#the one who will lay down those matter-of-fact sick burns

[feyascorner]

8 | The Fangs Between Us

summary. You try to swat him away, but his thumb swipes the droplets of blood to the side of your face, staring down at you with eyes that resemble rubies. You’ve always loved them, describing them as the gems you’ve stumbled across in such dire times, but now all you want to do is look away. They’re too harsh. They’re too cold. They’re too him.

You swallow the lump in your throat as he licks your blood off the pad of his thumb.

“It would’ve been better if one of us died that day.”

warnings. angst, comfort, slow burn, tav reader is a bard, italics are flashbacks

pairing. Astarion x GN!Reader

parts. TFBU masterlist

a/n. a little peek at what this guy is thinking before i move onto act 2 of this fic!! <3 also this specific flashback is not the usual pre breakup flashback it's right after the blushing mermaid incident !!

His nightmares have long stopped making him sick.

The same dreams where Cazador would have shackles around his neck and wrists, laughing maniacally while he carves runes into Astarion’s flesh, no longer bring him the same dread the morning after. Instead, he feels a kind of numbness that spreads past his physical being into the mindless stare he bores into the ceiling. Even before the birds awaken outside the city, it's quiet in the morning. This eerie sense of stillness used to be his favorite time of day.

Because when there’s nobody outside, there’s nobody to bring to Cazador.

Now, it feels too empty. Too alone. As if he’s the only person left in Faerun.

With nobody but his own mind, he begins to replay the events of the last few months. No matter how many times he does it, it doesn’t seem quite real. The nautiloid, the grove, the underdark—all of it. From the second he first bathed in the sun’s glory to the second he lost it all anyway, it doesn’t seem real.

It doesn’t seem real that he once had someone to care for him.

But he supposes he’s mistaken. He’s had plenty of affection throughout his centuries lurking on the city's streets, albeit rare for something genuine. Regardless, it did happen. Like Sebastian or other fleeting victims of Cazador who weren’t as crude as his usual prey. Genuine people whose biggest crime was falling for Astarion’s charms at the wrong time and place.

He doesn’t remember most of their faces anymore. He’s given up on trying to.

And like clockwork, his mind fades to the moment he first tasted humanoid blood as he begins to zone out from a particular part of the ceiling. A proper meal, rather than those disgusting rats on cellar floors he’s been allowed for most of his vampiric life. He remembers the liquid gold sliding down his throat and the sheer energy that came with it—some of which he hadn’t even known he had. He recalls the heavenly metallic taste of your lifeline. How, despite all the blood, all he could smell was your soap. How hot you’d felt against his own cold and unforgiving husk of a body.

Astarion swallows, forcing himself to focus on the chipped wood on one part of the ceiling.

While on any other occasion, he’d remind himself that he’d never have a taste of you again, you had given it to him. Even though he swore all the gods above were against his odds, you’d offered him your blood as he lay pathetically against the walls of the Blushing Mermaid.

But it had been different this time. Instead of that soft smile you’d give him when he’d drink from you in the past, all that remained was a stern frown. You hadn’t run your fingers through his curls and instead chose to grit your teeth, forcing your eyes away from where he bit into your wrist. Your generosity hadn’t been one stemming from affection but one of necessity.

You had flinched away from his touch.

He’s not surprised. In fact, he should’ve expected you to shove him away the second his mouth neared your skin, and he did expect it. But instead, all you’d done was brace yourself—as if you hated his touch—and forced yourself to stay still for his sake. It was akin to watching himself endure the skin of so many strangers in hopes of convincing them into Cazador’s dungeon all those years ago. He knows it’s not the same. He knows this, but hells, did he hate how dry his throat felt after, despite feeling satiated.

He would’ve preferred if you’d just left him there to bleed.

He hates that you hadn’t done so.

He hates that you hadn’t let him ascend.

He hates that he’s forced to live alongside you.

He hates you.

Before he can tell what he’s doing, he’s standing in front of your bed. How he got here is a blur, but he has a dagger in one hand and a fist in the other. You lie blissfully asleep, unaware of the blood-red eyes that stare down at you in a daze, illuminated by nothing but the moonlight peering through the windows. He takes a moment to take in the state of your room–and though he’s not shocked at the mess scattered around the ground and desks, he’s not pleased by it either.

“Gods, how do you even live like this?” he asks, as if you can hear him.

He glances at the glint of his blade and then at your sleeping face. The same face once peppered at least a hundred kisses against his cheek, laughing loudly when he’d feign annoyance at the marks left behind. You’d only snickered then, tackling him into an embrace and allowing him to return the sentiments. Those same lips of yours are now chewed raw, almost a bloody red.

“I could finish this endless fight right now,” he whispers, his grip tightening around the handle of your blade. “I could wake you with this knife at your throat, and you’d have no choice but to kill me. I’d return the violence, of course, but only one of us would live. There would be no use fighting any longer.”

Your chest only rises and falls steadily, and he notices he hasn’t seen you at such peace since he last slept beside you all those months ago. He doesn’t see the same expression anymore because when you look at him now, it’s always accompanied by furrowed brows or a downward quirk of your lips.

He wishes you would respond.

“Ha,” he scoffs pitifully, dropping his hand. He places the blade in its rightful place on your bedside table again and sighs. “This is much too pathetic of a death for either of us. If we were to kill one another, it should be done properly—not in this mess of a room.”

With one last pathetic scan at the details of your face, he turns to leave. But before he can even reach the door, he hears a soft gasp from your bed.

For a moment, he thinks he’s been caught.

When he whips around, all he sees is your clearly asleep form, yet this time, there is no peace in your expression. Instead, it’s scrunched up into a painful grimace as your fingers grasp at your sheets and your mouth falls open to take in breaths of air that don’t come to you. He thinks you might be choking on god knows what until one of your hands flies to your throat. Your nails claw at a collar he can’t see.

He glances at his own hands.

Oh.

Astarion slowly paces back to his spot beside your bed, watching as you writhe against nothing but the air. He realizes you’re not suffocating, but it sure looks that way. He doesn’t know what to do besides watch blankly with wide eyes, but fortunately for him, the moment doesn’t last long. In seconds, your hand falls from your throat, and you continue to grimace painfully. Still, you’re no longer choking.

The bruises have faded, but only physically.

The vampire feels his hand inching toward you but freezes, unable to bring himself within a foot of your restless body without doing something he’d regret. His mind flashes back to how you’d flinched away from his touch, and it’s enough to make him drop your hand again. And being unable to decipher what he’s supposed to feel, he just stares at the wetness of your lashes, his jaw tight.

His voice is rough as he speaks.

“You foolish bard.”

“You’re one of the Gur children.”

“So what if I am,” the small child, too frail for her age despite the fangs protruding from her gums, crosses her arms, huffing. It’s been mere minutes since you managed to sit her down on the forest grounds, bent down on one knee to reach her eye level, but she remains positively stubborn, glaring at the other vampire spawn who stands idly by your side while twirling a comb in his fingers. “That doesn’t change anything.”

“It’s important. You were turned recently, then, weren’t you?” you frown, and a flicker of recognition passes her before it vanishes again. “Why are you alone? Where are the other kids?”

“That’s what you want to ask?” Astarion hisses from your side, his hands stopping. “Stop indulging such trivial questions and demand to know whether the little brat was the one to kill that poor husband. The clock is ticking, and I still have to hunt.”

You snap in his direction. “Will you stop it? She’s a child.”

“A spawn—she’s a spawn. Get it right, darling, she’s no child.”

“You’re acting like a nine-year-old yourself.”

“Ha! As cute as it is that you’re attempting to insult me, let’s leave the lines to me, hm? Your delivery couldn’t be less enthusiastic if you tried.”

“This isn’t a joke, Astarion.”

“I didn’t say it was.”

You glare at him, and he glares straight back. The smallest of snorts, stifled by a hand, comes from Berry, and you both turn to look at her in an instant. By the time you do, she’s already back to huffing, her brows furrowed.

With an exhausted sigh, your shoulders slump. “So, did you kill Roger Highberry? Was everything an act?”

She hesitates, and though you dare to believe that what you see is sorrow, she wipes it away with a blink of an eye, gaze glued to the ground before her. “I didn’t kill him. I didn’t lie.”

“Do you think we’re idiots?” You nearly roll your eyes at his voice. “You’re telling me a spawn—one that’s been newly turned, might I add—wouldn’t go ballistic at the sight of fresh blood sleeping soundly just a room over each night?”

“I didn’t!” she spits, baring her teeth. “And I’m not talking to you! I don’t want to talk to you, you—you—asshat!”

It’s apparent that it’s her first time using the word, but you don’t bother mentioning it.

“You wretched little–!”

“Berry,” you sigh for the umpteenth time, ignoring the fuming elf behind you. “I want to believe you, but I need you to be honest. And when I say honest, I mean absolutely everything. Including why you followed me out here and tried to attack me earlier.”

She falters. And almost shamefully, she looks down at her hands again. “...I ran away from the other spawns. I didn’t want to be with them anymore, and I pretended to be an orphan to stay with Cora and Roger.”

“What?” you blink. “Why would you do that?”

“Ulma taught us vampires are evil for the blood they take from people,” she mumbles. “I didn’t want to be evil too. Even if it means leaving my friends.”

As she speaks, her face dawns with a wave of solemnness–one too familiar to yourself.

“If you’re not with the others, why did you send me to the Blushing Mermaid knowing that there’d be an ambush?” you finally ask, gentler than you should be with how Astarion impatiently taps his foot behind you, but you couldn’t care less. “It could’ve killed us.”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you,” she blurts, searing eyes darting to your silver-haired companion. “I was trying to kill him. He tried to perform a ritual and kill the rest of us with the power he’d get…I might not be with my friends, but I don’t want them to die either. I don’t want to die.”

You feel your breath still. Astarion does the same, now unmoving from his spot. However, his shock stems more from offense. “Cazador would have rid of you anyway. You were doomed from the start.”

You glare at him, still maintaining a soft tone toward the girl. “He can’t harm you anymore, Berry. Nobody can.”

She points a finger at Astarion. “I can’t be sure until he’s gone!”

“Berry–” You reach toward her hand.

“I let you see Dalyria so you’d turn him in! Not to keep him!” she hisses, slapping you away with a snarl. “And the worst of all, you let him drink from you! You let someone who wants to kill the rest of us drink from you while the rest of us have to pay greatly just to survive! If you’re his friend, then I have to hate you too!”

Eyes going wide, you find yourself standing again, cheeks tinging red. “I—that was just–”

Astarion’s attention still seems elsewhere. “I don’t want to kill you, as appealing as it sounds at the moment. Even I don’t indulge in harming children, despite how annoying I find brats like you.”

“Stop lying!” she shrieks. “Petras said you’d kill us all! That the second you finish the ritual, you’d kill the rest of us to make sure you have no competitors. That there isn’t another person like you who’d go against the will of their very master—”

“Though it sounds positively delightful, I wouldn’t be the one doing all that bloodshed,” he snaps in return, fangs visible through the grit of his teeth. “It seems my dear brother has misinformed you. The ritual itself would’ve wiped you all—which would’ve been far better for the city, clearly—but I would only be making a choice. A sacrifice.”

While the two are too caught up in the wrath of their distaste for one another, realization quickly flashes across your eyes. Suddenly, you’re standing between the two, one hand inches from Astarion’s chest as a warning, while you keep Berry shielded behind your free arm. The act catches him off guard, and you think the downward curl of his lips should scare you. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Go hunt—or whatever it is that you do,” you demand, fingers inching closer to your weapon. It feels too dramatic, but you decide you can never be too safe. “I need to talk to her without you here to bicker and argue with a child.”

He scoffs. “Talk about what exactly? What more is there to know? You do realize that if I were to leave now, the brat would take another attempt at your life.”

“She’s a kid. I can take care of myself.”

“When you cowered behind me just minutes ago over a damn squirrel?”

Hells. You should drive a stake through his heart just for that.

Your eyes narrow. You might’ve entertained this quip on another occasion, but that moment is not now. “Go.”

His gaze flits from you back to the child, his expression indecipherable. You want to look away from his harsh stare, but your pride doesn’t dare allow you. And you’re thankful for it. “20 minutes then. 20 minutes only, and then I shall return.”

You nod.

With one last fleeting glance and a hesitant footstep, he turns on his heel, stalking to disappear into the darkness of the woods. It doesn’t take long because, after only a few dark strides and the rustling of leaves, he’s gone, leaving only you and the blazing vampire spawn behind you.

“Is that what Petras told you?” your brows furrow at Berry. “Is that what he told everyone else? That Astarion would’ve killed you once, he became an ascendant?”

She stares up at you, gaze blazing with rage. But there’s more to it. Loneliness, longing, and the most prominent: grief. Grief for the life that’s been taken away from her and reciprocated her payment in the form of fangs. She adjusts uncomfortably in her cloak, her tiny fists clenched at either of her sides.

Her silence is the answer you need.

This must be why the other spawn isn’t against the ascension. They can’t be against it because they don’t know how it works in the first place. Just as Astarion’s siblings believed the ascension would’ve rebirthed them alongside Cazador, the remaining 7000 spawns believe the same—almost ironic, in an endless cycle that repeats itself no matter what. They aren’t even aware of the ticking clock attached to their lifelines.

“Astarion wasn’t lying,” you say softly. “He wouldn’t have killed you after becoming an ascendant. He would’ve killed you becoming the ascendant. It’s the price of the ritual.”

She releases a frustrated grasp of her nails digging into her palm. “No, you’re just saying that because you’re his friend!”

“I’m not his friend,” you admit.

And despite expecting a pang of regret pulling at the strings of your heart as you say the words. No tightness in your chest, no dryness in your throat, and no shame for the lies pouring so effortlessly out of your lips. It makes you think that perhaps it’s not a lie. You dearly hope that’s the case.

“Then what are you?”

"I'm like you,” you say. "He tried to kill me too."

She frowns. “You let him drink from you. Nobody does that. Not for something like us.”

Your heart cracks a bit at her words, but you shake your head. “It was to keep him alive. To save him, as I intend to do for you.”

“You? You’ll save us?” she scoffs, clearly unconvinced, as she picks at the makeshift bandages wrapped around the wound on her arm. It’s a flimsy piece of cloth you tore from your cloak, but it’s better than risking it against whatever natural elements the forest offers. You gently pry her fingers away, preventing her from agitating the split skin.

“I did last time,” you remind her. “I’m the one that stopped Astarion from ascending—did Petras tell you that too?”

She falters. And while there’s an apparent hesitance in her eyes, there’s something behind all the rough exterior she’s built up from an undeniably traumatic experience of becoming a spawn. She looks up at you when you squeeze her tiny hand, almost hopeful. Because despite what irreparable damage the past few months have done to her, she remains a child. An innocent caught in a war of bloodshed. And what more can you gather from a child but hope?

“You want to stay with Cora, right?”

She nods sheepishly.

“Then you’ll stay with her,” you smile. “I’ll lend you my trust if you lend me yours, and you don’t run off anyway.”

“Promise?” You hold out a pinkie. She stares at it, but when she meets your eyes, she lifts her own hand to interlink with yours. For a moment, she almost looks like she's forgotten about the reality of her situation. That even if she were to live, she wouldn't be able to stay with Cora for long, given her inevitable nature.

How childish. Innocent. And you’d do anything to keep it from becoming more sinister.

“You let the girl go?” After ensuring Berry returns to her room, Astarion repeats the question for the third time as you turn away from the Highberry household in utter disbelief. The cold night air sends chills down your skin, and you wrap your torn cloak tightly around yourself, walking straight past him. Despite your apparent intentions of ignoring him, he trails after you urgently, following no matter how quickly your steps take you through the dead stillness of the city. “And what if she decides to kill the wife?”

“She won’t.”

“You don’t know that,” he hisses. “What makes you so sure she can go against her very nature to kill just so she can stay in a bedroom she shares with four other kids? All of which are very appetizing meals to her, by the way.”

You shoot him a glare. “I’m sure you would know.”

“I do. Which is all the more reason for me to step in so we don’t have to deal with yet another dead body on our hands.”

“I don’t need advice from someone who wouldn’t hesitate to use a comb as a weapon.” You rub the side of your head to soothe your headache.

“Seeing as you set a spawn free into the city, I’d argue differently.”

“Will you just shut up?”

“I didn’t accompany you to be a pretty toy piece at your side, darling. With the foolish choices you’re making, I have no other choice but to nag,” he rolls his eyes. The snarkiness in his voice is enough to snap what remains of your already worn patience.

“And you think you’re allowed to give me advice?” you spin around to face him, stopping dead in your tracks. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re basically a hostage! You don’t get to make decisions on what we do!”

“Well, who else will you get advice from now that all your little friends seem to have lost all respect for you?” 

Your jaw unhinges. He stands firm, arms crossed, and it’s enough to make your blood boil. “Gods, you’re—you’re such an asshole.”

Astarion laughs bitterly. “Care to tell me anything new?”

“About your personality? We’d be here all night. You’re also forgetting that I fought with the others for your sake, you bastard,” You step closer, teeth gnashing together. “I saved your life.”

“I would’ve survived with or without your help, darling.”

“You only got this far because our friends helped you!”

“Would you like me to be grateful?” he guffaws, and your chest tightens at how condescending it sounds. “Because must I remind you that you also stole the only chance of me escaping this filthy life where I rot away on the streets and feed on lowly criminals? You’ve forced me to be what I am, and now you think I’m indebted to you?”

Why does he keep saying that? You fight the urge to just punch him.

“I’m not saying you owe me anything, you fool!” your eyes meet his in a blaze of fire. Your heart beats rapidly, and you sincerely hope it’s gone unnoticed. “How many times do I have to tell you that I never forced you to do anything—I was stopping you from becoming like Cazador!”

He’s suddenly looming over you, his gaze sharper than before in a frenzied manner. Just mentioning his old master’s name is enough to push him on the offensive. “I never would’ve become like him…not after what that bastard did to me. I would’ve become stronger and been able to help you. Us. So why in the bloody hells you ever stopped me–”

The words pour out like a mountain of sand held by a twig, and you reach to grab the collar of his shirt. “I didn’t need help! Neither of us did, Astarion. It would’ve been hard, but we would’ve made it out like we always do if we just tried!”

You’re unsure you’ll make it out this time, but does it matter anymore?

His frown creases as if none of your pleas are getting through his thick skull. And while you have half a heart to keep blurting out whatever comes to your mind, his sudden silence and the smallest of steps he takes away from you make you seal your mouth shut. Like he’s closing the door again. Like he’s leaving you all alone again.

Your voice drops, and you bring your hand back to your side.

“You’re not being fair, Astarion.”

“Darling, I’ve followed all your stupid rules and remained on my best behavior till now, even when I could’ve caused more than a few casualties. Hells, I even watched that girl go back to the orphanage alive,” he says, quieter. “I’ve been more than fair.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What is it, then?”

“It feels like you know everything I’m constantly thinking of, whether it be you or something else,” you mumble. “But you won’t let me know what you’re thinking. I’m not asking you to tell me your deepest secret…I just need to know what I’ve done to deserve the bullshit I have to put up with. I took away the ascension from you; I get that, but is that really it? Is that really why you hate me this much? What’s worse, is that very time it feels like we can finally talk, you just—you tell me that you hate me again and then leave it there to fester even more anger on both sides.”

Astarion stares at you, his expression impossible to read. Horrified but unrelenting of the mountain of unsaid words, you continue. “Just talk to me.”

Why, you want to ask. He knows you only did what you thought was best at the time, so what have you done to deserve such cruelty?

Why do you hate me so much?

He gives you a long, hard look. It was surely only a few split seconds, but it seems like hours as you don’t even dare to breathe, rooted in place as you await his answer. It’s infuriating that you can’t tell what he’s thinking even now. He’s always been far too good at masking his feelings, and while he’d used it against you once, you never thought he’d have to again. And finally, when he moves, he doesn’t move to speak.

He shuts his eyes, and when they open again, he’s grinning. That fake, beautiful grin that brings you so much anguish and conflict simultaneously that it makes the sides of your head pound with the beating of your heart. “Fine, darling. Let’s talk if you want to so badly.”

It's so artificial that it leaves a bad taste in your mouth.

You wish he’d just tell you he hates you again.

He’s blocking you out again. Again and again, no matter how many times you take a step forward, he takes a few back, and the distance between the two of you grows larger. It’s just so exhausting and repetitive. You’re sick of it. 

“Why do I hate you? Where should I start?” he hums. “Ah, perhaps when you took it upon yourself to be the one to stab a knife through Cazador’s heart. I’m rather curious myself, darling, how did it feel? Could you feel his screams through your dagger, or were you too occupied watching the life drain from his face? Was it hard to reach his heart? Did he struggle? Oh, do tell, I’d love to know how that bastard suffered.”

The words feel like a knife to your own chest.

“To think that could have been me if I hadn’t seduced you when we met…You could’ve pierced a stake through my heart when you first caught me longing for your blood. Can you believe it? If you’d just killed me then, you wouldn’t be standing here now. You wouldn’t have let me bed you in that dirty forest clearing, and you would have never felt my lips upon yours. I could have chosen anyone else---anyone in the camp---and we wouldn't be standing here, but Gods was it easy to seduce you."

He stops, and his next words make the blood drain from your face.

"Just like the thousand other victims I brought to Cazador. You're no different from them...all you want from me are my weaknesses. You kept me this way to keep me fragile, and pathetic."

Has listening to someone's voice always been so difficult?

“I didn't—”

“But I suppose you’re the victor in another sense, my dear,” he sneers, his face impossibly close to yours, but he’s never felt so far away. “You should count yourself lucky. Few can say they’ve managed to bed me and survive to tell the tale. You even managed to make me fall for you! You, a simple naive bard, managed to seduce me! And Gods, did you put up a glorious show, darling, betraying me like you did. It was an ingenious move on your part, preventing me from reaching my full potential—the hero of Baldur’s Gate wouldn’t want anything tainting their beloved city with blood, after all–”

No, this is all wrong. This does nothing but make things worse. You wish he'd just stop.

