#that back be carrying too much weight i can scratch it a bit longer no worries

[saetoru]

gojo is definitely the boyfriend who you think is fast asleep so you finally stop scratching his back and then as soon as you do his head is popping up to look at you like you got some audacity to stop

#sorry babe #i’ll get back to it #that back be carrying too much weight i can scratch it a bit longer no worries #i was wrong #i’m just a woman #JDKAKSJD JK JK JK #me when i’m a feminist until gojo satoru comes along

[ghost-proofbaby]

69 + eddie munson

that number is just so fitting for eddie lmao. we love to see it. (also, are we even surprised taylor is all over my damn wrapped?)

#69: "MIDNIGHT RAIN" BY TAYLOR SWIFT (EDDIE MUNSON)

"he was sunshine, i was midnight rain."

warnings: serious thoughts of self-doubt and self-deprecation, angst?, hurt/comfort (this one ends happier i SWEAR)

wc: 3k+

There was more to Eddie Munson than what meets the eye. 

An entire town, somehow, had gotten it through their heads that the boy who lit up your days was something dark. A storm cloud, a hellraiser, a Satan-worshiper, a tornado of the utmost destruction – every nasty synonym they could roll off their tongues, they would spit at him. He was violent rain, he was uneasy nights, he was howling winds. They looked at him like an overcast for their sweet summer days, and they couldn’t be further from the truth. 

There was nothing violent nor stormy about the boy currently curled beneath bed sheets with you. Something soft and to be held – and that’s exactly what you did as the night swallows the two of you whole. You held him. His soft breaths ruffled the material of your shirt against your stomach, his curls tickling all the way up to your chest as a hand mindlessly twists at the end of a few stray strands. 

The clock on the nightstand blinks with a time far too late for you to be up, but you can’t help it. You’d woken up a few hours ago, and begged sleep to return to you, but it simply wouldn’t. Eddie had even roused at some point, twisting and noticing you awake in his half-dazed state, but his supportive state had been plagued by drowsiness, and the beckoning of his dreams won the war in the end. You didn’t mind it – it was nice to lay like this, the weight of his head on your torso and to feel his steady breathing rather than being left alone to your own thoughts. 

This town assumed Eddie was the terrible storm, but you knew better. 

He was the farthest thing from a storm possible. Even amongst his chaos, even amongst his wild demeanor, he still managed to embody the sun at the end of the day in your eyes. Warm, sought after, calming, relaxing. Bright and brilliant as ever. Those chestnut ringlets, those honeyed doe eyes – how anyone saw so much as a strike of lightning in them was beyond you. You were the one carrying storm clouds. You were the one with heavy forecasts, downpours that slaughtered in the dead of night. 

It was the thunder in your head that was keeping you awake. Not his, never his. 

“R’you still up?” he mumbles, nearly scaring you. You hadn’t even noticed that he’d awoken again, too busy staring at the ceiling as you watched shadows of the current rain trailing down the window reflected on the walls. 

“Yeah,” you whisper, looking down, moving your fingertips from the ends of his hair to his scalp before scratching in small circles, “Go back to sleep, baby.” 

“Can’t-” he starts to mutter, cutting off in a yawn as he twists so that his face is no longer buried in your chest, eyes still pinched shut for a moment before he can continue his thought, “Can’t sleep if I know you’re up. What’s bothering you?” 

Endless things. Your chest was coiled in terrible knots, strangling you on repeat with each second passing as you had been left alone with your thoughts. Haunted by every echoing step you had taken the last few days, taunted by every word you hadn’t said. 

Just how many mistakes had you made in the last twenty four hours alone? And how had they still, somehow, led you home to him? What had you done to be deserving of him?

“Just the storm,” you lie easily, keeping a soft tone, still trying to beckon him back to sleep. As if on cue, a distant roll of thunder can be heard following a brisk flare of light through the window pane. 

But his wide eyes only blink up at you, clearly awake now, “‘s that all?” 

His words are still slurring together a bit, but as he lifts his weight off of you, you know there’s no coaxing him back into rest. There’s no facing the storm alone tonight – and not the one that currently pelts the outside of the house. 

You can’t look him in his eyes. You’re terrified for him to see the rolling waves of nimbus formations behind your own. 

“Yeah, that’s all,” you say, patting your chest, trying to change the topic, “C’mere. Lay back down, there’s no use for us both to be tired tomorrow.” 

He sits up fully, your hands falling from his scalp, out of reach as he balances on his knees with a face of newfound determination, “I’m not letting you just lay here awake while I use you as my own personal drool catch. I know there’s something more than the storm bothering you.” 

Damn him. And damn his attentiveness. 

Even with the moonlight illuminating him, he emits his own specific shine that gleams golden through the dark room, striking you right in your heart. Your boy made of sunshine and kindness, good intentions and a pure heart.

Your sun. 

“It’s stupid,” you start, picking at the threads of the comforter as he settles to lay comfortably beside you. In an instant, the positions are switched, and he’s pulling you to lay on his chest, “I just… It can all get a bit loud, you know?” 

It’s not about the people in the town who talk. Not an ounce of their gossip can really get to you, hardly scratching at your skin. At most, they only leave their mark when they talk badly of Eddie. And even then, you know your truth. 

“We’re the talk of the town again, huh?” Eddie chuckles, fingertips grazing at the small bit of the nape of your neck that’s exposed from beneath the neck of your shirt. Lazy circles, wobbling triangles, hardly-distinguishable squares. All mindless shapes that he’s probably unaware of painting over your skin, and they send shivers down your spine all the same. 

It’s not the people in the town who are loud. 

It’s that voice in your head, the whisper that he’s too good for this. There is something simply so inherently good about the boy that lays beneath you. Something so golden, so warming that it aches and nearly stifles you. He deserves more. He deserves someone who can offer him the world, not someone who will never manage more than rotting away with the worms below the dirt. 

“Why did you choose me?” you blurt out before you can think better of it.

The storm outside the window picks up in pace, raindrops racing faster down the glass. You try and pick one to follow in particular, but they all disappear quicker than they appear to begin with. 

“What do you mean?” 

You can’t make sense of it, the way he loves you. As if he doesn’t see the storm always on the horizon, as if he can’t feel the sharp pain that resides permanently within your chest. A pain you were born with, a pain you’ll surely die with. The nasty thing that pangs every time you grow too comfortably, that screams for you to run when things get too good. 

You just don’t get it. 

“Everyone is always asking me why I’m with you,” you wish you could choose your words more carefully, but you can’t. They only come tumbling out, an avalanche of honesty over the crack of thunder that sounds, “Saying things like how I’m so nice, how you’re so… so… not. And I just don’t get it, because you are. You’re… everything, Eddie. You’re the sun incarnate, so good and so nice at your core. And they never have time for me to wax poetic, to go on and on about just how good you are. They always act like you’re the impending doom, and I’m always in danger, when it should be the other way around.” 

His slow motions on the base of your neck pause, “I’m not sure I’m following along, sweetheart.” 

You lift your head, look up at those eyes that could hold an entire Universe inside of them. The kind that do when the sun’s rays hit them just right in the daytime. He is everything. Every star, every first bloom of spring, every fresh breath of air. 

And you aren’t.

You’re built off of late nights and terrible troubles. Of racing thoughts and sweaty palms, and a mouth that always fumbles with its words. Something unhinged and something unattractive at its core. It’s not the outside so much, not that you don’t feel pretty enough for him, but the inside. That inner natural disaster waiting to happen. A tsunami of forces waiting to engulf you both, drown him right along with you. 

You want to run because you want to save him from that fate. You can’t save yourself, but you could save him. 

“I’m the storm, the unpredictable and violent one,” you choke out, placing a flat palm on his chest, “You’re… not. They think you are, but you aren’t. You deserve better than to sit around with me, waiting for the clock to strike midnight and for my torrential downpour to start. You don’t deserve to sit in the rain with someone who isn’t worth it.”

How many breakdowns had he already bore witness to? How many late nights had he already sacrificed his rest to spend talking you through a spiral? How many times had he given up all that he deserved, just to sit in the rain with you? 

“Quite the metaphor you’ve got going there,” he laughs under his breath, but all the joking fades when he sees that disaster-torn look cross your face, “Have I ever told you how when I was younger, and it would rain, I’d insist on sleeping with the window open?” 

Your brows furrow, “What does that have to do with-”

“You have your wild metaphors, let me have mine,” he interrupts, sitting up a bit, leaning forward until your forehead nearly bumps against his, “Wayne hated it. It would get everything soaked – the curtains, the carpet, my desk – and it would run up his electric bill. Said he’d always come into my room in the morning to find me shivering under the covers, and have to run up the heater to stop my teeth from chattering. The old man never lets me forget, either,” he pauses, and brings a gentle, warm palm up to your cheek, “But even after countless lectures, you know what changed? Nothing. Every day, whenever I saw the clouds or smelled the rain coming, I still got so damn excited. I still ran home to open up my window, and I smiled like a fool the entire fucking time. It only drove Wayne more insane.” 

“Okay?” you question, peering into his eyes, still not following, “So, you love rain. Are you trying to say you want to open the window right now? Or-”

“You’re so close to getting it,” he chuckles, closing the distance between the two of you, shutting you up with a brush of his lips against yours. 

“Getting what?” you mumble into his mouth, frowning a bit as he pulls back and his lips hover. 

That palm holds you steady, keeping you close as his other hand wanders to your hip, giving a soft squeeze to the tender flesh, “I love rain.” 

He loves rain. 

Your mind twists and gravels, tries to make sense of it when you’re still so consumed by him. The brush of his lips against yours as he whispers. The caress of his breath over your cheek, still minty from when the two of you had brushed your teeth together before bed. The warmth seeping out of his skin against yours, warming you even as the storm wages on. The smell of his sheets mingling with the damp air fighting through the vents from outside. 

He loves rain.

It clicks. 

“You love rain,” you say carefully, eyes fluttering open to find him already looking at you. 

He nods, forehead finally bumping yours. “I fucking love rain. Always have, always will.” 

The storm within your head that had been raging for hours, that had kept you up as your sunshine had slept soundly, goes still as night. It all stops – the wind, the thunder, the downpour. Every single thought halts in its tracks as you look at a boy who’s watching you with such adoration, with such promise of offering up the entire world if you asked. You have his heart in your hands, and he’s well aware you could destroy it at a moment’s notice, but he trusts you. 

He loves you. 

“Now, come here,” he insists, scooting back on the bed until his back is flush to the wall and his arms are wide open for you to crawl into. You don’t deny him. Slowly, you make your way to his chest, letting your ear press against his skin and listen to the steady and sure rhythm of his heart as his arms wrap around you, “We don’t have to go back to bed, but you do have to let me be here for you. Let me just sit with you in the rain, with the window wide open, yeah? Your storm can get the curtains wet, you can freeze me out – I don’t care. I like the storm… I love the storm,” he whispers as you settle against him. You finally glance at his old alarm clock, the one Wayne had bought him back in sophomore year when he’d insisted he was tired of waking the boy up every morning. Those blinking numbers read 12:43 just as his lips press to your temple, “I love you.” 

Such a quiet declaration. Full of meaning, full of intent. The only rain still pounding away is the one outside of the trailer, sounding off in a tinkling tune of water against metal slates. It’s almost melodic as you feel his exhale against your hairline. 

“I love you too, y’know?” you whisper right back, a hand coming up to curl around his wrist as he places his hand on your shoulder. It’s not enough to just hear his heartbeat; you need to feel the pulse beneath his skin, thumb digging in helplessly as you focus on just him and his rays of light as your clouds begin to break, “I’m sorry if I’m hard to love, or dramatic sometimes-”

“Never,” he cuts you off, “You’re never hard to love, sweetheart. Not for me.” 

No more words are needed as the seconds pass and the two of you stay like that. You, counting every beat of his heart. And him, still bleeding sunshine even in the black of night. Messy crown of curls, a smile that never quite leaves his lips. It’s impossible to wrap your head around – the boy who could light up even the darkest of rooms, who glows even at midnight, loves the rain in a way you never thought possible. Loves your rain specifically, and all the storms you always fear and battle with through every sleepless night. It doesn’t phase him in the slightest. 

“Are you ever going to get tired of me?” you ask, more out of curiosity than insecurity now as your fingers fall to trace over one of the tattoos inked into the skin of his chest, “I mean, I know you say you love rain now, but people can change. Hell, even I’m changing constantly. No two storms are ever exactly the same, or whatever the fuck they say.” 

“Do they say that?” he murmurs. You can hear the sleep returning to him, drawing him under, “To answer your question, no. I don’t think I will ever get tired of you. Change all you want. I’m just happy to be here.” 

You smile, and you know he feels it as he squeezes you a bit tighter, “What if I decide to shave my head tomorrow? Or dye my hair the ugliest shade of neon yellow I can find? Or tattoo my entire face?” 

“If you dye your hair neon, can you dye one of my strands to match?” you snort at his response, tilting your chin to catch him looking at you with a playful smile, “And I’ll still love you if you’re bald. As a matter of fact, I think I can see a bald spot already forming on the back of your head, so…” 

Your hand flies up to your hair, feeling for what he’s talking about as he descends into cackles. Head fully thrown back and eyes tightly screwed shut. 

God, he’s beautiful. Too beautiful for you to even get genuinely upset with his teasing. 

“Fuck you,” you say as you realize he’s joking, forcing a faux pout and throwing your head back down onto his chest hard enough to make him emit a small oof, “If either of us are going bald, it’s you.” 

He gasps, still dramatic even as he’s half-asleep, “How dare you. I was even going to offer up some of my luscious locks to make you a wig if you needed it.” 

“You don’t have long enough hair for that.”

“Yet,” he insists as your eyelids grow a little heavier, “I’ll just keep growing it out. You know, in case you need it, even though you were so mean to me.” 

Your body sinks deeper into him, as if you could bury you both into the safety of this mattress for the rest of your days. 

“I hate you,” you lie, half playful as the thunder outside the trailer becomes nothing more than a lullaby. 

He slips down further into the comforter, resting his head on his pillow rather than the uncomfortable wall as he holds you tight to him, “I love you, too, my little rainstorm.” 

You don’t even have a quick defense against his teasing nickname as sleep takes hold of you. You’re already far gone, eyes shut and mind slipping away as he kisses the top of your head before joining you. 

Storms are easier with Eddie. Window open and all.

#ghost's tunes 2023 #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #but also #eddie munson fluff #i want someone to love me the way i write eddie lmaooooo #i could have gone SO VERY SAD with this one but I DIDN'T and for that i am so brave

[vanessamooney]

The Age of Us Pt. 2 - Draco x Reader

Prompt: Glimpses into your lives through the years

Pairing: Draco x Slytherin!Reader

Part 1. Part 3 coming soon!

In Second Year you're starting to stand on your feet properly. You've come to Diagon Alley with Draco and his father just before the semester has started to collect the year's new spell books and props. The list sent out by Hogwarts was longer than last years and you'd become increasingly worried about being able to keep up between 'Gadding with Ghouls' and 'Holidays with Hags', all written by Gilderoy Lockhart no less.

The alley streets were bustling with witches and wizards of all sorts, pointed hats bouncing around comically and brooms alike. You had already run into fellow classmates from Hogwarts and stopped a plethora of times for polite conversation and familial introductions. Lucius has now excused himself from the two of you, trusting Draco with a satchel filled to the brim with gold galleons, instructing you two to meet him in front of Flourish and Botts with the books ready in exactly thirty minutes. 

'I trust you'll be on time, Draco,' he sneered at his son, tapping his back with the serpentine cane he never parted ways with. When he turned to give you a polite nod and pat on the head with a heavy hand, he did so with a strange upturn of the corners of his lips. He had always liked you. 

You weren't sure what Lucius had gone off to do or where he was doing whatever exactly, but you relished in the freedom because you'd been eyeing Magical Menagerie the second you all floo-powdered into the shopping district and had been scheming to convince Lucius and Draco to take you there.

Glancing at Draco with softened eyes, he's looking a little bit low-spirited and the weight of the galleons makes one of his arms hang lower than the other, so you pull him along by his shorter hand and shoot him a smile that lights up your entire face and makes his heart oddly skip a beat.

'Come on, Draco,' You egg him on, scratching the inside of his palm with your nails because you know he is ticklish there, and you know it will cheer him up, even if only momentarily.

He lets out a giggle only you can hear but you don't pay much attention because when you arrive outside Magical Menagerie you're bewitched by the sight before you: a grey kitten small enough to fit into your hands locked in a cage at the storefront. You coo at it, immediately forgetting about the blonde boy awkwardly trailing behind you. 

'Wolfcat,' you read aloud the silver tag on the front of the rusted iron bars, 'female, 10 galleons,' 

You whip around to your best friend and grab his free hand, squeezing it in excitement for all that you've got. 

'Draco, how incredibly adorable she is!' you squeal, watching his stormy eyes soften at the sight before him.

He walks up to the front of the cage, poking a wiggling finger in through the bars to antagonise the creature and he is pleasantly surprised to find it rub its head against him, her yellow eyes big and glaring. 

'I suppose she is,' He shrugs his shoulders, pulling a sulking Y/N along to Flourish and Botts in spite of your silent protests in the form of your pouts and glances off into the distance.

You had spent the entire time shopping for school books talking Draco's ears off about the kitten from earlier, so much so he was having to double check you were picking up the right copies of the books as you had placed the wrong ones in the basket too many times.

'Oh Draco, she was the sweetest thing' you went on, lazily dropping a copy of 'Intermediate Transfiguration' into the basket you tasked Draco with carrying.

When the two of you waited patiently out of the front of Flourish and Botts just as you'd agreed prior, you continued chatting as Draco seemingly zoned out, a heavy head in his hand. He thought about a peculiar bit of conversation he had overheard in your family's manor just a mere few weeks before first year began: 'The family owl is enough trouble,' your father would groan, his fingers squeezing the top of his nose bridge.

Draco himself didn't bring one of the three permitted animals to Hogwarts because he himself thought it was all too much effort for a companion and he already had his hands full with Crabbe, Goyle and you, not that he minded having his hands full with the latter.

With a sudden thought, he handed you the pile of textbooks that mere moments ago sat in his lap, practically shoving them into your hands.

'Ow, Draco, that's heavy, what are you…' you trailed off, watching his retreating form as he ran in the opposite direction of the meeting point. 

'I'll be back soon!' he yelled back, but you were left all alone, confused and surrounded by hoards of strange witches and wizards.

Lucius finds you sitting on the stairs outside Flourish and Botts with a puffy pout on your lips, the stack of new books placed carelessly to your side. You've got your chin resting comfortably in your palms just as Draco did and you look to be in deep and confusing thought. He's got with him his own leather-bound book now clutched hard in his hands and he scans the rest of the crowd, but his son is no where to be seen. Pah. Of course. 

'Y/N, where is Draco?' He askes, lending you a firm hand to help you up off the steps and you carefully slip your hand in his and jolt up, dusting off your robes with a sheepish smile.

"I'm not sure, he left some minutes ago and went that w…' you trail off when you glance in the direction Draco ran, gasping as you see the devil himself running towards you, eyes wide as dinner plates when they land on his father whom by now has turned to see his son making a fool of himself. He is clutching in his arms something that appears to be squirming and you squint to try and make out what it is.

A grey wolfkitten lands into your arms and Draco is so out of breath from running when he looks at your dazed expression but he still manages a smirk as you press a well-earnt kiss to his rosy cheeks.

Lucius taps his son on his back softly with his walking cane, raising an eyebrow and managing his own twinge of a smile tantalising the corners of his lips. He watches his son proudly as he is watching you.

The blurs of the everyday witches and wizards spinning around you don't catch your eye because you're mesmerised by the creature in your arms; mesmerised by your best friend, too. You catch a glimpse of the blue sky and see within it the night. 

'I think I'll name her Cassiopeia,' your eyes twinkle like the constellation that falls from your lips and Draco watches the stars swirl within you.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You're running through the hallways, Draco's hand in yours as you lead him to the Clocktower Courtyard. You are giggling and glancing back to him to make sure he's still keeping up with you and the opulent perfume in your hair blinds his senses. You shiver into him from the bitter winter breeze that stalks you through the castle and he grips your hand harder when he feels your vibrations.

You come to a stop when you're surrounded by greenery taking over archways, absorbing the glory of the courtyard with your eyes closed, taking in its sweet earthy aroma. An old water fountain lays in the middle of it all, guarded by four magnificent stone gargoyles on each corner. Moss and water has stained them a muddy grey, but your eyes are still enchanted from the view; you always liked coming here. 

'Why are we here at this dingy old fountain, Y/N?' Draco groans, stretching a gloved hand to lean on a gargoyle. You gasp as his disrespect and you click your tongue, making him flail his arms as he tries to regain his balance. 

'A dingy fountain?' You're scolding him like his mother usually does, repeating back his absurd view of the world around him. 'This isn't just any fountain,' you say, slithering around it, dancing your fingers from stone to stone, your gaze never leaving Draco's. 'Legend has it if you flick a knut into it while making a wish, it'll come true,'

 The plush rabbit earmuffs on your head rises slightly as you speak, and with a gentle sigh Draco tenderly adjusts your earmuffs back down while anxiously avoiding your eyes as he tenderly touches you.

'Is that so?' he mumbles. 

You nod eagerly at him, presenting two knuts in your gloved palm that you'd been saving in your pockets. He reluctantly takes one, giving you a strange look but you beam in elation anyway, enchanted by the glistening promises of the fountain. Draco holds the knut in his hand, his expression a mix of scepticism and curiosity. He takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of his wish on his heart.

With a mischievous grin, you look into Draco's stormy eyes and say, 'Alright, on the count of three. One… two… three!' 

Simultaneously you both flick your knuts into the fountain, watching as they disappear beneath the surface with a small splash. You pat your flushed face with an awkward flutter of fingers, seeing if you feel any different, inspecting the grass below your feet just a little closer. The moment stretches, filled with anticipation and hope from the both of you. 

'What did you wish for?' your voice is barely above a croaky whisper but you're unable to contain your excitement and ask anyway.

Draco hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and the fountain. He doesn't dare to admit he wished for you and the weight of his silence crushes you.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Gilderoy Lockhart's charm filled the air like a sweet perfume, ensnaring the hearts of the young Gryffindor girls who hung on his every word. With a flick of his cape, he shed the garment, letting it fall carelessly into the eager crowd below, who scrambled to catch a piece of the famed hero.

You, however, had never been taken by Lockhart's facade. Even in the best of times, you found his antics grating, feigning ignorance whenever your dorm-mates gushed over his supposed heroic feats. One night, out of curiosity, you had reluctantly flipped through his autographed autobiography, but each boastful comment and exaggerated deed only served to deepen your disdain. Despite your love for reading, you couldn't bring yourself to admire a story painted in lies and arrogance.

But as Draco Malfoy was summoned to the stage by Snape to duel Harry, you found yourself eagerly pushing through the crowd of Slytherins to get a better view. You cheered when Draco sent Harry flying across the stage and winced when the tables turned, but it was when Draco summoned the snake that your heart skipped a beat. Watching in horror as Potter seemingly controlled the creature with a strange tongue, you were pulled away from the midst of the chaos by Draco's urgent grip, and he whisked you into the safety of the Slytherin common room.

