn?

I’ve been loving RP in FFXIV and playing AC: Odyssey

Do you hold grudges?

No, I always get tired and set them down after a while.

In a relationship?

Yep. Married 11 years as of earlier this month! (we forgot to celebrate our anniversary)

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blustersquall · 7 years

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a...work in progress for gladio and isla, that is probably gonna get smutty at some point. or as smutty as my shit gets. like, when my brain starts to work again. i’m super tired rn. enjoy this non proof read wip.

established friendship, like... just before the events of ffxv/kingsglaive and where gladio and isla have been friends for about a year.

taglets: @ffxvhoe @mp938368 [again i hope that’s okay]

It was never Isla’s intention for Gladio to stay the night.

She had a rule after all, no guys in her place, just in case she needed a safe space if things went bad. Though, that rule was really only made to apply to men she was in a relationship with. She wasn’t in a relationship with Gladio. They were friends. If she was totally frank, he was probably her closest male friend, ever. So, him staying over when it got past midnight and with the rain utterly torrential was nothing. Just a friendly gesture.

It didn’t matter that they’d shared her bed. Or that she was attracted to him. Had been attracted to him since the first time he walked into her bar. It didn’t matter that her attraction to him had only grown over time, and she was utterly frustrated with how oblivious he was to it. There were only so many signs a woman could throw out there, without writing the obvious down. Or simply throwing herself at a man.

Which she had been tempted to do.

On more than one occasion.

Still, there he was. Taking up three quarters of her bed with his height and size, all but crushing her against the wall. So-much-so she couldn’t even reach across to check the time on her phone because it would mean disturbing him.

She supposed there were worse places to be. Worse people to be sharing a bed with and waking up beside. And, she would be lying if she said she hadn’t daydreamed about it.

He snored like a beast. More that once Isla was sure she felt the bed frame shake, but it was more hilarious that annoying. At last she had found something about him that was a flaw. Something she could tease him endlessly about. Though, she doubted something as stupid as snoring would bother him in the least. He was hot, too. Not just visually, but his body temperature was through the roof. Isla didn’t even need a blanket with him sleeping beside her. He was a human heater.

Lying on her side, she leaned up, shifting to be able to lie on her front and up on her forearms. Her movement didn’t seem to disturb him and it gave her a moment to observe him from a different, higher angle.

Gladio knew how beautiful he was. And he was beautiful, but Isla had never really had the chance to examine him up close before. Not without him talking and ruining the moment. Now, she could. And she saw a softer side of him that she rarely saw. Occasionally, it appeared. The small, gentle smile there, a warm, affectionate gaze there, but those were few and far between. Now, as he slept, the softness was all across his face, in his cheeks, and the relaxed parting of his full lips. In the way his eyes were closed and his eyelashes fanned across his cheekbones. There were no lines marring his forehead. There was no frown in his expression, no harshness.

It betrayed his youth. He was the next Shield of the King, and that came with an abundance of responsibilities already. Too many for someone not even twenty-five, but Gladio shouldered them all and rarely complained. Here and now, he looked like any other young man, sleeping soundly and dreaming… Isla hoped he was dreaming something pleasant.

She examined the pattern of his tattoo. The way the feathers were so intricately layered and detailed over his arms and his shoulders before they disappeared onto his back. Each feather was individually inked, no single one the same as any other. The bird’s face on his chest moved with his breaths, making it seem as though the beak was opening and closing ever-so-subtly. Isla watched it for a while, watched him and listened, revelling in this sanctuary and the peace it provided. Peace that would soo be disturbed as they would each have to begin the day,

Gladio, especially, needed to make a move. He was meant to be accompanying the Prince on a trip to Altissia for his wedding and there was no way he could be late for that.

Isla knew she would have to wake him herself and reluctantly set about the task. She plucked one of her small braids between her thumb and forefinger, gripping with the tuft of hair poking out from the hair tie. She tickled the end of Gladio’s nose, smirking as he grunted ad wafted a hand over his face in a vague attempt to get rid of the annoyance.