In the blink of an eye, Astarion stops speaking. With expecting eyes, his attention flickers to the knife now pointed at his pale throat. You practically gnaw on the inside of your cheek as you inch the knife just a few centimeters from breaking skin. “Shut up.”

Astarion’s glare narrows on your hand. “Enough talking for you?”

You see that whatever man you fell in love with in what feels like another lifetime was a mask. Deep down, you’ve known that the face he wears is nothing but a facade ever since this entire fiasco started and he’d situated himself into your home. Yet, the cruelty still hurts. It hurts how much he detests you with the very same face that once worshipped your very breath. Gods, you’d been so foolish, thinking a damn vampire spawn could feel anything other than hunger….much less love.

He’d likely prefer to eat out your heart than hold it in his cold, dead hands. He’d watch you with those sultry eyes as he sinks his teeth into what remains of your heart and feels nothing but his own thirst being satiated.

So you won’t give him the opportunity. You won’t give him your heart again, even as the sky falls and the ground dissipates.

You’ve done it once, and you’ve never regretted anything more.

“You’re turn, my dear,” he says. “If you wish to say something, feel free to do so.”

He steps closer, and the tip of your blade draws a small bead of blood. He doesn’t seem to care.

Red, red, red. Your vision is growing blurry.

You inhale sharply. Breathe. You can still breathe. Words that had been bottled up inside dissipate the longer you watch him, as you understand that no matter what you say or do, he will remain as he is. While you want to tell yourself it’s because time itself has ceased for him, you know he doesn’t want to change in the first place.

“I should kill once this is over,” you mutter calmly. His blood now falls down the side of your knife. “But I’m not like you. I’m not as pathetic or petty as you are, even though I’ve been through less than you probably have. I don’t attempt murder just because things don’t go my way.”

His smile twitches.

“If you like being alone so much, then I won’t stop you. Once this is all over, I never want to see you again. I don’t care what you do, but I just want you to disappear. I want you gone, forever, in whatever shadows you hide in during the day.”

It only seems like yesterday when you begged the moon to see him one last time.

Even though he’s speaking through his teeth, he nods as you bring your knife back to your side. “I’m glad we have something to agree on.”

You want to laugh, but you fear it’ll come out as cracked.

“And you’re right,” you wipe his blood off the dagger on your sleeve, not bothering to spare him a glance. “I should have let the others behead you when we met.”

If he wants to sabotage the little good left in his life, let him. If he wants to be miserable for the rest of his undying days over what’s already been done, let him. You don’t care anymore.

Amusement drips from his voice. “A shame.”

His finger tilts your chin upward, his thumb rubbing at the side of your cheek. It’s then that you realize there’s a whiff of blood coming from a wound on your skin—a result of the forest, you’d guess. You try to swat him away, but his thumb swipes the droplets of blood to the side of your face, staring down at you with eyes that resemble rubies. You’ve always loved them, describing them as the gems you’ve stumbled across in such dire times, but now all you want to do is look away. They’re too harsh. They’re too cold. They’re too him.

You swallow the lump in your throat as he licks your blood off the pad of his thumb.

“It would’ve been better if one of us died that day.”

He takes his time to respond. 

“I know.”

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#astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate astarion #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #bg3 x reader #bg3 #fluff #astarion x oc #baldurs gate 3 x reader

[ohtobeleah]

Lessons in Love & War // Bradley Bradshaw

-> A Terms of Endearment Blurb

Summary: On one of your first shifts back at work after the events of ToE. Odette is plagued with an illness that sends her to the emergency room with a very panicked Bradley Bradshaw.

Warnings: Fever. appendicitis. Relationship miscommunication, misguided anger. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Jake Seresin x F!platonic!reader.

Word Count: 3.8k

Author Note: Day Eighteen of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Fever/Separated from loved ones. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list.

Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Monday, Wednesday, Friday. Those were your days off. Tuesday and Thursday were the days that you bravely stepped outside your little bubble of peace and went back to work doing what you loved. No one in their right mind was about to stop you either, you could handle two full days at a time. Two days in one week was enough for you right now. Mav was in full support of you and Rooster sharing your full time hours. He went in to bat for you whenever the topic was brought up to the higher ups. He was your unofficial proxy. 

“Oh hi there Dotty girl.” You weren’t ready to send your little girl back to daycare yet either. So Odette spent her days with her favourite person besides you, her Tooster, on Tuesdays and Thursdays. “What's got you all sad?”

Bradley had been doing some work on his lap–he was reading up on the signs, symptoms and possible characteristics of depression. You were just a little off at the moment, with good reason. You'd been through so much–more than anyone ever deserved to be put through.

“My tummy huwts Tooster–” Odette mumbled through tired eyes as she padded into the dinning room with her blanky, sucking her thumb. She had been feeling under the weather for a few days now, since Monday–It was now Thursday and she hadn’t started to get better in the slightest bit.  

“Oh sweet girl, come here.” Bradley cooed as he reached out for the little girl who had stolen his heart, he scooped her up under her armpits and sat her on his lap. The first thing Bradley noticed was the heat Odette had to her. “Holy crap, you're burning up baby girl.” He frowned as he placed the back of his hand to her forehead. “You've got a bit of a fever there.” It was worrying, especially since Odette had already had some children Tylenol not long before you left for work. How long had she had a fever for? 

“My tummy huwts–” She nearly sobbed as her little head lulled to the side, she placed her cheek against Rooter's chest to listen to his heartbeat. The kiss he planted on the top of her head as he rocked his knees back and forth to soothe your daughter told Odette that she was safe, that her Tooster would make her feel better. “Tooster–”

“I know baby, I know.” But the fact of the matter was Bradley didn't know. Sure he’d lay his life down on the line for Odette, but he really had no idea how to act when she was sick. It broke his heart to see the usually so energetic and full of life extension of you so down in the dumps and sick as a dog. She hadnt been her usual self for a few days and it was unnerving to say the very least. He did his best however, to keep a confident front up that he had this covered while you were gone. 

Bradley Bradshaw was confident and wise enough to take care of a sick three year old. How serious could a flu be? Or a tummy bug as you were pretty sure it was. 

“How about I make you some soup and we watch cartoons and hang out on the lounge for the rest of the day?” All Odette did in response was nod very tiredly. She hadn’t been sleeping through the night and the little sleep she was getting, was in between you and Rooster, where she felt safest and where you felt like she belonged right now. 

Odette didnt eat her soup, Bradley had tried to get her to have a few spoonfuls of the pureed pumpkin and sweet potato soup he’d heated over the stove but it was to no avail. Your little girl was not having a bar of it before the tears started. 

“Oh sweetheart, don't cry.” Bradley cooed as Odette snuggled as close as she could into her Tooster. 

“My Tummy huwts Tooster make it stowp.” Dot mumbled into Rooster's shirt, clinging to him for dear life as she climbed his torso and laid herself flat as she could on him. All Bradley did was try his best to soothe the clearly uncomfortable three year old he’d been left in charge of today. 

“How about we get you some more medicine to make you feel a little better?” It was the only thing he could really think of in the moment, Dot hadn’t been well sure, but this was a whole new level of unwell. “We’ll get a washcloth for your forehead too baby, that might help.” Bradley was starting to realise that he may or may not have been in over his head with this. He hadn’t gone through this before, he hadn’t ever had to worry so deeply about a child not being well before. He wanted so desperately to take Odette's pain away. He wanted so desperately to make her feel all better like you somehow always managed too. But this seemed more serious than just a cold or flu or random stomach ache. 

And when little three year old Odette Dolan (Bradshaw) started to scream, cry and throw up in the bath Bradley tried to run for her to help her feel better, he didn't know what to do. He knew it wasn't just her being scared of the bath, because she’d been really good in it as of late. The past few weeks she’d gone without a fuss so long as Tooster and you were in it with her. But right now, as Bradley rubbed small circles into her little back and watched as she dry heaved into the bow he held under her chin, he knew he had to take her to people who could actually make her feel better. 

“I think we need to take you to the hospital baby girl.” He sighed to himself, watching as her tears streamed down her puffy face. She hadnt eaten all day, hadnt cried this hard ever. She was in pain–Bradley could clearly see that. “Let's get you dressed and I'm gonna take you alright, see some doctors so that they can help.” Before Bradley could think about helping Odette out of the bath, she slumped into his hold, completely exhausted from crying and trying to throw up. Her fever had yet to break and she was burning up. “Okay, Okay–” That's when the panic really set in. “We’re going right now baby I've got you.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“You know I’d ask what exactly it is that you’re doing—“ Jake made sure to make himself known as he entered your hanger. “But I’ve come to learn overtime that that question doesn’t always have such a good answer.” He didn’t want to scare you, he knew that coming back to work was what you needed in order to move on, get back into a normal routine and make an effort to keep yourself from completely falling apart. The day had almost passed you by and you’d only caught yourself thinking about Jaidyn Dolan like….seven hundred times. 

“I tried to call Roo at lunch to see how things are going at home but he hasn’t returned my call.” You replied while you sat at your workshop desk, working on a part Jake couldn’t quite pick. “Tell me everything’s fine, that we’re okay?” He knew what you meant, you didn’t need to elaborate or explain yourself. Jake knew, hell he knew because that very morning he’d woken Amilia up with his horrendous screams. He’d called out for Bob in the void of darkness. 

“Dots sick isn’t she?” Jake sighed as he stood behind you, watching carefully as you worked. He didn’t want to point out that you were tapping your leg up and down like a mad woman or mention that you were tensing your shoulders, so instead he bent over to kiss the top of your head and kept his hands firmly on your shoulders. “They’re fine Fe—if anything Bradshaws probably just spending his day off sleeping and watching Repunzel for the thirteenth time.” You couldn’t help but to smile at the thought. “Trust me, they’re good, we’re good, everyone’s good and accounted for.” 

“Thanks—“ It was like Jake had talked you down from some metaphorical ledge that you’d been standing on, ready to jump. Only you had been contemplating leaving work early to race home and make sure two of the most important people in your life are safe. “You’re right, he’s probably just sleeping with Dotty.” 

“I can almost guarantee it.” Jake replied. “Besides, you’re off soon enough, no need to stress when everything’s okay Fe.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Everything was not okay. Bradley Bradshaw had never been more freaked out in his entire life. He hated seeing Odette this way, so sick and visibly in pain. This had to be more than just a stomach ache, her fever hadn’t broken in hours, she wasn't keeping food or fluids down and she could barely keep her little head upright as he carried her into the emergency room of the Miramar Base Hospital. 

“Sir–?” The triage nurse was immediately on her feet when she saw Rooster through the little window. “Bring her right in.” Bradley did exactly that, he took the little girl who was burning up in his arms right into the triage room so that Odette could be assessed. “Who do we have here?” The nurse asked softly as she set up her station. 

“This is Odette, Uh–Dot, she prefers Dot.” Bradley cooed as he sat down on the empty chair with Odette still clinging to him. “She my daughter, well, kinda, I’m her mothers partner and I’m one of her medical proxies and emergency contacts.” Bradley felt like all eyes were on him as he explained his relationship to Odette. He wasn't her dad but he was the closest thing she had. “She's been sick for a few days, but today her fevers just skyrocketed and she's not keeping anything down.” 

“Is she throwing up?” The nurse asked as she placed little Odette's arm in a blood pressure monitor. “Any diarrhoea?” 

“She's been throwing up, but I haven't noticed any diarrhoea–” 

“And you said she's had a fever for a while?” 

“Yeah and today her stomachs been hurting pretty badly too.” The nurse could see the worry in Bradley Bradshaw's eyes. She knew enough in those few moments to know that he cared enough about this tiny human to bring her in for treatment. 

“Dot honey?” The nurse cooed as she looked at Odette and placed a tiny admission wristband on her wrist. “Can you point to what side your tummy’s been hurting on?” Odette, albeit slowly, pointed to her right side, just above her pelvis. The nurse sitting across from her immediately typed something onto the report she was writing up and turned back to face Bradley. “Okay Mr. Bradshaw, you can take Dot through to fast track, I'll have her admitted for an ultrasound but if I had to take a good guess here I'd say your little girl's appendix is acting up.” 

“That means surgery?” Bradley held the little girl who was everything to him a little tighter. The nurse nodded in confirmation. 

“You did the right thing bringing her in, we just need you to fill out these consent forms and we’ll take care of her.” The triage nurse could see on Odette file that Bradley was indeed an authorised person to give medical consent on Odette's behalf if you weren't able to. “But yes, she’ll need surgery if it is in fact her appendix, we don't want it to burst and by the looks of things if she's been sick for a few days it could very well be about to.” 

“Okay–” Bradley pressed his lips together in a fine line, he felt sick to his stomach, his little girl was in so much pain. “Okay, uh–let's go Dotty, I've got you baby.” But in all the fuss and worry and focus he’d forgotten one very vital thing. He’d forgotten to message you about what was going on, all his focus had been on Dot that he forgot to message you. Her Mother. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

You hadn’t heard from Bradley all day. Usually he’d send you little updates, let you know when Odette had gone for a nap, if she’d eaten, if she was at  daycare when he picked her up and dropped her off. But today he’d been radio silent since around ten this morning. 

“Roo honey?” You were already on edge with the radio silence, but when you pulled into the driveway to see Bradley’s Bronco wasn’t there your heart immediately sunk into your stomach. “I'm home, you here?” Nothing. There was nothing but a still silence that flooded your home as you went in search for the man who had helped you out yourself back together again. 

“Rooster?” You nearly sobbed out as you walked down the hallway to the bathroom, at the sight of water in the tub you immediately broke out into a heartbroken cry. No. No, not your baby, not your little girl. “Bradley!!?” It felt like you were right there, watching your ex try to drown you baby girl in the bath when your phone rang. 

It was like the ringtone snapped you back into reality and all of a sudden the scene playing out before you was gone. It was just you again, staring at yourself in the mirror across the bathroom. When you looked down at your phone to see that it was just Jake and not Bradley, you cried a little harder and answered. 

“Told you everything would be o—hey woah? What’s the matter Fe why are you crying?” Jake had just picked Amilia up from Paybacks play to drive her to work when your sobbed rang through the truck. “Y/n?” 

“Roosters not here and I can’t find Dot.” Was all you had to say before Jake was pulling over on the side of the road before swinging around. Amilia slammed against the doorframe of the passenger’s side as he did so. 

“Righto, ease up turbo.” She hissed as a frown overtook her face. “And you have the nerve to call me a maniac on the road.” 

“Talk to me when you know your left and rights Oz.” Jake chuckled knowing that Amilia from time to time still had to really think about what side of the road to drive on. “Fe, try to breathe alright, I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why they aren’t home.” 

“He hasn’t been answering his phone all day Jake! He doesn’t do that!” You sobbed painfully as you slid down the wall of your hallway to hug your knees to your chest. “He doesn’t—he doesn’t do that, he doesn’t—“ Jake knew you were having a full on panic attack, he knew because he got them too. Amilia heard it in your voice, the way you tried to breathe through your words. “He left—he took her, I can’t breathe—“ 

“I’ll call Rooster.” Amilia quickly pulled her phone out to call Bradley, his name in her phone was the Chicken Man. “There’s gotta be a good reason he’d just vanish with Dot right?” 

“She’s sick.” Jake mumbled just loud enough for Amilia to hear. “Something could have happened but until we get ahold of him I don’t know what to do.” 

“Voicemail—“ Amilia didn’t wait for Jake to tell her to try again, she was on it before he even had a chance to blink. “Fucking dammit Bradshaw.” 

“We’re around the corner Fe, we’re on our way, just stay on the phone with me yeah?” Jake cooed as tears welled in his eyes, he hated this, hated hearing you so panicked. 

“Fuck! Voicemail again.” Amilia groaned as she tried for a third time to get ahold of the missing lieutenant. “Surely he’s not intentionally ignoring us right?” 

“No—“ Jake sighed frustratedly as he ran a hand across his face. “No somethings wrong, he’s distracted by something, he wouldn’t just go radio silent, not on Fe, me maybe, but not Fe.” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~

“Tooster.” She looked so tiny in the middle of the gurney. “My tummy huwts.” But Bradley knew as he walked with the surgical tray who was about to take your little girl in for emergent surgery that she was going to feel a hell of a lot better after. 

“I know baby I know.” Rooster cooed as leaned over to press a gentle kiss to your daughter's forehead. “But the doctors here are gonna make you feel all better.” When Odette spoke soon after, Bradley’s heart sunk into his arse. 

“I want mamma—“ Holy shit, he’d been so caught up making sure Odette got the care and help she needed, that he hadn’t even checked in with you. 

“Mammas gonna be here when you come out of surgery baby, I promise.” Bradley could feel the colour draining from his face as he watched your little girl nod. “And so is uncle Jake—“ Bradley knew he was about to be in the dog house. He should have rung. He should have kept you in the loop. He couldn’t imagine what was going through your mind right about now. 

As soon as the double doors closed, Bradley immediately pulled his phone out of his back pocket and couldn’t believe what he saw. An unknown amount of missed calls and texts from one Amilia Fisher explaining in great detail the way she was going to skin him alive for whatever it is that was keeping him from getting back to her. 

There were a handful of missed calls and text from you throughout the day, just checking in to see how Dot was going. 

And then there was one very important text, a singular message from none other than Jake Seresin that scared the shit out of Bradley. The overall calmness of it all, the time he read it in, the lack of urgency made it all the more worrying—because when Jake got calm? Bradley knew he was about five seconds away from blowing up. 

H_ngm_n: “You better have running shoes on man.”

“Fuck—“ Braldey pressed on Jake’s called ID to ring him as quick as he could. This wasn’t good, not at all. It only took three rings before Jake was answering. “I can explain!” 

“Where are you?” Was all Jake asked, again as calm as ever. 

“I’m at the hospital, Dots fever was skyrocketing so I brought her in, turns out she has appendicitis, she’s on her way into surgery.” It was the most rushed explanation Bradley could give as he ran his free hand through his hair and paced up and down the hall. “Is Y/n okay? Is she alright?”

“We’ll be there soon.” Was all Jake said before he hung up. Bradley felt like he couldn’t breathe, he knew he’d fucked up. He should have called you when he was heading over to the hospital and think back to it he knew he had left the bath water in the bath too. 

He’d fucked up, and he knew that you’d be a wreck too. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

When you first saw Rooster sitting in the waiting room, your heart beat just a little faster. But although you loved him so deeply and so fiercely, his decision not to call you about what was going on had left you wondering if he understood just how important it was for you to know the whereabouts of your daughter right now. 

“Where is she?” You asked sternly. “Where’s my daughter?” Bradley could tell by the look in your eyes that you were pissed, but the love you had for Odette took priority. 

He sat in one of those plastic hospital waiting room chairs, dishevelled and worried that he’d crossed some invisible boundary. Bradley didn’t mean to keep you in the dark, it was never his intention. He was just so focused on Odette that he didn’t think of anything else. 

“She’s in surgery, they said someone would come give us an update as soon as she’s out.” Bradley explained as he stood from the chair he sat in and reached out to draw you into him. But you shrugged him off. “Y/n—“

“How am I the last person to find out my daughter has appendicitis?” You asked through a hiss. “Tell me Rooster how do you forget to tell the mother of the child you rushed to the emergency room that hey—we’re going to the hospital don’t freak out?” 

“I’m so unbelievably sorry.” Jake could tell that Bradley was sincere. “I was just so focused on Dot I didn’t stop to think, she was so upset, I just wanted her to be okay.” 

“Well she’s not alright is she!” It was just the fear talking, the fear taking over your critical thinking capabilities. “She’s in surgery getting her appendix removed and her mother wasn’t by her side to tell her everything would be alright because you—“ You shoved at Roosters chest, he didn’t budge. “Didn’t tell me what the hell was going on.” 

“Y/n, listen to me for a second alright sweetheart?” It was killing him, the idea that you were mad at him for doing whatever he could for Odette. 

“No—no don’t you dare sweetheart me right now Bradley, how could you not remember to ring me? Send me a fucking text?”

“Because I was looking after her! The little girl you left me to take care of! Her fever was getting out of control Fe!” It was one of the first fights the two of you had ever had. 

“She’s not your damn daughter Bradley!” You didn’t mean it, hell the words you spoke even shocked you and you could immediately tell that what you had said cut Bradley deep as his features softened In disappointment and frustration. “I’m her mother, and you should have called me when she was getting worse.” 

“Yeah—“ Bradley stiffened up as he looked over at Jake, he knew just how hurt you were by this mess but he never thought you’d throw Bradley’s ability to care for your little girl back in his face. “No yeah you’re totally right, I’m just gonna go, I’ll uh—I’ll just go back to my house and clean up the mess your daughter fucking makes all day because you’re too scared to send her back to daycare then.” 

It was your turn to be stunned. 

“Call me when she’s out, or don’t, I don’t care.” Bradley hissed as he walked past where you stood with his hands in his pockets and his tail between his legs. 

“I won’t!” You called back as you watched Bradley walk out of the front doors of the Miramar Base Hospital, wondering how the hell he was going to fix this god awful mess. 

***~***~***~***~***~***~****~

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

#ailesswhumptober2023 #leahs whumptober masterlist #terms of endearment// bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #Bradley Bradley angst #topgun fanfic #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic

[danger-noodle-uwu]

hii! i really like the "is love supposed to hurt" that hurt a lot can you please write another part where the reader moved on lollol it's fine if you don't<33 -anon

𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝑯𝒖𝒓𝒕𝒔

𝙵𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖; 𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚗 𝙸𝚖𝚙𝚊𝚌𝚝

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎; 𝙰𝚗𝚐𝚜𝚝

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚜;𝙺𝚊𝚎𝚢𝚊/𝙳𝚒𝚕𝚞𝚌/𝙰𝚕𝚋𝚎𝚍𝚘/𝙲𝚑𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚎/𝚉𝚑𝚘𝚗𝚐𝚕𝚒/𝚡𝚒𝚊𝚘

𝚃𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐; 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚖𝚊𝚗𝚒𝚙𝚞𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗/𝚍𝚎𝚗𝚒𝚊𝚕/yandere themes/𝚛𝚎𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗/𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚕𝚘𝚟𝚎/𝚎𝚝𝚌

"It worked..." KAEYA murmured to himself; his tongue laced with bitterness by the wine in his hand or the tears he kept swallowing as his eyes glued on the sight of you. You speaking with a certain drunkard who was clinging to your neck, decorating the skin with kisses; the skin once he kissed.