"That Potter is downright evil, I'm telling you!" Draco seethed, his frustration palpable as he slammed his fists onto the desk. He was a hurricane when he wanted to be, pacing around with a heavy energy, turning from a constellation into a supernova. Potter did this often to him, and although the others insisted he was masterfully exaggerating, you never seemed to think so - something wasn't right with Harry, and now this.

Motioning for him to join you on the worn leather couch, Draco sank down beside you, his head falling heavily into your lap as he let out a weary sigh. You gazed down at him with wide eyes, offering silent comfort as you gently traced circles on the back of his hand. You were always there to trace circles on the back of his hand.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

When Draco tells you he has made the Slytherin Quidditch Team you're sat on the banks of the black lake. The sun is dancing upon the surface of the water, casting reflections within it that didn't quite seem to match with the gentle surroundings you're enveloped in but you pay it no attention because as Draco's words sink in, the world around you fades into insignificance. 

The muggle book he despised that was grasped within your fingertips moments before hits the ground with a soft thump and the paper warps, staining with the green and brown of the ground. There is no room for a pregnant pause because before you can think of a congratulations worthy of Draco's achievements, you've already tackled him in a hug and twigs and dandelions have already intertwined in your hair and clothes; you're already grinning with glee, your faces already inches away and Draco has already licked his lips in anticipation but you press an adoring kiss to the side of his cheek and whisper to him how proud you are of him, in a way intended only for him to hear.

You don't notice the flash of disappointment in his eyes when your lips miss his, or how awkward his movements become. Nothing else matters, because your best friend is Slytherin's brand new Seeker and you can't possibly think of anything else.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Christmas morning brings with it a myriad of thoughtfully wrapped packages from your family and friends, appearing under an evergreen pine decorated with baubles and ribbons in the Slytherin common room. You yawn audibly, rushing to flatten the wrinkles out of your Christmas pyjamas before you run down the stairs from your dorm. Draco is already waiting for you in the common room, leaning patiently against the oak table, his hair slicked back and his own pyjamas ironed completely straight. When he spots you paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes soften and he stretches his arms out in anticipation of feeling you nuzzled into his chest.

The decision to spend Christmas at Hogwarts this year didn't come easy, and you recall with a smile how you and Draco were making fun of students who did just a mere few weeks ago - after all, what else shows your parents love you other than stuffing you away in school over the holidays? But between the entertainment from the Chamber of Secrets being opened and the winter travels your parents embarked on without you, you and Draco both agreed to spend winter this year together at Hogwarts - despite Narcissa and Lucius' best wishes. 

Crabbe and Goyle had also decided to stay the festive winter season to keep Draco and you company - despite your best wishes -  and they now watched with narrow eyes from the couch as your petite figure floated down the girl's staircase and straight into Draco's arms. When he twirled you around the room they audibly wretched in disgust, but you felt like a princess anyway and they became TV static in the background of your mind.

To find a gift for Draco did not come easy. The lead up to Winter break was spent with hours of frustration and punctilious reading in the castle library as you diligently worked to fabricate from the thin Yule air a charmed snow globe containing a singular, shared memory: 

Perched atop the dew-kissed grass surrounding the grandeur Malfoy Manor, air heavy with the scent of blooming night-flowers, the myriad of stars scattered across the heavens blinked like diamonds strewn upon midnight velvet. You saw within the stars a constellation that bore his name, the boy laying so arrantly next to you: Draco. And with a quiet reverence, you pointed upwards in awe, seeing within the stars him, and within him the very stars he had been named after. 

With a soft smile tugging on your lips, you direct Draco to the pine, breaking your gaze buoyantly when you lean down to cradle the parchment wrapped globe that sat so patiently beneath the tree, a swirl of memories replaying in it persistently under its cover. 

'For you,' you hand the package to him, biting your lip in anticipation, and you feel within you a twinge of constraint but your eyes gleam anyway, 'Merry Christmas, Draco.'

Draco couldn't break his gaze from your glowing face. As he tore the parchment away he did so neatly, mesmerised by the mere existence of you. The background of Christmas morning occupied by the calamities swirling in the black lake just outside the common room windows and the intrusive nature of his friends meant nothing to him because in that moment when his eyes found the memory you so tenderly illustrated within the snow globe, he could think of nothing else - and he didn’t want to.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

You're standing in the castle's greenhouse, its windows fogged up with humidity cut through by the slow paths of common snails as they journey into the unknown. The air outside is cool, Winter has started to take its course and the frost of its greedy air snaps; but inside the safe haven of the greenhouse the air is warm and pungent with earthly aromas. 

The vastness of the greenhouse is filled with magical plants and fungi alike stretched out before you but you're humming as you tend to a healthy collective of starthistle, mushing its millets between your fingers to release the powder contained within them. You carefully collected the fine dust in tiny cork bottles and placed them neatly in organised lines on the gardener's desk, just as tentatively asked by Madam Sprout. 

With a flick of your quill, you've checked off another task on the consciously written list and you whip around to work on the next task: watering the asphodel and pruning their tender leaves as needed. You'd been under the instructions of Madam Sprout for the last few weeks, working diligently in the greenhouse and taking care of the housekeeping for the hoards of students taking herbology. 

You couldn't quite put into words why the greenery drew you in, perhaps 

it was the sense of tranquility that enveloped you as you worked among the plants, or maybe it was the reward of nurturing life and watching it thrive under your care. Whatever the reason, the greenhouse had become your sanctuary, a place where you felt truly at peace and you'd often visited to escape the chaos of the castle.

As you carefully watered the asphodel and delicately pruned their leaves, you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of nature. Each plant seemed to have its own unique personality, its own story to tell. Some were robust and hearty, while others were delicate and fragile, requiring extra care and attention.

Lost in a swirl of thoughts, you didn't notice the approach of another or the creak of the greenhouse doors until a familiar voice broke through the silence of the mist.

'Slaving away to pass herbology?' Draco coaxed, his tone teasing yet warm as he stepped into view from behind swarms of the alihotsy tree foliage.

You glanced up, offering him a smile as your hands continued to prune. Draco had taken to visiting you in the greenhouse whenever he could steal a moment away from his studies or Quidditch practice. Though he often teased you about your love for plants, you could've sworn to see genuine fondness nestled in-between the specks of blue in his eyes.

'Someone has to keep these plants in line,' you replied playfully, gesturing to the lush greenery around you.

Draco chuckled, stepping closer to inspect the asphodel with interest. 'I must admit, I would much rather attend Sprouts lessons than McGonagall's,'

'They're all the same anyway,' Draco grumbles, reaching to absentmindedly mush a leaf between the pads of his fingers.

'Are they?' You beckon, giving him a knowing stare as you pat the soil around the asphodel a little harder than before. 

'Potter,' he sneers, gaze lowering. Something must've happened. 

But instead of delving deeper into the matter, you decide to shift the conversation to something lighter, knowing it is best to not scratch at fresh wounds. 

"Well, since you're here, how about lending me a hand with the watering?" you suggest, flashing Draco a mischievous grin, your eyes sparkling as they always do.

Draco raises an eyebrow, but a playful smirk dances across his lips. "I suppose I could manage that," he concedes, rolling up his sleeves as he joins you at the watering cans.

╺╺╺╺╺╺╺

Draco entered the Slytherin common room cursing the puffing lady in the painting, his steps quiet against the plush carpeting. Crabbe and Goyle had snuck out in the middle of the night to threaten house elves for leftovers again, despite Draco's orders. In spite of his best efforts, Snape had already caught his cronies, muttering scolding admonitions, and sending the trio back to the dorms; but not before confiscating a pile of blueberry muffins nestled into Crabbe and Goyle's arms.

The dim light of the flickering fire cast a warm glow over the room, and the henchmen were ordered upstairs, their heavy footsteps shaking the dungeons. But as Draco made his way upstairs after them, he couldn't help but notice a figure slumped over one of the tables, surrounded by a scattering of books and parchment.

Curiosity piqued, Draco approached, recognizing you, nestled amidst your study materials. Your head rested on your arms, your breathing steady and deep as sleep claimed you in the midst of your studies. Draco couldn't help but smile softly at the sight, finding a certain charm in your dedication to your studies, even if it meant falling asleep in the common room and spending less time with him.

With gentle hands, Draco carefully gathered your belongings, setting aside your books and parchment before lifting you into his arms. 'A Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi' he scoffed gently and to this you stirred slightly, murmuring soft nothings in your sleep, but didn't wake as Draco cradled you against his chest, your head nestling against his shoulder.

With practiced ease, Draco made his way through the common room towards the staircase leading to the girls dormitories, your soft purrs of sleep tickling his chest in a way that shortened his breathing and sent a flutter through his heart.

As he reached your dormitory door, Draco hesitated for a moment, admiring the peaceful expression on your sleeping face. Gently, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, carefully laying you down on your emerald bed and tucking the blankets around you.

For a moment, Draco lingered, watching you sleep with a soft smile before quietly slipping out of the room, leaving you to rest peacefully in the warmth of your bed.

Unbeknownst to him, Pansy lay awake in her own bed, observing the scene with narrowed eyes, her mind already scheming with endless possibilities. 

#draco malfoy #draco one shot #draco x reader #draco x you #draco fluff #soft draco #harry potter #blaise zabini #hufflepuff #slytherin #slytherpuff #draco x hufflepuff!reader #hogwarts #harry potter oneshot #harry potter fanfic #draco malfoy imagine #harry potter imagine #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #draco #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco x y/n #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfic #draco fanfic #draco malfoy fic #draco fic #draco imagine

[yeoja-dream]

Found/Fated/Forever

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Pairing: BTS OT7 x Reader Genre: Fantasy, eventual smut, porn with plot, slow burn, hurt/comfort Characters: Supernatural!BTS, Vampire!Jungkook, Supernatural!Reader Content Warning: Y/N in danger, medical scene & terminology Word Count: 3k

Jungkook held your body, cool, clammy, and lifeless in a state of panic. He didn’t mean to go that far, he thought desperately. He put his head on your chest and prayed to any gods that would listen that he hadn’t killed out outright, and a tiny blip of relief washed over him when he hurt the faint, slow beating of a heart. It wasn’t too late. 

“What am I supposed to do?” He said, anxiously pacing. The idea hit him suddenly. If there was someone that could help, it was Namjoon. 

Jungkook picked up your body, handling and cradling it like it was the most delicate flower. Standing in the middle of your apartment, in a puff of dark smoke, Jungkook willed the two of you to disappear, then reappear again on the roof of the largest general hospital in your city. At this time, the morning sun had begun cresting over the horizon, its warm rays falling onto the two of you. Jungkook for the first time felt his grip on you weaken and his muscles begin to strain and ache under your weight. Where you were weightless to him before, the sunlight was weakening him considerably. He wasted no further time dashing into the rooftop access door and into the hospital proper. 

If Jungkook knew Kim Namjoon, and he was certain he did, he knew that it was almost certain that Namjoon hadn’t yet gone home from his shift as an emergency room attending. Jungkook hadn’t been to the hospital often, the stench of alcohol, death, blood, and other bodily fluids was overwhelming to his heightened senses and churned his stomach. Looking to blend in, he used the glamour magic afforded to him, disguising both of your forms as he navigated the halls, appearing to be just another doctor carrying a box of medical equipment. He paused, closing his eyes and concentrating, mentally pulling and tugging at the bond he shared with the older man. 

Where are you? I am here.

Office. The bond answered back.

It wasn’t long until he was in front of the office of Dr. Kim Namjoon. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. 

Inside was a tired-looking, young man, busily typing and scratching down notes on a piece of paper. As Jungkook entered, he looked up, his expression initially pleased at seeing his mate quickly turned to one of shock and horror at what he was carrying. 

“Hello Jungk-” Namjoon cut himself and stood suddenly from his desk, seeing the body he carried in his arms. “What the hell is this?” 

“Help her, please,” Jungkook begged. “I can explain more later.” 

Namjoon walked over, feeling for a pulse. “Did you do this to her?” He asked, his voice grave. 

“Yes,” Jungkook replied, ashamed. 

“Well you didn’t kill her,” Namjoon stated with a sigh. “She needs urgent treatment. Disguise yourself and bring her up to the 8th floor, B corridor, last room on the left. We will have a bit more privacy that way. I will be up right behind you.” 

With a simple nod of solemn understanding, Jungkook turned on his heel, and made haste out of the office, following Namjoon’s instructions carefully. The B corridor on the 8th floor was sparsely populated, it appeared to be mostly storage for patient care monitors and machines, Jungkook noted passively. He tried the door of the aforementioned room, finding it unlocked, before letting himself in. The room was minimal, with a bed made up with only a pillow and a single fitted sheet, a bedside monitor, and a chair. Jungkook quickly laid you down on the bed before drawing the blinds to prevent any additional sunlight from getting in, it was making him feel like shit enough as it was. 

It wasn’t much longer after Jungkook entered that Namjoon entered as well. He came, backpack slung over a shoulder and pushing a rolling table. Wordlessly, he unpacked the supplies and began setting you up on the monitors. 

“Her pulse is thready, weak, and slow, but it's there. Regular rythm.” Namjoon noted out loud to no one in particular. “Her blood pressure is really low so I’m going to have to start her on a blood transfusion and fluids. Is that going to bother you, or do I have to kick you out?” 

Jungkook shook his head emphatically. Namjoon nodded in understanding, but stood in place, unmoving. 

“DO something!” Jungkook insisted, anxiously. 

“I can count the number of times I’ve placed an IV on one hand and as for the IV pumps, they might as well be set to a foreign ancient language. I promise I am the last person you want handling this stuff. I’ve already paged my nurse, Clara. She should be here any moment.”

As if divinely timed, the door handle jiggled and opened, and a short, stout, human walked in. Clara was the veteran nurse of veteran nurses. She had been working since she graduated at the age of 22, she could place an IV in your forehead, she could run a code blue better than most of the resident doctors, and she was wise enough to know when to not ask too many questions. 

“I got your page, Dr. Kim,” Clara said, walking in, and quickly assessing the situation. 

“Clara, we are running a hypovolemic protocol on this patient. She needs bilateral peripheral IVs, 1-liter Lactated ringers at 120 milliliters an hour, packed red blood cells should run at 200 milliliters an hour, and platelets at 400. Take whatever blood you can and run a CBC, Jane Doe, stat. I have all the supplies here.” 

“Yes, doctor,” Clara responded before quickly getting started. Clara worked fast and efficiently, with a work ethic born from years in the emergency room. Sliding the IVs in place, she expertly set up the fluids and blood products to transfuse and finally drew a vial of blood for testing. “I am going to run this to the lab. Will you be doing the transfusion monitoring, Doctor?” 

“Yes. Thank you, Clara, for your work and your discretion,” Namjoon said, dismissing her. She excused herself with a simple head nod, and the two men were again alone in the room. 

“She’s going to get better now, right?” Jungkook asked, bouncing his leg anxiously. 

“She should,” Namjoon said, seriously. “But this is not over, and we will be discussing what the hell happened here because if I am doing some of the mental math here, I suspect this…” he said gesturing to you, “is an everyone problem.” 

Jungkook looked away. The older man wasn’t usually so serious or harsh with him, and if he was honest with himself it definitely hurt on top of everything else that was going on, not that he didn’t deserve it. 

The pair sat in silence for some time. Namjoon stood at your bedside carefully monitoring your vital signs. As the minutes passed, steadily your vital signs improved, and steadily Namjoon was able to relax.

“It was good you got here when you did,” Namjoon finally broke the silence. “She would have certainly died if you hadn’t.” 

Jungkook swallowed hard at that. The last words you had said to him before this all started echoed in his mind, swallowing him with guilt. Please don’t hurt me.

After about 30 minutes, Namjoon received a message on his phone, your lab results. Confusingly, almost all the values were low. Did you even have any blood in your body, no one can survive this kind of low. Namjoon knitted his eyebrows together in confusion, and just as he was about to look up and question Jungkook, the monitoring alarms started blaring. 

“Fuck!” Namjoon cursed. “She’s having a reaction to the blood. That should be impossible it’s O- blood, no one reacts to that! I checked it 5 times, FUCK! He cursed again. 

“What do we do?” Jungkook stood now, panicked. 

“Stay here, I need to get some medications I will be back as fast as I can.” Namjoon typically tapered his mannerisms and movements to the human world he worked in. He moved deliberately slowly, but at this moment, he allowed himself to use the maximum of his powers. Truly in a flash, he had gone and come back with armfuls of different medications he wasted no time in administering. 

“This is really bad, Jungkook,” Namjoon said, looking over your body anxiously. “Her blood levels are so low, no human should have survived, and now she’s reacting to the one type of blood that everyone should be able to tolerate. I can give her some medications to encourage her body to make more blood cells faster, but I’m not sure she’ll survive that long.” 

Jungkook stood, running his hands through his hair pacing. “She asked me not to hurt her, Joon. She asked me and I did this to her. She trusted me.” His voice waivered, boarding on tears. 

“If I am right about what I suspect, you couldn’t control yourself, Kook,” Namjoon said, attempting to be comforting. 

Jungkook continued to pace, chewing on his nails as he watched Namjoon attempt to resuscitate you. 

“What if she wasn’t human?” Jungkook suddenly asked. 

“What?” Namjoon asked, spinning around. 

“What if she wasn’t human? She does crazy magic and her blood tasted weird. Different. I’ve drank a lot of human blood and it was never like that.” 

Namjoon drew in a breath, answering in a cool, measured way. “You mean to tell me this woman can do magic and it’s only now occurring to you she’s probably not human? What human have you ever met that possesses anything resembling magic? Never mind the fact that her blood was completely unlike any other humans you’ve tasted, now I’m thinking the next thing we should be testing is your head because I’m desperately concerned that it is entirely empty!” 

Jungkook looked down, ashamed, at the older man’s chiding. 

“No wonder she had a reaction to the blood I gave her! Explains the impossibly low lab values too, she’s a bit more durable than the average human. Don’t be mistaken, these medications will likely have limited effect on her, and she is still gravely ill.” 

“What can we do?” Jungkook asked, eyes misty. 

“We,” Namjoon said emphasizing the word. “Can’t do a whole lot. You can teleport to Baba Yena and hope she’s feeling charitable today.” 

Jungkook groaned internally. Baba Yena was known to be exceptionally powerful, but exceptionally apathetic. Legend states that she was older than time, older than the gods and the powers that created them. She possessed incredible powers, but was, in a word, incredibly stingy to whom she blessed with them. Jungkook’s run-ins with the woman had been scarce, but the few times he had, were certainly memorable. At all costs, he had wanted to avoid being around her, but on the other hand, it was the least he owed you after nearly taking your life. 

With a heavy sigh and crossed fingers, Jungkook walked to the center of the room, and in yet another puff of black smoke instantly disappeared, leaving Namjoon alone with your body. 

He sat next to your bedside, going between monitors, checking medication flow rates, and staring at you.

“If you keep fighting, I will fight for you,” Namjoon said. “Welcome to the family.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook appeared suddenly and to his relief in front of a large, dome-shaped house. Baba Yena’s house was located in a pocket dimension, and without the proper talismans or magic symbols, teleportation here was… unreliable. The house itself seemed to be made out of packed dirt or fired brick, the roof overgrowing with moss. The house was seemingly the only thing in the pocket dimension, and aside from Baba Yena’s home and overgrown yard, a black abyss stretched on in all directions seemingly endlessly. 

Jungkook steeled his nerves, walking up the short, rough stone walkway to the large, wooden front door. There was no door knob, Jungkook suddenly realized, but as he raised his hand to knock, the door flung itself open. Taking it as an open invitation, he let himself in. 

The inside smelled fairly pleasant of wood, and for good reason. Betraying the fired brick exterior, the interior of the home seemed that of a log cabin or other wood-inspired architecture. In the entryway, there was a single spiral staircase going up, and corridors leading to who knows where on the left and right. If Jungkook focused his hearing, from the right direction he could hear a female voice humming and mumbling to herself. He decided to follow. 

The corridor was plain with wood paneling, but most bizarrely seemed to stretch on for much, much longer than it had first appeared. Jungkook found himself walking first for 1 minute, then 5, and when 10 minutes passed and he still hadn’t reached the room he was walking towards, his anxiety heightened. He stopped, thinking. 

“I seek your help, Baba Yena!” He called out. He waited a few seconds, and when nothing changed he thought of a new approach. Baba Yena was also called the Knowing Mother, and to her, information was worth its weight in favors. “A girl of an unknown race lies dying in a hospital bed, and without your gracious help, she will perish an unknown, and her secrets will die with her.” Jungkook waited a few more seconds. He felt a rush suddenly and was nearly knocked off his feet as a large, invisible force picked him up, and shot him forward, dropping him off at the threshold of the room once impossibly far away. 

Jungkook entered the room which he quickly assessed to be a kitchen of sorts with black and white floor tiling, scuffed with age, a dark wood table covered in various ingredients, tubes, flasks, and other unrecognizable equipment, a ceiling littered with drying herbs and meats, and a sink next to a counter, on which is something that was clearly freshly butchered. On the side closest to him, there was a forge of sorts, a large stone pit full of red-hot coals, perched over which was a large, black cauldron, the depth of which was at least half of Jungkook’s height. Standing over the cauldron on a step stool was Baba Yena, a diminutive old woman. Hair silver and white was wild and long, her face a map of wrinkles and liver spots, and her hands, gnarled, twisted, and bony. If she noticed Jungkook enter, she didn’t show it and continued stirring whatever concoction bubbled loudly in the kettle. 

Jungkook cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, attempting to get Baba Yena’s attention to no avail. 

“Baba Yena,” Jungkook began, taking a tentative step forward. “I bring you information in exchange for some of your magic.” 

Baba Yena didn’t look up from her work but finally spoke. “The Liar Boy comes to me asking for favors, tell me Liar Boy, how does that pendant serve you?” 

“It serves me well, Baba,” Jungkook said holding it in his hand instinctually. “There is a girl, not human, not demon, not fae, not angel. She is dying.” 

“I see…” Baba Yena stirs her pot more aggressively now, reaching up, plucking a dried herb from the ceiling, and mixing it in. “You, Liar Boy are the one who almost killed the girl…” 

“I was compelled by the Smoke. It is my fault nonetheless, and I have come to beg for your mercy.” 

“I have saved you once, Liar Boy. Many who come to my doorstep don’t have even that many chances.” 

“The girl is unusual and powerful. She could be of interest to you.” 

“You again offer the girl as a sacrifice, and yet nothing of personal sacrifice, how peculiar.” Baba Yena said with a small cackle. 

“I have nothing left to give,” Jungkook replied, forlorned. 

“I see the girl,” Baba Yena said, staring into her cauldron. “The horned one cares for her well, but she is as ill as you say and- ah! She is mated to you, she holds your final Fragment, I see. No wonder the Liar Boy again finds himself on my doorstep.” 

“You understand why I humbly bring myself to your home. Allowing her to die would be a punishment too heavy for someone innocent, she is guilty of only trusting me. I intend to earn her trust in earnest, and I only ask for the opportunity to do so.” 