“C’mon, Wonder Boy,” Isla murmured, brushing her hair over his top lip, “time to wake up. You can’t leave the Prince waiting…”

“Mmph,” Gladio waved his hand again, grunting and his voice rumbling an incoherant excuse that was simply a moan. He opened one eye a little, closed it, and rolled over, facing Isla. Without opening his eyes again, he took hold of her hand – the one gripping her small braid – and led it back to drape over his shoulder and behind him. Isla toppled onto her side, giggling and allowing Gladio to move her. She began to twist her fingers around his hair, and he left his top arm lying lazily over her hip, the tips of his fingers drawing abstract shapes.

“Not a morning person?” Isla asked.

Another grunted response. Gladio moved closer, and instinctively Isla shifted her legs to accomdate his closeness, sliding her top leg between his and inching towards him. They were nose-to-nose. Isla could feel the breaths he expelled against her mouth. She didn’t think they’d ever been as close as this before.

“Gladio,” Isla pushed again, “you have to get up.”

“Tryin’ t’get rid of me?” grumbled Gladio, eyes half-opening. He looked at her blearily from beneath heavily hooded eyelids. His gaze took several seconds to focus, and when it did, his expression softened from mild annoyance from being awoken, and discomfort from the sunlight, to warmth and genuine affection. Isla’s stomach twisted uncomfortably tight in her gut, and she was sure if she was standing her legs would have given way. “G’mornin’…” Gladio smiled, tilting his head back a little to press a peck to the end of her nose. He spread his hand across her back, guiding her closer to him so they were all but chest-to-chest – the only obstacle between them being Isla’s arm, curled up against her body and the mattress.

“Hey,” Isla smiled. She tried not to let the kiss on her nose break her focus. Nor the sweetness in his expression. The way he stroked her back was not in the least bit distracting. Neither was the smell of him now on her pillow, in her sheets, and so close she could taste it on her tongue.

“Hey…” mumbled Gladio, wearing a sleepy smile. Isla hated how he could be as adorable as he was, sometimes. Especially when she needed to be kicking him out of bed and starting the day. They both needed to start the day. Exhaling deeply, Gladio closed his eyes and relaxed back into the tempting lull of sleep. He brushed his fingers along Isla’s spine and up towards the nape of her neck, tickling the bare flesh he found with a delicate touch she found surprising for a man with hands as large as his. Isla didn’t say anything in response, selfishly wanting to spend the time with her bedfellow. To be as close as possible before he left for… however long he was leaving. After all, even he didn’t know. They could text, and call – but it wouldn’t be the same.

After a few minutes of soft touches and silence broken only by their breathing, the birds outside, and the occasional car chuntering by, Gladio spoke again, “this is nice.” His eyes still closed, Isla looked at him quizzically, “I could get used to this.”

“Sleeping in?” asked Isla.

“Waking up. With you.” Gladio’s eyes slipped open and his warm copper eyes met hers, “I could get used to waking up with you.”

Dozens of words and phrases jammed themselves onto Isla’s tongue and into her head, battling to be said. Several reactions of what she should do or how she should behave in response to a comment so touching and intimate flooded her senses, yet none of them took. Isla was stone. Stunned and her voice was gone. Not that it mattered as Gladio grew closer, centimetre by centimetre, tilting his head as much as the pillows would allow, brushing the end of her nose with his as if questioning if she was alright, if his closeness was allowed, and if she was giving permission for him to kiss her; because that was what he was about to do. He was about to kiss her, and he was going to let him. She was going to let him, and kiss him back and possibly not allow him to leave her bed if he did. She was going to—

Her thoughts stopped, broken by the loud, obnoxious tone of a phone alarm. Blinking in confusion, Isla saw the source of the noise was Gladio’s phone on her bedside table. Without a word, Gladio rolled over to grab it, tapped a button, and threw his phone unceremoniously across her apartment in vague direction. The chiming stopped. Gladio rolled back into his previous position, facing her, and before Isla could question him for the time, his mouth was on hers.

Isla’s mind went blank.

Every thought, every word, every question and feeling fleeing and being replaced by one, all consuming thing: Gladio. He cupped her jaw, thumb resting in the hollow under her chin, while his fingers gentle nestled into her hair. His lips, rough on hers, moved in tandem, meeting ever subtle change of her mouth, every little addition of pressure. Warmth simmering in Isla’s chest and belly erupted into a bubbling, nervous heat and she suddenly didn’t care that he needed to go to the Citadel to meet with the Prince and begin the trip to Altissia. She didn’t care that she was being selfish, and keeping him from his sacred duty. She didn’t care that this was coming out of no where, and probably the worst idea in the history of bad ideas.