The sensation of someone he loved calling another pet names was such a funny feeling where you would call the bard "love" and he would pretend it's him. The notion was making him sick to his stomach; seeing that stupid anemo archon recieving your touch and caress was killing him. Slowly stinging his eyes more than before.

With tears, he was forced to swallow with the wine as the night was washed away with an image of what could've been his and now belonged another.

ALBEDO attained her. She loved him, he loved her and it was perfect...was it not? Despite every piece of the puzzle falling into its place, he felt hollow. His chest bore emptiness, one that haunted him at the very beginning. One that now drags him back to where he started. Back to you..?

"NO!" He shot up in cold sweat as his darling lover rose beside him to wipe away the beads off his forehead and asked him what's wrong. He couldn't dare reply or do anything as a matter of fact. He couldn't ruin what he had now...

The one who was beside him was the dream he wished to achieve, and yet he failed to realize that. And now, no words could his tongue as he cradled his lover.

DILUC never cared for how a single raindrop could ever be enough to draw endless tears from you until now when it landed upon his cheek. The burning sensation taunting his skin and sliding down his face as if a glass shard was cutting deep within.

For him, you became a melting candle; one that struggled to give light until the very end. Or much akin to a bird, one that flew hopelessly in the blue sky. But who would've known you would ever attain freedom? Fly far away from him.

It was a mistake to be gluttonous for your salty tears when he could have been receiving a pearly smile. But all was lost thanks to an Alchemist who holds you in the same manner he did and adores you just like he did. The only difference is the diamonds you cried for DILUC are now filling his own grave for him...

"Still pathetic as ever." He's lying, CHILDE is lying, whether to himself or somebody else he no longer knows. Yet his chest aches the same way he made yours hurt. So weak he is that each night he bleeds for you while you are blooming into fit of laughter; one he's particularly unfamiliar with. After all, it was only your cries that pleased him, not a clumsy smile.

It hurts him, but will he admit defeat or lay denial and the tears that never won over his ego. The shine in his eyes still diminished, but the hint of agony freshly engraved within. Your voice, the joy emanating from it, haunts him as a ghostly memory remains.

"Still pathetic as ever." a wounded reflection stares back...

A man of his word; ZHONGLI no longer found his gaze searching for glaze lilies. However, those flowers that bore your scent and distantly admired them. The promise of love he silently gave to you with another's image was the only remains of what you and him ever had.

Not a memory present in his head where he'd seen 'you' but an illusion that clouded his head; at the time, uncaring of the dullness slowly enveloping you into numbness. And one that came to your aid wasn't him. His biggest regret. It was, however, you who pulled themselves together and became much more, yet everything that was once there was lost.

A man of his word; MORAX failed to keep his word to you.

Bearing the glimmer in his eyes; one that XIAO struggled to hold, he sat upon the roof of Wangshu inn; pondering if you could see through the facade... despite him pouring his whole being into such lies that he knew they could never be true.

An emotion he could never bear for you...yet Morax, his savior, too, holds you dear; far dearer than he does. Those cursed hands of his are undesirable and undeserving of you. He is unworthy and dangerous to your fragile being who should protected and held with gentleness; one he could never offer.

Thus, from afar, he'll watch Morax wipe away your tears and tend to you in the same manner he can only dream to...

"Goodbye...my love..."

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 (ɪs ʟᴏᴠᴇ sᴜᴘᴘᴏsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʜᴜʀᴛ)

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[sheisaloneandlonley]

...

"Man, I wish I hadn't killed myself. Those people down there really loved me."

It's a permanent solution to a temporary problem

It's a permanent solution to a temporary problem

It's a permanent solution to a temporary problem

It's a permanent solution to a temporary problem

It's a permanent solution to a temporary problem

I want to die

I want to die

I want to die

I want to die

I think about it a lot, and I know I am not unique in it. It's a rising sentiment. There are thousands of us, even still knowing that understanding that fact, this feeling is completely isolating. There's no way someone could be this sad they pray to not wake up in the morning, consistently. I'm not even the only one in this family who thinks it. How the hell do I not have company? How am I so alone.

.....

I think I have sundowners, I only get like this right before Im trying to go to sleep.

My mom doesn't like it when I talk. But my dad does, but he doesn't really like me, well neither of them really do...but he listens and thinks it's interesting what I have to add...but my mom gets mad

.....

"It's just not that much fun having fun when you don't want to have fun, mom"

This is why fake it to you make it isn't working this is why faking it is making it worse this is when you need to realize that grass on he other side is astroterf and the sun has heated it to burning, it is not an appropriate place for a picknic. There is no keeping up with the Joneses here...this illness is chronic and I can't continue to give energy to a future that is unatanibly green as the fact plastic on the other side.

....

My mom says I'm good at making something out of nothing. So I say nothing and I say nothing and I say nothing and Drs get away with assault and murder and my boss gets away with sexual harassment and my God father gets away with calling me a joke and I say nothing and I say nothing and I say nothing and when it's to much and the cracks in the damn break and all the abuse I have shouldered silent come out of me in a torental fit a barrier that can no longer hold back the hurt mom has the audacity to be shocked at all that I've had to endure and she has the nerve to make me guilty of keeping my silence so I say nothing and I say nothing and I say nothing how much is truly her fault and how much is mine? Mom says you make something out of nothing and then asks me for stories....and how much should I be able to lay at her feet and how much can I take accountability for? Blame. How much is hers and how much is mine.

....

It occurred to me that someone must wonder why I am so obsessed with my mom but she made herself all I had once, she made herself paramount in my life. At one point my mother was the only kind touch in my world and I wonder if she felt power in denying me that. I wonder if she isolated me on purpose or accidentally and I wonder which is worse, and I convince myself it doesn't matter because the end result is the same. The cornerstone of my life is my mother's approval and it is exhausting digging down to replace it.

...

As low as she makes me, she makes me as high. She is still a safety net. She still will catch me, reassure me that no matter how badly I've blundered she will pick me up. And she is the only one who is this unwavering, no matter how sad she makes me, she still loves me. No matter how much she doesn't understand me she still loves me. No matter how much hate I feel it's still love underneath all of it. And I don't want to remove her as my cornerstone, but I don't know what to do when she makes me sad.

....

My cousin blocked me after I was posting about being sick, I think that's why. Idk. My mom told me, my cousin said she'd rather die than be in my shoes. But I'd rather die too. I'd rather be dead. I want to die, I don't want to be sick, I'm not enjoying this and I'm not gonna hide it for everyone's convince, and now I feel rejected. I feel abandoned. She's sick too she's like me, and I was so excited to have comrodery. I was so happy to not be alone in this illness. And she just....it's a boundary and I will respect it. But "can't I have something that's just mine" seriously? I'm so upset. I'm mad and I'm sad and I want to throw things so they break and I want to die. And I feel like an idiot screaming it's not fair. I didn't want to be so so alone. I'm so alone. Everything sucks and I wanna die. I just, this isn't anything close to what I had pictured for myself, and I don't know how to pivot. I don't know how to roll with this anymore. I don't know how to go with the flow of this hand life delt me. And I just don't know what to do. I don't know what I'm supposed to be doing. And I don't have the energy to pretend anymore. I just want to die. I'm so tired. And no matter how much sleep I do or don't get, I'm exhausted and fumbling for what to do. I'm not getting better. I'm stagnet and getting worse. I'm getting worse and the worse I get the more people leave

A d the more people leave the worse I get. And it's the ugly endless cycle that I'm being eaten up by and I don't know what to do.

My Nino said I was a joke. And I knew he thought that, and it wasn't surprising to have that confirmation. I feltlike I should have had more of a reaction. And I justified it in my mind as him not being to serious about it.reverce psychology or somethkng. But now that my cousins are cutting me off, now that it's my generation and the one after, now that it's the ones who have gone through this same hell, now that theyre not here for me. Now I'm so madsadsickx about this. He called me a joke, to my face. He called me a joke to my face. I'm not. I'm sick. I'm in heart failure, I'm actively sick and I'm struggling so hard to get better. And I'm a joke. And I just I'm so so so so so so so so so so so so so so upset

I want to die and I can't. Because I have responsibilities, and people who would be sad. A nd I resent them. I resent the hell out of them for making me stay here with all of this. I don't know how to let this go. I want to be happy, but it's so much of an impossibility that I don't even think about it. There's no way to that outcome anymore. Theres none of that for me. And I just don't want to even try. I'm so fucking depressed I can't even get out of bed most days and I'm so fucking disappointed that I wake up and have to keep doing this. I don't want to do this anymore, but I don't have a choice. I'm so tired.

I asked for this. I asked God to let me shoulder the burden of suffering I asked for this I prayed for this I was so obsessed with stigmata and miricals and saints and I wanted to help like them. I fucking prayed for this. And now look at me.

...

I started writing goodbyes in my head. I started with my mom, then Alda, then my dad....which got a little mean, and a lot more vindictive, and then I got to Madison and I couldn't do it, not even in my head. I couldn't stop repeating I'm sorry to her. There's no one I lobw more in existence, I know what the big bang felt like because of how I love her. Every love I've felt before her is so different in comparison. Like I was looking at the world through dirty scratched up sunglasses, then Madison happened and my heart exploded open BANG it's the truest love. I can't understand how my mom and Ron treat her sometimes. She is joy personified even when she's being "bad" and I can't say a permanent goodbye to her. I can't make her sad like I'm sad. When my brother made the attempt I was devastated, I couldn't stop crying for days. If he has successfully done anything I think I wouldn't be far behind. I can't do that to them. I could consider it when it was just brother, because he would understand right, he knows what this feels like he knows how hard it is to keep going. He would forgive me. But Madison is too little I can't do that to her she wouldn't understand. I can't be sorry enough about it. I can't be that dark spot in her life. I can't do that to her. I love her so much and I want that to be enough...it has to be. It has to be! She's so good, she deserves so much better than what life is for her. She deserves siblings who aren't suicidal and parents with endless patience. And adoration and so much more love. And I can't do that to her. The guilt has to be enough, even if the love isn't. Because it's easier to hang into, to feel. Especially right now. I didn't feel better trying to outline a goodbye to her and realized I loved her too much to do it, I was just too guilty about the outcome. What if that guilt and shame doesn't go away after you die. What if you have to just exist with it indefinitely. What if God decided that was my hell. You destroyed your sister's love, now you have to carry that around for eternity. ....... It's worse right then being miserable alive? Right?

Is DISPAIR worse than guilt? No... It can't be. How the hell are these my only options? How did I end up here? What did I do? This feels like a punishment.

...

I was okay when it was my Nino, I was okay when it was my Tia Tweety and Jessica, it hurt a lot and I was sad, but I was okay.

I'm not okay now that it's my Nina...She baptized me, she did my confirmation, her laugh was my favorite sound in the world. I felt so good when she called me "my Sandra" I'm not okay. I know grief does weird things to people...I know her daddy died. I know how hard that was she was in charge of all of that. But I would never want her to feel the way she's making me feel. Is there a word for the saddest sad? It doesn't seem to encompass this feeling.

Remember when I was your favorite? How can you not remember that? How can you not remember who I am to you or who I am as a person. How did I get here? What did I do? Why do they hate me. I swear I swear I didn't do anything!

Did you ever see the movie Gravity? When Dr Ryan Stone gets thrown off structure in space? And all she can yell in her panic is "What do I do?!" Yeah....yeah.

...

I want to die it it to be not my fault.i want my Tata to come get me, I want my Nana to come get me. I want my Nana to come get me. I want my baby doggies to come get me, my Kisha baby and my baby Miss Eva

I want it to not me by fault so no one can blame me. And I want someone who loves me to come get me. And I screaming as loud as I can in my head "please come get me, please please" please let it be like the TV shows, please let them come and hold my hand and call my name and come get me. Please let me be so happy to see them, and them me and were reunited with joy and love and the take my hand when they come get me. Andnim not punished for wanting it and I'm not punished for doing it to myself. And they're just a little bit upset that noone stopped me or that jonone noticed how bad it was for me.

I thought I heard my Tata calling me last week. I was just waking up, and I thought he was standing outside my door and he called me, like he needed me to do something. Like he needed my help. I thought I heard him... I thought he was going to tell me something. Maybe about the dogs? Or my car? Maybe I had mail? Or maybe he has gotten pizza and wanted to let me know. I was awake and I heard him call me, and I just forgot he was dead in my foggy state I'm always in when I wake up. But I didn't open the door when I got to it. I heard my Tio ferny and turned around and went right back to bed. I want him to call me away, I think if I had opened the door....I think he might have been standing there, maybe he would have offered his hand, maybe I would have just dropped dead on the spot. Maybe I missed him too much, maybe

I spend so much time being sad, I'm wasting this finite resource. I do think I enjoyed the time I had to be happy well enough, I think I took it for granted that my default was willing to see the silver lining. I think I'm blowing it. It's beautiful outside. My dogs love me. I'm not expected to do anything but exist in this space, I

And I'm wasting my time being sad! And I can't stop, and I'm frustrated, and then sad, and then frustrated. And every feeling that I have is colored by this base feeling and it sours everything else. And it doesn't matter how long I go without falling back down here to my sadness, because I'll always end up here again. And I can't look at it like yin and yang, like there's a balance to this, because this is too much! When I know this is my default when I know that I'll end up here over and over again. There isn't enough time or resources that'll make any of this balanced out! And whatever comfort I have I can't enjoy enough because it's been colored by this eventually. And anyone who's loved me knows that and they're no longer giving me the time, because they know it's wasted!

My Nino said if I died tomorrow he'd be sad, but he'd get over it. I'd end up a little pocket picture on my ninas shelf and that would be the end of me. My Nino, the "good" father figure in my life. That I only had my Nana and Tata who truly "gave a rats ass about you"

And my Tata is dead and maneuvers me into a worst position before he died. If they are the only ones who truly cared for me...it feels minimal.

I can't stop chastising myself for feeling so childish. I understand nuance and complexity. But I can't stop thinking about how unfair all of this is. I can't stop thinking that I should be loved unconditionally, that I have a right to ot. That it was given to me so freely for so long by so many...and it was pulled out from under me and how much that hurts...it's not fair...and I can't make due with what little I have left, and that's making me lose more...and I would beg if it would make a difference, if that's how loved actually worked I would beg! Pride be damned! I would do it...but I know better...and I know that these feelings are coloring the things I do in my day to day and it's making me bitter and making everything worse and I don't know what to do, because I need more then I'm getting and I don't know how to fill this deficit, or how to adapt to it.

....

I see people like Kay (Kay and Taylor from tt) struggling with chronic illnesses and mental health, and she has such a good life, such a good support system and there are so many things going for her, and she still struggles so hard... And with all that's going on for her she still has a hard time, and I think oh God, I don't even have that kind of support, not even close and if she's struggling with that, then how the hell do I have a chance to even begin to cope?

#over the last yheee months #2024 #was off to the worst start #February #march #April #dump #from phone notes #no exact dates

[harmcityherald]

My bones hurt in the very core of my broken body. Every step is like a miserable step through a fog of fatigue that I cannot dissipate. The very tops of my eyes hurt. It's my first day really off of the cancer medicine so I kind of don't understand it. All I know is that I feel like walking death and I just want to lay down and crumble into a little ball and go to sleep and never wake up. Suffering begets despair, those are usually filling my heart when I'm crawling into a ball and I feel like I'm ready to die. I don't feel despair right now and for some stupid reason that I can't explain I feel in an indomitable anger. It's a feeling that I can't control, and by control I mean make go away. There is a certain manager at a certain grocery store who doesn't realize his life is in Jeopardy tonight. All because of something that maybe I thought he said about me although I'm not sure and so that brings into account my own anxiety and mental health in my own paranoia and like doctor Bo Luke Duke said maybe I actually am a paranoid schizophrenic, a psycho killer and guess what Dr Boe might be the first one on my list. That's how I feel tonight even though I know that I will never do those things and those things are never within my reach or actually my physical ability to do it. I don't think I could kill a small poodle. So it's been one of those kind of days I guess I woke up feeling sick and then I've had that mental anguish all day long of knowing that pretty much there are no musicians left who want to play with me because I'm old none of them I'm sick and decrepit. I tried to play to prove my prowess to prove that I just don't have empty words of being a musician or an artist I tried to prove those things and yet my hands are so numb that even they are my enemy. So on top of the body of the manager at the grocery store I will also include my cut off hands and burn them all in a bonfire. Sure I'm an old man. I'm supposed to be filled with hate I'm supposed to be filled with anger I'm supposed to hate the younger generation I'm supposed to kick dogs and yet I don't do any of these things. If anything I kick myself. Oh and then of course there's the fact that you have to keep it all bottled up inside and hide it, not because of Any passive regressive person who makes you hide it it's just that you may be the head of the family such as me and people do look up to you and if you don't have your shit together nobody's got their shit together so no matter what's going on in your convoluted crazy flame infested head you have Define the calm and the correct note for every situation and to try to help the people around you because that's the only thing that matters in life is helping the people around you. Sometimes it angers when you cannot help those people. And in some ways it makes you angry when they have to help you. You don't know me and I don't know you. You may not like me and maybe I wouldn't like you. But then again maybe we would get on perfectly who knows. And I don't forgot what the hell I was trying to do all this about so I'm just going to say goodbye and have a good night and don't kill anyone not in my name.

~ciao

[alexiososp]

Private Matters by maokun

Hello dear kaisooist, how has your day been so far? Dear listener I hope you are well. Where i am, it is raining, perfect day to be laying down and reading some kaisoo fics.

I want to thank my beta Dudu for proof reading my episode today. For this episode, i am changing up the structure a bit for a few reasons: this fic is ongoing, updating every week, so this episode would sort of be like a teaser ish? to have readers be extra excited for the fic and get to take a peak into the author’s beautiful mind, one that birthed this fic. In between, we will have some questions for maokun, who will grace us with her response. We thank maokun for participating in this podcast, thank you mao, we love your writings and thank you for saying yes to being part of this podcast.

Now for listeners who are not aware, maokun started off as a reader, and now, a writer. Maokun’s first fic was Morning Sickness back in 2014. And from 2014 to today, maokun has authored about 35 fics and counting. A bit more on maokun before we get the episode going proper, maokun has been an EXO-L since 2012, mama era, that's about 11 years. The pull factor that got her into the fandom was Jongin’s debut teaser, and eventually Kyungsoo. They were also the reason maokun got pulled into the ficdom as well.

Moving on, those on the bird app, we are all following the beloved maokun’s latest abo fic, Private Matters. And to have it with a little more pizzazz, it is royalty au.

Already just by looking at the AU, it is quite attractive: omega prince kyungsoo and president's son alpha jongin.

Private Matters by maokun, is predicted to have about 20 chapters, and we are currently in the 8 chapter mark. And as of chapter 8 there is about 35k words. We will definitely see the word count go up as the fic updates.

The summary from the fic is as follows: The law states only an alpha could sit on the throne; omega Prince Kyungsoo is left with no choice but to wed one and he chooses the president’s son, Kim Jongin.

Well well well, we see maokun setting up the context of the fic by showing us the meeting with the palace secretaries and advisors, followed by Junmyeon presenting alphas to Kyungsoo. And to no surprise Kyungsoo is against all of them until we meet Jongin… Why does Prince Kyungsoo choose the president’s son Jongin? Why is Jongin adamant on saying no? and that, dear listeners, is how their story begins.

The story unfolds in a slow burn manner. And seeing that it has been tagged as childhood trauma, i can sort of see hints of it because there are certain parts in the eight chapters that are already out.

In chapter two for example, when both readers and Kyungsoo are first introduced to Jongin, President Kim shares that this is not the first time the two meet. It is a shocking fact for Kyungsoo, and it makes readers curious as to why Kyungsoo has no recollection of those moments with Jongin.

In addition to that as well, we have President Kim on some occasions apologising to Kyungsoo and saying things like: “Anytime, Prince Kyungsoo. It will be my pleasure to be of any help to you. Though, I’m years late.” and even Junmyeon cautioning Kyungsoo when he speaks to the president.

—-

Now from this section onwards we have some comments and questions and answers for and by maokun.

Talking about childhood, there is a request from an anon in maokun’s curious cat if you would mind adding little anecdotes of KaiSoo's childhood, maybe as a bonus chapter. Those bits and pieces of how baby Soo used to cling to Jongin hyung, the constellation mapping and diaper change.

Maokun’s response was that she most definitely has those in the story plot. She has yet to reveal their childhood past. And there is a lot to tell! Maokun plans this to be included in bits, a little bit of here and there when Kyungsoo is digging into his past. And she will probably add a bonus chapter when the fic is completed.

Trusting the writer’s choice, we will definitely see how it all comes together eventually. And we pause here for a question for maokun: We see many hints of Kyungsoo’s childhood trauma already in the first few chapters, could that be the reason behind why Kyungsoo’s personality can be quite unpleasant to the people around him?

Maokun replied that yes, Kyungsoo’s personality is intertwined with his past and childhood trauma. Readers may have noticed that he doesn’t trust anyone and believes that no one is on his side from the very first chapter. Hence, explaining his hostility towards everyone and how he always has his guard up. But without him realising it, he starts to open himself up to Jongin, thinking that for the first time, thankfully for kaisooists, he actually feels safe with Jongin.

Following the same train of thought, another tag I am excited to see unfold is the Character Development tag. Kyungsoo can be quite bratty and I hope slowly we will get to see pleasant exchanges between the couple because… as much as I love bratty soo I want to see the characters in love. I know we will get there, so we are patient and we trust in the author’s writing choice.