“So it would seem…” Baba Yaga said, half listening. She stares intently at something, the light from the cauldron giving her an even more menacing look. Her eyes dart around as if watching something intently, and Jungkook watches as her face twists into a wolfish smile. 

“I ought to sever your bonds and cast your soul to wander the Astral Sea for being such a pain in my side, Liar Boy. I will help this girl, but not without sacrifice from you.”

“Anything,” Jungkook said earnestly. 

“Oh, I have something in mind,” Baba Yaga said, climbing down from the step stool and waddling across the kitchen before phasing through a portion of the wall, disappearing from view. Jungkook could still hear the sound of items being shuffled, glass clinking against glass, however. After a minute or so, Baba Yaga returned, a dusty, palm-sized, green potion in hand. 

“Drink this and we will be on our way.” She said, handing him the bottle. 

Jungkook took it from her, turning it in his hand, examining the liquid inside. It was a sickly lime green color, and he noticed, to the dismay of his stomach, that the texture of the liquid was actually quite viscous and grainy. He wondered if it was a poison, naturally, perhaps one meant to weaken him severely but never kill him outright. He had a mind to ask, but understanding how fickle Baba Yena was, he knew better. He lifted the cork out of place with a solid thunk, closed his eyes, and focused on not vomiting as he poured the potion down his throat. He didn’t fight the wave of magical something that passed through his body, bracing himself for pain or weakness. He opened his eyes and checked his body, felt his face, but somehow, he felt completely fine. 

“You’ll know what it does in time, Liar Boy. Now come, let's go save this girl.” 

#bts #bangtan #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #ot7 x reader #namjoon x reader #bts x reader angst #bts smut #bts x reader smut #bts x y/n #bts x you #bts x fem!reader #bts x oc #ot7 x reader smut #ot7 x you #poly ot7 #foundfatedforever #foundfatedforever part 3

[belle--ofthebrawl]

@enragedtiefling @riconas

The aftercare for the Ghangbang, as requested.

Some sexual content. They're all still naked and need to get cleaned up.

Aether's by his side in the come down. Swiss carried Rain off to the bathroom, tutting about how useless he was on the way. Mountain's breathing hard on the nape of Dew's neck, kissing the knob at the top of his spine as his knot pulses and starts to shrink. 

"Amazing," Aether's whispering reverently, rubbing his thumb over the bump of Dew's hip. "Dew, you were amazing." 

There's more but Dew's so out of it, he doesn't hear anything. Just stares at Aether as he pants and shudders and squirms on Mountain's cock, watches the way his lips form the gentle words. 

Swiss comes back at some point, sans Rain. Drops off a few water bottles and scratches Aether between his horns, bends to kiss Dew's damp face. There's something said about a bath and snacks but that's when Mountain grunts, starts to lift Dew off and he kinda goes out of his mind at the sudden emptiness, scrabbling his fingers over Mountain's thighs.

"Easy," Aether coaches, grabbing carefully at Dew. "Claws away, love.  Mountain, can you-"

"Sure." The big guy says, sounding just as out of it as Dew.

"Never mind," Aether says quickly. "I got him." 

Dew's rolled off Mountain's thighs onto fabric that isn't bedsheets. It's soft and fluffy and smells like the ocean; one of Rain's ridiculously plush bath towels. Dew curls the fabric up in his hands  and inhales while Aether counts for him. Four seconds in, seven seconds holding, eight seconds out.  He hears a cap unscrew and a hand tuck itself under his head, lifting him up to drink.  He sips, staring blearily up at Aether, still murmuring kindness he can't make sense of. He thinks he finishes the whole thing. He slips in and out a few times, thinks he feels Mountain kiss his forehead before leaving.

Becomes startling aware when a warm and heavy weight is pressed just under his belly button. He draws his limbs up close but Aether soothes him, tucks his hair back.

"It has to come out." He says kindly. "Can you let go for me, love?"

Dew's face screws up at this impossible request. He wants to plead with Aether to let him hold onto it just a little bit longer, keep everything inside him with a plug like Swiss threatened but the hand on his tummy bears down on the swell and Dew can't clench down tight enough to make a difference anymore. He's too relaxed, too fucked out and soft. It makes him whine a bit, feeling the hot cum leak out of his abused hole, soaked up by the towel below but Aether quiets him down with a kiss that Dew melts into.

"We never leave you empty for long, do we?" He murmurs when they part. "Just for now, sweet thing. We need you clean and fresh for next time, yeah? Can't put you away all dirty."

Dew shivers as Aether reaches between his legs, under his poor, aching little cock to pet carefully at his gaping rim. His touch is entirely clinical, spreading Dew to help the mess spill out, dipping his fingers in to probe and push everything onto the towel. Dew's little legs hook into air, jerking randomly as his arms loop around Aether's neck to pull him in for another deep kiss. He's so sore but Aether is so soft and careful with him that tears well up and cling to his lashes, something huge and strange twisting in his heart and making his throat close up.

"That's it," Aether says as he takes Dew apart one final time. "That's it, sweetheart. Let me have it all and I'll be the first one to fill you back up."

___________

He hates think of it as 'passing out'. Seems too weak and frail, even if that's pretty much what happens, what he is when they're through with him.

 He comes to when Aether sits in the water with him, perfectly warmed and laced with scents to calm and relax. It can hardly be called a tub when it's so big. Bathing pool might be a better word for it, deep enough to swim in with ledges all around for sitting.

"Hey," Swiss says lazily. "How's he doin'?"

"Just fine," Aether says fondly. "How's the princess?"

"Oh, you know." There's a splash as Swiss makes some vague hand-gesture. "Floating. Purring. That is one happy water ghoul."

Dew manages to crack an eye open to see where Rain's floating in the center, hair fanned out and moving softly with the waves. He's humming, on and off, a little tune that Dew recognizes from his own time as a water ghoul; one of safety and love, Sung only in the privacy of the den with mates and pack.

He hides his smile in Aether's chest. 

"Hey, you." Aether calls out as Mountain finally joins them, carrying a giant wooden bowl of fruit. "Toss us a few, yeah?"

Mountain rumbles and there's sploshing as he floats the bowl over, taking a bite out of a pear as he hauls Rain to sit on his lap, throwing an arm across Swiss' shoulders. Aether grabs a few and sends the bowl back across the pool. Dew hears a little hiss as Aether punctures a peel and when he next breathes in, the air stings with fresh citrus. 

"Open." Aether tells him and Dew turns his little face up, lips parted for Aether to fit the section in between. He chews it slowly, savoring the sweet burst of juice over his tongue and lets Aether feed the rest of it to him, as Swiss flicks water at Rain and Mountain rumbles in disapproval. 

Quietly, but not so quietly no one else can hear, Dew starts humming where Rain left off, weaving the melody in with the quiet purrs and content rumbles of his packmates.

#aether x dewdrop #aether ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #swiss army ghoul #rain ghoul #mountain ghoul #aether is a capybara i DO make the rules. #nsft

[yujo-nishimura]

The Escape - Part 9

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8

Thank you all for reading and keeping up with this very long story. Nanowrimo keeps me inspired. <3

With a heavy heart, you make your way to the opposite side of the ship, seeking solace in the solitude it offers. Nestling yourself near the rear end, you find a spot to sit, allowing the tears to flow freely down your cheeks. The floodgates have opened, and you no longer hold back the torrent of emotions that have been building within you.

The past few days have been an exhausting whirlwind, filled with constant threats and fighting. Buggy's humiliation and your own anger were just the visible manifestations of the deeper emotional turmoil that has been hidden beneath the surface. The weight of it all feels overwhelming, like an iceberg of pent-up feelings that now come crashing down upon you.

The waves of sadness and frustration wash over you, their intensity leaving you feeling drained and empty. The persistent headache that had been lurking in the background reemerges but you just accept that this seems to be your life now. 

The crew around you chooses to avert their gaze, perhaps intimidated by the vulnerable sight of a girl experiencing a small breakdown.

Only Mohji seems not to care, accompanied by his loyal companion Richie, he walks over to where you sit, settling down beside you. In a gesture of unexpected kindness, he extends a small, albeit slightly soiled, handkerchief towards you. Grateful for the offered support, you accept it with appreciation. Taking the handkerchief in hand, you proceed to blow your nose with a gusto befitting a pirate, much to Richie's surprise.  “You know, we are going to Loguetown. If you want to leave, you can just hide somewhere in town…” Mohji says this very nonchalant and you wonder why he knows the reason for your sadness. You decide to trust him and ask carefully: “Did I really agree to stay here last night? Was I that drunk?” Mohji shrugs his shoulders and scratches his head. “Honestly, I wasn't there, I have no idea what happened. I went down to the quarters to get some more wine when you walked over to the Captain and sat down with him. I am not sure what he made you do but Cabaji was there and he is backing up Buggys story…” 

Mohji sighs and you wipe away one last tear from your reddened cheek. “You know, if our captain wants something, he can be really determined, decisive… I would say he can be very obsessive. He did not want to let you go. That is for sure.” 

“But why?”, you look at Mohji in confusion. 

"I believe he holds you in high regard," Mohji remarks, his voice carrying a touch of admiration. "After all, you saved him and helped in his return to his ship and crew."

Richie yawns and lays down next to you. His fur felt so soft last night and you lean against him once more, the lion willing you to let you cuddle with him a bit longer. 

“Try to make the best out of it until we reach Loguetown and then you have the choice to leave. It is not that you have a certain place on the Grand Line you need to reach, right?” 

You just shake your head. Actually you had no plan at all and escaping in Loguetown sounded even better than any random island on the East Blue. 

Mohji smiles now and you feel gratitude towards him. 

“Everything will be alright. Don't think too bad of the captain. He is not as good with words as he is with his knives…” 

Mohji remains by your side, offering a quiet presence as the soothing sea breeze envelops you both. Its gentle caress lulls you into a state of relaxation, finally pushing you into another peaceful nap. The distant cries of seagulls provide a serene soundtrack, blending harmoniously with the rhythmic lapping of waves against the ship's hull.

Before you drift into your nap, you decide to act as shamelessly as you can around the captain because no one has the right to tell you what to do.

The hours go by slowly and without any interruption. Once you awaken from your nap, you seize the opportunity to explore the ship, curious to acquaint yourself with its nooks and crannies. You ask Mohji for a place in the crew's quarters where you can sleep at night and he shows you a small chamber which probably used to be the cleaning room. There were just two hammocks hanging in there and a small closet, but you were able to have this little space all for yourself and you thanked him a lot. That was pure luxury compared to what you were used to at the Snowland pirates ship. After all these years you knew being surrounded by many men for many weeks on one vessel made you crave having a little bit of privacy.

Mohji gave you another tour through the ship, he showed you the kitchen and the navigators office, there was even a bathroom with a shower usable by a sea water pump and he told you to just lock the door in case you wanted to use it alone for yourself. You decided that this would be the next thing you would do since no one seemed to need your help on deck.

“"One more question, Mohji," you inquire, your voice laced with a hint of uncertainty. "Does this ship have provisions for weapons or armor? I feel somewhat vulnerable without a sword."

Mohji considers your question for a moment, his expression shifting between amusement and concern. "We do have weapons," he responds, a chuckle escaping his lips. "But I must warn you, considering your previous anger towards Buggy, I'm not certain he would be pleased to see you armed."

You laugh. "Rest assured, I am still very angry. However, I also possess a sense of honor. I would never attempt to harm him without giving him fair warning. Besides, in a duel, I would probably lose anyway..."

Mohji nods, seemingly convinced by your words. Despite his willingness to assist, he hesitates, bound by the constraints of his own orders. "I believe you would need to seek permission from the captain," he admits reluctantly. "As much as I want to help you..."

Understanding his dilemma, you offer a grateful nod, acknowledging the limits of his assistance. The comfort and companionship he has provided to you already means the world. Without him you would probably still sit on deck crying. “If you don't mind, I will take a shower now, looks like no one else will use the bathroom for a while…” 

Mohji hands you a towel which is slightly cleaner than the handkerchief he offered you earlier. Then he leaves you alone in the hall of the ship, wishing you a restful afternoon. You feel a bit more at ease now, more determined to find a solution for your recent situation. You also try to forgive Buggy for his hurtful remark, but you also know this will take a while. You are not the forgiving type. 

The bathroom is small but cozy, it reminds you of an Eastern style bathroom. A simple mirror adorns the wall, reflecting the inviting atmosphere. Instead of a conventional shower head, a humble bucket stands ready to assist in cleansing. With practiced ease, you turn on the boiler, its gentle hum filling the air as it sets the process of heating the seawater in motion. The anticipation of a warm and soothing bath stirs within you, prompting a mindful undressing, each garment removed with care. There is even soap and shampoo, this is more luxury for a ship full of men than you expected. As you fill the bucket with the now heated water, a renewed sense of anticipation washes over you. The steam rises, you immediately feel your headache going away. You wash yourself thoroughly, enjoying the moment of self-treatment and solitude. As you finish up and plan to just soak some more minutes in the hot bath you suddenly hear a commotion in front of the room, someone vigorously attempting to open the door, rattling the doorknob. 

“Who is using the bathroom during the day?”, you clearly hear Buggys furious voice. He probably has finally risen from his hangover and wanted to do the same like you - trying to feel refreshed and better. 

You smile to yourself, soaking a bit deeper into the warm water, without answering. 

“This is your captain, I am asking again, who is in there? Leave the bathroom immediately, I have utmost priority.” 

“It is me, the shameless girl. You can use the room in ten minutes. But probably only with cold water!” 

“Gah!”, you hear him banging his fist against the door, probably hurting himself while doing so. A short episode of silence and then you hear him laughing and slowly walking away. 

This was probably the first fight today you had won against him. 

As you later leave the bathroom, the towel around your still wet hair you go back to the chamber which Mohji had allowed you to use. As you cautiously open the door, a sudden shriek escapes your lips, propelled by a mixture of shock and surprise. Sitting before you, occupying the lower hammock in the room, is none other than Captain Buggy himself. His hat rests in his lap, while his hands absentmindedly toy with a collection of knives, an intriguing and somewhat unsettling display.

“Oh, look at you, all fresh and cleaned up. Did you enjoy the luxury of a ship you so eagerly wanted to leave?”, he greets you with a sly grin. 

Choosing not to engage in his playful banter, you calmly walk past the captain, your focus fixed on the task at hand. The towel in your hand absorbs the moisture from your hair as you continue with your post-bath routine, unbothered by his presence.

Taking a seat on the small closet, you meticulously comb through your damp hair, shaping it into your familiar and preferred hairstyle. You punish him with silence and as you do this you can feel his gaze on your face and body. 

"So you've chosen to remain silent and defy your captain?" Buggy's voice carries a subtle undercurrent of frustration as he rises from his seated position and advances towards you. Sensing a shift in the atmosphere, you refuse to partake in this game any longer.

In an instant, you stand up, determined and resolute. Completing your bath and your self-care, your focus shifts entirely to asserting your boundaries. You step towards the door, ignoring Buggy again. But then you turn around once more, facing him directly with the damp towel in your hand. Without hesitation, you fling the wet towel, catching Captain Buggy off guard as it lands squarely on his surprised face.

“Excuse me, captain. I am needed on deck. I was asked to make myself more useful.” 

Leaving Captain Buggy dumbfounded in your wake, you close the door without looking back. That was probably the second fight you won today. 

Throughout the evening and into the night, you find yourself on deck, your sleep schedule disrupted by sporadic daytime naps and the occasional night time festivities. Despite your lack of motivation to be on this ship, you demonstrate your worth as a valuable crew member. 

Perched atop the crows nest, you diligently maintain your watch, scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. The days have been blessed with clear skies and gentle breezes, yet a sense of uncertainty lingers within you. Could this tranquility be the ominous calm preceding a storm?

Wrapped in a warm blanket, you settle into your post, binoculars in hand, handed to you by a fellow crew member. The crows nest becomes your sanctuary, a vantage point from which you keep a vigilant eye on the ship's surroundings.

Amidst the solitude, a sudden sound pierces the tranquility. Your attention sharpens as you witness someone climbing up, ascending the heights to join you. To your surprise, it is Mohji, recognizable by his extravagant bear-like hairstyle. With an air of urgency, he swiftly places a sword into your lap, its blade showing signs of wear but still serviceable.

In a hushed tone, Mohji whispers: "Don't tell the captain!" With a nimble descent, he disappears back down the mast.  You can only offer a silent gesture of appreciation, your lips forming a wordless "thank you" in response. 

Maybe it was not so bad with the Buggy pirates after all…

#one piece #buggytheclown #one piece buggy #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #nanowrimo 2023 #long fanfic #long reads

[eoieopda]

I’m back again actually with one more request 😔😔

Jungkook:

^^^ this is actually the artist whose name I snatched for most of my online personas lolol

The entire album is banger, but this song is what introduced me to him. ^^

🤍🤍🤍

um, i made myself sad? anyways, here’s this! it doesn’t exaaaaactly follow the lyrics, but it’s what my brain conjured when i listened to this. i hope it’s okay 😵‍💫

listen here.

hey, old friend / hope to see you again / someday when the seasons change / i don’t mind a little wait / as long as i can pretend that i’m okay

It’s been exactly a year since you left home.

With 365 days between you and Busan, you’re still waiting for that bittersweet taste to leave your tongue. There’s a small, sad part of you that wants to dive headfirst into that pit of nostalgia in your chest; to swim down, all the way home to that city by the sea. The rest of you accepts reality: when your life calls you elsewhere, you have to pick up the phone.

Unlike a year ago, when you walk into your apartment this time, you’re not struggling to balance more boxes than you should’ve reasonably expected to carry at once. It’s not dark, it’s not empty, and there’s no longer a bare floor creaking under your unanticipated weight. Now, it’s home, filled with all your best-loved belongings.

Well, most of them. Somehow, there’s still an odd box or two tucked away, yet-unpacked.

On the walls hang framed prints of your very first designs: the awkward silhouettes you dreamed up as a kid, and the disproportionate people you’d drawn wearing them. The sketches flow across the wall in chronological order, reminding you how much your skills have improved over the years. At the end of the line, there’s proof in the form of a poster.

Your past self would never believe it, but your persistent inability to draw hands did not preclude you from showcasing your work at Seoul Fashion Week.

With your heels now off your feet and in your hands, you pad down the hall to your bedroom. The second you cross through the doorway, you make a beeline for your closet, flicking on the light switch next to the door before addressing that, too. Shoes returned to their meticulously organized, color-coded rack, you move on to a more daunting task: unzipping yourself from the dress you struggled immensely to zip in the first place.

It takes multiple minutes of twisting, turning, and contorting, but you finally manage to reach the zipper hiding between your shoulder blades. When you finally wiggle free of it, the dress falls into a puddle at your feet. Quickly, you bend to grab it. You promptly hang it in the “to be dry-cleaned” section of your closet, to be swiftly replaced with pajamas.

As you turn to walk back into your bedroom, a cardboard box catches your eye. It sits on the top shelf next to out-of-season outfits in vacuum-sealed bags. Visibly out of place among your artfully curated clothes, it’s a bit worse-for-wear — especially after the four-hour drive from its first home.

It takes less time to stack two hard-top suitcases on top of one another, climb on top of your haphazard pile, and pull the box down than it did to win the fight against your zipper. You waste no time in shooting a glare over your shoulder at the antagonist hanging remorselessly behind you.

Impatient as always, you drop to the floor and sit cross-legged with the box in front of you. Unlike every other box you’d moved with to Seoul, this one isn’t labeled in your chicken-scratch hangul. A little mystery, you open it cautiously as if its contents might bite.

Inside are the little trinkets you’d forgotten you’d kept: theatre ticket stubs, loose bits of confetti you’d saved from various concerts, photo booth picture strips with people you hadn’t seen or spoken much to since you left. Your heart twinges as you take in their faces. All of you had grown up and apart since you sat there, squished together and smiling.

There’s one artifact in particular that makes your heart flip. Sitting at the very bottom of the pile is the cell phone you thought you’d lost — one you apparently packed, but assumed was gone forever. As soon as you got to Seoul, you’d replaced it, but none of your data survived the switch over.

In a flash, you scramble to your feet and scurry out of your closet into your bedroom. It’s entirely unnecessary, but you vault yourself onto your bed and you don’t stop crawling until you get to the nightstand on the other side. Within seconds, you slot your new charger into your old phone. You wait with bated breath for signs of life.

It takes an eternity to finally turn back on, but once it does, your old phone screams at you for the multiple software updates you’d missed over the last year. You ignore those notifications, but there’s one you can’t.

A missed call and a voicemail received at some point during your drive north.

There’s no way to describe the feeling in your chest. Halfway between a thunderclap and an electric shock, it forces out a gasp, nonetheless.

Jeon Jungkook.

You’d gotten into a fight the month before you left, and just like that, years of friendship went up in smoke. He was angry at you for leaving him when he needed you; you’d cried because he didn’t seem to care what you wanted. It was messy and it broke your heart in two.

You never told him precisely why his lack of support stung so fucking bad.

By the time you piled your life into the trunk of your car, neither one of you had apologized for the cruel shit you’d said. His contact information was gone in a few hours’ time, and you never heard from him again.

Or so you thought.

Hey, it’s me. I — uhhh — I know you’re on your way out of town, and that I’m way too fucking late with this, but I can’t let you go like this. I can’t let you go, period. Not — not the way that sounds. I’m not trying to prohibit you from going anywhere. I mean that I — Fuck, I should’ve written out a script or something…. This isn’t going well, is it? Anyways, I miss you. I’ve been missing you this whole fucking month. And I really am happy for you — proud of you. Most of all, I’m sorry for being so fucking selfish. I just — call me when you get there, okay? Call me, and then I’ll know we’re okay. That we can be okay. I, uh… I love you. Drive safe.

#jade’s requests #jade’s drabbles #1k drabblepalooza #bts #jjk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bts drabble #bts imagine #bts scenarios #bts angst #jungkook drabble #jungkook imagine #jungkook scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook x reader #bts jeon jungkook #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x y/n #jeon jungkook drabble #jeon jungkook angst #jeon jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook scenarios

[moonflower-31]

Pen Pals - Spencer Reid x Reader

Part 1

Part 2!

Ongoing! (But slow updates, srry)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: Talk of being used for free labor? If that's anything?

A/N: Okay, guys, I got randomly inspired for this thing. Idk for sure about updates just yet, but I promise to get working on the next one for this and for IWFY. When inspo hits, it's gonna hit hard. So enjoy this! It's a bit longer than the last, but still. You'll get Spencer's next letter reply in the next installment. I'm also gonna start putting dates on their letters so we can follow along with the passage of time. Toodles!

Tags: @thatsonezesty13, @egg-boy03, @idjitlili, @meowiemari, @meganskane, @lonelyran, @rainsong01, let me know if I missed you or if you wanna be added to the list!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I remained too much inside my own head and ended up losing my mind.” - Edgar Allen Poe 

The sun was blisteringly hot, as Ohio summers always were. This one was no different. Of course today of all days had to be the day your father had picked to start work on the farm. Leaving you no time to prepare for your incoming day of departure. 