All that mattered was that he was there. He was with her, real, and present, and kissing her.

tbc at some point because fuckin’ tiiiiirrrrredddddd (couples waking up together is my weakness)

#gladio #gladio amicitia #final fantasy #ff15 #final fantasy 15 #ffxv #final fantasy xv #writing #my writing #gladio x oc #gladiolus x oc #isla octavia #gladio x isla #utterly self indulgent #fluff #so much fluff #to be continued #work in progress

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clan-fuildarach · 7 years

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birb story chapter 3

nuala learns about ancient magic and has her first brush with it herself

no translation notes for this chapter except “mac tíre” which literally just means wolf. i’m gonna keep posting this story even though i’m not doing anything else with this blog rn

The peace between Emily, Jennifer, Nuala, and Nit lasted a further two days. A sort of silence seemed to fall over the compound - people knew that Nit was awake, but they didn’t want to know anything else about the whole thing, really. Nuala was allowed to visit the air spirit only because she was the only one it listened to, much to Emily’s embarrassment.

Jennifer, the American scientist, continued to quietly campaign for Nit’s relocation to her own “far superior” facility in America, somewhere. But she stayed away, never entering the vault. More often than not, Jennifer was seated outside the vault doors when Nuala came to visit, her notebook propped open on her lap.

“Hey, Noola.”

Without pausing, Nuala disengaged the door locks. “It’s Nuala.”

“That’s what I said. Listen, has Nit said anything new, recently?”

“It’s pronounced Nit, and no.” Nuala transferred her food tray to one hand while she prepared to push the doors open. Jennifer rose to her feet, clearly not happy about letting Nuala through to the vault without questioning her first.

“Well, sweetie,” Jennifer said, “the higher-ups back home are wondering about its gender?”

Nuala paused to cast Jennifer a withering look, her lip curling. “It’s not even human, why would that matter to it?”

“Less of the tone, young lady,” Jennifer said, her cheery voice hardening. “I’m a scientist, I’m not going to approach a newly described species under the illusion that it’s an air spirit who can curse people. It’s a flesh and blood animal, and it’s probably not the only one.”

“Sure,” Nuala said, “why don’t you come in with me and ask Nit yourself?”

Jennifer hesitated. Nuala watched, her expression as still as stone, then turned to let herself into the vault.

“That Jennifer woman’s asking about you again,” she said, placing the tray on the examination table.

Nit had never seemed to enjoy being on the ground. More often than not, it’d found somewhere new to perch on when she came to visit. This time, it had chosen to crouch on top of one of the medical cabinets. According to Emily’s research, Nit’s bones were hollow and its muscles surprisingly light, and its whole body weighed about as much as an average human, despite its size. Either way, it was clearly no burden to whatever surface it chose to perch on.

“Which one is she?” Nit said, eyeing the food.

“Your one out there with the black hair,” Nuala said, pointing out at the doors. “Spouting off about your gender, or something.”

“Spirits don’t have ‘gender’,” Nit said, pronouncing the word as if it was completely foreign.

“That’s what I said. C’mere, we need to talk.” Nuala sat up on the table and took one of the toast triangles from the tray.

Apparently unwilling to touch the ground, Nit jumped onto the tabletop. It perched beside Nuala and reached eagerly for the tray.

“Yesterday, you said something weird when I mentioned these dreams I’ve been having.”

“Mm?” It watched her closely, its mouth full of scrambled egg on toast.

“The nightmares about the wolf person,” Nuala said. “I saw her when I was in the tomb, and I saw her again last night. They’re about this tall, they wear a skull like a mask…”

“Mac Tíre,” Nit said.

“That’s their name? They’re a real person?”

Nit nodded. “Not any more, I don’t think. Since today is apparently the future.”

“It’s the present for me, Nit, you’re the one who missed out on five thousand years of civilisation.”

“Well, she’s dead.”

Nuala nodded slowly. “Mac Tíre… she painted the lines into the tomb. When I was there, I thought… disturbing the lines, that’s wrong.”

“The lines of power are always there,” Nit said. “Mac Tíre just painted over them, to borrow their influence. She painted them in so that she could trap me in there.”