—

Touching a bit on the relationships and how the characters intermingle with each other:

Kyungsoo and his subordinates, Junmyeon and Baekhyun as the secretaries and Chanyeol the bodyguard. Where we are now, these relationships are very… well the prince asks and is delivered? But there are boundaries thankfully, especially when Junmyeon is involved I think mainly because he is one who is able to see the bigger picture of how people are connected to one another and works in the prince’s best interest, whether Kyungsoo sees it or not.

I think another interesting relationship dynamic explored would be between Kyungsoo and Sehun. And the thing is, Sehun is very pleasant, treats Kyungsoo respectfully but also happens to be pleasantly unaware of Kyungsoo’s true intent, which is to wed Jongin.

But im also weary of Sehun’s and Jongin’s affection to one another…but after the last two chapters, chapter seven and eight, i am kind of relieved that it seems that Jongin just likes Sehun platonically.

Now, Kyungsoo’s and Jongin’s relationship starts off by them meeting in an opening ceremony. Jongin teases Kyungsoo to no end. We next see Jongin in the palace where all the other alphas are and that is the start of their… I guess you could say this was their enemies origin story… it gets quite tense as well, their arguments are a bit unpleasant to watch at first then hopefully as the fic continues, I trust in maokun that it will be better.

And the latest chapter, oh my kaisoo! The whole chapter i had my mouth open and giggling and gosh the build up from when that bastard Myungsoo is in the scene and fucking dares to put his palm on Kyungsoo’s cheek, to that abrupt confession from Jongin with his big reveal…

There are so many tension points from his relationships with Junmyeon to Sehun to Myungsoo and to Jongin of course, so many layers to think about… now my question to our dear maokun is, without giving too much of the plot away, what is the next cause of action? Could you give us a snippet of who will be involved in the next conflict?

Maokun tells us to expect political conflicts, primarily between President Kim and The Royal Family while gradually revealing their past. The conflicts will revolve around convincing the people and stakeholders that Kyungsoo and Jongin’s marriage is not political, which in fact it is. Other than the conflicts, you can definitely look forward to Kyungsoo and Jongin putting up a good show for the cameras! And oh well, catching feelings and all that.

Oh myyy! That would be so dramatic! I love maokun’s mind, i really admire how maokun is able to give so many little bits of tension, then slowly string them together. From the beginning till where we are now, we don’t really see President Kim as much as… Jongin, for example, so it will definitely be interesting and dramatic and all things intriguing to see how that will unfold.

—

Now i asked maokun, how close are we into getting to the climax of the story? I can sense that we are somewhere near it.

And dear listeners, I was pleasantly surprised to find that we readers are most definitely not anywhere near the climax. There is still a lot to build to reach the climax and maokun believes that it will exceed 20 chapters.

Smelling the angst during the build up oh my this is going to be legendary. Following up with this I have another question: now from chapter 8 onwards, does it get better in terms of the characters liking one another? or does it get more complicated and tension filled as we go along? Because there are several layers of the characters we still need to see to fill in the plot to get the full picture, several tags that have yet to fully pop out like: childhood trauma and character development. So i guess to rephrase the question to maokun: are we in the middle of the conflict, or is this just the beginning?

Maokun responded that it can go both ways depending on the stage of their relationship. We have passed the reuniting with your childhood friend stage, making him my husband and now we’re entering the stage of getting to know him. They will start to warm up to each other, but of course the bantering won’t end. It’s too good to pass! In chapter 8, Kyungsoo saw pictures of Jongin and him when they were children which will drive him to dig into his past which he doesn’t have recollection of. And this will lead to, well, more conflicts.

—

Okay last question for the day before we reach the final comments, now, we are able to see the expressions clearly in kaisoo because maokun’s writing is very vivid and of course, this being fanfiction, it also has taken reference from the actual real lives of kaisoo as KAI Jongin and D.O. Kyungsoo of EXO. So my last question here is: which moments of kaisoo in reality did you take references from?

There are only two moments maokun took references from. First moment was when Jongin’s dogs crowded Kyungsoo’s at the lake which was based on the actual moment when Kyungsoo met Jongin’s dogs at COEX. And of course the second moment is this:

“Kim Jongin, Prince Kyungsoo is going to melt” was from the fancam where the fan shouted PLAY AUDIO “he’s going to melt”. Of course, we fans find that Jongin was staring at Kyungsoo.

Aw what sweet moments!

Any final comments you want to give us readers and listeners, maybe something to look out for as you slowly unravel their characters, and their bond of love and how they will eventually rule the kingdom?

Maokun started this fic with monarchy in mind. The concept of monarchy is understood and accepted differently by everyone. We heard of how the monarchy ended, how it is still thriving and celebrated, and how people are fighting to put an end to it. But maokun will not get into the specifics in this fic, just grazing the surface. As to not get too political! Now that Kyungsoo and Jongin will officially step into the life as a married couple, the king and queen, you’ll see how much and far it will affect both of them, as they juggle between rulers and husbands, which actually, spoiler, what Jongin fears the most.

Thank you so much maokun for sharing your beautiful fic with us! And i think i speak for everyone when i say that we are all excited for the next chapter which comes out hopefully at the end of the week!

So that about sums it all for this episode, link to the fic would be in the captions, you can also reach me on the bird app, also in the captions.

Have a lovely week dear kaisooists, thank you so much for tuning in, and we’ll see you in the next one. Bye!

[unfinshedsentec]

When the tr boys get sick~

a/n: I just got back from a trip, and I’m not feeling well so this might be a load of crap…sorry😭

word count: 2.7k+

characters: Draken, Baji, Chifuyu, Mitsuya, Izana, Wakasa, and you!!

tw: cursing, and mentions of vomit.

Draken would act like he's fine, but he's really not...

Draken is the person whose always taking care of someone else. It doesn't matter who it is, he's always taking care of someone.

And that's what he's used to.

But, when he's sick, he's the one being taking care of. And that’s something he’s not only used to, but it’s also something he seriously hates…

So, when he got sick, he knew what would happen, and knew that he couldn't let anyone find out.

And as a result he acted like he was fine…

He did a good job at it too!

Unfortunately for him, you knew him too well and you could immediately tell that something was wrong, though you were still uncertain...

"Draken are you alright love?" you said noticing his oddly flushed skin.

"I'm fine"

"Are you sure? You don't look so well..."

"Yup, I'm fine"

And well, you belived him for a while. Afterall, he was insanely good at hiding how badly he really felt.

But when you hugged him, craving some affection, you noticed not only how stiff he went, but also how unusually warm he felt.

He quite literally felt like he was burning up.

And despite Draken's attempts to get away from you, you were still able to get a good feel of his forehead, and your suspicions were instantly confirmed.

The tall-ass blonde male ended up having an extremely high fever, which was exactly what you thought he had...

And after that, you pretty much jumped on the male to tire him out, which worked, and you dragged him to the doctor. Though, he yelled at you the whole way there, saying that he was still "normal" and "fine".

Unfortunately for him, the doctor pretty much went against him and ended up diagnosing him with an ear infection, you being told to take care of him.

You, of course, agreed to that.

But there was a problem...

In order to take care of Draken, you'd have to keep him quiet and get him to rest up until his fever went down.

And while that seemed simple at first, it actually turned out to an experience right out of hell for you.

Draken, refused to listen to you. You'd get him to lay down, but the moment you'd turn your back, he was back up doing something. He kept trying to leave and go to Toman meetings, or he'd try to help you.

It honestly absolutely baffled you.

You pretty much ended up locking him in his room and watched over him like a hawk. And, thankfully, that worked.

Draken ended up getting some rest and went back to normal a few days later...although it took a little longer than expected because HE WOULDN'T LISTEN!!

When those few days were finally over, you were relieved and exhausted. And while Draken went back to doing his normal thing, you took a few days off and finally relaxed...

You needed that after your experience with Draken.

And you swore to never take care of him alone again...

Baji would get really pissed off at you whenever he managed to get sick

Baji is someone whose always kinda done his own thing, and he doesn't rely on other people. He's just always been that way, and he always will be.

However, he managed to catch a nasty cold from you...and now instead of being able to just go off on his own thing, he has to stay in bed and let you take care of him.

And he does NOT like that.

In fact, he hates it. Hell, he currently hates you for getting him sick.

Unfortunately for him, Baji's Mom ended calling you, and asked you to take care of Baji because of an emergency at work. So, Baji was stuck with you.

And he made sure to let you know just how bitter he currently was.

Every time you'd give him water or medicine, he'd throw it on the floor for some stupid reason, such as the water being too "crystal".

Stupid right?

Sadly, that was only the start of it.

The super angry guy kept making you get up do something the moment you'd sit down. He kept you sending you back to get new stuff. He kept making you run out to get unnecessary stuff, like books he'll never read.

Hell, he was so bitter that he started coughing and sneezing right in your face...

"Alright Baji!! What the hell did I do?!", you yelled, fed up with him.

"You got me sick!!”

"You got yourself sick!!"

"No, I got this from you!!"

"That’s only because you got too close to me!! You did this to yourself!!”

"Wha-DAMN YOU!!!"

He ignored you after that. And you ended up not seeing him until he went back to normal...when he finally apologized for being so horrible.

Thankfully, your relationship went back to normal after that, and now you both laugh at the situation!

Well, that was until you, once again, got sick because Baji kept coughing right in your face...

Let's just say you weren't on talking terms for a while after that...

Chifuyu would become an absolute baby when he's sick!

Chifuyu, like any of us, hates being sick. It makes him feel miserable and naturally, he hates that.

But when he does get sick, and he does feel miserable, he also becomes...clingy to say the least.

He pretty much becomes a baby when he gets sick.

But it's not like you mind. It's always nice have such as sweet, cooperative Chifuyu on your hands.

Plus, he needs you.

So, when Chifuyu called you asking for your help, you immediately rushed over to his apartment to do just that.

And just as you suspected, he looked pretty horrible...

The poor guy had the usual sick, pale face with bright red cheeks, and sweat sunning down his face from his high body temperature. He had an extremely sore throat, that stopped him from talking and eating. And he constantly complained about a headache.

He was pretty sick to say the least.

And naturally, you panicked, not knowing what was going on. However, you were able to calm yourself down enough to take Chifuyu to the doctor.

Although, the whole way to the doctor, he was hugging you, and, not letting you go.

Hell, he couldn't even let you go when he sat up on the exam table...which was interesting.

Thankfully the doctor was nice enough to not say anything about it and ended up diagnosing Chifuyu with Strep. And you, were tasked with taking care of him.

Not that he'd be leaving you any time soon…

Now, taking care of him was a whole different story.

As usual, Chifuyu was constantly clinging to you, and always wanted you close to him. And if you weren't there, he'd start whining and complaining for you. 

You pretty much had at least one hand on him at all times, purely because he was so desperate for your touch.

Not only that, but he was very sweet and acted unusually nice, even for him.

"Y/nnnnn," Chifuyu said.

"Hmm?"

"I love youuu"

"I love you too Fuyu"

"You're the best person in the worlddd"

"You are too," you said chuckling and running your fingers through his silky blonde hair.

Really, it was a great experience for you, putting aside the fact that he was sick.

He was just so sweet and loving and you loved that.  And because you were always around him, he had no reason to get up or complain, so he rested pretty well and recovered within a few days!

Though, he went back to his normal, not so clingy self in process....

And now you missed that adorable Chifuyu!!

Mitsuya would also act like he's absolutely fine, when he's most certainly not...

Mitsuya has always had a lot of weight and responsibility on his shoulders, and he's always been the one who's taking care of others. Namely, his little sisters.

But when he's the one whose sick, he can't do that. He has to relax, and that is an absolutely foreign word in Mitsuya's vocabulary.

So, even though he's sick, and feels absolutely horrible, he'll act fine.

Though, unlike Draken, he's not good at hiding it.

Even though everyone knows he's clearly sick, he still refuses to admit it, and he just does his normal everyday stuff.

But there came a point when Mitsuya's friends became too worried about him, and they brought in the big guns, you.

The moment you walked into Mitsuya's sewing room, you immediately saw just how horrible he looked...

The sliver-haired male had an unusually pale face with a red tint to his cheeks, showing his fever. He was constantly coughing and sneezing, making the people around him flinch. His voice was stuck in a whisper purely from the strain that coughing had caused.

Hell, he was in such horrible shape that he hid from you when you walked in.

After all, he knew just how bad he looked.

But, of course, hiding from you doesn't work, especially because his friends pretty much pointed him out. And, naturally, you dragged him to the doctor.

Though, he didn't fight you along the way...

"Mitsuya..?", you said, sitting next to him on the train that headed to the walk-in clinic.

"Hmm?"

"You're a horrible liar"

"I know...that's why I gave up"

You, sighed in relief, thinking you won...and you merrily continued your way to the doctor, where Mitsuya got diagnosed with the flu and was simply told to rest until the flu passed.

But that sure didn't happen...

Because you ended up being tasked with the job of taking care of Mitsuya, and you weren't exactly good at that stuff.

And it's pretty much in Mitsuya's genes to help you when you need it...

The moment you'd drop something, Mitsuya would get up and help you clean it up, despite your protests. If you got confused, Mitsuya would get up and explain it to you. Every time you'd accidently pour a little too much medicine out of the pill bottle, Mitsuya would be right there cleaning it up.

Long story short, Mitsuya took care of you more than you took care of him. And every time he did, you yelled at him, but he'd still do it.

The whole experience was pretty much the worst place a sick person should be in...

In the end, you called someone else to take care of your sick boyfriend. And thankfully, he recovered quite well after that.

And when he did, he trained you in taking care of a person.

So, you now know how to do it perfectly!

Izana would never accept that he's actually sick

As we all know, Izana is really strong and never really shows any of his weak side.

But when he's sick, which he never gets sick, he looks and feels horrible.

And well, that weak side will come out.

But he won't accept that. He can't be sick; he won't be sick.

So, he just told himself and everyone else that he wasn't. He just didn't accept it. And it stayed that way for a while.

Well, that was until he came across you...

The moment you first laid your eyes on Izana, you immediately knew something was very, very wrong.

Izana, looked unusually pale and even had a little green tint to his face and lips. There were beads of sweat running down his face as he harshly breathed. His behavior was out of the ordinary, as he seemed unusually wobbly and weak, and he seemed less...pumped up.

Long story short, he wasn't okay.

And naturally, you reacted to this.

You pretty much walked up to him and dragged him away, him, of course, him protesting in the process.

"What the hell Y/n! Stop!!"

"NO! Your clearly sick or at least not feeling good!"

"Huh? Sick? I'm not sick!", he protested, but the fact that he looked like he was about to puke his guts up said otherwise.

"Your definitely sick Izana. And we're gonna go home because of it!"

"Dammit, I'm not sick! I don't get sick!"

"Yeah...right...", you said clearly skeptical.

Of course, Izana pretty much fought you the whole way home, but he was really weak...so his "fighting" was absolutely nothing.

It was like a cat fight...with cats that have no claws.

Hell, he spent the whole time swatting at you, still insisting that he was "fine", but the moment you actually got home and forcefully put him into bed, he passed out.

And he stayed like that for almost the whole day...and of course when he woke, he tried to leave, still telling you was "fine".

Unfortunately for him, he threw up and that was pretty much the end of that.

You ended up taking care of him for the next couple of days, helping him around and giving him the stuff, he needed, and he hesitantly cooperated.

However, he wouldn't let you take him to the doctor.

But that was fine. Because he recovered a few days later and went back to his normal strong, independent, gang leader self.

And he was absolutely fine!

Although, he still claimed that he was never sick...despite him literally getting sick...

Wakasa would absolutely hate you whenever he gets sick

Wakasa is someone who never, I mean never, gets sick.

He's pretty resistant to a lot of stuff out there, so he rarely gets sick. That, and well, he's always sure to stay 6 feet away from someone who is sick, even if it's you.

So, when he actually got sick, and not long after you did, who else could blame but you?

And let's just say he was not happy after that...

In fact, he was so angry at you, that he just ignored you. And, as a result, you didn't find out he was sick until Benkei called you, asking you if you could take care of Waka.

Naturally, you agreed.

Unfortunately, it was only when you walked into Waka's house that you realized what hell you were walking into...

The moment you walked into Waka's house, he ignored you. He literally turned his back towards you and shunned you.

You'd attempt to talk to him, but he'd just give you the silent treatment.

So, you can guess actually taking care of him was...complicated to say the least.

The guy wasn't talking to you, so he wouldn't tell you what was wrong or what he wanted. He wouldn't take anything from you, including medicine that would help him. He wouldn't let you touch him, even if it was only to check up on him.

He literally wouldn't let you take care of him.

And you were pretty tolerant at first, thinking he was just grumpy from being sick, and you put up with him. But there was only so long of his shunning you could take.

And eventually, you reached your breaking point.

"Alright Waka!! What is wrong with you?!"

"....."

"Why won't you talk to me?!"

"........"

"Did I do something?"

"......."

"WILL YOU FUCKING SAY SOMETHING YOU ASSHOLE!!!!!!"

"You got me sick dammit!"

"I had an infection! There's literally no way I got you sick!"

He was real quite after that. And well, you smirked in victory as he looked down at the floor in shame. And he spent a good while like that, only snapping out of it after you offered him some medicine.

Thankfully after that, he went back to his usual self, and finally started speaking to you. And you, could finally take care of him.

As a result, he got over what he had pretty quickly and really well! And you, couldn't be happier.

However, Waka is still looking for the person who got him sick (for some stupid reason). And he claimed that he's kill the person who did the "crime".

If only he had known that you were lying to him the whole time, and you were the one who committed the "crime".

But, he'd never find out.

After all, there was no way you'd risk your life over that....

//end.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers x y/n #draken #draken x reader #ken ryuguji #ken ryuuguji x reader #baji #baji x reader #keisuke baji #keisuke baji x reader #baji keisuke #baji keisuke x reader #fanfic #chifuyu #chifuyu x reader #matsuno chifuyu #matsuno chifuyu x reader #mitsuya #mitsuya x reader #mitsuya takashi x reader #izana kurokawa #Izana #izana x reader #izana kurokawa x reader #wakasa #wakasa x reader #imaushi wakasa x reader #imaushi wakasa

[dulceateez]

𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝!𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐳

𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘫𝘰𝘰𝘯𝘨 

his body rests against the headboard of the bed with his eyes shut. he hums softly to the melody of the song playing from his radio that rests on his nightstand. his hands rest on your hips as you hover over him with a small brush in one hand and a small pot of black eyeshadow in the other. the brush tickles his eyelids, making his long lashes flutter kisses against your fingertip. neither of you says a word as you work to perfect a smokey eye on him. you pull away to examine your work and smile to yourself. the time reads ‘3:02 am.’ neither of you mind the late night. 

𝘴𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘸𝘢 

the thought of leaving you for months at a time makes his eyes blur with tears. the night before those trips are filled with soft hugs and gentle kisses peppering any and every part of your body. everything reminds him of you. from the color of the pillows that he lays his head on in foreign hotels, to the scents of your favorite baked goods, even the taste of strawberry chapstick. he bought the same brand to always taste you on his lips, every little thing floods his mind with thoughts and images of you. one late afternoon as the sun began to set, the sky turned into an array of pinks that reminds him of the apple of your cheeks when you blush under his gaze. he snaps a photo, takes another photo of him kissing the sky, and another of him pinching it. he sends the photos to you along with a message; “I’m kissing your cheeks goodnight.” 

𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘩𝘰 

being in love with him makes you feel like a fool--the love itself is foolish. kid-like. loving each other brings out the feeling of youth that has been forced down by the tough realities of being adults. each moment with him is filled with laughter and a love so pure that it makes you sick. 10:30 pm, the clouds darken and the slight rumbling of thunder frightens you both as you stroll along with street hand-in-hand. he twirls you around and, even in those split seconds, he makes you feel like the most beautiful ballerina and the street was your stage. the rain pours down but neither of you mind, he drags you into the middle of the  street and continues his twirling. in that moment you both knew one thing: no matter how old and grey you’ll become, the love will always be young. 

𝘺𝘦𝘰𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘨 

he loves you, there is no denying that fact. he loves you so much that he doesn’t know how to love you. he worships the ground you walk on, even. his love for you is so big that it overflows around him, leaving him with no idea on how to show you. he’s never been one to plan big surprises or buy you expensive gifts, he appreciates the little things that comes from the relationship. that’s how he loves you. each morning before he goes to practice, he tries his hardest to prepare a breakfast for you. if he burns the food, he makes up for it with a small drawing on a post-it note. every morning is the same; a kiss on your cheek that brings a smile to your face, a tall glass of cold water ready for you when you wake, and a breakfast so inedible looking that it warms your heart for the effort he put into it. 

𝘴𝘢𝘯 

each kiss leaves you breathless, each hug leaves you longing for more, and each stare from his doe eyes leaves you baffled by his beauty. there’s nothing that can compare to the way he loves you. his gentleness towards you, he handles you like you’re the most prized glass-work there is, is something new. he always takes your hand with such care, his grip still strong to protect you. you nearly began to cry one morning when he comes up behind you to wrap his arms around your entire body, peppering kisses along your shoulder and up your neck to your cheek. his whispers are so quiet but you can make out every sweet word he says. he treasures you the most in moments like these. 

𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪 

the tiny white bead struggles to slip onto the small thread of wire, his eyes squint and his tongue peeks out at the corner of his lips. he lets out a little ‘aha’ once he completes the necklace with your initials as the focus point. you reach over and clasp the piece of work around his neck, now the two of you wear matching necklaces with each other’s initials. his fingertips nervously dance around the skin on your arm, as slow as a waltz and gentle as if it were ghost dancing, he catches his lip in between his teeth and chews on the skin slowly as he watches you. despite dating for many months, the sensation of butterflies chasing each other in circles within his ribcage never seems to fade away. neither does the honey dripping eyes that shines the brightest in the sunlight.  

𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 

running late is his middle name, you’re able to get past that trait because he always makes it up to you. no matter who or what it is, you come first in his life. as he runs late to a house date with you, he realizes that he must brighten up your mood with some flowers. it’s late at night and all of the floral shops are closed but that doesn’t stop him. to him, there is no obstacle in his way to bring the smile, that he fell in love with, on your face. his fingers delicately plucks out the small purple and yellow flowers that he comes by on his walk to your house, even picking the bright pink flowers and the pure white ones out of the neighbor’s yard, he stuffs them into a glass bottle to present to you when he’s home. 

𝘫𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘩𝘰

mature suits him. it’s the perfect word to describe him as an individual. but when he’s with you? childish. this type of love is the love he’s been wanting. someone to make him feel like he doesn’t have to act like the oldest one. that’s why the two of you work out so great together. you bring out the carefree spirit within him. here you are, riding in a shopping cart as he pushes you around the empty parking lot. neither of you care about the shouts or burst of laughter that may be deemed as too noisy. he spins you in circles the more you laughed. the love you share is one he needs; live in the moment and act young and dumb. he’s dumb and in love, the two best feelings in the world. 

#ateez #ateez reactions #ateez headcanons #ateez fluff #ateez ot8 #ateez imagines #ateez drabbles #park seonghwa #kim hongjoong #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #seonghwa fluff #hongjoong fluff #yunho fluff #yeosang fluff #san fluff #mingi fluff #wooyoung fluff #jongho fluff

[moved2usagiiboo]

Daydreaming

Def; Daydreaming is the stream of consciousness that detaches from current, external tasks when attention drifts to a more personal and internal direction. 

Synonyms; Trance, fantasy, Hallucination

Chifuyu x fem!reader

Minors DNI, thank you.

You were stunning, enticing, gorgeous. You were a angel sent down from heaven with the job of blessing young men's hearts. You shined bright like the rays on a sunny day.

You were his everything and yet you weren't his. As a matter of fact, he barely knew anything about you but you have him wrapped around your delicate finger. He was whipped.

Chifuyu met you one day, when he had been tasked with a mid-day coffee run for him and his co-worker. He walked into the café, the smell of coffee and pastries engulfed his noise, it was a small cat café not too far from where he worked. Nothing more than a five minute walk, Chifuyu heard cats meow and purred as they rubbed against his pants.

He bent down rubbing the head of the nearest cat to him, he lifted the cat up cradling it as he walked towards the menu.

"Hi! Welcome to Neko-Sama, what can I get for you today." You beamed at him from behind the counter with the softest smile. Your voice rung in his ears like a soft melody, your smile made heat rush to his face in an instant.

You had your hair in pigtails with pink and white cat ears, and a frilly maid costume draped over your body. You shuffled your body feeling Chifuyu's eyes look you up and down eyeing your attire.

You were adorable.

You stared at the man with cat like eyes, you catched your eyes with his before turning away and giving an awkward cough to clear the air.

"Wow, Tuba doesn't really like anybody..." You drifted off, "Much less let people hold her, you must be a great guy!"

"Tuba?" He questioned earning a small meow from the ginger cat that was in his arms nuzzling his head on his arm. "O-Oh! Well, I do work with animals, that's probably why." He chuckles softly petting the cat.

"That's amazing, I got this job here to work with animals. I adore cats, they're just so cute." You practically squealed, "Sorry! M'rambling" You looked down with a slight your ears slightly red from embarrassment.

The only thing that ran through Chifuyu's head was how adorable you were. Would it be weird if he asked for your number? You both just met, but he can't help but want to know more about you.

"N-No, no, not at all. Honestly, I thought it was cute..." He says the last part ever so softly, tightening his grip on the cat due to nervousness. The cat bites Chifuyu's hand in response jumping out of his arms, "Oh.. Guess I pissed him off." You both laughed at the cat as you watched him lick himself in spite.

For a split second you both lock eyes, you turn your head down to the iPad on the counter before beaming a smile at him.

"So! What can I get for you today?"

Ever since then Chifuyu has found reasons to make his way to the café. His co-worker caught onto him leaving work to bring back coffee and various snacks, one day he asked him about it.

"I like the coffee." He plainly replied, he would repeat this phrase over and over not only to those who asked about his constant ventures to the café but to convince himself that it wasn't because he wanted to hear your voice and see your face.

Totally not because he hopes that his constant visits would bring upon something. Something more than small talk as you prepared his drink, he convinced himself that he didn't want to be the reason you smile everyday.

You weren't running through his mind, he couldn't be in love with a girl be barely knows.

But the way you blush when he gives you small compliments, it's just too cute to ignore.

Over the course of a few months you and the man got closer, you learn his name and he yours. You were both around the same age, 23, you still being in college working towards your degree and him owning a animal shop.

One day, on a cold winter evening Chifuyu found himself at the café once again. So far he has been to Neko-Sama almost everyday. Naturally, being the animal person he is, he has created a bond with the cats there. Especially Tuna.

Tuna meows the loudest whenever Chifuyu is in the establishment, that's when you begin to prepare his drink. His order changes with the season, as any good barista does, you remember his orders for each season.

Being that it's winter you prepare his drink, a medium peppermint hot chocolate with extra whipped cream. You found it cute how a grown man would order such a cute drink.

"Good evening Chifuyu-san." You smiled placing his drink at his regular table. He takes off his coat setting it down on the seat next to him.

"I told you to drop the formalities, we're the same age Y/n." He sighs, softly thanking you for preparing his drink. He blows the steam away before taking a sip.

"I can't help it, you just seem so much older " You giggle before sitting next to him on the booth couch.

"Should I call you Fuyu' from now on?" You tapped your chin with a hum pretending to think.

"Do what you want, dummy Y/n." He mutters, hoping you're unaware of the burn on the tip of his ears.

Tuna jumped his way onto the seat laying on Chifuyu's coat, his purrs nothing more than a background sound as you and Chifuyu indulge in a conversation.

"And look at this, the new cat is so playful," Chifuyu chuckles pulling his phone out, "Look, she basically destroyed this toy we gave her." He shows you pictures of the cat along with the aftermath of her playtime. You giggle as he swiped through his phone.

This wasn't your fault. You could barely see the screen because of the glare from the lights, you shift your body closer to him. Chifuyu freezes as he feels your clothed breasts push up against him as you stare at his screen unaware of your actions.

"You okay?" You ask staring at his face, cupping it with your hands. His whole body locked up at your touch, his face was bright red with sweat heading down the side of his temple. "You're burning up!" You half screen putting the back of your hand on his forehead, "Are you sick?" You frantically ask while gripping the man's face.

"M'fine.. Just" He trails off, looking at your glistening lips, "Dizzy...."

"Fuyu, you idiot. You need to go home when you don't feel well..." You sighed, "Come on let me walk you home, my shift is over anyways."

Chifuyu waited outside feeling dizzy off of your touch, his head throbbed and his heart pounded. Maybe he was sick.

"Sorry it took so long, Tuna didn't want to go in his cage..." You sigh locking up, you looked at Chifuyu and worry spread across your face. Chifuyu's chest heaved up and down heavily, he looked out of breath as if he ran a marathon.

You quickly take off your scarf and wrapped it around his neck, he softly gasped at the sudden action.

"Let's get you home, yeah?" You lock arms with him and following him as he walked to his apartment. You missed the way his face got brighter as he smelt your scent on the scarf. You said your goodbyes telling him to take medicine and get a good night's rest.

He kicked off his shoes and stripped down on his way to the shower feeling lightheaded, after his shower he took his medicine like you told him to, he wasted no time getting into his bed not before grabbing your scarf and wrapping it around his neck. He ignored the cries of his cat as he tried to drift off to sleep trying to forget the throbbing pain in his head.

ミ❣️That night he couldn't sleep, maybe it was the throbbing pain in his head or the nauseous feeling he'd get everytime he would shift his body.

ミ❣️Or possible it was the fact that everytime he closed his eyes he saw you, your smile, heard your voice, felt your touch.

ミ❣️Your hands were soft, oh so plush.

ミ❣️And your lips, the way they glistened due to the lip gloss you would constantly put on for worry your lips would dry out.

ミ❣️He couldn't forget your whines and pouts when he would call you, "dummy y/n" a nickname you acquired after spraining your ankle slipping while trying to give Tuna a bath.

ミ❣️The way you would stick out your bottom lip, your eyes would shine as if you were about to cry when he had to leave early...

ミ❣️You were adorable, his perfect little angel.

ミ❣️He drifts off daydreaming about every aspect of you that he loves, its a innocent little crush.

ミ❣️He begins to drift off about the way you dress, those pink cat ears that jingle everytime you move. That slutty maid costume that barely covered your ass. Those adorable stripped thigh highs that covered your thighs, pushing up the fat to the uncovered part of your upper thighs.

ミ❣️He nuzzled his flushed face into the scarf engulfing his nose in your sweet scent. It smelt like the fragrance you would constantly wear...

ミ❣️What was it again?

ミ❣️Fuck, he can't think straight trying to remember the name of your perfume makes his head hurt.

ミ❣️But thinking about how you would bend down he would get a full view of your plush cheeks made his cock hurt.

ミ❣️The way you would shake and sway your hips with each step you took.

ミ❣️He isn't in the right headspace, his mind has drifted away from his body. He's long gone, he lost all control of his actions.

ミ❣️Chifuyu is needy, the thoughts go right to his cock. His length twitched with every memory of you.

ミ❣️When did he pull his pants down to his knees?

ミ❣️When did his breath become broken and eratic?

ミ❣️He doesn't know how he ended feeling his dick through his underwear, how he began to fist his dick, all curled up in a ball, trying to release.

ミ❣️His other hand pulling the scarf closer to his nose to take deep inhales.

ミ❣️Chifuyu's voice becomes audible as soft groans leave his mouth.

ミ❣️Nothing more than pre-cum dripped from the tip of his angry cock as he aggressively jerked his hand up and down the length of his shaft, gripping it harder trying to get friction.

ミ❣️He just needed to cum.

ミ❣️It wasn't working. He spat in his hand, rolling into his back. He pr sses his thumb onto his tip. He hissed in pain as a electric jolt shot through his body.

ミ❣️His proud cock standing tall as he moved his hand up and down while simultaneously slightly thrusting his hips upwards. He clicked his tongue in annoyance when it just.. wasn't working.

It wasnt you

ミ❣️Chifuyu pulled his pillow from his head, shifting his position once more, laying back on his side, putting his cock onto the surface of the pillow. He slowly humped his pillow, grinding his dick into the pillow.

ミ❣️He found himself wondering what you were doing right now, if at night you played with yourself.

ミ❣️No, no, not that. He wondered how well you would take him, if you'd scream his name, begging him to go faster, calling him all sorts of names,

ミ❣️Daddy

ミ❣️Master

ミ❣️ They would sound so pretty coming out of your mouth

ミ❣️As he claimed your pussy as his spraying your insides with his cum.

ミ❣️Nah, you were too innocent for that... You were the type of girl to blush when somebody accidentally touches your hand of gives you a compliment.

ミ❣️If anything you would fail to understand why your core was heating up, desperate to feel something inside you but not understanding the meaning.

ミ❣️That's it, you'd come to him crying asking for him to help you feel better.

ミ❣️He groaned at the thought of him placing his hand around your throat while tongue fucking your mouth. You would struggle to kiss back as he roughly explored your mouth with his tongue. Your knees would buckle from the pleasure. He would pick you up, holding the back of your knees, gently grinding his hard cock against your sex.

ミ❣️He would treat you like a princess.

ミ❣️Laying on your back as you hurried to take your soaking panties off, your slick juices leaving a single string that was attached to your panties, proof that you were wetting your undergarments like a dirty slut.

ミ❣️Your face would be red as you shamelessly tell him in the softest tone.

ミ❣️"Want you so bad Fuyu'"

ミ❣️Fuck, his thrusts became more erratic, his knuckles turning white from his tight grip on his pillow.

ミ❣️Yeah, you'd call him by his nickname as you begged him to claim you, ruin you.

ミ❣️He imagine him sinking his fingers, he'd start with one not wanting to hurt you. Your tight untouched cunt tightly squeezing his finger. You would already be a moaning mess, Fuyu was talking all your firsts.

ミ❣️Your slightly loosened sex would take in another finger. You would try your best to muffle your slutty moans as he fingers your soaking pussy. You'd cover your mouth with your hand as his finger curled inside of you hitting that spot that made your toes curl and eyes widen.

ミ❣️You'd moan his name, begging him to stop. It felt weird, felt too good, something was coming.

ミ❣️He'd give you your first orgasm with his fingers, you had drool dripping from the corner of your mouth, your face was red. You were already so fucked out on his fingers.

ミ❣️He felt his cock twitch with these thoughts. He mindlessly began to fuck his pillow into the mattress, his body now on top of the pillow as he grinded on top of the pillow.

ミ❣️He'd have you suck on his fingers tasting yourself as he began to eat you out. His tongue slipping in and out of your slit, naughty slurping sounds emitted from the room as he throat fucked you with his digits that were once in your pussy. His nose would occasionally hit your lip causing you to arch your back pushing his tongue deeper inside you.

ミ❣️You love being eaten out huh? Love it when daddy fucks you with his tongue. Such a dirty little thing.

ミ❣️All the dirty things he could think of seeps from his mouth, while eating you out. He'd bring you to another orgasm with ease.

ミ❣️"Y/n, fuck, m'gonna cum" Chifuyu grunted out in a out of breath voice, he felt his cock spurt out his cum into his pillow, yet he wasn't satisfied.

ミ❣️He leaned back onto his shins, his knees pressing into the bed as he lifted the pillow up, slipping his cock into the pillow cover.

ミ❣️He wasn't done yet, your pussy would be twitching, eager to take his cock. You eyes would be begging him to fuck you into the mattress.

ミ❣️"Gonna fuck my princess dumb." He muttered out to nobody as he thrusted upwards into the pillow. His thrusts were shameless and aggressive as he pounded his pillow like a dog in heat.

ミ❣️His moans were loud as he muttered filthy things about you.

ミ❣️He would slip his cock into you, kissing away the tears from your eyes.

ミ❣️His cock was just too big, his dumb baby couldn't take it. The stretch hurt. Daddy made it fit though. Daddy will make you feel so good. Pretty girl.

ミ❣️He'd let you adjust waiting for you to give him the okay, he would start of slow, giving you small thrusts to get you used to the size of him. Deep passionate thrusts that said how much he loved you.

ミ❣️You would have the most beautiful moans and whines, he could listen to them all day. He would kiss you and your body till it bruised.

ミ❣️You'd beg him to fuck you, he would do just that. Slamming his hips into yours causing you to scream out his nickname, one of his hands would be on your thigh squeezing it oh so tight getting a good grip for when he pulls his cock out and slams your bodies into each other, fucking you senseless. While the other kept your mouth busy, occasionally taking his fingers out of your mouth to kiss you deeply bruising your lips with his.

He'd watch your every expression.

ミ❣️"Your pussy was made for me, look how well you're taking it. Doing so good"

ミ❣️Your eyes would cross as your tongue rolled out, you'd pants and beg for him to slow down. You didn't really want that, no, not when he was making you feel this good. The way you would arch your back, grind your hips into his, wrap your arms around his neck and grip his hair as you moaned louder with each thrust told him everything he needed to know.

ミ❣️You wanted more, you're greedy aren't you?

ミ❣️"My pretty little cocksleeve"

ミ❣️Chifuyu felt himself getting closer to his high, but he wanted to cum with you.

ミ❣️No, you weren't here.

ミ❣️His hand would make it to your clit giving it a soft slap before his thumb rubbed it in circles. You'd start cursing because of how good it felt. Telling him you wanted more, how you were about to cum, how much you wanted him to cum in you.

ミ❣️You would adore it, he knows it. You'd be such a cum hungry slut for him, no matter when or where you'd want him to cum in your tight pussy.

ミ❣️"Fuck, fuck— so good, Y/n— yer' pussy so good" Chifuyu cursed out as he imagined you creaming his cock the same time as he slammed his dick in you once more before spraying your insides white with his cum. Your body would shake as you had your final orgasm feeling so full.

ミ❣️"Fuck... Fuck, fuck, shit, fuck!" Chifuyu cursed out realizing what he just did, he felt a wave of guilt as he felt his dick go limp after fucking his pillow to the thought of you like a madman.

ミ❣️He rushed into the shower, almost falling off his bed in a panic mode. He tried to wash it off, tried to wash off the sin of moaning your name while he fucked his pillow like some highschool horn dog.

ミ❣️He hoped you'd forgive him, he prayed you would.. You couldn't ever find out what he did, you'd label him as a pervert.

ミ❣️Maybe he was one.

ミ❣️He couldn't look himself in the mirror, too ashamed to face himself.

ミ❣️Chifuyu threw the pillow away before curling back in bed chanting soft apologies to nobody. He'd wrap his body in his blanket nuzzling his face back into your scarf as he drifting off final able to sleep.

ミ❣️The next morning you didn't understand why Chifuyu refused to make eye contact with you...

It was supposed to be a short drabble.... 500 works max 🤧🔫 anywaysssss

@baji-kuns hope you liked it 🙄 #Chifuyu'sAHoe

#chifuyu imagines #chifuyu smut #chifuyu best boy #chifuyu x y/n #chifuyu matsuno #chifuyu headcanons #chifuyu x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #Tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader

[weelittleweasley]

technicolor (f.w.)

prompt request by anon: it is said that when you meet your soulmate, you will know because the world that you knew in black and white would turn technicolor. during a harmless game of spin the bottle, you didn’t expect your soulmate to be revealed to you.

warnings: drinking, mentions of eating, mild language

pairing: fred weasley x fem! gryffindor reader

word count: 5.3k

The power of true love was life altering in your world. Literally. The world was painted in shades of blacks, whites, and grays. It always was for those who hadn’t met their true love, their soulmate, their one and only. It was said on the occasion that you had kissed your soulmate, the world before you would erupt into vibrant color. People spent their whole lives, searching for the person who brought color to them. 

Living in a dull, colorless world was mundane to say the least, but it was all you knew. The idea of living in a world of color was an exciting thought to say the least, but in a way it scared you. Suddenly the world as you knew it changing abruptly before your eyes because you had met someone that destiny created for you? It was a scary thought. But in your head, you had nothing to worry about. You didn’t plan on meeting your soulmate any time soon. 

Or so you thought.

Laying upside down on the common room couch, you flipped through the pages of a Quibbler, not really paying attention to the words on the page. You looked on either side of you, Katie painting her nails on your left and Alicia on the right making light chatter with Angelina. Needless to say, the four of you were bored out of your skull. It was a quiet Friday night, nothing happening in the common room. No parties, no quidditch match, no nothing. 

With a groan, you pull yourself up from your inverted position and speak, “So are we all just going to sit around here like a bunch of bums and wait for something exciting to happen?”

Katie sighs, “That’s even if something exciting happens.” She blows on her nails, shaking her hands back and forth to expedite the drying process. “Does anyone have any ideas?”

The two of you look to Alicia and Angelina who just shrug as you throw your head back in annoyance. “Well, someone think of something because I refuse to let a perfectly good Friday night go to waste,” you flop the Quibbler on the table in front of you and hold your arms across your chest. “What can we do to entertain ourselves?”

Alicia stands up and starts pacing, trying to think of something. “We could...sneak some food out from the kitchens? Convince a house elf to sneak us some sweets from dinner two nights ago. Those biscuits were so good,” she thinks out loud.

Katie groans, “The thought of food makes me sick. I ate so much at dinner tonight after Ron challenged me to see how many dinner rolls I could fit into my mouth.”

The thought of Katie with bread rolls in her mouth makes the group chuckle. “Okay, so food is out of the picture,” Alicia speaks with a soft smile. “What about a movie? I can see if Hermione would let me borrow her projector and we could watch one of those movies I have tucked away in my trunk,” she suggests, surveying the group’s reaction.

Angelina makes a sour face. “We had a movie marathon last week, I’d like to do something different,” she tells Alicia who rolls her eyes.

Alicia huffs, plopping herself back onto the couch. “Well, then I’m out of ideas, so you come up with something, Johnson.”

The group sits in a bored silence for a few moments before Angie breaks the silence. “Should I go bother Fred and George? Surely they’ll find something to do. They always make things interesting,” she speaks, raising her brows, gaging her audience’s reaction.

Katie rolls her eyes, “Merlin, Angie, if you want an excuse to see your darling Georgie, you can just say so.” You laugh at her comment and give Katie a teasing high five as Alicia giggles along. Angelina rolls her eyes and leans back on the couch. Angelina and George had been dating ever since sixth year when they kissed after their first date and they had seen the world in color, confirming their soulmate status. Katie mockingly starts teasing Angie now, “Meh, meh, I’m Angie, I love George, I see the world in color. Meh, meh, my sweater is green and not black like you guys see it, blah, blah,” making you cackle, throwing your head back in laughter, clutching your stomach.

You lean into Katie as you laugh, making her laugh harder as Angelina stands up, “Oh, piss off you two! I can’t help it that he’s my soulmate and I found him so early!”

“We’re just teasing you, Angie,” you wipe the tears of laughter from your eyes. “Go on, go fetch the twins. I’m sure they’ll think of something to do. Tell ‘em to bring Jordan with them if he’s around. Lee is always a good time.” Alicia nods in agreement.

With a small smile, Angelina darts off up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory. Alicia shakes her head, “That girl is whipped for the Weasley. I can’t believe she found her soulmate already. We’re not even eighteen yet.”

It was true. It wasn’t unheard of people finding their soulmates at a young age, but it surely wasn’t common. Most people were friends or knew their soulmates for a while before they were aware that they were in fact soulmates. For example, your parents both went to Hogwarts and we friends for years. It wasn’t until after four years after graduation that they realized they were soulmates. You smiled to yourself at the thought of your parents. You wished that you could have a soulmate story like theirs.

Katie folds her arms across her chest, “Quite frankly I hope I don’t meet my soulmate anytime soon. I feel like after you meet your soulmate, you’re expected to drop everything and be with them. But you have your whole lives ahead of you to spend time with each other. I’d rather be single and have fun and live my life in black and white for a while before seeing color with a soulmate.”