The past week or so had been…eventful, to say the least. After you’d graduated, you had hoped that maybe your parents would let up on some of their rules on studying. You had been right, but they were hellbent on you returning to school. Med school. Despite all the preparation you’d made for it, you weren’t quite sure you wanted to go through with your original plan. After all, it was your parent's dream. Not yours. 

No matter the circumstance, the conversations you had with your parents always ended with them discussing when you would be applying for med school. Scratch that, the conversations you had with your mother, while your father just stared at you. His conversations only ever composed of farm work and how you should listen to your mother. 

Now that you’d graduated, you didn’t know what to do. You were only 23. The sky’s the limit, as your bio-lab teacher, Mr. Underwood, would say. You just have to know when to jump. 

Your only problem? You had absolutely no idea. 

You reach up to your forehead, wiping off the sheen of sweat that had accumulated there. With a grunt, you forced yourself to lift the crate of feed bags your father had tasked you with carrying to the chicken coop. All morning you’d been working. From the minute Ronny, one of your family’s roosters, had woken you at dawn, you’d been hard at work with no breaks. Your father wouldn’t allow it even if you tried to ask. 

“(Y/N)! Enough wastin’ around! That feed ain’t gonna move itself!” Abraham, your father, shouted from off in the distance. He was probably headed to his tractor to start the harvest. You internally groaned, the annoyance multiplied by the rare breeze blowing your hair into your face. This was why you usually wore your hair back, whatever the length. Your mother always insisted on having it long, though. The idea of cutting it was never up for debate. The longer your hair, the happier your mother was. Though you did dream of the day you’d escape the farm life and chop it all off. The look on your mother's face would be priceless. 

“I’m not as strong as you dad! It’s gonna take me a bit.” You call back, grimacing as some of the wooden crate dug into your palms. You rearranged your hold, hoping to carry the weight in your legs if that made any sense. 

Whatever it was you did, it helped. The burden of the crate’s weight was soon not as much an issue, and the crate was put beside the coop. The roar of the tractor made you internally wish you were something else. A fish or a bird, anything to get out of having to help your father carry the harvest to the barn where it would be put into more crates and then shipped out to be properly cleaned and made ready for people to buy at the grocery store. When the harvest day comes, you know to make yourself busy with a study group, or something. But school was not in session. 

But then, as if the universe had heard your childish plea, you heard the backdoor swing open, and your mother call out to you. “(Y/N)! Could you go get the mail for me sweetheart?” 

The task, simple and much easier than the task you knew was coming, you jumped at the chance to do something else. “Yeah! Sure Mom!” You called before your father could cry out in protest that your mother was taking away his free labor. He was already suggesting you go to med school online, so you didn’t have to move. More like he wanted you to stay so he didn’t have to cough up the money to hire farmhands. 

Considering the amount of harvest your father’s farm produced every year, you and your father managed to get it all done somehow. Your family was well off in a way only a farmer’s family could be. But you knew that was only because they didn’t have to budget in a salary for helpers. Your father had wanted a son, as all men in your small town did, but unfortunately for him, you were the one and only child he was given. His brother, on the otherhand, had at least 6 boys. You’d lost count of how many facebook posts your aunt had made announcing another new ‘bundle of joy’. At least your mother’s sister knew her worth, and had decided to travel rather than to settle down and let a man control her life. You idolized her, and her gifts of international novels and special editions were everything. 

You raced towards the mailbox, your mind soon travelling to the idea of a new package from said aunt. It had only been a month or two since her last parcel, but you could still dream! 

Then you remembered your penpal letter you’d sent a few weeks prior. You wondered if it even got to it’s destination. People moved locations all the time. You hadn’t even stopped to consider that when you’d sent the damn thing. The thought that you could have a reply hadn’t crossed your mind at all since you’d graduated. Excitement quickly filled your bones and you raced faster down the hill towards the mailbox in the front of your family’s property closest to the road. You slowed your racing feet to a halt as you approached your family’s mailbox. The red flag was up! 

An excited giggle erupted from your throat before you could catch it, making yourself pause and take a deep breath. There was no reason to get this excited over a response. Or over a present from your aunt. But the childish voice in your head quickly convinced you otherwise. You reached out with a grin, opening the box almost dramatically. To your triumph, there was indeed mail! But unfortunately, no package. 

Only slightly disheartened, you grabbed the small stack of letters and started to look at the names of to whom they were addressed to. As you began to look, you started to head back up the hill towards your house, almost forgetting to close the mailbox. 

The first envelope you looked at seemed to be an advertisement for a cruise. As if. It was addressed to your mother. Of course. She loved to dream. You put that one behind the rest and looked at the second. This one was addressed to your father, unfortunately. You then placed that one behind the previous and continued through the rest of the mail, almost losing hope that you’d be getting a response at all. Then, when all hope felt lost, and you had grabbed the handle to your front screen door, you glanced down at the last envelope. It was addressed to you! 

With a dart of your eyes you checked the sender’s name, and your heart flipped as you read the name back as Dr. Spencer Reid. 

Withholding the full extent of your excitement, you quickly opened the front door and grabbed your letter before dropping the rest on the dining room table. 

“Thank you darling-” Your mother says sweetly, blinking in bewilderment as you run up the stairs to your room with an envelope in your hand. She raises an eyebrow, intrigued. 

You close your door once you manage to slide into your room, racing over to your desk to open the small envelope. You pick up the letter opener your aunt had sent with the stationary and quite literally rip the thing open. At this action you take a brief pause. Maybe it was best that you calmed down a bit. You didn’t want your mother to get too curious. 

After a deep breath, you open your eyes and pull the neatly folded paper from the now opened envelope. You place the envelope aside and open the letter. You read happily, entirely thrilled by the contents. So he was a doctor! Not a medical one, but neither were you! Your eyes continue to scale the letter up and down, your smile growing with each new fact. His IQ was impressive! And so was his reading speed. Not mention he was extremely well educated. Three PhDs? He really earned his right to be called a doctor. 

So his address had changed. You were right. But it had somehow made it to him. 

What fascinated you even more was his similar love for reading. Especially in another language. It was like you were meeting another version of you but, genderbent. Kinda. 

Your eyes turned to the list of books the good doctor had left at the end of his letter. Your smile grew even wider, even though you already had over half of these books on your shelf already. 

Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - (One of my personal favorites)

Beyond Good and Evil - Friedrich Nietzsche 

The Illiad - Homer 

The Raven and the Monkey’s Paw - Edgar Allen Poe 

The Happiness Hypothesis - Jonathan Haidt 

You smiled, happy to see your penpal enjoyed many of the same books and stories that you did. You read it over just once more before you decided it was time to put it away before your mother came in with the news that your father was asking for you. You searched your room for a moment, unsure of where to put the letter for safe keeping. Who knows? You may want to look back on them someday. 

“I’ve gotta have something…” You mumble to yourself. 

“(Y/N)? Honey? Did you get any mail?” You heard your mother’s voice suddenly call through the door to your room while accompanying a knock. A brief jolt of nervousness runs through you, worried if your mother found out about the letter she’d forbid you from sending another reply. Then you sighed with relief. You could just say it was a copy of your diploma. 

“Yeah, just a copy of my diploma, mom.” You called back. Your mother seemed to accept it, not immediately doubting you. 

“Mind if I come in?” Your mother asked suddenly. You felt your throat grow dry as your nerves rose again. It’s fine. You can hide the letter, you tell yourself. But where?

“Honey?” Your mother asks again, the doorknob slowly turning. In a panic, you open your nightstand drawer and shoved the letter inside along with the envelope. You turned back towards your mother, who now stood in your doorway facing you who stood in front of your nightstand. She blinked a few times, confused. There was no way she wasn’t suspicious now. 

“Hey uh... Sorry. I was putting my diploma away. D-don’t need two versions of the same thing out and displayed, right?” You reply, mentally cursing your stutter. Again, your mother seems to buy your excuse, shaking her head and approaching you. 

 “I was just checking on you, honey. Did you need anything? I know you’ve been outside all day.” Your mother offered, reassuring you that she was merely curious. You hold back your sigh of relief, beginning to shake your head. 

“No I don’t think there’s…” You begin, before you remember. “Wait, mom, do you still have that old jewelry box you wanted to give me a few years ago? The one with the hidden slots?” You begin. Your mother ponders your question for a moment, probably bewildered that of all things to ask for after a day in the hot sun, you ask for a family heirloom. 

“I think so… why? Did you want it?” She asked, a slight tone of hope making your mother’s pitch rise. You quickly nodded, watching as your mother smiled and nodded back to you. “Alright, then I’ll go find it. Let me know if there’s anything else, okay?” Your mother walked back towards your bedroom door, making sure you knew you could ask her for anything you needed. Despite her shortcomings, she was your mother, and you loved her. Even if her views were slightly skewed. 

“I know, Mom. I’ll be sure to ask if I need anything else.” You assure her, Almost pushing her out the door via the actual door. She sighed and stepped away from the doorway, smiling back at you tiredly. 

“Alright sweetie. Just know your father is asking for you. I’ll leave the jewelry box on your desk.” Your mother informs and it takes every fiber of your being not to groan in frustration. Not getting out of it this time. 

Without another word, your mother closes your door, and you’re left in your own excitement and annoyance. At least something good came of today.

—---

“Hey, pretty boy.”

Spencer lifted his head from his desk of reports, a little annoyed that his focus had been interrupted. His hazel eyes met the brown ones of Derek Morgan, a playful grin on his face. He didn’t reply, knowing Derek would soon tell him what he wanted anyway. 

“Why don’t you come with Garcia, Prentiss, and me tonight? We’re celebrating a win.” Derek suggests. Spencer raises an eyebrow and shakes his head, a smile quickly finding its place on his face. As a side note, he did notice the lack of hair swinging into his face now that he’d gotten his hair cut. He didn’t hate it. 

“I’ve worked with the three of you long enough to know that an ‘outing’ always leads to trouble. Largely, because it more than likely involves copious amounts of alcohol.” Reid replies, turning his focus back to his reports. He’d already almost finished them, as was his usual. Derek still had at least half the stack Reid had started with to get done. It gave Spencer a small twinge of pride. 

Derek rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. You never wanna go out with us. Are we no fun for you?” Derek teased. 

“No, it’s actually the fact that I have done the research and calculated the statistics to know that when alcohol is involved alongside you, the night will more than likely end with me in a back alley with sharpie on my face.” Spencer, without looking up from his reports, quickly fired back. 

“Woah, when did this happen?” Emily’s voice suddenly entered the conversation, her figure taking a seat at her desk. Her voice hinted with amusement, alerting Reid to the fact that she was also teasing. He wasn’t going to risk misunderstanding verbal and nonverbal cues again.

Spencer lifted his head, himself slightly amused. “October 23rd of last year Morgan had the brilliant idea to take me out as a ‘birthday present’ rather than just buying a book as he’d done before. I woke up in the middle of the night with sharpie drawn on my face and ditched in the back alley behind the bar. Morgan had already gone home!” Spencer regaled, pulling a smile from the man in question as he slightly spun in his chair while twirling his pen. Emily widened her eyes and huffed out a laugh. 

“Okay, that’s a pretty valid reason,” Emily says, laughing as she turns to her reports to begin working. “Though we should hang out sometime soon. Even if it isn’t a bar to make sure our resident genius doesn’t have to scrub his face raw.” Emily’s smile grows as she jokes. Spencer rolls his eyes as Morgan lets out an extended ‘Ooohh’. 

“See I didn’t ask for this abuse? Okay? Someone tell me it’s 8 o’clock.” Spencer retorted in protest, pulling a laugh from both of his co-workers. His smile is obvious though, amused by his co-workers and their teasing after years of growing used to it. 

“What's the rush? You got a date waiting for you?” Morgan teased. Spencer rolled his eyes again. 

“Not everyone is as entertained by the thought of a relationship as you, Morgan.” Spencer insisted. “No, I do not have a date. I actually have a ‘date’ with coffee and my bed. See, I can do metaphors.” Spencer insisted, turning again to his reports and writing a few lines. 

“That…I’m not even gonna attempt it.” Emily spoke, laughing with Morgan at Spencer’s lack of understanding of references and sayings. 

Unfortunately, that was where the conversation quickly died down and the three were left in silence. It irked Spencer greatly, especially since these ‘abandoned’ conversations had been a frequent occurrence since JJ had been whisked away to the Pentagon. It was like there was a piece of them missing. The team had run so smoothly that to take away one of their members was like taking away the main power source of a machine. Leaving him and the remaining members scrambling to figure out how to compensate. 

Finally, a few minutes later, Spencer finished his last report and closed it triumphantly. He briefly checked his watch, happy to see the shorthand pointing at the 8.  “See you guys tomorrow.” He says as he stands up and picks up his messenger bag and slings it on his left shoulder to rest against his right hip, waving goodbye to Morgan and to Emily. 

“Don’t party too hard.” Derek called, pulling a smile back onto Spencer’s face as he carried his reports to Hotch’s desk. 

—----

Exhaustion was starting to feel heavy as Spencer stepped into his apartment, the dim lights certainly not helping his case. He yawned tiredly, placing his go bag by the door as usual. He opened his messenger bag, remembering he’d grabbed his mail before heading upstairs. He places his messenger bag on his dining table, taking a seat to look at his probably over-due bills and mail. 

Unsurprisingly, Spencer found his water and electric bill in the stack, setting them aside to get done tomorrow morning before he heads into work. Then, what catches his eye, is the slightly smaller envelope with the hesitant and light penmanship. He chuckles to himself, happy to see he hadn’t scared his pen pal away with his detailed account of his academic achievements. However, upon second glance at the sender’s name and address, Spencer is slightly taken aback at the new addition beside the name. Dr. (Y/N) (L/N).  

Spencer smiles wider. So she’s graduated?

Spencer turns the envelope over, laughing to himself as he sees the envelope had not been sealed, and the seal had been folded into the envelope once again. He pulls the seal out and then the letter on the familiar blue stationary. Spencer then turns the delicate paper over, and began to read. 

18/09/2010

Hello again, Dr. Reid!  (How old are you by the way?)  

It is so good to hear from you! I was almost sure you were going to throw my letter away. Like, who uses Penpalsrus.com anymore besides ten-year-olds? I’m glad I got you though. You seem interesting! I love Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, by the way. I’ve read more things than you could probably guess. Though with your Eidetic memory you might.

I love poetry too. I have a whole book of Edgar Allen Poe’s poems on my bookshelf. My aunt sends me all kinds of books from her library every few months. I think I have a Greek version of the Illiad somewhere. I could loan it to you if you wanted. Though my mother might not like the amount of money I’d be spending to send it. 

So, you could probably read it already, but I finally graduated and I have my doctorate. I’m supposed to apply for med school this fall. My dad wants me to do it online so I can stay here on our family farm. Like I don’t do enough work already! I guess I don’t know what I want to do. My parents were the ones wanting me to go to med school. If I had any say I’d probably stick with biology and work in a lab. Or go back to school for Chem. Not that I don’t wanna learn about human behavior. It still fascinates me how people work. I study the brain in my free time for goodness sake!

What would you do? If you were in my shoes? I wanna make them happy, but this is my life. I can’t cater to them for the rest of my existence. 

You don’t have to give me an answer, by the way. I guess I’m just venting? It’s not like you could somehow tell my parents that I’m secretly planning to move out when I go back to college. 

What do you do for work, if you don’t mind my asking? A job that requires you to read people sounds amazing. Though I’d probably be happier in a lab. 

What are your PhDs and BAs? Maybe you can help me with my next doctorate. 

I should probably close this here. It’s getting kinda late. I hope to hear from you soon! 

Sincerely, 

(Y/N) (L/N)

Spencer found himself smiling warmly at the letter, not at all annoyed as he had been the first time he’d found out about his mother’s attempt to get him to socialize as a child. He felt he already knew (Y/N) better just from this one letter. The feelings she’d put into it were all over the blue paper. Not just in the words, but the lettering itself. The graphite wasn’t as light as it was the first time, however, it was still delicately written. The upper left hand corner had drops of wax on it, indicating she’d been writing by candlelight. 

Spencer folded the letter back up, leaving the rest of his mail on the table, forgotten. He headed to his bedroom, placing the letter among the first in his nightstand. He reached up and loosened his tie, shedding his sweater vest as his mind swarmed with ideas on how he wanted to reply. He didn’t at first think he’d find a friend in this little endeavor. But he’d clearly been wrong. 

She was into the books that he was. At the very least, Spencer had found a friend that he could discuss his favorite books with. But, secretly he hoped to create something he hadn’t had in some time outside the team or his childhood friend and rival, Ethan; a friend. Someone outside the team he could talk to without risk of putting anyone in danger as well as having an excuse to forget his current predicaments to talk with someone out of the loop. 

Spencer sighed to himself, wandering to his desk and taking his seat once again. His mind was too active to rest. He couldn’t recall when he’d last felt as excited as a child to simply write to someone. 

So, once he’d picked up a sheet of notebook paper and a pen, he began to write. And before long, he’d finished with a smile on his face and an ache in his wrist. Spencer yawned, stretching his arms out and rotating his wrist to soothe the ache. He stood up from his chair, resolving to make sure he put his reply in an envelope and mail it in the morning, along with sending his bill payments. 

Finally, Spencer felt his mind begin to rest, and with it, the rest of his body. He slowly removed his work clothes and climbed into bed, reminding himself of the poem left at the end of (Y/N)’s reply. He said it aloud to himself as he felt sleep quickly reach him, carrying the poem with him into sleep. 

Some say the world will end in fire,

Some say in ice. 

From what I’ve tasted of desire

I hold with those who favor fire.

But if it had to perish twice, 

I think I know enough of hate

To know that for destruction ice 

Is also great

And would suffice. 

-Robert Frost

#spencer #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds #derek morgan #emily prentiss #spencer reid reader insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader fanfiction #spencer reid x reader fic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem!readr #spencer x reader fanfic #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer x reader #spencer fanfic #criminal minds family #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fandom

[florida-preposterously]

I had a competition thing and I wrote this story

so there’sa lot of interpretations you can have and please tell me what you think Its about 🥺

Trigger warnings: abuse, drowning mention, hallucinations (kind of),ghosts, suicidal thoughts

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The walls of Heather's room felt like they were going to close in around her, crush her underneath their weight.

She always took deep breaths when that happened,  turning her attention towards the swaying of the branches outside her window. 

 Or when all of it got too much, slip out the backdoor, praying nobody noticed. 

And when her steps no longer needed to be silent, she ran towards the woods. Let the chirping of the birds drown away her thoughts, saw towering trees reaching out to the sky and she wondered if she could do the same.

Heather sat on a fallen tree, its branches, once beautiful, crushed against the ground. Her legs itched where the bark touched her skin. 

The screaming had gotten too much yet again. So her feet had carried her here, woods no matter how far she ventured, she never seemed to get lost in.  

She'd always heard things about the woods. Of course, where the voice of reason was absent, the human mind always leapt to conjure up some speculation to  fill the space.

 They said in the early hours of the morning, the mist held figures  human eyes weren't meant to see. 

They talked about the way the rustling of the leaves whispered secrets in their ears when the moon was high. 

How the squirrels in the forest could jump too high, how the deer walked around with eyes white instead of black, how the branches hung a bit too low, brushing against their skin. 

Heather didn't care about the myths. Sometimes, when she lay on the damp grass and wished the roots would overcome her, she couldn't help but hope it was true. 

Maybe one day, she'd venture too far into the woods, get lost in the swaying branches, and Never have to return home. 

A flower grew near her feet, something familiar about the  way its petals were  twisted and bruised. It resembled the marks left on her skin by her father. 

The world threatened to spin again, and their words etched their way into her thoughts again, so Heather stood up and ran further down the rows of trees. The wind gently caressed her face, but the tears rolled down her face anyway.

She came to a small clearing, where water rushed past her, roaring with confidence. She briefly wondered how far away she was from home, the distance reassuring her. 

She stared at the water and wondered how it would be like to flow away with it.

But something cold pressed against her shoulder, and when Heather looked up, a faint whisper of a figure stood facing her, their eyes asking a question she'd wondered for so long.

"Don't you want to be free?" 

Heather blinked, and when she opened her eyes, there was nothing there. She laughed, trying not to be scared that she was finally going crazy.

But then branches crushed under someone's foot, and when she looked up again, a girl stood there, staring off into the distance.

 Heather backed away, filled with fear.

"Who are you?" She asked, speaking faintly. The girl turned around and tilted her head at Heather. Her eyes were dark, darker than the night sky. Her skin was smooth and her hair the colour of sunlight. Curiosity erupted in Heather's mind. 

The girl did not respond, opting instead to just stare at Heather.

 She couldn't explain how, but something felt surreal about the girl. Maybe it was the way the light hit her skin, or the sharp lines of her figure. 

"What's your name?" Heather asked. The girl simply smiled, and Heather couldn't stop thinking how the other girl was so pretty yet…so surreal.

The girl sat down beside Heather. She cleared away the branches and leaves lying at the river side to reveal dirt. Heather watched her pick up a stick and scratch a name  in the mud.

"Alora. That's your name?" The girl, or Alora, nodded. She pointed the stick at Heather, like she was inquiring about her name too.

"Heather. You don't talk?" Alora smiled. She scratched "pretty name" in the dirt. Heather smiled back. 

"I've got to say, your handwriting is very bad." The girl pouted, her expression drawing a laugh out of Heather. 

The next day, Heather snuck a book and quill out of her Father's study, staying in the shadows to avoid being seen. Alora never let the book go after she got it, excitedly flipping through the empty pages. 

Heather never knew what home was, but sometimes when she watched Alora excitedly scribble words onto the page, watching her eager expression as Heather read her silly jokes, some faint impression of what the word was supposed to mean built in her chest. 

Once Alora accidentally left her book behind, and when Heather had sneakily managed to take it home, she found the pages empty. She flipped through the pages fervorously, almost tearing the delicate paper, but when she hid the book under her mattress, defeated and slightly haunted, she knew that the book held no words. 

The next morning, Heather woke up to screaming again, and out of habit she ran towards the river they always met beside, clutching the book tightly in her hands. But now, as she ran away from the echoes of her Father's words, her mind filled with a different set of questions. 

As usual, she waited near the flowing river, wondering why she'd failed so miserably at seeing all the strange things about her new friend.

 But that wasn't true, was it?  Heather had seen them, but in the face of companionship and the yearning for Alora's comfort, the quirks felt irrelevant.

How did Alora always show up?

Why had the words disappeared?

What was Alora?

The branches crunched under someone's foot, and when Heather looked up, Alora stood there, her face torn between defeat, anger and sadness. The shine of her hair, the sharp lines of her figure, all of it stood out again, and when Heather met her eyes again, all she could wonder was,

"Who are you?"

Alora sighed as she knelt down and took the book. She took the quill, softly brushing Heather's hands for a moment.

Alora flipped through the pages, which were full again. Heather frowned.

"Come with me." Alora wrote. Heather shook her head.