Nuala snorted. “She put some blood on the ground and you just blundered into her trap?”

“Yes,” Nit said. “I’m not like a natural animal, I don’t have free will. She summoned me with a calf sacrifice, and I was like - wow, I’d better go there, y’know, even though it’s a trap - and then I saw the lines and the blood and the druid and I was like, shit.”

“But you couldn’t just run away,” Nuala said. “Or fly away or whatever.”

“She summoned me,” Nit said, shrugging. “This is really good, what is it?” It indicated the mound of scrambled eggs it had somehow managed to fit on a relatively small slice of toast. “It’s eggs, but… good.”

“Scrambled eggs,” Nuala said, “it’s got milk and cream and stuff.”

Nit flicked out its forked tongue, shaving the top off the pile of eggs.

“Anyway,” Nuala said. “Mac Tíre was a druid? And she was real. And I’m dreaming about her for some reason.”

“What is she doing, in your dreams?” Nit said curiously.

“Last night,” Nuala said, frowning, “she was standing beside a river. She had a knife, she was cutting up a piece of leather and throwing the bits into the water. I’m fairly sure there was a picture drawn on the leather, but I didn’t see it.”

“Yes,” Nit said, “there would be a summon circle on the leather, because that’s a way to curse a person. Probably not a human. Someone like me.”

“So all I have to do is fling someone’s picture into a river? That’s all?” Nuala said.

“It’s a special river,” Nit said, “and the leather is treated. It’s not like any old human could just pick up some hide and curse someone to death by drowning.” “I guess.” Nuala peered down at her toast, which she’d barely touched. With a sigh, she set it back down on the tray. She let her eyes drift shut. It had been such a weird, horrible dream that she hadn’t slept much at all that night. Brief flashes of something bright and orange twisted through her mind. Groaning, she opened her eyes and stared at the floor under her feet.

“When can I get out?” Nit said. “I want to see outside again. This dead air is terrible on the feathers.” With a snort, it brushed a hand down its front. Since its awakening two days before, its feathers had gone from dusty and dull to glossy and almost iridescent, but there were still plenty of bent and broken shafts poking out of the pelt, at odds with the rest of the plumage. It gave it kind of a scruffy appearance.

“Soon, I think,” Nuala said. “I talked to Emily, she agrees that it’s a welfare issue to keep you locked up.”

Nit nodded eagerly. “I’ll show you my wings, and how great I am at flying - you don’t know anyone better at flying than me.”

“No,” Nuala said, without thinking. “No flying.”

Nit’s face fell. It watched her for a moment, sullen, and brushed crumbs off its plumage. “Why not?”

“I just…” Nuala trailed off, struggling to think of what exactly her reasoning behind the pronouncement was. “I just think you shouldn’t do it. It’s dangerous.”

She expected Nit to argue, but instead it just looked vaguely anxious. It nodded slowly, its movements quite a bit more subdued than usual.

“But at least you’ll still be outside,” she said. “You’ll still be able to show me your wings.”

That evening, Nuala dreamed of Mac Tíre again. She saw the skull-masked druid walking through a forest, a real live wolf trotting at her side. The druid paused at one of the trees and, with the careful application of a knife-blade, pulled a roll of bark off the trunk. She removed the paint brush stuck in her belt, and the ever-present jar of blood ink. She spoke in undertone, but in a language Nuala didn’t recognise or understand. The wolf whined and glanced away, its ears pricked. Mac Tíre flattened the bark against the side of a moss-covered boulder and painted something onto it. Then, slowly, her masked face turned to stare straight at Nuala.

Nuala was dreaming, of course, and her body wasn’t corporeal in the dream. But somehow Mac Tíre knew exactly from which direction Nuala was looking on. She stuck the brush into her belt and held out the bark.

Something cold jolted through Nuala. Mac Tíre, a woman who had died five thousand years ago, had drawn something eerily familiar. A crude approximation of a gun. It had a long barrel, and something sticking out one side, something fluffy. A tranquilliser dart.

The dream whirled away, replaced by something solid and real, but altogether impossible. The colours around Nuala were sharp and vivid, and she was wearing glasses, suddenly. She looked down, at the tranquilliser gun lying across her lap, and carefully slotted another dart into the chamber. Her mattress creaked as she stood up and aimed down the sights.