In a way you did agree with Katie. Most people who met their soulmate at a young age tended to drop everything in order to be there for their soulmate. Coordinating their lives and schedules to their soulmates, moving cities for them, planning their days around the other. It just seemed so intense. You were seventeen, you couldn’t drop everything right now for another person. 

Moments later, Angelina happily came down the stairs with a large smile on her face as George, Fred, and Lee all trailed behind her. “The entertainment has arrived, ladies,” George speaks with a big beaming smile on his face as you teasingly rolled your eyes.

You sit up and speak, “What entertainment did you bring, Georgie?”

He places a hand over his heart, pretending to be offended at your comment. “Are we not enough for you, (Y/N)? Is our presence not enough?” George mockingly stumbles back. “Freddie, I feel faint! Catch me!”

Dramatically, Fred scoops up his twin brother as George pretends to faint. “Merlin’s beard, (Y/N), look at what you’ve done!” he mockingly screeches as you roll your eyes and giggle. Katie huffs a here we go as she leans back into the couch. The twins always put on a show when they were around you guys. You never minded it; they were quite funny when they wanted to be. “Quick, Lee, we need to revive him!”

Lee, now in on the joke, runs over to the coffee table and clear it quickly. “Bring him here!” he exclaims as Fred lays a fake limp George on the table as you laugh and Alicia scoffs.

“Good Godric, you three are a bunch of idiots,” she huffs with a smile on her face. No matter how much she hated to admit it, this was much better than sitting around and doing nothing.

Fred speaks, “Alright, Lee, give me the reviving potion,” sticking out his hand.

Even more dramatic than before, Lee pulls out a large bottle of fire whiskey from his satchel as he improvises an operatic song as he places it in Fred’s hands. Lee opens George mouth as Fred uncorks the bottle and pours a glug into George’s mouth. George swallows it and dramatically inhales. “I’ve been revived!” he exclaims as the boys cheer.

Katie perks up at the sight of fire whiskey. “Where in the hell did you get a bottle of that?” she sits up and grabs the bottle from Fred’s hands. Lee pulls out a few cups from his satchel and places them on the table, Katie immediately pouring everyone a glass of fire whiskey. 

Fred smiles, “It’s our emergency bottle. In case situations like this happen.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Alicia speaks up, “And exactly how many emergency bottles do you boys have?”

The trio looks at each other before sighing and speaking as a chorus, “Four.”

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought,” she laughs before taking a cup of fire whiskey from Katie, Katie then handing you one. “Well, it’s better than nothing I guess.”

You look at the whiskey in your cup before sighing and taking a sip, the liquid burning your throat, but warming your chest up in all the right ways. A familiar sensation. You hum in contentment. “Better than nothing is damn right,” you smile as the twins chuckle. “What were you lot doing upstairs?”

Lee takes a seat in the chair across from the couch, “Same thing as you gals. Bored out of our skulls. However, these two numbskulls were trying to conjure up a plan to go pull a prank on Filch.” George snickers as Lee flicks the back of his head, earning a small ow. “Good thing you all were bored too otherwise I would have been dragged into that mess.”

Fred scoffs, “Oh please, you wish you could pull off a prank at the caliber that Georgie and I do. Isn’t that right, brother?” He turns to George who is already cuddled up next to Angelina on the love seat, arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her close next to him. Fred rolls his eyes and makes a gagging sound. “You two make me sick.”

George just pulls Angie closer to his side as Angie blushes a deep crimson. “You’re just jealous, Freddie. I’ve got a hot girlfriend and I can see the world in color, making it quite obvious that you, dear brother, are green with envy.” Angie rolls her eyes, but still places a soft kiss to George’s cheek.

Fred shakes his head, “He’s gone soft, Lee. We’ve lost one of our bravest soldiers.” 

“Piss off,” Angie speaks up, defending her boyfriend as Freddie chuckles, lips turning into a gorgeous smile. “Now that we’ve all got our drinks, let’s really get the party started...” she wiggles her eyebrows. “Katie Bell, truth or dare.”

Katie groans and sips her fire whiskey before deciding what she wants to do. As she ponders, you see Fred scoot over to you as you giggle, him dragging his bum on the floor, making his way to you. Fred smiles up at you, “This seat taken?” he refers to the spot on the floor right in front of your legs.

You shake your head with a smile, “It’s got your name written all over it, Weasley.”

Fred gives you a cheeky grin, “Brilliant.”

He turns around and leans his back up against your legs and rests one of his arms on your knees. You and Fred were close friends. In fifth year when Angelina confessed to you that she had a crush on George, you started spending more time with the twins and developed a close relationship with them and Lee. You, in particular, got along with Fred like a house on fire. The two of you loved to crack jokes on the sidelines, teasing George and Angie, giggling and stealing little glances here and there.

Angelina always told you that you and Fred would make a cute couple. She insisted she saw the way that Fred looked at you, but you always brushed it off as if it were nothing. You and Fred were friends, nothing more, nothing less. A partnership would just totally ruin the vibe between the two of you. There was no point to it. Even though you may have always admired Fred’s looks from a far and his charming personality, you had finally convinced yourself that you and Fred Weasley were platonic.

As Fred leaned up against your legs, sipping on his whiskey, your eyes found Angie’s as she lifted her brows, looking at you knowingly, sending you a look that said Oh? You rolled your eyes and shook your head, responding with your eyes, No way. She just shrugged and sipped her fire whiskey nonchalantly as if to say Whatever you say...You just brushed it off and leaned back as Katie challenged Lee to a dare.

----------

The night progressed and the drinking continued and the bottle got less and less full. Soon enough, the common room was full of your tipsy giggles as the lot of you cracked jokes with each other. You hugged your sides as you cackled as Fred did a spot on impression of Draco Malfoy as he mimicked him walking through the halls, yelling “Potter!” every now and then. Of course, the humor was amplified by the liquor in your hands, but it still was hilarious. The whole group was in a fit of giggles as Lee quite literally fell to the floor from laughter too hard.

Alicia laid her head in your lap as she laughed, wiping tears from her eyes as you all recovered from laughter. “Fred, that was brilliant. You’ll have to show Harry tomorrow morning,” she tells him as Fred plops down next to you on the couch, stealing Katie’s spot as she was now sat on the floor next to Lee. 

Fred chuckles and rests his arm around the back of the couch, gently hovering behind you as you suddenly become very aware of his presence. You spot Angelina out of your periphery vision as she smirks to herself before leaning over and whispering something in George’s ear, making George look at you with a devilish smirk on his lips. Your gaze towards them hardens as you mouth, Knock it off. George just smiles and sips his drink quietly, pretending to mind his own business. 

You turn to Fred and give him a soft smile as he drops his left eye in a wink, making your heart skip a beat. “Easy, Weasley,” you say in a cautious tone as he lifts his arms in defense. You shake your head and lean back into the couch, bumping into his arm that is draped across the back of the couch. Neither of you bother moving. 

Alicia rises from your lap and reaches for the fire whiskey bottle, but groans in defeat when she realizes it’s empty. “Bloody hell,” she groans. She looks to Lee and begs, “Is it appropriate to call this an emergency and you can grab another one of your emergency fire whiskeys?”

Lee laughs, “I regret to inform you we have a one emergency bottle a night policy.” Alicia groans and flops back onto the couch. Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in Lee’s mind, making his eyes grow wide and a little smile dance on his lips. “However,” he wiggles his brows and surveys the group. “Now that we’ve got an empty bottle, I think we all know where we can take this party...”

Looking up from her cup, Katie says, “Where are we taking the party? Are we going to bed?” she asks with sadness in her voice. “But the night is so young!”

Shaking his head, Lee looks at Katie. “Are you daft, Bell?” he asks as she rolls her eyes, sipping her whiskey. “I meant we could play a cheeky game of spin the bottle,” Lee suggests.

Alicia huffs, “Really, Jordan? What are we? Fourth years?”

“Oh, come on, Spinnet, it’s just to add a little spice to the mix,” Lee shimmies his shoulders making you laugh. “Besides, it gives you an excuse to have the privilege of planting a sloppy one on me.”

Alicia fake gags. “I’d rather spend a whole day with Professor Snape,” she spits as Lee laughs.

George speaks up now, “Angie and I will sit this one out, but we will watch the show.” He pulls Angie impossibly closer to him as she cuddles into his chest. “For obvious reasons,” he smirks. Fred boos his brother and throws his now empty cup of fire whiskey at him. “What? I am not kissing someone other than my literal soulmate,” he rationalizes. “Besides, you’ve got five players. That’s enough. That is, if everyone is comfortable playing.”

The group all looks at each other, gaging everyone’s feelings of playing a cheeky game. You had to admit you’d rather not play a game as childish as spin the bottle, but for a weird reason, you were keen on playing at least one round. As you looked around, it seemed like everyone was on board to play. 

Your eyes meet Fred’s for a moment as he looks at you, his eyes darting from your eyes to your lips for a split second, hoping you wouldn’t catch him. You quickly turn away, trying to hide the heat on your cheeks. “I don’t see the harm in one game,” you shrug as you see Fred smile from the corner of your eye. Lee claps his hands cheering as Alicia and Katie agree.

Fred speaks up, “Well, I can’t let Lee be the only bloke having all the fun, now can I?” 

Everyone is on board with the game as Lee cheers, “Alright! Five for five!” He places the empty bottle of fire whiskey on its side in order to spin it. “Everyone knows the rules. You spin and kiss whomever it lands on, no matter who it is. I’m looking at you, Weasley. If you land on me, I expect the best snog of my life,” he teases as you all laugh wildly. “Whomever the bottle lands on gets the next spin. All good?” Everyone nods. Lee smiles, “Groovy. Welp, youngest goes first. Bell, you’re up.”

Katie giggles, “Put on your chapstick, you lucky sons of bitches.” Alicia laughs as Katie reaches and spins the bottle. The bottle does a series of spins, turning clockwise as she anticipates who she’ll be planting a kiss on. She nervously dances back and forth as you watch her with a small smile on your face.

Slowly the bottle stops spinning to land gently on Fred. Your heart stops for a second and your mouth runs dry. You blink a few times and swallow hard. The group all claps their hands and laughs as Katie rolls her eyes. You on the other couldn’t help but have a tight feeling in your chest. You force a smile on your face before you look at Angelina quickly. She raises her brows, monitoring your reaction as you just shake your head, letting her know you were fine.

Katie scoots over to Fred as Fred leans down. ��Get ready for your mind to be blown,” Fred jokes as Katie slaps his arm.

You watch very intently as Fred ducks his head down to connect his lips with Katie. You stop breathing for a moment as you watch Fred kiss one of your closest friends. Your palms start sweating and you pull yourself away from looking at them kiss. Lee and Alicia oooh and giggle as you look at Angie, eyes screaming at her, Okay maybe I’m not fine. 

She gives you a nervous smile and mouths, “It’s just a silly game.”

You nod your head and shake it off. It was a silly game. That’s all. A stupid, silly, childish game. It meant nothing. You knew Katie didn’t like Fred like that. She had fancied Adrian Pucey for a few months now. This kiss meant literally nothing.

It felt like the kiss had lasted for hours when it was a brief five seconds. Katie pulls away from the kiss and returns to her position on the floor. Fred just smirks and leans back in his seat, dragging his thumb across his bottom lip. You watch as he does so, the small gesture being surprisingly attractive to you as you gulp. But you quickly turn around so Fred doesn’t catch you watching.

Katie laughs, “Eh, you’re nothing to ride home about, Freddie. Hate to break it to you.”

Fred shrugs, “It’s alright, Bell. The first stage of grieving is denial. You’ll eventually accept that that kiss was the best one of your life.”

Lee cackles as Fred joins him in his laugher before leaning over and spinning the bottle for himself. The bottle spins round and round and round as you watch it, the bottle hypnotizing you. You secretly wished that the bottle would land on you, wanting to be able to kiss Fred Weasley and getting the confirmation that you didn’t like Fred in that way. But honestly, you just hoped it was anyone but Katie or Alicia. 

The bottle slowly stopped spinning as it gently landed on Lee, making the group erupt in laughter. Lee’s lips drew up in a devilish smile as he rubbed his hands together, “Here I come, big boy!” he exclaims, making you laugh even harder.

Fred laughs and sits up in his seat. “Give it to me, Jordan,” he challenges.

Lee springs to his feet and grabs Fred’s face with both hands, squeezing his cheeks together before smashing his lips on Fred’s. Fred is laughing as Lee kisses him roughly, rocking him back and forth. George is absolutely dying of laughter, falling into his chair as the rest of the group squeals. 

Alicia grabs onto your arms, squeezing you as she laughs, you doing the same. The kiss happens for a while as you cackle, “Good Godric, come up for some air why don’t you?”

With a smack, Lee pulls off of Fred as Fred falls back in his seat. Fred’s eyes are wide as Lee wipes his lips. “And that,” Lee points to Fred, “is how you kiss someone. Not that pathetic thing you gave Katie.”

The group comes down from laughing at Lee spins the bottle for himself. The cycle repeats for a while. Lee kisses Alicia, Alicia kisses you, you kiss Katie, Katie kisses Lee, and then the bottle spins again. Lee spins and the bottle gently lands on you as you giggle. “I’m expecting excellence, Lee Jordan,” you eye him as he laughs. “Not going to lie, Alicia might give you a run for your money.”

Lee rolls his eyes, “In her dreams.”

You giggle before the two of you close the gap between you two, kissing each other. The kiss is honestly not bad. Lee’s lips tasted of the fire whiskey along with vanilla and sugar. The kiss was gentle, but not bad at all. Your friends around you all cheer and oooh at you two in typical fashion as you both smile into the kiss. You pull away and Lee sends you a wink. “The reviews are in,” you speak. “Not bad, Jordan. Not bad at all. Actually, pretty damned good!”

Lee pumps his arm. “Hah! Take that, Spinnet!”

“Alright, my turn to spin,” you giggle and excitedly spin the bottle.

The bottle spins and spins and spins as everyone waits in anxious anticipation. Who could it be? Slowly, the bottle stops spinning and lands on the person right next to you, Mr. Fred Weasley.

Your heart stops as your mouth goes dry. Everyone immediately erupts into cheers, specifically George who springs onto his feet. “Oh, I’ve been waiting for this one!” he cheers as you gulp.

Kissing Fred Weasley? Maybe this game was a mistake. 

You stare at the bottle, and then to Angie who wears the biggest grin on her face, and then back at the bottle and finally to Fred. His eyes stare back at you as you gulp. A smirk dances on Fred’s lips as you suck in a breath. The whole group stares at the pair of you, silent, waiting for something to happen. 

The tension between you and Fred was so thick you could cut it with a knife. “Cat got your tongue, (Y/L/N)?” Fred teases you as he scoots a little closer to you. You suck in a shaky breath as he chuckles lowly.

You snap yourself out of this anxious gaze and speak, confidence now coursing through your veins. You were going to kiss your best friend and it was happening now. “Make your move, Weasley,” you challenge with flirtation laced in your voice.

Fred smiles, “No need to tell me twice,” he lowly whispers.

Immediately, Fred cups your cheek and brings your lips to his. Your lips connect and the whole group loudly cheers and screams. You hear Lee scream, “Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!” 

But you couldn’t care what was happening. You were kissing Fred. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. Fred’s lips were soft, but demanding as they pressed firmly onto yours. His lips tasted of sweet cinnamon and spice; his lips were like a personal drug that you couldn’t get enough of. You pressed your lips harder against his as you both sucked in a breath, your hand resting on his forearm. His lips moved gently against yours as you both enjoyed this kiss too much for a friendly game of spin the bottle. 

You opened up your mouth enough for Fred to slide his tongue in, massaging his with yours as you moan just loudly enough for Fred to hear, making him smile into your kiss. As the group watched you two softly snog, they only cheer louder. You were too involved in relishing in the way Fred’s lips felt pressed against yours to care about how your friends were reacting.

The kiss was everything you wanted a first kiss with someone to be. It was gentle, but didn’t lack in passionate or desire. His lips moved in sync with yours as you followed his lead, his tongue dancing with yours. It was exactly how you imagined kissing Fred Weasley.

You are pulled from your thoughts when George cries out, “For Merlin’s sake Freddie, don’t eat the poor girl!”

Gently, you break the kiss as Fred’s lips follow yours for a moment, not wanting the kiss to end just yet. The two of you keep your eyes closed, relishing in the moment that you two shared.

Lee laughs, “Is it just me or is it hot in here?”

You giggle and gently pry your eyes open. But that’s when you gasp.

You look at Fred who sits in front of you in full color. His bright red hair contrasting against the light blue thermal shirt he wears. His brown eyes stare at you just as much in shock. 

It happened.

“Merlin’s beard...” you whisper.

The room fall silent as your friends stare at the two of you in confusion, wondering what could have possibly happened that made the two of you stare at each other in shock.

“Is it...” you start.

“Yeah,” Fred answers. He lets out a light laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

You let out a light laugh with him and slowly, look around the room taking in your surroundings, the whole common room in beautiful colors of maroon and gold. Color dances everywhere as you let out an amazed chuckle. 

Looking at Angie with amazement, she suddenly realizes exactly what’s going on. A smile erupts on her face as she lets out a sigh. “Good Godric,” she breathes. She looks at George. “It happened.”

The entire group registers what is happening as they stare at the two of you in awe as you two take in your surroundings gentle. “Oh shit,” Lee breathes out with a smile. “That’s bloody brilliant...”

You look back at Fred who just wears a gentle smile on his face as you look deeply into his chocolate brown eyes that swim with amazement and adoration. You could look into those eyes forever. And lucky for you, that’s what you were going to do. 

Breaking the silence, Angelina says, “We’ll leave you two to it then. Guys...”

Your friends all start to leave the common room, running up the stairs to the dormitories, definitely to chat about what just happened.

You are now left with Fred in the common room, sitting on the couch together, staring at each other in technicolor. “Hi, Freddie,” you breathe out with a smile.

Fred smiles, “Hi, (Y/N),” he reciprocates. The two of you just take the other one in for a few moments as you gulp. What were you supposed to say? What were you supposed to do? Merlin’s sake, this was supposed to be a cheeky game of spin the bottle and all of a sudden. “We’re soulmates,” Fred speaks plainly.

“I guess so,” you laugh. You gently bite your lip. “I never thought it would be you, Fred.”

He inhales a long breath. “I had a feeling,” Fred admits as you teasingly smack his arm. “I’m glad I was right,” he confesses as you blush. “You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. With and without color,” he tells you. “I didn’t think that you could get more gorgeous, but color has proved me wrong.”

You shake your head, “Freddie...” you trail off, blushing wildly, crimson appearing on your cheeks for the first time. Fred takes your hand in his and gently rubs his thumb over your knuckles. You give into his touch, nothing feeling more right. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

Fred lifts your hand up to his lips and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “We’re soulmates,” he repeats himself as you nod. “Wow...so, we get to spend forever with each other, huh? You’re going to get really tired of me, aren’t you?” he jokes as you laugh.

“I could never grow tired of you,” you confess, squeezing his hand. You run your hand through his red hair. The signature of the Weasleys that you could finally see now. “I do have to say though,” you start. “I was not expecting your hair to be this red.”

Fred laughs, “Get used to it, darling. You’ll be staring at it for the rest of your life. Not to mention, the Weasley genetics are strong. Sorry to say that if we decide to have kids, they’ll end up like this.”

You roll your eyes, “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Freddie.” He smiles and sends you a wink. “So,” you breathe out. “What do we do now?”

He inhales deeply and sighs. “Well,” he starts. “I think we ought to tell people, specifically our parents,” he says as you nod. “But other than that, we do what we want.” You gaze into Fred’s eyes and smile. “(Y/N), we have the rest of our lives together. There’s no rush. We can go at our own pace. We don’t have to pay attention to what people say we should be doing. I’m just happy that we’ve found each other that way we can start forever now.”

Your heart fills with joy and adoration at his words. You had always worried that you wouldn’t love soulmate, nevertheless like them, but loving Fred Weasley was going to be the easiest task of your life. Living your forever in color together.

“Sounds good to me, Weasley,” you smile.

Fred leans in and closes the gap between you two, kissing you again sweetly like he had done minutes ago for the first time. His lips are even gentler than before on yours as you smile into the kiss. Fred pull away and smiles, “Reckon we go upstairs and get the teasing out of the way from the lot?”

You take a moment. “Let’s wait a little while. We have forever for them to tease us. We’ll only have this moment for a short time.”

He shakes his head. “Merlin, you’re perfect.”

And there the two of you laid in each other’s arms, taking in the new colorful world before you, souls now connected forever. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred wealsley x gryffindor! reader #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #harry potter fanfic #Harry Potter Smut

[plush-rabbit]

Uncertainty in the Household

Picture Perfect Series

TW: talk and action for miscarriage, slight manipulation

Word Count: 4.1K

A/N: I wanted to explore the reader and Danny’s relationship in this chapter, so i hope you like it, first part is p rough with the whole miscarriage, so you're free to skip to after the second - if you're uncomfy with that

-

Tears fall into your palms as your fingertips dig into your scalp, your belly- while still early in the pregnancy, still feels as if it’s protruding, and you sit on the shared bed, a faint smell of cigarettes and alcohol lingers in the air and you’re alone. For now, at least. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it were Danny who was the father. You want to kid yourself, to tell such lies that he could be the father, that sleeping with- that being forced into whatever sick game Ghostface has with you- that he didn’t impregnate you. You blame yourself. You should have taken the morning after pill, you should have purged yourself of everything and anything to make sure that you didn’t let yourself have his child. Your stomach twists and turns, a thin veil of acid on your tongue and you wonder how to explain this to Danny. If you even should. It’s still early, maybe you could get rid of the child before anyone has to know. Your eyes widen and you sit up, your eyes scanning the room and you let out a breath, nodding to yourself.