"Why?" Alora looked at her, and the sadness in her eyes pained Heather's heart. 

"Please." And Heather thought about what she had to lose. The truth was, the only person who'd ever wanted her was Alora. 

Heather complied, and Alora grabbed her hand as they walked down a part of the forest she had never been in before. They walked through places where the  branches  curled strangely, where  birds that made sounds she'd never heard before, where the green of the grass turned bluer with every step she took. 

Things stopped making sense, but Heather didn't think any of this was supposed to make sense. 

"Where are we going?" Alora looked back at her, and then she remembered, all those months ago, she'd seen the same look in a different pair of eyes. 

"Don't you want to be free?" 

And Heather could answer that question in a heartbeat. 

"Lead me there."

Alora stopped and when Heather looked around, the river ran backwards, and the branches hung so low they brushed across their torsos. The grass was bluer than the sky, But even with so much wrong about this place, she recognised it anyway. 

Alora stepped into the river, and Heather followed. 

I want to be free, she thought. 

The water was cold. So was Alora's hand, like it always was. 

I want to be free. 

The water filled her lungs, but the feeling was so pleasant  that Heather sighed, a small smile forming on her face. 

She woke up, but Heather didn't know where she was. Everything felt similar yet so different the same time that it sent her reeling from vertigo. She laid down on the ground, the soft grass underneath her felt so comforting that she almost drifted away. 

Someone touched her shoulder and when she opened her eyes, she saw eyes darker than the night sky looking at her, and a smile so beautiful that she couldn't help but smile back.

"We're free."

Tagging my art taglist and moots because I want attention

@theseasonalarsonist @theseasonismerrybutimnot @constant-sapphic-breakdown @callas-pancake-tree @that-glasses-dog @appleflv @abubble125 @katniss-elizabeth-chase

#wield a pen and let it out my darling #oc #original story #my writing #supernatural creatures #original characters #mystery #romance #lesbian #queer #florida blabbers #flori-doodles

[jessie4098]

KiriBaku hurt/comfort

TW: Kidnapping, poly, near hypothermia 

Summary: After almost getting kidnapped, your two pro heros warm you up and try to keep you safe. 

tbh, this is just fluff, something comforting and i love the “Cuddle to get warm” trope way too much

To say that you feel scared is an understatement. Every creeking sound you hear makes your heart drop, especially since the creaking noises seem to grow closer to your hiding spot underneath the cabinet in the bathroom. You didn’t have much of a choice, your hiding options were limited, and this is the safest spot you could be in this given situation. You had called emergency services and they are sending people over to help you, but you don’t know when they will arrive. Both Katsuki and Eijiro were out on patrol, they left a few hours before the group of intruders broke in. You assumed they would just look for money and valuables and leave, but you heard one of the men say,”find the girl, then we can leave. It can’t be that hard.” As the wife of two of the top pro heros in the country, you knew they dangers; especially since you’re quirkless. The self defense classes and training with both Katsuki and Eijiro that you did wouldn’t be enough for three grown men who you presume have quirks. One has to be an ice quirk, the temperature keeps dropping, it takes you nearly all your willpower to stop yourself from shaking, or your teeth rattling, or from giving away your hiding spot. It wasn’t long till the intruders found the bathroom, and subsequently found you. No matter how much your thrashed, bit, hit, kicked and yelled, they didn’t let go. Your body kept getting colder and colder the longer you were in one of the men’s arms. They dragged you outside and closer to a large van with a door open. Your kicks weren’t landing, and your yells were drawing any attention. The fear you felt as you were three feet from the van was indescribable. Ice cold fear filled your body as your body begins to weaken, your stamina not even coming close to comparing to the man holding you. Your screams luckily grab the attention of your two pro heros as they were coming home from patrol. As soon as Kirishima hears your screams for help he and Bakugo take off sprinting towards you, getting there In time to see you being shoved into a van. The fight doesn’t last long, especially since Kirishima jumped on the van’s front hood, crushing it into half of the size. Bakugou’s yells are loud enough to be heard through the explosions. You’re still so cold inside of the van, the doors locked so you can’t even get out. You can barely see what is going on through the front window but you trust your two men. You are barely awake when the fighting finally stops, you just feel too cold to stay awake. The silence is broken by Eijiro basically ripping the van door off the vehicle. A large pair of arms scoop you up, holding your trembling body close to theirs. The smell of caramel let’s you know it is Bakugou, he is calling something out to Eijiro, but it isn’t something you can make out. All you can focus on is trying to get warm. Katsuki looks over to Eijiro with you in his arms, telling the red head to wait here for the police, and that he has to get you warm. You don’t seem injured other than just being cold, so he is quick to take you inside. “It’s okay baby, I’m right here. No one is gonna hurt you,” he says calmly, kicking off his boots and carrying you into the bedroom. Sliding you underneath the covers while piling blankets on top of you, stripping down to his boxers so you can have direct skin contact. You’re so out of it that you don’t notice that you’re in bed, all you can recognize is the change in temperature. It’s so cold without Katsuki holding you in his arms, and the blankets aren’t the same. But Katsuki is quick to slide under the covers with you, pulling your shivering body close to his, till he is practically on top of you. Letting your small body be engulfed in his. “Katsuki, I tried to. I mean I tried to fight back, but I just. They were,” the cold makes your head feel fuzzy, but Katsuki knows what you’re trying to say. “I know baby, I know. You did the best you could, and I even saw some bruises on the other guys. What is important is that you are safe.” He says letting you scoot closer to him. It isn’t long before Eijiro finished up with the police and comes to the bedroom to see Katsuki basically on top of you, only your head is visible. He strips down to his boxers and crawls underneath the blankets, forcing Katsuki to move so Eijiro can cuddle with you too. An arm and a leg is thrown around Katsuki, pulling both the blonde and you closer to Eijiro. You’re squished between the two men as you drift into a deep sleep. Eijiro checks that you’re asleep before talking to Katsuki about what happened, how the police took them into custody and asks if you were hurt. Nothing other than a few scratches and bruises, but nothing serious. Katsuki is the first to leave the bed, he figured that after three hours of sleeping when you wake you you’d want something warm to eat, so he makes his famous miso soup, and he even makes some rice and meat in case you and Eijiro want some. When you woke up you were in a bear hug with Eijiro, his arms and legs wrapped around you as your face is buried in his neck. You try to squirm out of his grip but it’s no use. He just laughs and kisses your head. “Eijiro, Baby? “ you say poking his cheek. He just smiles and rolls over so that he is basically on top of you, while still keeping his weight off your body, ”no Eijiro. He isn’t awake right now. Call back at a later time,” he says pretending to go back to sleep as you struggle to get out of his grip. “What are you two idiots doing?” Katsuki asks walking in with two trays of food. “Eijiro won’t let me up, can you please help?” You bring out the puppy dog eyes. Katsuki just rolls his eyes and places the trays down, ”sure thing. Eijiro, make room for me!” He says jointing in on the cuddle pile, wrapping his arms around you; leaving you trapped between your two heros, helpless to fend off their kiss attacks. They cover your face in kisses, making you laugh and for a moment, forget everything that happened. Even if it is just for a moment.

#no beta we die like men #mine #poly bnha #poly kiribaku #poly kiribaku x reader #kiribaku x reader #fluff #mha fluff #bnha fluff #cuddle to get warm #eijiro kirishima x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #kiribaku fluff #quirkless reader #hurt/comfort #mha scenario #mha hurt/comfort

[shorkbrian]

Street Cat hybrid shoto seems to like you so much, even more than he likes his owner Momo

When you come to see momo, he is 24/7 by your side, following you around all day long, touching you and your things, licking your neck just like he always did since he was a lil baby cat *W* and even worst, he still cries when you have tô tô home!

Why aren’t you his owner? It was you who saved him, but you couldn’t have a hybrid at your apartment, so you left him with your best friend.

It was you who made him more human. Without you, shoto would be still living in the street. But how could he feel at home when his home is you?

One day, Momo sends a message asking you to take care of him while she works for a few days in another country. She says he only wants you, and gets pissy and teary when someone else comes

You are happy to help— i mean, things are being so stressful at your new work! It has been a week since you saw Shoto.

It just happen that you carry so many new smells

Shoto doesn’t like that >:(

(This is a prompt/request. Feel free to change things or deny this shit. I just want some beastial sex with yandere shoto who cries while humping your pussy bc he finally feels at peace)

hoooooo my gosh 

(What to expect - NSFW, noncon, scenting, thoughts of watersports)

Hybrid Shouto who’s long and lean, milky skin scarred and marred in places from the various fights he’s had while living on the street.

He’s got enough muscles to crush you when he hugs you, to put significant weight on you when he tries to cuddle up in your lap as you talk to Momo. 

You’re close with Momo, having fun “girls night” when you and Jirou go over and drink wine, do each others nails, and talk about whatever been’s going on that week.

Shouto never interrupts, is always quiet as long as he’s by your side, purring when you scratch behind his ear, stretching out so he’s sprawled across your legs where you’re sitting on the floor.

Jirou and Momo think it’s cute how attached the hybrid is to you, coo at him whenever the hybrid jumps to follow you around Momo’s house, touching everything you touch, rubbing his cheek against your shoulder, hovering one step behind you like a clingy shadow.

It’s hard to say goodbye, especially with Shouto clinging to you, jaw set, unshed tears shining in his eyes as he begs you to stay, just a little longer.

So “girls night” turns into a fun sleepover, no big deal.

It’s adorable when you wake up to find the hybrid curled up at your feet, tail tucked around his body as he snores softly, ears twitching. When you go to make coffee, you bump into Momo, and barely begin telling her about the cute occurrence, before Shouto is padding into the kitchen, frown on his face, immediately jumping towards you.

Crushes you in a hug, pushes you against the counter as he comforts himself by stroking your shoulder, licking at your neck. “Thought you left...” The hybrid whines.

It’s easy to see how much he cares for his savior.

When Momo asks you to watch him, of course you say yes. He’s easy to please, with an even temperament and hardly any bad habits. You’d say his worst habit is his clinginess, how you can’t even go to the bathroom without the hybrid lurking outside of the door, waiting for you to get out so he can be close to you again.

But it seems he’s developed some unsavory traits living on the streets, as he pushes you to the floor as soon as you cross into Momo’s home.

“You smell different.” And it’s not a question. The hybrid’s cold nose is tickling your skin, first at your hands, then your throat, ghosting over your face before he drops down, pushes up your shirt a little so he can nose at your stomach.

“Hey! Shouto wha-”

“You smell awful.” He hisses, tail puffing up, ears flat against his head. 

“I’m-I’m so sorry, I didn’t even realize.... I’ll go shower and change right now, okay? I’m sorry Sho’, I forgot you have such a sensitive nose.”

That calms him down a little bit, until you’re locking the bathroom door, Shouto stuck on the outside while you turn on the shower.

“Please let me in, I won’t look, just want to be close to you.” Comes his soft voice, and he sounds so sad, so plaintive, and you find yourself biting your lip.

“No, Shouto, I would like some privacy please while I shower. Afterwards we can cuddle or something, alright?”

There’s silence from the other side of the door, which is a tad worrying, but the quicker you can shower and change, the quicker you can go comfort the sensitive hybrid.

You find him curled up in his bed, buried underneath his blankets, frown on his face. It’s easy to slip in behind the hybrid, snuggling up against his furnace-like body heat.

No words are spoken, but the hybrid turns, buries his face into your neck, huffing and chuffing against your skin while you try not to squirm from the sensation. His little kitten licks tickle, especially when he starts grooming you, rough, textured tongue pulling rhythmically at your skin.

He dips too close to your chest, licking over your collarbone, but it’s innocent, harmless. Cats do this to each other when they feel safe, when they have a bond. You know Shouto is probably just trying to self-soothe after being left home all day. You know he’s a needy hybrid.

Shouto moves to lick at your arms, and that tickles even more, and you can’t stop from squirming and giggling a little when he licks at the crease of your elbow. Next thing you know, he has both of his slender, pale hands wrapped around one of your own hands, stuffing a few of your fingers into his mouth so he can suck on them.

You’re gasping in shock, surprised as you feel his fangs scrape over your flesh, the sensation strange and unexpected. “Shouto-!”

But the hybrid has his eyes closed, nose wiggling a bit as he falls into a rhythm, muscles relaxing as he settles down.

Another self-soothing gesture, you figure.

Today was a long day, and it doesn’t take too long before you get used to the unusual sensation of the hybrid’s tongue working over your fingers; it’s easy to fall asleep.

But when you wake up from your nap? Chaos.

Your shirt was askew, half your chest exposed, nipple pebbling in the cold as a neatly manicured hand rested over the meat of your breast.

The shorts you had slipped into out of the shower were still in place, but you were able to clearly feel the meat of Shouto’s erection as it rubbed against your mound, the hybrid’s hips stuttering forward as he panted above you, resting on an elbow.

He was gasping into your neck, quiet little breaths and held-back moans, trying not to wake you up.

But as soon as you got your bearings, began pushing at the hybrid, not even sure what to feel in this situation; Shouto lifted his head, blinking slowly.

“Want you to smell like me.” Is all the explanation that he offers, completely unmoving even as you get your hands underneath his chest and push.

“No-no, stop it, stop it right now Sho’.” Your voice is filled with panic, scratchy from sleep, weak.

Shouto shakes his head, buries it back into your neck as he starts licking at your skin, trying to comfort you, soothe you, calm you down. “I can’t...” But you knew what he was really saying, what was really running through his mind. I won’t.

The hybrid doesn’t settle until you’re drenched in sweat, wet and sticky from his cum as he’d pulled his cock out of his sleep shorts, came on your stomach, and thighs, and all over your shorts.

It doesn’t matter how much you squirm, how much you tell him that it’s wrong, how obviously unwanting you are of this treatment, Shouto doesn’t care.

Cum gets smeared on your face, into your hair, rubbed messily into your skin as Shouto nuzzles against you, purring as you tire from fighting him, grow limp underneath him, eyes staring blankly ahead as he violates you.

A small part of himself wants to go even further, to spread his seed into your mouth, down your throat, into your stomach. Shoot it deep into your womb, make you sticky and wet on not only the outside, but the inside too. An even worse, disgusting part of himself, a voice that Shouto refuses to listen to, gives him an urge to mark his territory in a primal, animalistic way.

Piss all over you, your belongings, until no one will come near you without smelling him.

Shouto wants you to smell like him, to smell claimed. By the time he’s done with you, it won’t matter how many showers you take - you won’t be able to rid yourself of his scent.

#Shouto #shouto todoroki #todoroki shouto #shouto x reader #bnha shouto #hybrid au #hybrid #bnha hybrid #todoroki #shoto todoroki #bnha todoroki #todoroki smut #Shouto smut #yandere todoroki #Yandere shouto #Yandere Shouto todoroki #Yandere todoroki shouto #Yandere bnha #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #cat hybrid

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

Chosen (Park Seonghwa) Rated

Pairing: Creature! Park Seonghwa × Human! Reader (Female)

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Sci-Fi/Fantasy AU.

Summary: Symbolizing purity, innocence, and daintiness, the Daughters of Aster had been hand-picked since a young age to be brought up and raised for a very special task: to carry the offspring of the nobility in the kingdom, which just so happens to consist of cold-blooded humanoid creatures. And now that she's become of age, it's Y/N's turn to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

Word Count: 5.6K

Warnings: Tentai content including tentacle bondage, tentacle sucking, breast play, suction play, breeding kink, penetration with tentacles, multiple orgasms, semi voyeurism, reader is a virgin and Seonghwa is whipped for her, mentions of eggs, and stomach bulges. (It's my first time writing actual tentacle smut so I apologize if it sucks.)

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Gulping harshly as she pressed a hand to open the large, metal gate that guarded the huge mansion, the young woman hesitantly stepped inside the spacious and grim-looking garden. Underestimating the weight of the gate, she softly jolted back when it suddenly slipped out of her grasp and clashed back into place. She winced momentarily when the loud noise seemed to resonate, spooking several of the small critters and ravens that roamed around the small terrain. Glancing back, she half expected an old groundskeeper to swoop out of one of the trees and chastise her reckless behavior. But nothing surrounded the area except the foliage, trees, and rose bushes that added to the beauty of the grand estate.

Gathering back her courage, the quaint young woman took slow and careful steps across the small dirt path that led straight to the front stairs of the mansion. It was a somewhat terrifying architectural design, reminiscent of the old gothic-styled cathedrals from ancient times, not at all fashioned after the pompous and outlandish French designs most of the other members of the aristocracy preferred. The gray stone walls made the place seem cold and distant, the hardly lit windows signaled that it was probably rarely inhabited, and the black ravens perched on the top of the sculpted angel monuments lined up through the staircase only made the sensation feel more haunting and chilly.

Finally, in front of the main entrance, she hesitated as her fingers brushed along the round metal door handle. She felt frozen with fear as she realized there was no returning after all. This was the moment she had been prepared for her entire life. In a few moments, she was about to meet.....

Her master.

Just that thought sent shivers down her spine. She did not wish to ponder too much on the various horror stories she often heard back in the institute, nor imagine what kind of life she would live now as a surrogate to one of...their kind.

In the very moment she lifted her hand once again, she took a jerked back when the door seemingly opened by itself, a young maid looking surprised to see her standing there. Upon inspecting her attire and recognizing the crest that held her dark blue cloak in place, the maid's expression beamed with joy.

"Oh! You must be Miss Y/N correct?"

Nodding her head and affirming it was indeed she, Y/N felt puzzled when the tiny maid practically yanked her inside, albeit not intended to harm her, she simply seemed excited about her presence, which frankly made no sense to her. It was not as if surrogates were treated with kindness let alone respect. When her hands reached up towards her neck, the young woman was quick to stop her.

"Oh please! Let me do that for you."

Although she was not particularly fond of people coming up so close in her personal space, she maintained a calm demeanor whilst the maid removed the long cloak off her frame, delicate hands folding it perfectly and tucking it under her arm.

"I'll have this cleaned and ironed out for you Miss before taking it back to your room. You must be famished after coming here after such a long journey." She paused briefly and examined Y/N's complexion, which seemed rather pale and depleted, making her pout rather sadly at the state their new guest was in.

"If you would like, I can ask the cook to prepare a meal for you. Do tell, what is your favorite dish?"

Y/N waved a dismissive hand at the kind lady's offer.

"Please, do not trouble yourself. I am not the least bit hungry." Indeed, it was not a lie. She was overly anxious and uneasy that she did not believe it to be possible to even fathom stomaching any sort of sustenance at that moment.

"If you do not mind and if it is allowed... I would much prefer to retire for the evening." Y/N humbly requested.

Nodding with the understanding that the new company was weary, the young maid took hold of a golden bell tied around her waist and proceeded to ring it moderately. In mere seconds, a tall sharply dressed gentleman came up and bowed towards her.

"Cedric would you please escort Miss Y/N to her room?"

Gesturing for her to follow, the butler guided her up the flight of stairs into the second story of the house. Passing through a long corridor, Y/N glanced now and then at the outside patio through the windows that overlooked the gardens. They were much larger than what she initially thought, and the longer she looked, the denser the trees seemed to appear. She was so distracted by the scenery that she nearly collided face-first into the poor butler's back had he not spoken up first and made her steps come into a screeching halt.

"This will be your room from now on miss." Producing a string of keys out of his pocket, Cedric unlocked the door and gently pushed it open, stepping inside to make room for Y/N to pass.

Her breath was nearly taken away by the sheer size of the room. It was double the size of the old living space she used to share with 6 other girls back in the institute and was furnished with more than what she'd ever need. The decor too seemed like something more befitting for someone of the family than for someone of her station.

"If there is anything the matter with the decor or should you prefer a different pattern, you may simply speak the word and the Master shall arrange for the room to be modified as you like."

At the mention of the Master, Y/N felt that nerve-racking tingle travels down her body once again.

"Shall you need any assistance, please feel free to ring the bell attached by your bed and one of us will be more than happy to aid you?" Reaching for the door handle, Cedric bid her good night before closing the door to leave her to her thoughts.

Still feeling cold from the long walk, Y/N stepped closer to the fireplace, outstretching her hands in hopes of warming them up. She was grateful that although not expecting her early, they had prepared a nice fire to warm up her room. After getting filled with the heat, Y/N went over to one of the dressers so that she could change into her night attire. Upon opening the many drawers, she was shocked at not finding any of her old clothes, instead, there was an abundance of luxurious clothing which she did not recognize. Storming over to the large wardrobe, she too found that none of her personal belongings had been delivered, they seemed to have all been replaced with new apparel. Knowing that she had no choice, she went back to the first dresser that she had looked in before and rummaged through to find the plainest and simple nightgown she could find. Reaching for the row of buttons training down the middle of her blouse, she undid them one by one with utter care before slipping it off her body, letting the garment fall on the floor. Running the zipper down, her long and flowing skirt joined her blouse, one foot delicately kicking them away for the time being. Standing there in nothing but her undergarments made Y/N suddenly feel apprehensive. She carefully looked around the room again, feeling the strange sensation that someone was watching her. Shaking that thought out of her head, she quickly threw the nightgown over her head and finished dressing. The fabric was soft to the touch and it didn't scratch against her delicate skin, but the most surprising factor was that it fit like a glove on her body. It made her wonder if perhaps they had prepared it in advance or it was merely a coincidence.

Picking up her discarded clothes, she neatly placed them on the table near her, slightly folding them and smoothing them over. Going over to the bed, she pulled back the covers before sliding her body onto the mattress and covering herself. She couldn't help the small blissful sigh coming out of her mouth as her sore limbs welcomed the soft and comfortable bed, the pillow feeling like a fluffy cloud. As she laid there, she began to reminisce about all the events that led up to that very moment, or more specifically, that very morning during the Auctioning.

Hearing the loud applause coming from the other end of the room, Y/N tried to calm her nerves, knowing she was the next one in line to face the crowd. As soon as she took one step forward, she was stopped by none other than the Head of the Institute, who took hold of her wrist and looked at the girl behind her.

"Abigail, you go next. Y/N, you're coming with me."

Without so much as a further explanation, Y/N found herself dragged away from the waiting room where her fellow inmates also looked at each other in confusion at the sudden interruption. Y/N wanted to speak up and ask what was happening, was she not to be auctioned off to one of the many noble families? The old woman of course knew all the questions Y/N had, but she didn't say a word until they were outside in the front of the building, where there was a carriage awaiting her.

"Your personal belongings have already been sent out to your new home. We've received word to have you delivered as soon as possible." Even with that brief explanation, Y/N still didn't understand anything. Noticing her distressed state, the Headmistress sighed softly.

"Y/N, you are not to be auctioned off like the rest of the girls. Someone has already purchased you many months back, but it seems they accidentally forgot it and thus added you to the lineup. Luckily, I managed to find you before you stood up on that platform. Certainly avoided a disaster." The old woman chuckled, yet that did not relieve Y/N's worries.

What did she mean someone had already bought her? Who were they? Where was she sold off to?

Unfortunately, none of those questions were answered, instead, she found herself being pushed inside the carriage and speedily taken away to an unfamiliar side of the country that she had never seen before, away to who knew where until she ended up right in the place she was currently in.