“We’ve gotta be quiet,” Nuala said, in an American accent.

The four other people standing in the dim bedroom nodded.

“These ass-backwards, superstitious rednecks don’t know the value of what they’ve got,” Nuala said sharply. “An air spirit, yeah right. Well, let’s go - Darren, get the pick-up ready-”

The scene dissolved. Nuala sat bolt upright in bed so hard and fast that she lost her balance, utterly disoriented. Gasping, she collapsed down onto the sweat-soaked bedclothes. Moonlight slanted through the window, for once not muddled by the constant cloud banks. Her heart hammered as if she’d just woken from a nightmare.

A nightmare. Yes, that was right. What a fucking weird nightmare, too, seeing through Jennifer’s eyes like that.

The distant growl of an engine caught her attention. She rose up again, one hand out for balance. Nausea gripped her stomach and she almost lay down again, but a pair of pinprick lights shining through the window caught her attention. A pick-up truck drove slowly through the compound, its tyres crunching on the builders’ debris. Something large and rectangular sat on the back of the truck, chained into place.

Nuala blinked. If she wasn’t very much mistaken, that thing in the back of the truck looked a lot like a cat carrier. Bars in front, vents on the sides.

Then her brain woke up. She sprang out of bed, grabbing her dressing gown from the chair by the desk. Pulling it on over her pyjamas, she jammed her feet into shoes and wrenched the door open and sprinted out.

She crept around the back of the truck, navigating by moonlight. The ground was littered with cinderblocks and nails and twisted sheets of corrugated iron, not a safe environment to stumble around blindly in.

Fighting the nausea now tugging at her guts, she slipped into the community centre. Running was impossible, and too loud to be of use anyway. She crept along, through the maze of corridors and plastic sheeting, freezing at any unexpected breeze or movement. Muffled voices sounded ahead of her. Jennifer’s voice, as well as a few others.

Nuala stopped, panting, and leant against a nearby sink. It sounded like Jennifer was at the vault entrance, but if she hadn’t been trying to take Nit by surprise she wouldn’t have been speaking in such hushed tones. The air spirit was probably asleep. Since there was only one way into the vault, Nuala couldn’t possibly warn Nit.

She ground her teeth, struggling to think. Circles danced before her eyes. Circles ringing the blood lines painted onto the lid of Nit’s coffin. Summon circles.

Okay. She grabbed a glass from the sink and smashed it under the heel of her boot, slowly to avoid attracting attention. It crunched to bits as she rested weight on it, but didn’t shatter loudly.

She stooped, took up a shard, and slashed it over the tip of her right index finger. The finger went numb instantly, blood welling up from the wound. Breathing hard, her stomach roiling, Nuala set her finger to the blank plaster wall. She drew a circle with a shaky trail of blood. Now what? Mac Tíre had had to sacrifice a calf to summon Nit. But maybe that was just that type of circle. Nuala hesitated for a long moment, then drew the glass blade across her right palm. It was the hand she’d first used to grip Nit’s wrist, and it was special.

She rubbed her hands together, coating both her palms with a fresh upwelling of blood, then pressed her right hand into the centre of the circle. It left a bright red print.

“What the fuck am I doing?” she gasped, sagging against the wall again, careful not to smudge her circle. Nuala was a rational, non-superstitious person. She didn’t believe in magic. She didn’t.

For several heartbeats, nothing happened. Jennifer’s voice murmured away - Nuala heard the words. She was ordering her companions to get “the restraints” ready.

Then, suddenly, the harsh sound of tearing plastic filled the hall. Jennifer shouted something, and Nuala heard the dull thud of a tranquilliser dart firing off. More plastic tore. Wind battered at the hall, rattling the corrugated roof.

A huge, dark shape appeared on the other side of a nearby plastic sheet. Nit scrabbled at the plastic for a moment before its claws tore through, and then all it had to do was rip through. Its features were almost invisible in the darkness, the distant moonlight gleaming on its horns.

“Nuala?” it said.

She groaned, slowly sinking down the wall.

“Did you do th…” Nit broke off with a birdlike screech of alarm. Nuala blinked, struggling to stay awake. Something fluffy and neon green stuck out of Nit’s chest. Instantly, pain blossomed in Nuala’s chest, as if someone had just punched her in the sternum.