You can get rid of the child. No one knows. You made sure to throw away the pregnancy tests in a dumpster at a park and rip the receipts before anyone could ever see. No one has to know.

Loneliness, while always being your aggressor, has finally worked in your favor. You rush to put on your clothes, ignoring the burning desire to cry, your purse in your hand, you walk to the front door, pausing to leave a note to your partner.

“Went out, I’ll bring dinner.” Something short and simple. Marked with a little heart at the end that makes you feel a bit sick, like it’s something like a lie that you’re telling him. You place the pen down and grab the car keys, rushing down the steps. Each step down the stairs is something that feels heavy, chains around our ankle and the child- no, you can’t call it that. You know you’ll get attached. You’ve heard about the tactics that are used to pressure vulnerable people into keeping their unborn children, and you won’t be one of those. You can’t. Not now and you’re sure not ever. The car purrs to life, the steering wheel a bit too hot from being under the sun and you wait, letting the cool air fan against your already hot body and you reverse out of the parking lot.

-

You return with tuna, alcohol, fenugreek, a peppermint and aloe vera plant, a thin bag that is filled with peaches, different varieties of caffeine that you can already taste, and pineapple. Your hands ache, the base of your fingers sore from the heaviness of the bags that you stubbornly carried up to the apartment. You were not going to make multiple trips, that much was certain about your day. You hear his voice before you see him, a greeting cut off as he realizes just how much you’re carrying. Danny’s eyes widen, and he rushes off the couch, taking bags away and your palms are redden from the indents of the bags.

“Are we having a feast?” His hands are inside a bag and he pulls out wrapped fish, and he stops, turning to you, a tight smile on his lips that you don’t recognize. “I didn’t know you liked fish.” He places it down and watches as you carefully place a clinking bag down onto the table. “Alcohol too, huh? What-” he turns to you, a nervous chuckle filling the space of his words- “Did I forget a special date?”

You shake your head no, already biting into an unwashed peach, trying to ignore how many hands and bacteria have touched the fruit before you. “Just-” you speak with a full mouth and turn your head, covering your mouth with your hand and taking another bite. You swallow and take a gulp of air. “I was just craving fish is all. Why? Do you not like fish?”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that I- I just wanted soup, and-” your smile falls and he shakes his head. “I can get soup tomorrow. How long until the fish is down?”

“Actually-” you reach into another bag and pull out two containers- “I was able to buy some sushi on the way home.” You pull out a pack and slide the container to him. You spare him a glance as he stares at the sushi with an odd, angry feeling. “Oh, I’m uh, I have tomorrow off, by the way.” You meet his eyes for a minute and he gives you a nod, allowing you to continue.

“You’ve been throwing up lately,” he adds, taking a bite from his plate. Your heart sinks and you try to mask your emotions, turning around to grab a bottle opener from one the drawers. “I’ve been worried, you know. Maybe-” the chair squeaks and when you turn, he’s sitting down, an unopened beer beside his plate- “I should take tomorrow off too and we can go to the doctor. Just to see if you don’t have the flu or-” he tilts his head, his lips twitching- “if it isn’t anything else.”

A part of you wants to tell him your fear. You don’t want to be pregnant, and you hope that if you manifest it enough, it’ll be true. But you also fear that he wants a family and you’ll be the one ruining it for him. Maybe you aren’t even pregnant. Maybe it’s just needless worry over a few faulty exams, but you can’t risk it. Not now. Not if it has the chance to be someone other than Danny’s.

With a bottle opener in hand, you walk towards Danny, his eyes on you the entire time. You place the bottle opener beside his drink, a hand on his shoulder and the other brushing back his hair, combing it to the side. His hands leave his meal and rest against your hips, his gaze up at you and there’s a hint of a smile at his lips, and you lean down, pressing your lips over his scar that adorns his forehead.

“We have bills to pay Dan,” you mutter, “at least one of us should be responsible.” You close your eyes tightly to avoid tears spilling over, the hand on his shoulder tightening and when you pull away, he looks unbothered for a moment before giving you a forced smile. “Let’s eat, okay? You can tell me about your day.”

-

All it takes is one doctor appointment to confirm that you are not pregnant. It was just a scare. And as if life and everything else in control of you wanted to laugh, you bled through your underwear on the ride home. The vomiting in the morning was your body simply pretending to have the signs, your mind so strong that it created a falsehood of pregnancy, just because you were so scared and sure of it.

Life is odd for the moment. You tried so hard to get rid of the unwanted child and they were never there to begin with. You had to go through with the nervousness that consumed you. The call to the doctor, the waiting, the glances that Danny gave you as if he knew something. You wonder if he did know. He isn’t dumb, a bit dense when it comes to your feelings, but he’s smart in a way that matters. You hope that he doesn’t know, for both your sake and his. The little scare will be something that you take to your grave, hoping that it’ll remain just that.

The fan is turned on with a simple swipe of your hand against the light switch, the room filling with white noise. You sit on his couch, your body stiff as if it were the first time that you had visited his home. You still remember how it was. Dirty. You hadn’t expected that from him. There was trash all over, a sort of musty smell and an empty fridge. He hadn’t seemed embarrassed, but rather mildly inconvenienced even though he was the one to invite you over. However, now the place is as clean as it can be, the musty smell now replaced by a slight twinge of alcohol and tobacco, but with an overlapping floral scent from one of your candles. You can’t help but wonder if he minds that you added bits and pieces of yourself into his home. He calls it your home too, almost too eager to make sure that you know that you belong here, but even so, it doesn't feel like your home. It’s too empty, too devoid of your touch. You still feel as if you’re a guest, waiting and cleaning, tending to him when he needs it.

The simple fact of the matter is, this isn’t your home. Your stuff, your personal items that you decorated your home are still in boxes shoved under the bed. You miss your home. “I miss my home,” you say to yourself, tears pricking in your eyes. The rent was cheap, and the landlords were kind enough, but it’s gone. The place scooped up by some stranger and the thought has your stomach rising.

You’ve thought about leaving here. Perhaps not Danny, but maybe that would be a consequence of you leaving. It was too rushed. You were too scared of Ghostface invading your life again. You made a rash decision that the both of you now have to pay for. He lost his space, his privacy and you can tell he holds some resentment, the way he slams the doors close, how he locks the rooms and won’t speak to you until he needs something, until he’s pressuring you to kiss him with a half-hearted apology on his tongue.

You glance at the coffee table, old and cracked, the paint on the wood chipped and revealing the unfurnished finish. The photo frame is cold, a slight layer of dust over it, concealing your nervous smile and Danny’s wide one. He isn't happy, but he’s smiling. You both only have a few pictures with each other. It isn’t much, and you’re surprised that the photographer wouldn’t want more, but it can’t be helped.

The photo is placed back on the table, and you lay down on the sofa, grabbing at the throw blanket that you added. Your arms act as a pillow underneath your weary head, and you stare at the photo, training over how his arms are wrapped tight round you and how close that he holds you.

-

Daniel walks into his shared apartment with you, and he immediately spots your shoes in a different position than when he left. He frowns, walking further into the apartment, his eyes scan the room, his eyes landing on a crumpled bag of fast food on the table, the drink creating a water ring on the table. It isn’t like you to be so careless.

The drink rattles in his hand, nothing but cold liquid is inside the container. His bag is heavy as he leans it against the wall on the floor, and he finally finds you. You’re asleep on the couch, your body curled with the decorative throw blanket covering your body as the fan spins above.

He lowers himself to watch you, your soft breaths and the way your face is relaxed. You’re asleep and it brings him back to a time where you were under him, where night concealed him and he was able to hover above you. It’s much different now, you’re still scared but he’s able to kiss you, to have you rake your nails down his back and hold his hand as if it’s the only thing to keep you sane.

A calloused hand cups your cheek, your skin soft and blemished with faded scars that he’s studied meticulously night after night. You wake up with his fingers tracing over your face and he doesn’t make a sound, everything about him is stoic and he wonders how you are seeing this situation in your eyes. Are you scared? Do you know? Are you pregnant? What are you thinking of him at this very moment? You blink slowly at him and he’s reminded of a cat, watching and tired, and there’s a burning desire in him that wonders what you would do if he strangled you right now. Slowly, his hand lowers, his knuckles brushing over your cheekbones and down your jawline, touching against your pulse on your neck and he feels it quicken. Your eyes never leave his and he doesn’t look away. He’s sure that he could convince you that it was a joke or that maybe it was just a dream that you had. It’s been a while since you had such a vivid dream.

Your hand creeps from under the blanket and you hold the back of his hand, moving it back to your face, letting your lips press against the side of his palm in a soft kiss. “Danny,” you say in a sleepy voice as your eyes close. “How was work?” Your hand that holds his becomes limp and he watches as it slides down his hand, catching on the cuff of his sweater until it dangles off the couch.

It wasn’t smart of him to invite you to live with him. He was too reckless, too needy and desperate to have you beside him that he just wasn’t thinking. Even if you are naïve and easily pulled into a false sense of security, he can’t just explain his costume, he can’t explain the knife and all the careful cleaning kits that he has. This is all too risky.

But he can’t throw you out either. He’s become attached. You’re like a pet to him now, and as every disgruntled man says on television, don’t name something or else you’ll get attached. And now he’s fallen victim to it. It’s nice to have such an easy fuck around, to know that he cold do whatever he wanted to you and you’ll stay here with him, because the other option is much scarier. The corners of his lips pull upwards and he pulls his hand away, fixing the blanket above you and he rises from his knees with a sigh.

“Another dead body,” he says with a chipper voice that he can’t seem to hide. “All signs point to our residential serial killer.” It’s much too risky to have Ghostface visit you, you thought this as your safe haven, you have to know and think that it still is, but fuck does he miss your fear and how pitifully you cried. “You never told me why you hated him so much.” He has to bite the inside of his cheeks when your brows knit together. “I know he’s a killer, but did he ever hurt anyone close to you?”

Your eyes shift and you pull the blanket closer to you, the folds stretching across your frame and showing the curves of your body. “I’m not sure, I just-” you catch his eyes and he sees you visibly shrink away from him- “I’m scared of his mask.”

His mouth fills with saliva as he thinks about just how frightened you are. “What a shame, I was hoping to get into roleplay.” He could think about you know, how you'd hit and scream, how he could pretend that it was all part of the act and just hold you down, thinking about how you would put the pieces together and sob.

“That isn’t funny,” you say in a high-pitched voice, already cracking and sitting up to lessen the distance between the two of you. He rolls his eyes in response, standing up from his crouch with a hiss between his teeth. “People are dead,” you whine, as if he hasn’t been keeping up with the news with you. “He killed people.” You’re much more emotional than he thought, but you’ve held your mouth for so long, suffered in your silence and in your vulnerability; it's only natural you would have such strong emotions.

“Relax, it was a joke.” He takes off his jacket and tosses it beside you, watching as you pull yourself closer, further away from his jacket and only staring at it with confusion, as if he dared to have the audacity to throw something your way.

“A dumb one,” you say with with a pout, gripping tighter onto the blanket.

“I said relax,” Danny says in a stern voice, already done with the conversation. He may have been the one to start it but he was hoping for a more playful one, or rather one where you go along with him rather than try to fight him.

“Whatever,” you huff, and he sees you bundle the blanket in your arms, pushing yourself to the further end of the couch, looking at the wall with furrowed brows as your hand tries to discreetly cover your pout.

“Great,” he says sarcastically, turning around and walking towards the fridge. “Now, you’re angry,” he says loud enough for you to hear.

He rises back up with a bottle in his hand, toying with the cap, letting the ridges play against his fingertips. You don’t respond and he can feel his anger start to rise, something thick that lodges in his throat and makes it impossible to swallow. You aren’t answering him. Usually this would be a good sign, something that means he still has you wrapped around his finger, but it feels different. You aren’t moving from your spot, and you aren’t apologizing to him. He puts the bottle down, and runs his hand down his face with a heavy sigh.

“I think,” your voice is small, and he can barely hear it, but he can, “we both rushed into this… relationship. We should have taken it slow.” When you turn to him, he sees that your eyes are wet and you try to take steady breaths but to no avail. “I’m happy with you, but I don’t think we were thinking clearly when we chose to-” your eyes glance around and you look away from him- “to do this.”

His jaw twitches and he watches you, anger boiling inside of him, white-hot that makes it impossible to think and if he could, he'd grab the knife on the counter and stick it in your back but he can’t. Copper fills his mouth and he turns on his heel, the bedroom door slamming behind him, loud enough that he can hear your yelp and loud enough that it makes his ears ring. He wonders what the neighbors would think of it, but he can’t really bring himself to care. He’ll find an excuse, he always does.

His name is muted through the door and he rummages through the closet, pulling out a worn backpack and knocking a few clothes off the anger that he steps on. You enter the room just in time to witness him opening your drawer and throwing your things inside without a care.

“Danny?” Your voice sounds so fearful and it makes him stop for a second, and when he looks at you, your foot slides back out of the room. You’re terrified of him right now. “Danny, what are you doing?” You ask in a small voice, as you take a tentative step inside the room.

“You want to leave right?” He asks in a condescending tone, stepping closer to you with the back held tight in his hand. “Well, don’t worry. I’ll help you pack.”

“I didn’t-”

“Didn’t you say that we rushed into this?” With every word he stalks towards you and he tosses the backpack onto the bed, only to miss and have it slide down, the contents inside spilling onto the floor. You look away from him and that only adds fuel to the fire that is tarnishing him from the inside. “Didn’t you?” He shouts, slapping his hand on the dresses, rattling your bottles of perfume and creams. He stares at you, his nostrils flared and jaw tight as he tries to keep a sense of composure. “Did you or did you not?” He asks, his voice eerily calm as he lets his nails drag along the wall. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

“I’m sorry, Dan,” you cry, your eyes spilling over with tears. “I wasn’t thinking. Please, I promise, it was just a long day and I’m sorry.”

You’re pathetic and not in the way that he wants you. He turns around and you grab his arm, latching yourself around his forearm. His name is on your tongue and before you have a chance to finish it, he turns around, his hand raised, and mouth pulled into an ugly snarl. You let go of him immediately and try to shield yourself, but he aims for the wall instead. His palm stings and you let out a choked sob.

He can’t think. Not with you here. Not with his emotions running so high. Not when his palm stings and there’s something dark brooding inside of him. He takes a deep breath and he forces himself to look at you. You stare up at him with worry creasing your features.

“It's okay,” his words are still tense, but your body lowers its defenses slightly, and he knows he’s on the right track. “I was angry.” He pulls his hand away from the wall and rubs it with his other, the palm of his hand a light shade of pink. “Why don’t we have dinner, huh?” He tries to give you a charming smile, but it falls flat. “We’ll talk about it over dinner. You know-” he reaches for your hand and grabs it in both of his- “like couple’s therapy or some shit. How does that sound?”

You break away from his gaze, glancing at the floor, and he knows your habits and tics by now. You’ll scan the floor, and look up at him and smile and nod. You play your part so well, and if he had to be honest with himself, he can’t lose that. Not yet. Not when you’re so dependent on him and him on you. He waits for our smile, to give you his own to show that he’s okay, that his anger has subsided for now, but you never give him that. Your mouth parts open and there are tears in your eyes, your hand shakes and grows clammy in his. He calls your name, but you don’t respond. Your breath is ragged, sharp inhales and shaky exhales, and he follows your gaze to the floor under the bed.

In the corner of his eye, he spots white and his nails dig into your skin. “Go get me a beer, I’ll-” he looks down at you and your eyes are stuck, glued to the floor where you can see the face that has haunted you- “I’ll clean up, okay? Just give me a moment.” It isn’t enough, you’re still looking where the mask lays, the bottom half of the face peeking from under your undergarments. Your mouth opens in a silent question and when you look back at him, you’re scanning his face. His body runs hot, his mouth going dry and he says the only thing that can come to mind. “I told you I wanted to try roleplay.”

“I thought you were,” you hesitate, and your tongue peeks to wet your lips, “I thought you were kidding,” you say breathlessly, your words slow as if you were hypnotized and the truth of the matter is, is that you are. You’re ruined by the mask that lies on the floor, the mouth of it the only thing that you can see. You peel away from him and have your back turned to him, your arms coming up to give yourself a hug. “I’ll go get you a beer,” you say in a daze, and when you turn back, your smile is weak, and you can’t look at him for long, your eyes magnetized to the mask on the floor.

He’s left alone in the room, his nails digging into the palm of his hands and red in his vision. The worst part of it all is that he can’t go out tonight. Not when you saw his mask. You’re naïve, and easily spooked, but even you could put two and two together. Even your suspicions would start to rise as you questioned why there was a murder the night he went out. Why Ghostface hasn’t come back for you. You’d suspect him and he can’t have that, not when you’re already so fearful of him.

#ghostface #dbd ghostface #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #danny johnson imagine #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #dead by daylight #dbd #i really like this one #mainly the ending #of the chapter

[whump-a-la-mode]

Ok so I had a prompt idea? We’re all familiar with the “villain is sent to a ‘rehabilitation center’ that turns out to be secretly torturing the villains there” trope, but consider this: scared villain is captured by a kind hero and sent to a villain rehabilitation center, and villain has never experienced such warmth and kindness! Not to mention frequent visits from hero to check up/see how they’re doing. Maybe it’s no good but just a thought I had; I love your writing so much!! 💛🌼

(No pressure though, I know you’re probably busy!)

Oh, I absolutely love this prompt! Evil rehab centers are all well and good, but I’d never thought of one as being a source of comfort. I hope you like this! I was going to do some more with it, but it was already running a little long ^^

Thanks so much for the prompt!

CW//Arson, burning buildings, smoke inhalation, fear of death, gross food, mentions of torture, animal disease

As though singed by smoke, Villain’s lungs burned.

Even as they gasped, they felt as though they could not inhale a single breath. Yet, somehow, they had enough air to keep going.

It wasn’t as though they had a choice.

They were unsure, at that point, if their legs were truly moving at all. They had lost feeling in them far too long ago to be able to verify such a thing. Somehow, though, they were moving forward. Even if they wanted to, they didn’t know if they could stop, with momentum pushing them as it was.

Everything was riding on this. Days of keeping ahead, of leading the chase. If they stopped moving for just a moment, it would all be wasted.

And their life would be over. If they stopped running now, there would be no Villain left.

In that instant, they understood what it was to be a rabbit. When there was a fox on your tail, there were no do overs. No second chances. It was run or die.

As long as they could, they were going to run.

Villain couldn’t remember the name of the building in which they had managed to find the briefest of respites. Despite its sprawling size, there was nothing truly remarkable about it. Perhaps it did not have a name in the first place. At some point, it had been some sort of industrial complex-- the home of half a dozen separate companies, each clashing and butting up against one another.

Yet, the structure had long since been left to rot. They had a feeling that mold clinging to every corner had something to do with that.

Just a week ago, they would never have dreamed of so much as going someplace like this. The air smelled rotten, and breathing it left a sour taste sticking to their tongue. Not to mention the fact that several animals of varying size and danger had already claimed the rotten complex as their home.

But, they weren’t the same Villain they had been a week ago. Stumbling upon the building had felt like a gift from above, and, the night prior, they’d managed to get some honest-to-god rest among its sodden carpeting.

It was the most rest they’d gotten in days, despite the fact that, halfway through it, they’d awoken to a diseased rat with its teeth buried in their forearm. They’d had worse awakenings.

After shooing away the animal, they’d managed to sleep an hour or so more. Then came the worse of their two awakenings, that night.

The shouting voices of heroes.

Villain didn’t know how they’d found them. There was no trace, no trail. They had no vehicle-- instead moving through the woods on foot. ‘On foot’ was quite literal in that instance, considering the fact that they’d lost their shoes three days ago to a patch of quickmud.

But, still, they’d been found.

They didn’t no how long ago it was, that they’d been awakened by those voices. With the darkened building’s clocks hanging stubbornly on the wrong minute and hour, there was no way to tell how long it had been.

How long they’d been running...

Villain skidded around a corner, hissing as their foot caught on an uprooted carpet tack. Had they been this way before? It was impossible to tell-- all the halls looked the same.

The halls repeated, just as the heroes’ footsteps did.

How were they not tired?

Maybe because they’d eaten. And slept. And had water.

Villain had found that stream the other day, though...

Everything about them seemed to be repeating. The walls. The footsteps.

The lies of the heroes.

“Just stop running! We don’t want to hurt you!”

They couldn’t count just how many times they’d heard those words. Lies. Of course they were lies! Or, perhaps, it was their own sick attempt at a joke. We don’t want to hurt you, we just want to kill you!

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not just yet.

Another corner was taken with haste, and their nostrils were overwhelmed with the scents of rust and oil.

The garage was massive-- reaching further upwards than the shreds of sunlight filtering through dusty windows could reach with their furthest rays. Its concrete floor stretched out, seemingly, all the way to the horizon-- dotted only by support beams, and whatever scattered machinery and supplies the company had not deemed valuable enough to bring along.

The source of the scent of gasoline was quite rapidly made apart. Stacked haphazardly in the corner, red gas containers stood. Their reek alone made it well known that they were far from empty.

But the gas was far from Villain’s main concern regarding the garage.

In the past few days, they had become awfully good at finding exits. It was with a ruthless instinct that they scanned the room for one.

But, in the end, they reached a terrifying conclusion.

There was one exit. It was the same door as the entrance. The garage doors on the other side of the chamber had long since been chained shut, and there was no time for lockpicking.

The heroes flooded in.

It was with an exhausted hopelessness and steadfast stubbornness that they kept running forth. Of course, with their terrible luck, they did not make it very far. A rebar pipe caught their toes, sending them sprawling onto the concrete, pain shrieking from a thousand different, tiny wounds.

For a few seconds, Villain let themself breathe. They figured that, at the very least, they should let themself enjoy their last moments alive.

Their relaxation did not last long. They refused to die laying down. Trembling from exhaustion, pain, starvation, dehydration, and terror, all at once, they staggered to their feet. For a moment, their vision blurred, before solidifying once more.

Half a dozen heroes fanned out before the entrance, guarding it ruthlessly. Faux looks of concern painted their countenances.