Drowsy and tear-filled eyes eventually closed even whilst remembering the events of the day. Y/N knew she was more than likely lucid dreaming as she slowly drifted off to sleep. She didn't feel fully unaware of her surroundings though, and perhaps it was that skeptical feeling that kept her on edge and guarded against anything around her. It especially came into help when she seemingly felt something stroke her cheek, gliding down to caress the outline of her jaw. At first, she believed it was nothing more than her imagination, but when she felt a thumb running across her bottom lip, she opened her eyes, screaming and sitting up when she saw a dark figure standing right in front of her. He was started himself by her outburst, immediately retracting his hand when he witnessed how agitated his innocent act had made her.

"I'm sorry..... I didn't mean to frighten you." His voice was soothing and low, clearly intended so that she'd calm down.

"Would you mind if I..." His gesture indicated that he wanted permission to come near her again, which she felt like she had no choice but to give.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, the handsome stranger reached out and cupped the sides of her face, moving it slowly to the left and then towards the right, eyes drinking up every detail of her countenance.

"My God, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you tending to the gardens in that place."

Hearing those words made Y/N widen her eyes. How did he know about that? Unless...

"Are... Are you my new master?" She couldn't even believe it.

The young man giggled softly.

"If you don't mind, I would much rather prefer if you called me by my name, Seonghwa." He introduced himself. Y/N briefly nodded, but obviously, it wasn't enough for him as he leaned in close, nose nearly bumping into her own.

"Please say it." He urged her to.

"Seonghwa." She breathed out his name, to which he let out a gentle smile as one of his hands moved to tuck some of her hair behind her ear.

"Once again, I apologize for startling you, my dear. I just got impatient and couldn't resist myself. I just had to see you." He confessed before getting up out of her space.

"You must be tired so I'll leave you be now. Get some rest love and I'll see you in the morning."

Y/N expected him to walk towards the same door she had come inside from, but she looked with astonishment as Seonghwa went over towards another door which she had mistakenly assumed to be her bathroom, and opened it up.

"My room adjoins to yours, so if you ever want to come and see me, I'm just a knock away." He fought hard to not laugh at her flustered expression, whispering out another good night before retreating into his chambers.

Y/N released a breath she didn't know she was holding. So far her new master looked...normal? Nothing at all like what she expected from the many tales that roamed back at the institute. Seonghwa was nothing that she expected, exceptionally beautiful, poised, kind, and gallant. But she knew she could not be fooled by his charming manners, after all, none of the members of the aristocracy were actual humans...

And it was only a matter of time before she figured out what sort of monster Seonghwa was.

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Y/N tried to steady her heartbeat as Seonghwa drew closer to her, lips brushing against her own. Although this was the exact moment she had been prepared all her life for, she still felt a tinge of nervousness as she felt Seonghwa's hands clasp around her waist, his body, which was all bare save for the briefs between his thighs, pressing against her own.

"Tell me, my dear has anyone ever kissed you before?" He smiled when she shook her head.

"May I kiss you?" His inquiry sounded so sweet and pure that Y/N didn't think twice about lifting her face and closing her eyes.

Seonghwa's lips were soft, reminding her of the soft petals belonging to the different roses in the gardens outside, precious little buds that she had been granted permission to take care of in the month she had been living with him. He had never once denied her anything and had been very attentive to her every need. And now as he tenderly kissed her, pouring his heart into the loving kiss, Y/N wondered if this is what love felt like, that foreign emotion that she'd often hear spoken about yet always been told it would never be something she or any of the other girls at the Institute would ever experience. She didn't know, but she knew that she enjoyed whatever this was, this feeling of Seonghwa's lips closing over hers, only to pull away and then dive back in, each minute that passed enabling his kissing to become more ardent and passionate. It was truly breathtaking for her, as she'd often find herself gasping for air each time his lips would pull apart from her mouth.

Starting at the corners of her lips, Seonghwa began pressing butterfly kisses down towards her jaw. Y/N's breath hitched, neck tilting back when she felt him nibbling against her skin. It seemed as if he knew exactly where to direct his attention towards, her sharp breaths an indication that she was warming up to his touches. Releasing one hand off her face, he moved it down until his fingers brushed against her collarbone, treading dangerously close to her covered bosoms.

"Now tell me, love has anyone ever touched you here?"

As if on instinct, Y/N arched her back towards his palms when they lightly squeezed at her pillowy mounds, a light, and embarrassed moan being uttered by her for the first time in her life.

"N-no, no one's ever touched me there." Her shy confession made him smirk as he then dropped his hand down to lift her flimsy nightgown.

"What about here? Has anyone touched here?"

Cupping her sex, he found it warm and inviting, his body aching to be inside of her, to fill her up and breed her as he wanted to. He didn't need her to answer, just her mouth going agape and emitting the cutest whimpers he had ever heard was enough of an answer.

"No of course not. You're pure and completely untouched by anyone else....." When she felt his fingers slide across her wettened folds, her hands reached out and gripped against his biceps, using them to keep herself steady as they continued exploring her deepest places. It felt so unusual yet wonderful to have Seonghwa pry open her lips, fingers ever so gradually slipping past her tightness to lodge inside her warm cavern. Once settled, they began moving, pulling themselves out before coming back in. To distract her, Seonghwa stooped down to kiss her once more, it felt more rushed than before, tongue occasionally poking outwards to scrape against the roof of her mouth. As his fingers worked hard to stretch her open and mouth busied in devouring her adorable whines, it was all to prepare her and get her to ease up before he continued with anything. Pulling away with a deep inhale, Seonghwa used his free thumb to wipe away the excess saliva on her bottom lip, breath ghosting over her own.

"Y/N... I'm going to need you to stay calm and not freak out. All right?"

By his tone, Y/N deduced that she was about to figure out just what exactly it was that made him different from her. She could feel him hesitate, looking just as scared as she did the first time she arrived at the estate. Just as she was about to assure him that she was not afraid, she felt something crawl up her legs, it was somewhat slimy and had a couple of ridges along the underside of it. Glancing down, she nearly fell back onto the bed when she witnessed two long tentacles wrapping themselves around her thighs, tearing up part of the silk fabric of her nightgown. Before she could stumble back, another tentacle launched out to wrap around her waist, pulling her forward to help her regain her balance. She breathed heavily, looking visibly shocked as she realized they were coming out of none other than Seonghwa himself. He scanned her face, trying to read her reactions. Scared? Disgusted? Apprehensive? It was rather difficult to make out exactly what she thought about his tendrils holding her steady and tightening around her body. Wanting to test something, he produced two more tentacles, these slightly thinner than the previous ones. They moved closer towards Y/N, who of course, instinctively recoiled from the unusual limbs.

"Don't worry. If I were in your position, I'd be utterly revolted as well." Although he spoke out those words with a dry smile, they held a lot of pain within them and it made Y/N saddened to hear him. Wanting to make up for it, she outstretched her hand towards the nearest tendril, the very limb slightly pulling away when it felt her come near. No doubt Seonghwa was hesitant about having her touch him. Undeterred, Y/N reached out once more, this time the tentacle didn't recoil but subtly leaned into her touch. Ever so slowly, it began to wrap around her arm, looping itself around her wrist, and settling itself on top of her palm. Y/N couldn't resist herself as she softly squeezed at the tender limb, thumb curiously playing around with the tiny suction cups along the underside of it. She couldn't help but giggle when it slightly slithered itself to attach some of the cups onto her palm, applying light pressure that had a rather pleasant feeling. So amused by the bizarre member, she didn't realize that the other thin tentacle had moved until she felt it loop itself on her other arm, the same as the one on her right side. Seonghwa felt relieved when she didn't seem afraid anymore, instead, she now smiled up towards him, fingers gently caressing the smooth surface of his tentacles. Unbeknownst to her, he could feel every touch ministered on them, the tentacles being a part of him, an extension of him. And they were highly sensitive to any sort of contact made with them.

"Can we...can we continue?" There was a slight quiver in his voice that did not go unnoticed by the woman held hostage by his slimy tendrils. Understanding exactly what he was referring to, Y/N nodded, eagerly awaiting to see just how Seonghwa would impregnate her.

Feeling herself lifted off the floor, the tentacles gently laid her down on the bed, detaching themselves momentarily off her body as they began poking around at the semi-ruined fabric of her attire. Grasping at several ends, Y/N gasped astonishingly when they tore off the rest of her dress, discarding the remaining pieces on the floor. Laying there completely naked in front of Seonghwa, who did not hide anything in his stare as they raked her entire body. Feeling self-conscious, Y/N moved to cover herself but the tentacles were faster as they wrapped around her wrists and ankles, holding the first ones above her face while the other ones kept her legs apart, allowing Seonghwa to fully gawk at her wetness. The thought of burying himself deep in her and breeding her made him uncontrollably hard.

Y/N squirmed as several more tentacles sprouted out of Seonghwa's body, making her question just how many he could produce. Two medium-sized ones traveled up her sternum, oozing out some sort of secretion that trickled onto her breasts. The tentacles then latched themselves onto her perky mounds, twisting and pulling at her nipples until they hardened and poked out. They continued to toy around with her boobs, flicking against her sensitive nubs now and then before going back to clamp down and attach their suction cups to her tender skin. Y/N shuddered as she felt them slightly vibrate, adding to the daze-inducing state she was drifting off to.

Just as she was distracted in enjoying the pleasure the two tentacles were giving her, she let out a shriek when she felt another slimy organ come up and flit at her clit. The tentacles around her ankles kept her from closing her thighs, leaving her with no choice but to succumb to the movements made in her delicate button. It felt so surreal, so extraordinary, and she writhed around on the bed as much as she was able to when the tiny end of the tentacle sped up and rubbed faster against her swelling clit, the delicious friction making her mouth water. She wondered if this was the bliss some of the girls back home talked about, the ones who had gone out of their way to break the solemn vow they swore about remaining intact and pure, forcing them out of the Institute as they were no longer considered valuable vessels for future buyers.

"If this is what they enjoyed then, I would have gladly broken my vow too." Y/N mused to herself. But then she remembered had she broken her vow she would have never been able to meet Seonghwa, and she'd grown attached to him in that short period of meeting him.

"No... It's better this way. Having saved my body just for him so he can use it as he pleases. Have me carry his children. Oh, God." She felt herself clench around nothing as she thought about being stuffed by him, carrying his babies. Months before, the idea of carrying the offspring of some humanoid stranger horrified her. Now, it thrilled her and she looked forward to it.

"I'm going to slide a few more inside of you now, ok? It might feel uncomfortable, but I promise I'll make sure you don't feel any pain." Y/N vigorously nodded, the tentacles around her ankles spreading her legs further and bringing them up so her knees were bent.

Two thinner tentacles, even thinner than the ones around her wrists came out and began probing around her hole, stretching it ever so slightly before sliding inside her. Y/N felt them scraping against her tender walls, leaving her flabbergasted at feeling them creep deeper and deeper against her right muscles, stopping once they reached her cervix. Ever so carefully, they position themselves at her opening, prying her cervix open. A dull sting shot up her body, not exactly painful, but it wasn't exactly pleasant to feel. Noticing this, Seonghwa made the tentacles release their hold on her tight rim.

"Perhaps I might need to make use of this after all."

Y/N didn't know exactly what 'this' was, all she felt was the two tentacles lightly thrust inside of her, tips flicking up to tease at her sweet spot. And then she felt it, the tentacles oozed some sort of secretion to coat her inner walls, even moving to spread some of the liquid against the entrance of her womb. The tentacle working on her clit had to momentarily stop when Y/N began spasming, small gasps and moans spilling out her lips, not realizing that she had just had a subtle orgasm, but Seonghwa knew. He felt when her juices covered her walls, causing them to become more slick and wet, an effect produced by the natural pheromones his tentacles had just sprayed inside her, helping her to relax and not feel any more discomfort. Although it would also make her highly sensitive, meaning she would become a sticky and panting mess by the end of it, every stroke or brush inside her body would be heightened considerably. And Seonghwa was rather curious to see how that would play out.

Finally, a rather large and thick tentacle sprung out, heading directly towards her opening. It contracted itself as it skimmed past her entrance, flowing smoothly thanks to the previous tentacles that had worked Y/N's core open and the pheromones he had induced into her. At first, nothing seemed to happen, then Y/N's mouth flew open as she felt the tentacle start expanding, bottoming out inside of her, forcing her stretched-out muscles to widen even more. Unable to resist the urge, she looked down, nearly wheezing as she looked at the tightly nestled tentacle inside of her, pulsing inside her slick covered borders. Just those small pulsing vibrations had her throwing her head back as more liquids seeped out of her. Feeling her arousal coating its skin, it seemed to rile up the large tentacle as it began pushing itself further until it reached the entrance of her cervix.

"Usually humanoids of my kind would place as many eggs can fit inside their surrogate's womb... But I don't wish to overwhelm you with that, especially since it's your first time." With a smug grin, Seonghwa stooped forward and placed a hand on top of her abdomen.

"So let's just try it with two."

The large tentacle began contracting once more, wriggling around as if trying to get something out. Y/N soon felt what it was as a smooth, round, and semi-hard object began pushing itself inside of her. The two smaller tentacles, which were still lodged on the sides of her walls, went back to pry her cervix open, allowing the egg easier access as it traveled through her tunnel and nestling itself inside her womb. Seonghwa watched proudly as her belly swelled up as soon as the egg lodged itself in her, fingers brushing against the oval outline bulging out of her skin.

"So pretty, so beautiful." He praised her, teeth tugging down at his bottom lip as a hidden tentacle had come out to rid him of his last article of clothing, stroking his hardened cock generously, the suction cups paying close attention to his leaking head.

"How are you feeling so far love?" Seonghwa wanted to make sure she was fine before proceeding.

Y/N fluttered her eyes open, soft pants spewing out her mouth.

"Please...more." That was all she could manage to mumble out.

Satisfied by her answer, the massive limb started wriggling once more, popping out another egg that scraped deliciously against the roof of her cave, journeying past her barriers and plopping next to the previous egg, joining it inside her womb. With slight embarrassment, Y/N cried out as another wave of pleasure poured out of her, hands wanting to cover her reddened face at the thought of so easily cumming by the mere thought of Seonghwa's eggs inside her while his tentacle continued throbbing inside her.

"Don't feel ashamed my love. I just so happen to enjoy watching your face contort with pleasure." His admittance only made her more sheepish and flustered.

"We're almost done, love. I just need to fertilize my eggs."

Y/N groaned loudly when the tentacle began moving, thrusting itself in and out, her previous juices seeping out every time it pulled out her body, creating a wet stain on the sheets underneath. Maybe it was her imagination, but Y/N swore she could feel the eggs move inside her, bouncing each time the tentacle pushed back inside her. The tendrils around her ankles and wrists tightened themselves, holding her steady as the tentacle started to plunge itself faster and deeper into her, twitching every so often, a sign it was getting ready to squirt into her womb.

Seonghwa was also enjoying the spectacle, watching closely as he was about to impregnate his darling surrogate, the tentacle wrapped around the shaft matching the movement the larger one was doing. He felt blessed to be able to feel both sensations at once, one being his cock stimulated while his tentacle had to endure Y/N's tightness clench unbearably around his slimy member. It was ecstasy for both of them, their grunts and moans echoing inside Seonghwa's room. Wanting her to experience the maximum pleasure he could offer, the tentacles laid out across her chest went back to their previous task of playing with her nipples, suckling on her tender flesh whilst the one between her legs toyed with her swollen clit. It was all so much for her that Y/N couldn't help it as her third orgasm of the night overtook her, this one more intense and prolonged by the endless amount of attention her body was receiving.

"Seonghwa!" She cried out, tears of over-stimulation brimming at the corners of her eyes.

Hearing her call out to him, Seonghwa himself hissed as the tentacle worked him over the edge, spurts of cum trickling down onto it as well as splattering onto the floor. The tentacle that was now coated with his cum moved towards Y/N's face, lightly tapping on her cheek. Turning to face it, she inhaled sharply and didn't hesitate to allow it to slide past her lips and wiggle inside her mouth. She moaned around the appendage, sucking on it, the sensations flowing back to Seonghwa's cock.

"Oh fuck." He exclaimed, the tentacle pushing itself on the back of her throat while the one between her legs rapidly moved to finish its final task.

Y/N's wailing was partially muffled by the tentacle stuffing her mouth, her body and mind spiraling out of control as she felt thick ropes of warm cum being gushed out of the tentacle and shooting straight into her womb. She could even feel her stomach swelling up even more by just the liquids being poured into her. It was enough to have her crying out once more, a state of euphoria clouding her mind as her 4th high shocked her senses, numbing everything except the feeling of the tentacles around and in her. Seonghwa himself didn't need further stimulation, cumming untouched for the second time when he finally finished breeding her, mouth drawing out long and labored breaths as he started to come down from his high.

Slowly, one by one the tentacles started pulling away from Y/N's body, disappearing back into Seonghwa's body. Both of them groaned deeply when the last tentacle pulled out of her agape hole, some of the leftover cum dribbling out onto the bed. Y/N felt so sore and so full, her hands reaching down to caress her now swollen stomach, surprised at how big it looked. She felt ready to pop at any moment. With utmost care, Seonghwa moved her further into the bed, helping her rest her head against one of the pillows and covering her up with the warm blanket. It wasn't long until she felt his body press up against hers, pulling her as close as was possible as one hand protectively wrapped around her belly.

"Thank you..."

She was so weary after that intense session that she could only mumble a barely audible 'huh?' at his words. Chuckling, Seonghwa pressed a kiss against her cheek.

"Thank you for carrying my babies. You have no idea how happy I am at this moment."

She could only manage to give out a faint smile at his words, fastly falling asleep when she felt him hum a soft tune against her ear.

"I'm so glad I chose you."

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[kyovtani]

mean dom hinata? explain away honey 👁👅👁

you guys- when i tell you the concept of hard dom hinata is one of my favorites- idek what it is about the thought of having sunshines like him, suga or yams go brutally at me but it just makes me pussy throb so here you go ✨

a/n: i got a little carried away so this is a little longer haha 😀

— cw: hard daddy dom!shoyo, heavy degradation, mocking, teasing and dumbification, pussy slapping, choking and brief mentions of breeding <33

hinata shoyo is not really one who's constantly in his hard dom mood. he's also not a soft dom per se, but for him to become the mean, merciless dom you love oh so much, it does take a little bit of work.

however, it always depends, who those guys are.

however, it always depends, who those guys are.

one thing hinata absolutely despises is when you visit him at practice, dressed in one of your tiniest little dresses and that one particular look on your face. he can tell the reason behind your little visit by the way you walk and talk once you've entered the gym him and his teammates spend most of their time in.

you visit him a lot, which he genuinely appreciates because he misses you a lot but can't really do anything about it because he has to practice to become an even better version of himself. however, when you come up to him with that smirk and certain kind of playful gleam in your eyes, he knows you're here to play your little games.

and then he just gets to watch the scene unfold.

you becoming incredibly handsy with atsumu and bokuto, two of his closest friends who, bless their hearts, simply can't hide the effect you have on them, especially if you're dressed like that. shoyo also calmly observes the way you talk to his captain, meian, the guy he looks up to, his mentor. he even finds it funny how you keep letting your hands graze over his big arms and even his abs, or laughing about his puns and jokes a little too much than you'd normally do.

in those moments, shoyo just smiles and calms himself down because he knows why you're acting like that. you've missed him and he hasn't had the time to give you the attention you deserve so you're here to get what you deserve.

even on the ride back home he does not say a word and that's when you know you've got him.

because the moment he steps through the door to your shared apartment, he slams it shut and wraps one of his big, calloused hands around your neck before he calmly pushes you against the wall.

and then, hinata just starts chuckling.

the sound of his deep laughter sends shivers of excitement and arousal down your spine and it feels like he's slowly setting your body on fire in a way only he's been able to.

he holds you like that for a good while, just giggling and shaking his head, meeting your desperate gaze every now and then as he applies more and more pressure on your delicate throat.

"you know what, puppy?", he begins, running a hand through his messy curls before he scratches the back of his undercut and then casually plays with the piercings in his ear.

"i actually enjoy these shows a lot", shoyo continues, his facial expressions slowly but surely hardening as he never once averts his gaze from yours all while his other hand pushes your tiny little dress all the way up your thighs, exposing your clothed cunt to the cold air of the hallway.

"all the fake giggles and compliments whenever my boys say something, honestly – it's actually quite cute. i know how much tsumu- and bo-kun enjoy your little visits and even shu-kun gets all flustered when you keep telling him just how 'big' he is", hinata explains, the smile on his plump lips slowly fading away as he pushes his thumb underneath the waistband of your panties and casually rips it with one firm tug, not even caring about the little painful gasp you let out when the fabric lightly cuts your skin.

you just look at him with parted lips, your arousal slowly dripping down your inner thighs and your cunt clenching in absolute disgusting despair the longer hinata stares at you.

"shoyo, i-", "shut the fuck up", hinata is quick to quiet you down, the playful gleam in his big eyes burning with a fire of anger in just the right way; you've finally gotten him exactly where you wanted him, "not only wasn't i done speaking yet, you were also not granted permission to say anything, pet. so you stay nice and quiet for me, hm?"

you start nodding softly, a soft whine escaping your lips when shoyo harshly pushes his thick thigh in between your legs, right against your dripping cunt. your eyes roll into the back of your head at the delicious feeling of his strong muscle underneath you; your clit throbbing almost painfully when you slowly start rocking your hips against him.

"look at how fucking desperate you are to have your stupid little pussy fucked", hinata grunts, a deep, empty chuckle falling pst his lips before he lets go of your throat and takes your chin into his big hand to have you meet his strong, alluring gaze, "it's disgustingly pathetic."

"o-only for you, daddy", you whisper and dig your fingers into his tiny waist, holding onto him as your hips move on their own, giving your little clit just the right amount of stimulation to esse some of the pressure on your cunt.

"oh, really? o-o-o-only f-for m-me? yeah?", hinata replies, his mocking of your words sending you into the sweetest haze of pleasure and you can't believe you're about to cum from basically nothing.

"didn't look like that to me when you were basically offering yourself to my boys", he hisses, suddenly pulling his whole body away from you and with a soft yelp, you let yourself fall onto your knees; desperately pressing your thighs together in hopes of getting your ruined orgasm back, only to fail miserably.

shoyo looks down to you, his rock hard cock straining against the soft material of his sweats and the thought of his weight on your tongue, you whimper softly.

"i don't fuck you for what? two days? and you forget what manners are. have i fucked you and your stupid little pussy so dumb already? because it seems like you're not doing any of the thinking anymore, hm? but i mean, how are you supposed to when cock is all you seem to think about all day", his words ring in your head, echoing sonloudly it feels like he just yelled them right into your ear.

you gulp harshly, your hands finding the fabric of his sweats as you make your way up to him; the thought of having him fill you to the brim with his cock as he says even meaner things to you clouding your mind in just the right way.