“No,” Nuala gasped. Her hands, damp and sticky, skidded on the floor and sent her crashing to the ground.

Rapid, approaching footsteps. Jennifer raced around the corner, raising her rifle to point at Nit.

“Surrender and we won’t knock you out,” she said.

Nit hesitated for a long moment. Then, quick as a flash, it darted to the wall by Nuala. With one forearm it scrubbed the blood circle off the wall. Leaping back, it made a dive for the torn plastic sheeting. Within a second it was gone, out of sight, and Jennifer was racing off in pursuit.

Nuala’s strength started to return. Gasping, trembling, she pushed herself up onto all-fours. Her head cleared, leaving her with the realisation that, somewhere in the hall, Jennifer was hunting down Nit. Slowly, Nuala struggled up to her feet. After the first step, she started feeling a lot steadier, strong enough to even break into a slow jog.

Thuds echoed through the hall, as well as more tearing plastic. A jangling crash made Nuala freeze and turn. Someone had overturned a cupboard full of medical equipment. Blood tubes rolled across the floor, catching in the torn plastic sheeting.

“Where are you?” Jennifer’s voice was scarily close. “I know you won’t leave - you care about that kid too much. She didn’t look too good there, maybe you should go and check on her…”

There - Jennifer crossed in front of Nuala’s field of vision, dimly illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the skylights. The barrel of her rifle gleamed. She didn’t notice Nuala, or the black shape in the rafters high overhead. Nuala couldn’t see the darts sticking out of it, but her chest ached in three different places, and the outside of her right thigh felt as if it had been shot. Unfortunately, this bullshit connection between herself and Nit also included a heavy sluggishness, as sedatives started to leak from the darts. Up in the rafters, Nit was barely clinging on.

“Hey!” Nuala shouted.

Jennifer turned. When she saw that it was just Nuala confronting her, she didn’t lower her rifle.

“We’re helping Nit,” Jennifer said. “We have a state of the art facility, we have everything it could ever want or need.”

“You’re not taking it,” Nuala said, swaying on her feet. High above, Nit dragged itself onto the next crossbeam along, until it was perched directly above Jennifer.

“Oh yeah?” Jennifer said. “You’re just a kid, what reason can you possibly have to prevent me taking the creature?”

Nuala’s eyes narrowed to black slits.

“Because it’s mine.”

A shadow fell over Jennifer. The American looked up, but she didn’t have nearly enough time to react before Nit landed on top of her, talons first. It tightened its grip, hooking the hand-long talons into Jennifer’s throat and chest, crouching over her like a bird of prey over a kill. Jennifer’s rifle clattered to the ground.

Nuala watched coldly for a second or two, then sighed.

“Let her go.”

Nit straightened up, relaxing its grip on Jennifer. It stepped off her, its legs visibly trembling. Slowly, it sank to its knees, its weakness pervading Nuala’s body. Beside it, Jennifer coughed weakly and gargled on her own blood.

It as if a spell had broken. Nuala’s firm stance crumbled. She ran to Nit, stumbling uselessly, and crouched down beside it. Its eyes were heavy-lidded, fixed on the floor. Nuala reached out and plucked the first couple of darts out of its chest. The needle tips dripped blue-black blood.

With gentle hands, Nuala removed the darts from Nit’s body. Only then did she leave Nit alone, to cross over to the nearest wall. An emergency panic button was wired into place there, and she hit it firmly.

Emily had arrived within the minute, still pulling on her white coat when she stumbled into the hall.

“Oh my god,” she said finally spotting them. “Nuala? What happened?”

Nuala pointed at Jennifer. The gun and darts lying discarded on the ground beside her spoke for themselves.

Emily nodded, casting Nit a wary look, and grabbed an emergency first aid kit from an overturned cabinet. Without speaking, she crouched beside Jennifer and started to save her life.

Well, Nuala didn’t care. Jennifer had learnt her lesson, and, anyway, it would have just felt weird to let her die. Instead of complaining, Nuala sat down on the ground beside Nit - who was still fairly out of it - and let herself slump sideways against the air spirit.

It was her best night’s sleep in god knew how long.

#birb story 2017 #does anyone actually read these

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