"p-please", you whisper and look up at him, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as the arousal becomes overwhelming and the radical need to have him inside of you takes over your mind, "please, daddy, i n-need you to fuck me."

you start placing soft little kisses on his clothed cock, your eyes never once leaving his strong gaze as you enjoy the feeling of his length underneath your lips knowing oh too well that he's going to take it away from you a lot sooner than you'd expect him to.

"tsk, how unfortunate that i don't need to fuck you. i'll just use my fist and watch you beg for it before i cum all over your dirty little cunt and call it a night", he hisses, pushing the messy strands of his hair out of his face before he moves out of your grip and walks towards the living room.

and just as you're about to get up on wobbly legs, hinata raises his big, tattoo clad hand snd turns his head to the side, before he mumbles a soft, "don't you fucking dare to get up. if you want to behave like a needy little pet, you're going to be treated like one. so, you better stay the fuck on all fours."

by the time you come to sit next to him on the floor, hinata just groans, pushing his sweats and boxer briefs down his thick thighs and revealing his fat, precum leaking cock to your hungry eyes.

"sit on the coffee table", he grunts, sitting down on the couch as he wraps his big hand around his throbbing length and slowly starts stroking himself.

you nod softly, moving to sit on the little table with your juices covering your inner thighs and continuously dripping down your legs and without missing a beat, you spread yourself open for hinata.

"fuck, you're dripping everywhere", he grunts at the sight of your sopping wet pussy all spread okt for him and his words easily have your hole clenching like crazy, making more of your juices drip down to your ass.

"all y-yours, daddy", you whimper, watching the way hinata slowly bucks his hip into his fist, his precum slowly finding its way down the back of his hand.

"of course you're all mine, you stupid little slut", hinata scoffs and even though you see the way he lifts his hand, the suddenness of the harsh spank on your pussy still takes your breath away and leaves you whining and whimpering as the pain slowly spreads in your veins, mixing with the pleasure and basically leaving you high.

"you and this pretty pussy belong to me, puppy", he spits and casually lands another spank on your drenched folds, a loud moan falling pst your lips as the tears stream down your temples and find their way into the coffee table.

"now cut the crybaby shit and get on top of me, show me you're worthy of my cock and i might actually breed you."

#haikyuu smut #hq!! smut #haikyū!! smut #hinata smut #hinata shoyo smut #haikyuu x female reader #haikyuu x reader #choking tw #degradation tw #dumbification tw #mocking tw #teasing tw #daddy tw

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Hello! Can you write something with female Y/N and Chishiya? She helped him with something and is injured after that. She fell or burn her back or hit her head, but pretends that nothing happened since she think he doesn't care and the injury it's getting worst by days, Chishiya didn't notice at first and he just don't understand why Y/N is not talking with him but lets it go, then the day of game comes and they both have to play and Y/N faints few hours before registration. He is panicking suddenly aware of his own feelings towards her and he is SO worried and feels guilty. I hope you can add a lot of angst but fluffy end? I'm sorry if this is messy, english is not my first language 😭 Thank you!

Of course! And don’t worry your English is great 😊 I hope you enjoy! ❤️

Panicked Confession | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya (ft. Kuina, Usagi, Ann, Hatter)

Summary: You get badly burnt while saving Chishiya in a game, but made sure he knew nothing about it. Just before leaving for the next game, you pass out and Chishiya finds you, causing him to panic

Warning: swearing, burn injury, vomiting, fainting

Word Count: 4.9k

*reader is female

“Shit! Guys come on!”

You, Chishiya, Kuina and Usagi rushed through the bottom floor of the building. Flames were curling in the air around each side of you, quickly closing in to eat you alive.

All four of you had almost completed the game, being the only players left after the last puzzle of the building. It was a diamond game, a game of intelligence. You were lucky to have been with Chishiya, as Diamonds games were his specialty.

You were all sprinting across the room, together in a tight pack so the flames don’t manage to touch you. You were panting, feeling your lungs collapsing in on themselves, but you had to press on. Only a few more steps before you could jump through the glass window at the end of the room, which was quickly being engulfed.

Suddenly, you saw Chishiya, who was running next to you, trip on a loose bit of debris laying on the ground inconveniently. You looked back and saw him holding his ankle in pain.

Of course, just your luck.

You all stopped abruptly, skidding along the floor and looking back to Chishiya in fear. He saw you all, his eyes widening.

“What are you doing?! Go!” he called out, wincing in pain.

You looked towards Kuina and Usagi, watching as thoughts spiraled around their heads to figure out what to do. The flame was too close behind Chishiya for it to be safe, if someone was to help him, they would have to risk their life doing so.

Both Kuina and Usagi shook their heads and looked away. They turned away from Chishiya and began jogging towards the window again. You froze. There’s no way they would just leave him like that.

“Guys!” You called out to them. They turned to you with fearful expressions painted on their face. “What are you doing?!” You asked, fear and worry dripping from your words. You had to make up your mind soon or you would be burned to a crisp.

Kuina motioned for you to come to her. “Y/N, there’s no time! We have to go!” you could tell she felt awful about this decision, but you weren’t giving up just yet.

You looked back at Chishiya laying on the ground. He was staring at you with a worried expression, wanting you to hurry up and leave him. You couldn’t leave a friend that easy to die. You had to at least try.

You let out a big sigh and lifted your aching legs to race towards Chishiya. He began yelling at you the moment you started running. “No, no, no! Go Y/N! What are you doing?!”

You ignored his shouting and quickly knelt down beside him to lift his arm around your shoulders. You weren’t going to lose anyone else, you promised yourself that after your friends died in the first game you played after appearing in the Borderlands.

Chishiya kept arguing and shaking his head as you tried to lift his body. He was surprisingly heavy for someone his size. “Y/N, go! There’s no time! You can’t save me!” he at screamed you, becoming more desperate with every plea.

You continued to ignore him and began dragging him along towards the window, where Kuina and Usagi were already working on breaking the glass with debris from around them. “You’re not going to off yourself that easily Chishiya as long as I have a say in it,” you rasped out, struggling to keep upright with the extra weight on your shoulders.

As your heart pounded in your ears and you felt the fire become hotter and hotter around you, you suddenly felt an incredibly sharp pain across your spine. The sensation spread all through your body, from your head to your toe, making you cry out and almost collapse to the ground, but you stayed strong.

Chishiya had given up arguing with you, using his good leg to take a bit of his body weight off your pained shoulders. With his help, you managed to move much quicker, limping and staggering your way towards Kuina and Usagi, who had broken the window and were now waiting for you to come, yelling at you to hurry up.

You didn’t look back; you didn’t want to see how close the flames were. You knew it would do nothing but make the situation worse.

As you neared the window, you slowed down as Kuina ran out to help you lift Chishiya up and out of the window. You were relying completely on adrenaline at that point, having lost all of your strength through running and carrying Chishiya.

You managed to lift yourself through the cracked window, earning a few cuts from the leftover glass on the way, and collapsed onto the grass ground below you. A large barrier from inside the room (probably manufactured for the games) closed over the destroyed window as you fell, being lucky to be the last out of the four of you to escape. The flames were locked in, unable to harm you.

The four of you laid on the grass, panting and trying to regain your breath. As your adrenaline calmed down, the pain of your large burn mark set in. You covered your face with your hand and silently screamed against it, trying to drown out the searing pain somehow. You couldn’t worry the others, not after what just happened.

**************

The next couple of days was nothing but a struggle for you. As soon as you arrived back from the game, you stumbled your way to Ann’s medical room. She took a closer look at your burn wound, applying whatever she had to try and reduce the chance of it getting infected. But unfortunately, that didn’t reduce the pain.

After allowing Ann to wrap a bandage around your upper back to protect the wound, you slowly made your way back to your room on the upper floor. You didn’t want to rush yourself in case you made your wound worse, so you took your time in getting there.

Unfortunately, it was a bit too much time, as you managed to bump into Chishiya who popped out from around the corner. A small panic raised within you; you didn’t want Chishiya to see you like this! It’s embarrassing enough to like someone you had no chance with, but for them to see you stumbling and holding onto the wall because you can’t even keep yourself up? No, not today.

You stood more upright than before, giving Chishiya your best fake smile. “Hey Y/N,” he said, walking past you. You breathed a sigh of relief. Well, that wasn’t too bad.

You started to walk again before you heard Chishiya call out from behind you. “Oh, wait Y/N!”

You turned around, biting your tongue so you didn’t let out a yelp of pain as the skin on your back twisted with your movements. “Yeah?” you acknowledged him.

He gave you a half-hearted smile. “Thanks again, for earlier. I would’ve been a goner if you hadn’t risked your life like that for me,” he said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. You’ve never seen him thank someone before, so you were shocked.

“Oh, it was no big deal! We should all help each other out, considering we haven’t really got anything else other than each other,” you said, smiling happily. You felt all giddy from him acknowledging the fact that you risked yourself for him.

“Yeah, but it was still pretty cool of you. Even Kuina and Usagi were willing to leave me there,” he chuckled as his own joke.

You laughed and shook your head at him. “I’m sure they were just doing what they thought was best for everyone else in the moment.”

Chishiya nodded and gave you a small wave. “I’ll see you tomorrow night then! Hatter let me know in the meeting this evening that you and I are together again. I’m glad though, because you seem to have the skill and brains to get through some tough games.”

You were flattered by his compliment. “Thanks, you too though! We would have burnt to a crisp if it weren’t for you during that diamond game tonight.”

The small talk was killing you. You just wanted to get back to your room and wallow in the silence that engulfed it. At least there, you could suffer from your burn wound a little louder than out in the public eye of The Beach.

Chishiya laughed at your statement. “No, I’m sure with you there it would’ve been fine,” he said back, making you smile wider.

“I’ll see you later then,” you exclaimed, waving a hand at him. He waved back with a grin on his attractive features before he turned around and continued down the hall with his hands tucked into their usual spot in his hoodie pockets.

You let out a big sigh of relief. That was close. You felt the pain seeping through your body the longer you stood there, hoping for Chishiya to just end the conversation. You felt guilty, it may have looked like you were trying to escape, since you were slowly backing towards the corner. Hopefully, he didn’t notice.

You stumbled the rest of the way towards your room, wincing and hissing in pain on the way. It felt like Ann didn’t do anything at all, but you couldn’t blame her. She had extremely limited resources and could only leave to search for more every few weeks.

When you finally made it to the door of your room, the familiar number engraved onto the middle of it, you gripped the handle and walked inside.

You collapsed onto your bed onto your stomach. There was no way you would be able to sleep on your back with this kind of pain, so you had to resort to either on your side or on your stomach.

Let’s just say, you had a restless sleep.

****************

You were hoping after a night’s sleep that the pain from your back would have disappeared at least a little bit. But you couldn’t have been more wrong. If anything, it had become worse. You probably managed to roll onto it a few times during the night, reopening any part of the wound that had sealed up over the time you’ve had it.

It took you far too long to get out of bed in the morning. You groaned and moaned in frustration as you crawled your way out of the duvet, almost collapsing off your bed. You felt rather pathetic, but who wouldn’t after not being able to do the simplest of tasks from a wound.

As you were walking to your closet to look for something to wear, you remembered you had to go see Ann again that morning. She had told you last night to return to her medical room the next morning so she could reapply a new bandage onto you, in case the other one gets bacteria or blood on it during the night somehow.

You quickly put on your usual swimmers to wear around the hotel and the black hoodie that you wore most of the time when you got cold. You didn’t want to risk anyone else seeing your wound. The gaping burn mark across your upper back was bound to attract unwanted attention.

You made your way down the hall to go see Ann again. There was nobody in the halls around the rooms due to it being close to noon. You slept in longer than you expected.

You slowly walked down the couple of flights of stairs, making your way to Ann’s medical room on the lower floor. The walk down to the lobby felt longer at that moment than it ever had.

You approached the door with the red cross along the front of it, indicating the medical room. You were about to lift your hand to turn the doorknob before you heard a loud voice yell from further down the corridor.

You shifted your eyes and saw none other than Chishiya striding down the hallway with his usual cocky smirk painted across his face. Of course, you had to run into him out of all people.

“Y/N! Wait!” he yelled as he jogged up to you.

You stayed silent, waiting to hear what he had to say. You wanted to ignore him and just walk into the medical room to see Ann to avoid any kind of questioning or suspicion from him, but you knew that would only make him more curious.

“Hey, you alright?” he frowned, questioning you. He reached out to place a gentle hand on your forearm, but you flinched away before he could touch you.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you answered, trying to sound normal. The piercing feeling that your wound brought you began to make its way around your body again, making you slightly shift and shake. ‘Of course, it just has its moment while I’m talking to the one person that I don’t want to look like a weakling in front of,’ you thought to yourself in your head.

Chishiya frowned at your flinch, but seemed to shake it off quickly, moving onto something else. “So anyway, where were you this morning?” he asked, leaning closer to you.

“I-I was in my room. I had a late sleep in,” you said, gripping the doorknob to the medical room.

“Oh, weird. Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?” he said with a smirk on his face.

‘Oh shit, he’s mocking my bad memory,” you thought, feeling embarrassed.

“Um… no? Should I?”

“You, Kuina, Alice, Usagi and I were going to meet up this morning to steal some food from the kitchen and take it to the rooftop. You didn’t show up near the pool where we said we were going to meet!” he exclaimed. He was laughing, obviously not caring too much about your forgetfulness.

You thought for a second. You did recall having that conversation. You guessed that you forgot about it because you were so focused on trying to reduce the pain from your burn. Even if you did remember, as if you would’ve been able to run away from the chefs in the kitchen after taking the food with this injury.

“Me and Kuina even knocked on your door. You must have been really knocked out if you didn’t wake up from Kuina’s loud yelling.”

He then raised his eyebrow and smirked. “Unless you were hiding from me?”

Your could tell he was obviously joking, but he wasn’t far off from being right. That has been your intention since last night, but trust Chishiya to figure you out quickly enough.

You heart rate picked up from his accurate accusation. “Uh, sorry Chishiya, but I really have to go,” you mumbled out, giving him a quick fake smile before walking into the medical room and closing the door behind you.

Chishiya’s mischievous smirk fell from his face. You didn’t even give him a chance to say goodbye, and you seemed oddly nervous from his accusation that you were avoiding him. He felt somewhat hurt. Were you trying to avoid him?

He shook off his suspicions and continued down the corridor to the lobby to find something to entertain him for the meantime. You wouldn’t try to avoid him, would you? Perhaps he’ll confront you about it later.

*************

You were laying in your room reading a book when you heard the usual ring of the bell that was Hatter’s signal for everyone to move down to the lobby to prepare for the night’s games.

“Shit! Is it that late already?” you asked no one, glancing over at the digital clock on your nightstand.

You panicked and saw it was the time that you would head out to games. You said to yourself earlier that you would give yourself an early mark so you could get down there at the right time, considering you would be slow due to your condition, but you got distracted by your book and lost track of time.

You rushed to your feet a little too quickly for your body’s liking, causing the pain of your wound to shoot across your back without mercy, making you yelp in pain and fall forwards.

You managed to catch yourself before you face planted into the ground. You let out a few deep breaths, trying to regain your strength while the piercing pain became worse from your insistence.

You pushed yourself off the ground, placing your foot underneath you and attempting to stand to your feet. You had to make it to the cars at least, you knew if anyone found you at The Beach during game time, they would mark you a coward, or worse: a traitor.

You cursed under your breath and let out pained sobs as you tried to get to your feet again. But unfortunately, your body just wasn’t on your side at that moment.

Your feet gave out underneath you and your head pounded, causing you to feel dizzy and suddenly nauseated. You leant forwards as you emptied the contents of your stomach out onto the floor, gagging on the taste of it in the back of your throat.

Your eyes began to feel heavy, not being able to take the pain and stress you were under. You managed to roll yourself to the side so you wouldn’t land in the pile of vomit and lay yourself across the floor safely before you face planted.

“Fuck,” you rasped out, feeling helpless at that moment.

You couldn’t do anything as your vision narrowed, passing out from pain on the floor of your own room, no one around to help you.

*************

“Hello again everyone! I would like to say a few words before we all get into our groups and drive to our games!”

Hatter’s usual booming voice thrusted across the crowd in front of him. Another night, another gathering. Just like every other day.

Chishiya stood at his usual spot in the back, leaning against the cement wall and rolling his eyes at Hatter’s words. He never seemed to have anything useful to say. Just some preachy words that created false hope.

‘How about for a change, he gave us some advice? It would probably spare some people a few headaches,’ Chishiya thought to himself.

He stood on his toes and tried to search the crowd for the top of your head. He was becoming anxious. You would usually be down in the lobby by now.

He was more nervous due to the way you’ve been acting all day. Usually, you two were joined at the hip twenty-four seven, but the only time he saw you that day was in the morning when you walked into the medical room.

He wondered why you were going in there. You never went to Ann unless it was for something drastic, but you seemed completely healthy and unharmed.

As the time ticked on, Chishiya became more and more worried. You would never skip out on a game; you were too afraid of being caught by the executives for that.

Hatter finished off his nightly speech with the list of groups and which number wristbands go where. Chishiya didn’t even care to pay attention as everyone began making their way towards the entrance of the hotel where they would pile into the cars and drive off to the games. He ran the opposite way, clambering up the flights of stairs to reach the level your room is on. If you had to be anywhere, it would be there.

He powered his legs into a sprint, having to brush his white locks out of his face once or twice due to them getting in the way. He eventually arrived at your room, stopping and panting to regain his breath.

He knocked on your door quietly at first, not knowing if you were asleep or something. “Y/N?” he called out through the door. “We need to head off to the games. Did you not hear the bell?”

When he received nothing but silence as an answer, he took it upon himself to walk in to see if you were there. He opened the door and peeked his head around the side, being careful in case you were indecent for some reason.

As he walked in further, his heart dropped as he saw you laying on the ground passed out.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, rushing over to your body and kneeling beside you. He lifted your head onto his lap gently and immediately checked your neck for a pulse. A small feeling of relief flowed through him when he felt the beat of your heart on his fingers.

“Oh my god Y/N, what’s happened to you?” he stressed, tapping your cheek with his hand to see if you would wake. He was beginning to become more worried as time ticked on. He glanced over at the clock on your nightstand and saw that it was getting later. He had to wake you up before registration closed for all the games.

He lifted you up from under your arms, using all his strength to pull you into your small bathroom. He placed you gently on the tiled floor, stuffing a towel underneath your head for support. He quickly shifted your body around, trying to look for any source of injury that caused you to pass out. He froze when he noticed a few stains of blood on the back of your hoodie. He quickly lifted the hem of your shirt to see what was causing the stains.

His eyes almost popped out of his head from the sight. He gasped at the huge burn wound on your back, stretching across from your shoulder blades to your waist. The bandage that Ann had wrapped around it had come loose, hanging off your abdomen carelessly. His heart filled with guilt as he examined it more closely. Why didn’t he look after you?

He immediately put two and two together and realized that you had probably passed out from the pain of the burn mark.

He stood up from his position on the floor and grabbed a small cloth from your towel rack, running it under the water from the tap. He knelt back down next to you and carefully placed the wet fabric against your wound. He was so afraid of hurting you, but he had to do what he could to make you better for the game.

“Oh, come on, please wake up Y/N,” he breathed out. Stress and anxiety filled his tone, making the air more tense.

“Please wake up, please be okay. I love you, please don’t die Y/N,” he suddenly felt small tears gathering in his eyes as he stood up quickly to refresh the cloth that he was using to clean the burn.

He felt his hidden feelings begin to pour out of his mouth. He couldn’t handle the strain seeing you like this was having on his emotions.

He brought the cloth back, but this time he turned you over slightly so he could place it on your face. Your eyes were still shut tightly, not showing any indication of opening.

Chishiya ran the fingers of his other hand along your cheek, tapping softly on your skin, hoping that you would wake up from the physical contact. He felt desperate. He has never felt this helpless before, not even in games.

He allowed his few tears to fall down his cheek, lifting your head and pressing his forehead against yours. “Please wake up, we have to go. Just wake up and I’ll take care of you,” he mumbled out with shaky breaths.

He didn’t know what else to do. He could do nothing but hope.

A few minutes passed with Chishiya just holding you and pressing the cold cloth onto your face, trying to make you open your eyes. And eventually you did.

Chishiya breathed in a huge sigh of relief when he saw your eyes flutter open slowly, dazed and confused. He smiled and kept the cloth pressed to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb.

“Oh, thank god,” he breathed out, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and bringing you into his chest for a close hug. You groaned loudly at the contact as Chishiya accidentally placed his hand on your wound.

“Chishiya, be careful,” you rasped out against his chest. He flinched away immediately and apologized.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, lifting you up under your arms again. You groaned, not being able to stand up on your own yet. Chishiya kept you close to his chest as you leant against him.

He managed to clean you up with you leaning most of your body weight on him. He helped you wash out your mouth and clean your teeth to get rid of the taste of vomit and reapplied the bandage that had fallen off your wound. He did it all with such care and concern, being afraid of hurting you or overwhelming you with anything.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the games?” you asked after you had finished rinsing your face.

“I noticed you weren’t at the lobby when Hatter called everyone, so I ran to your room and found you,” he answered, fixing your hoodie on your back from when he had to lift it to clean your injury.

“So, everyone’s gone?” you asked with a worried expression. Chishiya nodded, leaning on the sink next to you to check your face to see if you were alright.

“But if they find us, they’ll mark us as traitors!” you exclaimed, fear filling your head.

Chishiya placed his index finger on your lips to shush you. “Shh, only if they can hear us. We can just stay in here and be quiet, and hopefully no one suspects that we’re missing,” he said, smiling to calm you down.

You searched his eyes for any uncertainty but chose to let it go and just listen to him. “Okay.”

You both sat side by side on the floor of your small bathroom, Chishiya running his hand up and down your arm to keep your anxiety away. After a while of comfortable silence, you spoke up.

“Thanks, Chishiya, for helping me. If it weren’t for you, I’d still be lying on the ground next to a pile of my own puke,” you laughed at yourself.

Chishiya giggled. “It’s okay. I care about you Y/N, I couldn’t just leave you there.”

You looked at him with sparkling eyes, being taken back by his statement. “Really?” you asked, not believing him.

He smiled lovingly and caressed your cheek with his fingers. “Of course, I’d do anything if it was to help you.”

You thought you would have a cute moment together, but that flew out the window when Chishiya slapped you lightly across the cheek. Not enough to hurt you, but enough to bring a shocked expression onto your face.

“But next time, tell me when you’re hurt instead of trying to hide it from me like an idiot! You really think you’d be able to hide something like this from me?” he scolded you like a mother, but you giggled at his reaction.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you next time. Why did I ever think I could keep something from someone with an intelligent mind like yours,” you teased, leaning closer to his face.

Chishiya raised his eyebrows. “Hm, thanks, I guess? Not sure if that was a compliment or if you’re poking fun at me.”

You chuckled. “Take it however you want,” you whispered. You finally closed to space between you, allowing your lips to clash against his. Chishiya let out a shocked sound, but quickly melted against you and accepted your kiss.

You both sat on the floor of your bathroom, moving your mouths together while Chishiya tried hard to place his hands on you without touching your burn mark. You appreciated his care, but he ended up having to awkwardly place them on your upper arms, rubbing up and down them slowly.

You pulled away first, making Chishiya chase your lips as you moved away, making you giggle. “There’s my thank you gift,” you said cheekily, leaning away from him and back into your seating position.

Chishiya pouted at you. “That’s it? That was barely a kiss!” he argued, trying to move closer to you, wanting more of your affection.

“Chishiya, your tongue was in my mouth. I think that clarifies as a kiss,” you stated, placing your hand on his mouth and pushing him away gently. “Maybe let down that tough guy persona more often and take care of me, maybe then you’ll get more kisses.”

Chishiya leaned back and frowned. “Fine, but don’t expect this to be the norm now. I’m not going to let you control my personality just for a bit of affection.”

Well, that was a lie.

Author’s Note: Every Chishiya fanfic I’ve written has had some sort of angsty moment in it 😂 this man is going through it

#alice in borderland #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland imagines #alice in borderland scenarios #alice in borderland one shots #alice in borderland x reader #aib #aib imagine #aib imagines #aib scenarios #aib one shots #aib x reader #chishiya #chishiya imagine #chishiya imagines #chishiya scenarios #chishiya one shots #chishiya x reader #shuntaro chishiya #shuntaro chishiya imagines #shuntaro chishiya x reader

[calumxkisses]

Sweet Creature | c.h.

pairing: calum hood x reader

genre: angst to fluff

warnings: i think implied smut?

summary: request - Heeyyy, can you do one, where they have a big fight and they are in quarentine, and they stop talking to each other, and the sleep in different rooms, with cal... kiss from brazil 🇧🇷

a/n: this is one of my favorite song! let me know what you think about it! i hope you enjoyed it ;)

you should read this imagine while listening to: sweet creature

➳

“What the hell is wrong with you?” a scream comes out of your lungs. Your face has turned red, your head hurts and you feel your heart pounding. Your throat is now dry and you feel your nails sticking into the palm of your hand.

What Calum notices, however, are the tears running down your face and the pain behind your eyes. What hurts him the most, though, is knowing he is the cause of your pain. He would like to hug you, tell you that he is sorry, that he loves you and that he doesn't even remember why you are fighting, but his pride prevents him from being the person he would like to be. The person you are in love with.

“All you do is whine.” he screams out, rolling his eyes and letting out a snort.

This discussion was the straw that broke the camel's back, filled by being forced to stay at home, by a canceled tour and canceled parties but, above all, by the concern of a world that is in chaos, with a fatal virus that spreads like wildfire.

He is worried, he feels the burden of not having to disappoint anyone, of being a good person who says the right things, of being a child who cares about their parents who live on the other side of the world and cannot go to visit, reassure, and that he can only see through a mobile phone screen.

“I have a right to be angry, you know that, right?” Your voice calms down a bit, but anger still runs through your veins. You walk up and down the room, with one hand on your forehead and being careful not to step on the broken glass of the fallen vase.

Calum has spent the last few weeks in the studio, out in the garden practicing, or locked in a room, anywhere but with you. He preferred to wake up early and go to sleep late, feel cold instead of holding you and skipping meals to avoid being with you.

For the first time in days, you get a good look at him: his hair has grown, as has the beard surrounding his face, he has terrible dark circles and the vein on his neck comes out prosperous, underlining how much he is screaming.

You felt abandoned, alone, left on the sidelines, and your feelings were amplified by the impossibility of going to someone, just to escape from that situation, to be held by someone else or just to talk over a coffee with a friend.

The only thing you could have done, was to ask him why, what you had done to deserve such treatment, and to spend some time together. And that’s where the scream started.

Tears roll down your face and you run your hand under your eyes to wipe them away. If you didn't notice them before, now the pinch caused by their wake has become hard to ignore.

“Are you going to cry now? God, you’re making me regret being with you. I really wish you weren’t born.”

Calum feels the pain it caused you before even reading the expression on your face. He puts his hand in front of his mouth in hopes of being able to block the words, but they have already left his lips and have come straight into your ears, getting stuck under your skin and breaking even the last pieces of the broken heart you have left.

His words hit you like a bolt from the blue. Arguing often leads to saying unthinkable words and among all the things you've been yelling at each other in the last hour, some bad words have certainly escaped, but nothing so terrible.

You feel a pain in your chest never felt before, deep and intense, and even the tears stop flowing. You inhale deeply, seeking relief in a breath of air and waiting for your body to react in any way, all is better than feeling full of pain. The room starts spinning, your head feels full and empty at the same time, and your legs struggle to bear the weight of your body.

Calum carefully scans your face, looking for any reaction from you to understand how much your mind has absorbed his words. His stress, his worries have led him to be a different person and the fear that you may leave him has terrified him, but his insecurities have done the opposite of what one expects, making he walk away from you and treating you coldly, and now he fears that he is really on the verge of being alone, with his broken heart in his hands, ready to mend every wound himself.

You didn’t deserve this.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not with you.” You whisper, lifting your face and looking him straight in the eye. The words he used, the coldness of his tones and the loneliness in which he left you have piled on top of each other on your chest, making it difficult for you to even breathe. You need time, space, whatever helps you figure out what to do.

“What do you mean?” He asks in a shaky voice. His eyes are glossy, his hands are shaking and his face has lost color. His heart carries so much goodness and you know it wasn't his intention to hurt you, but his words were like stab wounds and you need to take care of them now.

You don't want to leave, and not because you can't take a plane, but because Calum means too much to you and leaving is not an option to consider. If it ever ends up between you, after all you've been through, it should be in a more dignified way and not because of a stupid fight and insincere words.

“I’m going to sleep in the guest room for a while and then we’ll see what to do.” Is all you can say and all you can do.

“So you’re not leaving?”

“I don’t think so, at least not now.”

Silence.

And that silence means everything and nothing.

You pick up the pieces of your shattered heart and, after casting one last look at the boy in front of you, you take refuge in a room that doesn't belong to you. The air in the guest room is different, you can't breathe the love that characterizes every corner of yours and Calum's and even the sheets seem different, cold, painful. You put a hand through your hair and lean on the door, slowly sliding towards the floor and letting go of your frustration.

Calum closes his eyes and puts his hands to his face as his body slumps onto the sofa behind him. The house reigns in silence, the only audible sound is your sobs in another room and, before he knows it, he starts crying too. He doesn't care about wiping his face or stopping the moans that come out of his mouth, he deserves to feel awful and humiliate himself like that, the guilt is devouring him and he just thinks about how he wishes he could disappear, to make your life easier.

When you first met, he knew you were the right person from the first look you gave him. Behind your eyes, deep in the irises, there was a whole world, made of kindness, love and joy. You had your demons, but the strength you emanated made it clear that you were able to overcome them, even without knowing it. A world that he wanted to discover, with delicacy and patience, and in which he wanted to live.

But what he feared most was bringing darkness into the light you emanated, turning your smiles into tears and your heart into a mass of sharp pieces.

He had told you, while you were eating some heated pizza on a rainy morning, your legs were on his and your face on his shoulder. And you had caressed his face, wiping away the dirt on his lip with your thumb, assuring him that you would have love him anyway and that you would have happily shared some of your light, and then you had kissed him, and that kiss tasted like tomato sauce and love, a combination you still love with all your heart.

And now, the only thing he can do, besides pitying himself, is wondering if you're regretting sharing your joy with him, if you'd rather stay full of light instead of welcoming his demons. And he fears your answer is yes.

Duke rubs his face on his leg, asking for scratches but also showing his affection. He doesn't know what happened and Calum wonders if the dog, who loves you more than any other person has crossed the threshold of your home, would look at him differently knowing that he broke the heart of the person he loves most.

If so, as his mind is trying to convince him, he couldn't handle it. He would not be able to live knowing that he has let down another being he cares about. Because he cares about you, but it is difficult for him to show it, the fear of rejection is stronger than he would like.

So, he lowers himself a little and gently strokes the dog, hoping to be able to receive that affection he is so afraid of losing.

As Calum's world shatters before his eyes, you take care to gently reassemble what's left of yours. You're still on the floor, getting up takes too much energy and a motivation that you can't find.

How you feel about the guy down the hall cannot be described in words, there is no way to describe what his gaze makes you feel, the way his words reassure you or how his love warms your heart up. It just works like this. Your love does not need big gestures or difficult words and never like now, it is better to absorb the silence and be lulled by the air.

Perhaps it would have been better to remain silent, let the cold of his words slip on you and learn to live in the loneliness in which he left you, but you couldn't go on like this. Not fighting would have meant not caring about him or your relationship and that's exactly the opposite of how things are. He had to know how you felt and what you were missing.

The sweet sound of his voice or the warmth of his skin are essential for you, not only on a love level, but in the daily routine of your life. A routine that had changed, which was no longer full of joy and smiles, light and perfume, but of demons that wandered undeterred around the walls of your home, ready to bring the cold into your souls.

And that routine, once full of love, was now non-existent. No more words had been said between you, no meal had been eaten together and your bed had forgotten what love meant. The stars, ever present witnesses of the passion that surrounded your bodies, were now always absent, covered by gray clouds and black skies. Even the moon, which guards all lovers, shone with a paler and more blurred light.

The moon gave way to the sun, the grass grew and the days alternated on the calendar. And yet, it seemed to you that you were still still that afternoon. Sure, breathing had become less difficult and the tears had stopped flowing on your face, but even in the middle of spring the coldness brought chills on your body.

You have no idea what he is doing, occasionally you see the shadow of his shoes behind the door of the guest room or you hear broken melodies coming from the studio, but his face becomes more and more unknown.

You spend your days studying, working, playing with Duke or reading your favorite books. You wake up late and go to sleep early, hoping to feel less lonely.

The truth, however, is that you miss him immensely, like water in the desert or milk after eating spicy food. You need to be able to get lost in his eyes or just hold his hand. The headache meds don't work like his kisses on your forehead, and no number of blankets could bring you the same warmth that a hug from him gives off.

You feel so pathetic to need him by your side, but after so many years of loneliness, he was able to convince you that you were worthy of being loved just like everyone else and, specifically, that he would love you more than anyone else. And he had done it, always and anyway, for the sake of the joyful news and the bad of your depression, he had always been there, ready to show you that you were worth it.

He wants to do it, he wants to continue to hold you and to tell you how beautiful you are, how honored he feels to be the keeper of your heart and the champion of your love, but he believes that no apology would bring serenity to your sky.

What is he supposed to do? No words would express the humiliation he feels whenever he thinks back to your fight and his behavior, no hug or kiss would bring love into your broken heart.

He spent his nights awake, the insomnia caused by his thoughts was making it impossible for him to live. The table seemed too big and the bed too uncomfortable, the bass was always out of tune even as he spent hours adjusting its strings and no melody seemed catchy enough to lift your mood in the other room. He knew that when you were sick, listening to him play brought some peace to your troubled world, but now no sound would chase the bad weather away.

None of his gestures would be enough to show how bad he feels. Nothing can express the pain he feels and the regret of his words.

However, 3 years of relationship is enough for him to know what makes you smile. There is one song in particular, in the immense repertoire that is your music library, that you love to hum and listen to when the silence is too loud.

So, wearing his best shirt and trying to fix the clump of his hair, he sits down at the piano in the living room and, after taking a deep breath, he tries to voice his thoughts.

Sweet creature

Had another talk about where it's going wrong

But we're still young

We don't know where we're going

But we know where we belong

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

It's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

As you put down your favorite book after reading it again, Calum's sweet, broken voice spreads throughout the house, bringing a sense of comfort to your heart. You can hear the pain behind his voice, and even though you know your wounds will take some time to heal, the words he screamed at you lose their value. One part of you is still angry but the other, curious and in love, wastes no time getting you out of bed and walking towards the room.

The piano overlooks the garden, the sun shines above and illuminates all the plants. Duke is chasing a butterfly, its tail wags quickly and some leaves are stuck in its fur. Calum has his back to you, his back leaning slightly forward as he looks outward, but his mind wanders somewhere else.

You lean on the door jamb that separates the two rooms and close your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the music and breathing regularly, giving your body respite from all the accumulated stress.

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

Sweet creature

We're running through the garden

Oh, where nothing bothered us

But we're still young

I always think about you and how we don't speak enough

Calum watches the garden as the lyrics of the song automatically come out of his mouth. He was never good at playing the piano but, during the nights spent away from you over the years, he promised himself to learn all your favorite songs so he could sing them to you whenever you needed them.

And while Duke rolls around in the grass, he can't help but think about the thousand picnics you had on that same lawn, the laughter you shared and all those moments when he always fell in love a little more looking at you.

And even if the song doesn't belong to him, he can still feel every single word and a small tear falls down his face.

And oh we started

Two hearts in one home

I know, it's hard when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You take a few steps forward and, after taking a deep sigh, sit next to him. Calum winces at the contact but his face turns into a big smile after seeing you. He doesn't know if you're still mad at him or if his singing worked, but being able to see you again after so many days spent in agony brings a sense of peace to his messed up world. He knows that this song is not enough, that he will have to prove a lot more to you - even if you will probably forbid it - but knowing that he has you there, frees him from a weight that he carried inside.

And as usual, there is no need for words, he just needs to feel your head resting on his shoulder to know that you have come back to him. And when your hands touch his, he feels at home again.

Almost automatically, your hands begin to move to the rhythm of the music and your fingers touch the keys of the piano, accompanying Calum in the melody, just as he taught you.

Duke is rolling in the grass, the butterfly now forgotten, and his happy face is illuminated by the sun. It seems that the sky has returned to shine too, not just your eyes, and the pieces of the puzzle fit together perfectly again.

I know when we started

Just two hearts in one home

It gets harder when we argue

We're both stubborn

I know, but oh

Sweet creature, sweet creature

Wherever I go, you bring me home

Sweet creature, sweet creature

When I run out of road, you bring me home

You'll bring me home

There was no need to talk to him, or to explain, risking losing you was necessary for him to understand that something was wrong, that he had to find the right path, that you can risk skidding, the important thing is getting back on track.

“I am grateful to your mother for bringing you into the world, but even more grateful to you for being a part of my life. I'm sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. I love you and I always will.” He whispers, placing his hands on his thighs, as soon as he finishes singing the last words. His words are sincere, you can perceive the displeasure behind his tone and you know he believes what he says.

He kisses you on the forehead and, taking your hand in his and squeezing it, he rests his face on your head, closing his eyes and absorbing the silence, a cautious silence, full of peace and fresh air.

“I love you too.” You whisper back, closing your eyes in turn and letting yourself be lulled by the peace and serenity found. You know that everything will be fine, that even if you’ll have other fights, you will always find a way to get back to each other.

-

#calum hood #calum hood imagine #calum hood imagines #calum imagine #calum x reader #calum hood x you #calum 5 seconds of summer #calum hood x reader #5 seconds of summer #5sos imagine #5sos imagines #ashton 5 seconds of summer #luke 5 seconds of summer #michael 5 seconds of summer #calum 5sos

[arrowflier]

I'd like to see Ian and Mickey celebrating their 20th anniversary? Being all mature and grown up and realising how lucky they are they're still in love after all those years x

Mickey woke up to a weight over his back, pushing him down into the soft pillow-top mattress. Lips touched the back of his neck, warm and dry, Ian’s breath raising goosebumps on his skin.

“Mmm,” Mickey hummed, rubbing his smile into the pillow. “Good morning, Mr. Milkovich.”

Ian chuckled, a gentle huff of air that moved the hairs on the back of Mickey’s head.

“Good morning to you, Mr. Gallagher,” he murmured back, voice husky from sleep, lips brushing down to Mickey’s shoulder. He pulled the strap of Mickey’s tank top to the side, pressed a kiss to the pale skin it revealed.

“Happy Anniversary, Mick,” he said, kissing it into Mickey’s body. Mickey arched back against him, getting a hand up to hold Ian’s where it still rested on his shoulder.

“Twenty fucking years,” Mickey said proudly, and pushed back until Ian rolled over, letting Mickey do the same.

He moved from stomach to side to back, letting Ian settle back in on top of him once they were face to face. Ian’s bare chest was warm through Mickey’s own shirt.

“Long time, man,” Mickey said softly, reaching up to card gentle fingers through Ian’s hair. It glimmered red in the faint sunlight coming through the curtains, shot through with a few paler streaks that Ian swore were blond, not grey.

“And longer to come,” Ian promised, his smile bright and sleepily content.

They lay there for a moment, watching each other blink, watching each other breathe. Then Ian sighed, and lowered his head, capturing Mickey’s lips in their first real kiss of the morning.

It tasted terrible, but they were long past the days of caring about stale morning breath. The innocent slide of mouths gave way to sucking kisses, chapped lips pulled gently between teeth, soothed with tongues. Ian pulled back with a wet sound, moved his mouth up Mickey’s jaw, and pressed searching lips to the space just under his ear.

Mickey hummed, eyes slipping closed at the warmth of the sensation. The bed was soft under him, Ian comfortable over him, and he wanted nothing more than to live in that moment forever.

Or at least for a little while longer.

Ian had other plans.

“Ready for your present?” he breathed into Mickey’s ear, biting the lobe as Mickey shivered.

“Never thought I’d say this,” Mickey muttered as Ian traced his tongue down the side of his neck, “but I think I’d rather go back to sleep for a bit.”

Ian laughed, burying his face in Mickey’s shoulder, breath cooling the trail his mouth had left.

“I don’t blame you,” he admitted easily, rolling off of Mickey again to lay at his side instead. His arm crossed Mickey’s chest, hand secure around his bicep. “Last night was a mess; I’m ready to sleep for a week.”

“Remind me never to let your daughter go to a concert again,” Mickey said plaintively, turning his head to face Ian’s on the pillow. “I don’t care if we’re supposed to be her safe space or what-the-fuck-ever, picking up a bunch of drink teenagers in the middle of the night is not my idea of a good time.”

“Please,” Ian said, “Like you’d ever tell your daughter no.”

Fair enough.

“But regardless,” Ian continued, “we don’t have too long before the girls are up, and I wanted to give you your present in peace.”

“Fine,” Mickey grumbled, putting on a show of being disappointed. He rolled onto his side, reaching for the drawer of the bedside table, but Ian whacked his hand before he could open it.

“Thought you wanted to give me my present?” Mickey asked, eyebrows raised, but Ian shook his head.

“Not that kind of present, you dolt,” he laughed. “We can do that later, once we have the house to ourselves.”

Ian’s face softened as he bit his lip, eyes darting away from Mickey’s for a brief moment before coming back.

“I, uh,” he said, scratching his chin. “I kinda got you something else.”

“We said we weren’t buying shit, Ian,” Mickey pointed out. “Between tuition and fuckin’ club dues, we ain’t got a lot to spare right now.”

“I know, but…” Ian shrugged. “We had enough for this.”

He leaned over, reaching long arms under the bed, squirming until he found what he was feeling for. With a twist of his shoulders, he was back up on the bed and tossing a small box at Mickey without aiming.

Mickey fumbled it, then snatched it back off the sheets before Ian could see. He turned it in his hands, suspicious, but the twitch of his lips gave him away.

“Go on, open it,” Ian encouraged, scooting closer. “I think you’ll like it.”

Mickey did, untying the tiny bow and lifting the lid off the box with no fuss.

“I went with the modern theme,” Ian told him as he looked inside. “Platinum. Thought that fit us a little better than fine china.”

Mickey didn’t answer, eyes caught on the glint of metal peeking out from under a scrap of cheap tissue paper.

“It’s supposed to represent how strong we are, together,” Ian said as Mickey lifted his gift out of the box, turning it over in his hands. “That we’ve made it this far, overcome shit.” His eyes were on Mickey’s hands. “That we’re still here to stay.”

Mickey held his gift up toward the window, letting the light reflect off the silver surface. Just a keychain, a little metal charm in the shape of a record dangling from a short chain. The word “Always” was engraved along the top curve, and at the bottom, the date of their wedding.

“It’s not really platinum, obviously,” Ian said, twisting the sheet between his fingers. “I couldn’t afford that even if I—”

“Ian,” Mickey cut him off. “Shut up. I love it.”

When their eyes met, Ian was beaming.

“C’mere, you sappy idiot,” Mickey ordered with his own broad grin, and Ian met him with a single, lingering kiss.

Mickey pulled away before it could become anything more.

“Got you somethin’ to,” he said, watching Ian’s eyes from inches away. “’Cept I figured you were the traditional sort, so…” He shrugged. “Guess what you get?”

“Sex?” Ian joked, and Mickey rolled his eyes, standing up and swinging his legs out of bed.

“Not quite,” he answered dryly, opening their closet door and fishing through the dirty clothes on the floor inside. He lifted a much larger box with a muffled oomph, and carried it over to the bed, where he let it fall a bit on heavily onto the mattress in front of Ian.

“Go on,” he started, but Ian hadn’t waited anyway, already tearing off the paper with eager fingers.

“Jeez, you’re like a fuckin’ kid on Christmas,” Mickey laughed, and Ian stuck out his tongue as he pried the cardboard box open.

Ian paused as the contents were revealed, the pushed aside bubble wrap and packing paper to lift out a single, dessert-sized plate.

It was fragile and white, plain in the center, with bursts of blue and pink along the outer, silver-plated edge. The colors swirled together into petals, shaped like—

“Stargazer lilies,” Ian breathed, and his eyes were wet when he lifted them. “Mickey, they’re beautiful.”

“Yeah, well,” Mickey hedged, sitting on the edge of the bed. “So are you, you soft fucker.”

Ian’s breath caught.

“Not the same theme as yours,” Mickey said, gesturing to the plate with a hand that still held his own gift. “But the ideas kind of the same, you know?”

He reached out, took the plate from Ian’s hands.

“You said the platinum was for strength; well this shit’s pretty fragile,” he continued. “But it stays good if you take care of it.” He looked up at Ian. “And we take pretty damn good care of each other.”

“You know that stuff’s not gonna last in this house,” Ian pointed out, voice choked. “We might take care of each other, but we take terrible care of our stuff.”

“Might not even make it through tonight,” Mickey agreed. He traced a finger around the rim of the plate, the flowers there. “But we’re gonna use it anyway.”

He turned, set the plate down on the bedside table, along with his keychain. Hoisted the rest of the box down onto the floor. “We can have nice stuff,” he said as he did, “but I ain’t gonna be one of those people that leaves shit in a cabinet gettin’ all dusty.”

“Nah,” Ian agreed, wiping his leaking eyes. “That really wouldn’t be us.”

Mickey smiled, and leaned in, kissing the corner of Ian’s eye and the happy tears lingering there.

“No it wouldn’t,” he said softly, and then his grin turned wicked.

“And speaking of using things,” he said, flopping down onto his back, arms spread wide. “We should use the rest of the morning to our advantage ‘til the girls get up.” He waggled his eyebrows, glorying in Ian’s wet laugh.

“Come show me what the next twenty years will be like, lover boy,” Mickey challenged.

And climbing over him with a toothy grin, all else forgotten in favor of getting hands on skin, Ian did just that.

#i may have spent longer looking at 20th anniversary themes and gifts than actually writing this #but it was fun! #daily speedwrite #gallavich #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #fluff #fanfic