From the array of aches and pains swarming Villain, a single one, all at once, made itself known. Something pressing up against their leg.

Their lighter.

Their trembling gaze flicked to the pile of glimmering red gas cans. It was behind them-- only a few steps back. If they could just...

“Villain!” The person in the front of the group called out-- Hero. “There’s nowhere else to go. It’s okay. Everything’s okay. You just need to come with us. You can’t survive like this much longer, you know that!”

No. What they couldn’t survive was the heroes.

But, they didn’t have to.

Villain took a step back, inching towards the pile.

“Come on, buddy!” Another hero called. “What are you so afraid of?”

It was the heroes who should be afraid. Another step back.

“There’s nowhere to run, Villain.” Hero spoke once more. “Just come with us. No harm will come to you, I swear to it.”

No.

Villain wasn’t ready to die. Not today.

They took the final step, until they were mere inches from the pile. With a well-placed kick, and a horrible clattering, the cans toppled from their precarious pyramid. The reek of gas grew tenfold as brown liquid spilled out, onto the concrete below.

Stepping back from the gasoline-- they were ready to go, not just yet-- they reached into their pocket. The heroes had no time to identify the object they pulled out. By the time they realized what had happened, the lighter had already been thrown.

The flame leapt into the air with such force that Villain was thrown back, tossed to the concrete like a ragdoll.

The faux compassion on the heroes faces turned to an emotion that was very, very real.

Fear.

Spreading so fast that its growth could be heard, the inferno pounced, grabbing onto the base of a wooden support beam and licking its way upwards.

“Everyone!” Hero shouted-- terror in their voice overpowered by sheer determination. “Get out! This building’s not stable.”

“W-what about you?”

“If I’m not out within five minutes, send someone in after me.”

“Are you certain?”

“We’re heroes. And, sometimes, that means saving villains, too.”

Despite their clear reluctance, the other heroes, one by one, nodded, allowing their terror to spur them to flee.

When the last of them was gone, only two remained in the garage. The villain and the hero.

Villain looked upwards, watching as the flame reached the top of the support beam and rippled onto the ceiling.

There were only two ways this could end. They knew that.

Either Hero lost their nerve and fled, allowing their prey to escape, or they both perished in the flames.

No matter which came to pass, there was only one thing that mattered:

They would not die by the hands of a hero.

“You’re scared.” Hero began. Another stupid speech. “I know. I know you’re scared. This last week has been hell for you, I know that. But it doesn’t have to go down like this. You can still make the right choice. 

Please. Come with me. I don’t want to hurt you. Believe it or not, I don’t want you to die!”

“You’re a bad liar, you know.” They croaked.

Villain’s lungs were already torn from gasping. The slowly-rising smoke only served to salt their wounds.

Before them, a flaming ceiling tile fell, spraying them with embers.

“You don’t want this! I know you don’t! You don’t want to die!”

“Why do you think I’m doing this?! Of course I don’t want to die, you fucking idiot!”

“Then come with me!”

“It’s like you don’t even hear yourself.”

The building shuddered as a support beam splintered and collapsed. The force of it sent Villain, once again, to the concrete, bathing their face in smoke. As they scrambled to their hands and knees, they could not help but let out a shuddering cough.

“Villain! Watch out!”

“Wh-”

The ceiling tile struck their head, burying them under its accompanying rubble.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ 

Warmth... and music.

They awoke to warmth, and music.

The first of the two came in the form of something soft, heavy, enveloping them, making them feel as though they were buried within a cloud. The music, too, seemed to surround them-- there were no words to it, just the soft, lulling tone of a piano, accompanied by the occasional splash of waves.

It was confusion that first whispered to Villain, when their leaden eyelids at last agreed to open. Above them sat an off-white sky, stretching out to meet with a light blue wall. They blinked once more.

Where...

The chase the heroes the running the building the gas the fire the rubble the-

Villain jolted upright, tossing off of themself a heavy, fleece blanket. Trembling fingers gripped the mattress below them as they scanned the world around, instincts kicking in, searching frantically for an exit.

The room was small, walls colored a soft, baby blue, and lit by a pair of lamps with warm, orange bulbs. The few items of furniture were made of a light brown wood-- three small nightstands, two in corners, and one next to the bed in which Villain lay.

Next to one of the stands was placed a small writing desk and chair, while the other was accompanied by a potted plant, petals just starting to emerge from its buds. Embedded in one wall, a window stood, a small radio perched upon its sill.

The door was at the room’s far end, next to their bed. A wooden door with brass handle-- easy to break down.

But guarded.

Before the door, a figure stood-- a person dressed in a bright flannel, from the breast pocket of which stuck an overabundance of pens.

They did not look particularly strong, but, then again, neither did Villain. At the sound of their movement, the figure turned to face them, a smile growing upon their round face.

“I didn’t even notice you waking up.” They hummed. “Good morning.”

There were two options for escape: The door or the window. Neither was particularly desirable, but they had to choose one...

“Hey, buddy.” The stranger’s voice felt almost as warm as the fleece blanket. “You’re looking a bit like a deer in the headlights, there. I’m sure this is all a bit overwhelming, and I’m sure you’re pretty confused. I’d be confused too, trust me.”

No. There was no confusion in Villain’s mind. They were focused on one thing, the only thing that mattered: Getting out of here!

The flannel-wearing figure took a few steps towards the bed. In instinctual panic, the villain scrambled to their hands and knees, shuffling backwards until their spine was flush with the headboard.

“Hey, hey, shhh.” They hushed. “I’m sorry I scared you. I’ll stay right back here, okay?”

“L-Let me out of here!”

The figure frowned.

“Bud, I’m not sure that you’d last another day out there. Not in the state Hero found you in.”

Hero. Of course they were working for Hero.

“I’ll explain everything, alright bud? But let’s just start here. My name’s Doctor. What’s yours?”

Villain only then noticed that they were shaking like a leaf. Whatever this method of torture or interrogation or whatever it is was, they wanted no part in it. They just wanted to go home! To get out! Warm bed or not, this was a prison. They were sure of it.

But, the bed was comfortable, and there wasn’t a single rat in sight...

“How about this...” Doctor coaxed. “You tell me your name, and I’ll tell you what’s going on, okay?”

A trade. Information for information.

Was it worth it? They supposed there was little use in lying.

“V-Villain. My name’s Villain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Villain.”

“Now, wh-what is this p-place?”

Doctor nodded.

“This is the Supervillain Memorial Villainous Recovery Center. We’re in the city, right by the river. Next to the botanical gardens, if you know where that is.”

They were really telling them the location of their prison? Surely it would have been better to keep such a thing secret. That is, assuming they were telling the truth.

“I believe you’ve been asleep for about... seventeen hours.” Doctor glanced to their watch. “Yep, just about. You’ve been here for maybe half that time. After you got caught in the fire, Hero brought you to the hospital. They bandaged your wounds and brought you here. I hope you slept well.”

Villain almost laughed at that, before a realization struck them. They had slept well. Sure, remnants of the specter of fatigue still haunted them, but for the first time in days, they felt awake enough to think clearly.

But, this was still a prison.

Right?

Prisons didn’t usually have soft beds and fleece blankets, but...

No. It was a trick. This was a prison, and they were a prisoner.

“Let me go.” Villain insisted, though it was halfhearted. “Y-You can’t keep me here! I’m leaving. I need to leave!”

Doctor frowned again, biting their lower lip.

“I’m sorry, Villain, but for now, you’re going to have to stay here. But, I promise, you’ll like it here.” They sighed. “I know you’re scared, and confused, and a thousand other things. But, here, you’re safe. There’s other people here-- quite a few of them, in fact. And, at one point, they were all like you. But ask any one of them. This is the best place for you to be.”

Other people?

“Where are they? W-What are you doing to them?!”

Doctor smiled.

“They’re in our main wing, right now. I believe everyone is eating lunch right about now. I don’t know about you, but where I come from, lunch isn’t a form of torture.”

Villain pursed their lips.

“Then, where am I?”

“This is our arrivals wing. You’re going to stay here, for a few days. Until you’re comfortable, and we can make sure all that smoke is out of your lungs. Then you can join in with everyone else. I’m gonna move over to the side of the bed now, okay? I won’t touch you.”

Even with the warning, Villain couldn’t help but flinch as Doctor approached. They moved to the nightstand at the bed’s side, plucking a small, red box from its surface.

“Hero told me to give this to you, when you got up. It’s not exactly the most nutritious thing to start your day off with, but I think you deserve something tasty.”

They offered the box. After a moment of hesitance, Villain snapped it from their hands, drawing it close to their chest. Was it a threat? Some kind of warning? Morbid curiosity took hold of them, prompting them to open the box’s lid.

Chocolates.

A dozen chocolates, laid out in the design of a star.

“I can eat these?”

“Go ahead.”

Without hesitance, this time, they popped one of the candy pieces into their mouth. Its flavor overwhelmed them, strong enough to nearly knock them over. It’d been days since they’d eaten anything that didn’t come off a bush or from the dumpster.

“Um...” Villain looked back up, closing the box. “So, when are you going to kill me?”

Doctor laughed.

“Hero will be visiting tomorrow. With how long they can talk for, I think you’re only in danger of dying of boredom.”

This was a prison. Of course it was.

Yet, as they glanced down at the box of chocolates, they could not help but forget all thought of panic and escape.

#villain whumpee #whump #hero caretaker #scared whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #ask

[tokoyamisstuff]

Scandal Ch. 4 - Loki x Reader

Summary: Nothing can stop the wrath of the God of Mischief, when he realizes he had been deceived by the people he trusted more than his beloved wife.

Warnings: Angst, Violence

Words: ~1700

"But what the world fails to realize is a villain is just a victim whose story hasn’t been told.” - Chris Colfer

I Story Masterlist I General Masterlist I

Taglist: @hi-there-x @haloangel391 @misssilencewritewell @babayaga67 @accioremuslupinn @mochimommy2002 @just-someone-who-likes-to-write @damalseer @bethanystan @loser-alert @star017 @nina1800 @queenariesofnarnia @n1fangirlsblog @vengefulsokovian @lunamoonbby @freyagallileaevans​

A/N: This is a rather boring chapter, but we’re far from done!

“She already left several moons ago. It was her own wish, we did not force her.”

“Where to?” 

“Midgard.”

Loki was long back on Asgardian territory, yet his mind couldn’t find peace. Well, how could he, now knowing what Laufey told him?

His world had already crumbled to dust when he left you behind - but if Laufey spoke the truth, his whole existence had been built on lies from the very start.

Not knowing where to search for answers, the prince sneaked into Odin’s forbidden chambers, walking in the shadows protecting him in the midst of night.

There it was: The Cascet of Ancient Winters - the very relic that doomed the fate of your newborn, revealing it’s shameful blood to all of Asgard.

It just urged him to try and see for himself, even if the truth would shatter his heart.

“STOP!”

Loki wouldn’t even flinch at the Allfather’s words, already tightly holding the cascet in both hands.

“Am I cursed?”

The God of Mischief wouldn’t even dare to turn around and look at the person he always ever thought to be his father - for as soon as he laid fingers on the cascet, he began turning into that same shade of blue your son did.

Panic began to rise in the young god, fearing to be killed by the people he loved so dearly shall they lay eyes upon what he truly was. His chest began to tighten, fastened breath turning into a cold mist.

“No” was Odin’s firm but unsatisfying answer, to which Loki only responded by putting down the cascet.

“What am I?”

“You’re my son.” His words came from the heart, not even faltering as Loki turned around to present his Jotun form to the Allfather.

“What more than that?!” he almost growled in between gritted teeth, appearance slowly returning to his usual self.

At that deepest, darkest day in his life yet, Loki would be too blinded by betrayal and rage to see his father’s true love towards his adoptive son.

“The cascet wasn’t the only thing you took back from Jotunheim that day, was it?” The prince took firm steps towards the man that he had known all his life, but had become a complete stranger towards him through that sole moment.

Again, only a “no.”

Loki’s mind was racing, thinking about what else may have been hidden from himself - and what kind of consequences that revelation had for everything he had done up until now.

“In the aftermath of the battle, I went to the temple -- and I found a baby” the Allfather continued, “Small, for a giant’s offspring. Abandoned, suffering, left to die...”

“...Laufeyson” Loki completed Odin’s sentence. So every word the King of the Jotunns had said was indeed a fact.

“W-W-why?!” he almost whined, voice weak and defeated. “You were knee deep in Jotun blood, why would you take me?”

“You were an innocent child-”

“No.” The God of Lies himself had become so sick of being fed those, starting to snap. “You took me for a purpose. What was it???” 

For what felt like an eternity, there was only silence.

The image of that small, blue child in his arms had been painfully burned into his heart back then. But now that he knew the story behind all of this, it held a completely different meaning.

Just like he had been abandoned back on that frozen rock, he had abandoned his own child, as well as the love of his life.

Outcast, abused, left to die...and now, god knows what had happened to you...

That secret had destroyed more than just his own life. It had ruined the only honest happiness he was ever given - you, and his son.

“TELL ME!”

He just needed to know: The reason behind all the pain and suffering he had to endure - and caused to others as well.

“I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace...through you.”

That was just too much for Loki to bear. “What?” he reacted with a barely-there voice, every word of his father shooting daggers through his heart.

“But those plans no longer matter.” No matter what Odin might want to explain, Loki wasn’t able to listen to any more, jumping into his own conclusions.

“So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up inside of here until you might have use for me?!” he croaked, afraid of the answer.

“Do not twist my words.”

“You could told me what I was from the beginning!” he now yelled, furious at how virtuous Odin would still defend his own action. “Why didn’t you?”

“You’re my son” he repeated once again. “I only wanted to protect you from the truth.”

“Why, ‘cause I-I-I-I’m the monster people tell their children about at night?!” Loki clenched his fists, fingernails drawing blood to his palm.

“At least when my son was born, you should’ve dropped the charade!” Pure agony was dripping from every syllable, and for a mere second, his eyes were glistering bright red once again. “You’ve forsaken two innocent lives - the most important beings in my pathetic existence - and now you’ve burdened me with their suffering as well!”

That sure was a miracle - how a person so broken from the beginning wouldn’t collapse under pressure that huge.

“It all makes sense now, why you favoured Thor, all those years! Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!”

But who cares about the throne, honestly? Not him. Not anymore. Ever since he knew you.

It all dawned to him now: What he could have, if only he had put his trust in you like so many times before.

All his life, he only ever remembers a shadow. At first, he thought it to be the shadow of his brother, or never being enough for his own father. Maybe the other Asgardians looking down on him, making him feel like he doesn’t belong.

Yet in the end, that very shadow was inside of his own mind.

But you?

You had loved Loki with all of your heart, banishing the darkness from his mind through your bright affection.

It didn’t matter to you what anyone thought of him - or even what he thought himself to be.

Because you saw him for what he really was, and he found peace with that.

And he was certain that it wouldn’t matter to you whether he called himself Odinson or Laufeyson - as had you loved his child dearly, ever since he took his first breath.

He could never make up for that greatest of his sins, Loki knew that much.

Or...?

“Where are you going, my son?”

Reluctantly, Loki made his way past the man he now only considered a stranger. Still, when Odin tried to reach out to him, Loki immediately ducked away, startled and afraid for his true nature to hurt anyone.

More than ever before, the God of Mischief despised himself to the core of his being. He was lost, confused, shocked - and still, determined.

“Creating a Kingdom for my family.”

___

[Earth, 2 months later]

On times like these, you thought your mind was betraying you.

Especially when you catched yourself reminiscing sweet, innocent moments - far back in the past, before everything you ever held dearly got destroyed.

You still felt his touch, feather-light on your skin, as well as his scent haunting your memories. And sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder how life would have been, well...if things were different.

Frantically shaking your head, you clasped the book closed and threw it into a corner of the small one-room-flat SHIELD had provided for you.

Your magical pockets were always almost empty, except for a few necessities - and that book. It held the first flower Loki ever gifted you, and you had dried it in between those pages so it would never lose it’s beauty.

But now, remembering meant pain - because Loki Laufeyson would never come back.

For he is dead.

Fell of the Bifrost, as confirmed by Heimdall, who secretly kept in touch with you all this time. So you knew it all: Of his grief and treason, which slowly led him into madness. 

And what did you do in the meantime?! Nothing at all!

You should’ve tried everything, anything to get back and help him go through that time of need, hel!

“Endure it, Y/N...you need to stay strong...for Liam.” After so many times of telling those words to yourself, you doubted them to have any effect on your broken heart at all.

Yet it would never fail to keep you going. For that wonderful child was proof of your love, and now your last memory of him.

Rocking the small Jotun to sleep, tears found their way to your eyes like so many times before, dropping to the baby’s face unnoticed.

So you tried to sing your pain away as you cooed that little wonder to sleep.

“Å eg lengtar så tidt dette landet å sjå, Og det dreg meg så blidt, når eg langt er ifrå. Med den våknande vår vert min saknad so sår, så mest gråta, mest gråta eg kan. Å eg minnest, å eg minnest, å eg minnest så vel dette land. Å eg minnest, å eg minnest, å eg minnest så vel dette land.”

*Translation:

“Oh I long so long to see this land, And it pulls me so gently, when I'm far away. With the waking spring host my missing so sore, so most cry, most cry eg can. Oh I remember, oh I remember, oh I remember this country as well. Oh I remember, oh I remember, oh I remember this country as well.”

#Loki #Loki x Reader #Loki x You #Loki / Reader #Loki / You #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki Friggason #God of Mischief #Loki x Y/N #Self Insert #Writing #Fanfiction #Jotunn #Jotunheim #Asgard #Frost Giant

[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {6}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc.

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 1696

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Nesta had no idea what had happened.

She was shaken awake in the middle of the night by one of the night nurses, quickly hurrying her out of the tent she shared with a few other nurses in hushed tones. She pulled her robe around her tighter, the nightgown she wore was perfectly fine with the warm fire crackling in the hearth, but in the crisp autumn air, it left her shivering.

As did the reason she’d been awakened in the middle of the night. One of her patients she’d been solely residing over had taken an unexpected turn at some point in the evening. Infection. Fever.

She felt shaky and hollow as she pushed through the tent flaps. She knew it made her a horrible person, but she couldn’t help but pray it was anyone except—

There were two nurses hovering beside Cassian’s cot and she thought she was going to be physically sick.

“What’s happened?” Nesta asked as she approached. It had been meant to have been firm, direct, but it came out shaky.

“He was sleeping peacefully, but then he started to stir and groan,” Claire explained. “When I came over he was drenched in sweat. I checked the gunshot wounds on his back and the burns. There were no bandages. I’m not sure how he had gotten them off—.”

A ringing in Nesta’s ears drowned out the rest of Claire’s words, but it didn’t matter what the nurse said, Nesta knew the cause of Cassian’s downfall.

It had been her.

She had been cleaning his wounds when the soldier had been rushed in earlier that morning, had left Cassian to help. When the soldier had died, Madja had ordered Nesta to go clean up and she had left the tent…

It had all happened so fast.

She had lost a life, and it distracted her from her thoughts, her further duties.

She had never gone back to finish cleaning and bandaging his wounds.

And, of course, Cassian had said nothing.

“I didn’t know what to—.”

Nesta cut Claire off, shaking her head to try and clear her thoughts. She knew she was to blame, but wouldn’t alert Claire to that knowledge. “He needs a dose of penicillin, maybe two, depending on how far the infection has spread.”

Claire nodded, the other two nurses having moved on to check on other patients, most of whom slept peacefully. When she kept standing there, nodding, Nesta snapped, “Now, please.”

She blinked and was off, hurrying to the medical cabinet in the center of the tent.

Leaning down over his bed, Nesta placed a hand on either side of his face. “Cassian?”

His skin was hot, clammy and he was covered in sweat. She swore quietly. He felt like he’d been lying in front of a furnace for a few hours.

His eyelids fluttered, but he didn’t rise to consciousness.

Claire returned, a syringe in one hand and a glass bottle in the other. Nesta took it, surprised by how steady her hands were. She felt as if they should be as shaky as her breathing had become, but she quickly and efficiently administered the dose, holding a small piece of gauze over his arm where she’d stuck him.

“Should I… Would you like to go back to bed?” Claire asked. “I can watch him while I make my rounds.”

Nesta shook her head as she sat down in the chair next to the cot. “No, I— I need to stay with him.”

Claire hesitated, but nodded and excused herself.

Nesta would wait with him, would keep him company, because it was all her fault.

She told herself that was the only reason, but as she reached up to brush his damp hair back, she knew she was only fooling herself.

But fool herself, she would.

This was war. He was a soldier. Aside from being completely inappropriate, considering she was his nurse, one should never get involved with a soldier.

It often only led to heartbreak.

His face was flushed, even though his lips were bloodless, and he looked so…frail. Even when he’d first been brought in, bloody and burned, he hadn’t looked so helpless. Nesta couldn’t look away from him.

She knew no one else was around, knew the other nurses may have been nosy and curious, but they would give Nesta this privacy. And because of that she reached out and took his hand, gently holding it in hers.

Was it really just earlier in the day that he’d held her hand after coming to check on her after that poor soldier had passed? The thought, that he considered her feelings more important than his own healing, had her fingers tightening around his.

I could see myself loving a woman like you.

She tried not to think about the thrill his words sent through her, then or now. It was highly inappropriate, especially considering they barely knew each other. But there was just…something about him. She reached out with her free hand and pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. Still clammy. Still burning up.

Again, his eyelids shifted, but they didn’t open. The penicillin would keep him down for a while.

She wouldn’t be sleeping, though. Not any time soon.

With a defeated sigh, Nesta took the book off of the small table by Cassian’s cot. He had read a little more that afternoon, it had seemed. He was nearing chapter six, and Nesta couldn’t wait to see his reaction to the coming chapters.

Especially in regards to his beloved Daisy.

She opened to the page he was on and took out the leather strap that marked it. It was old and worn, and she found herself wondering how long he’d had it, how long it had held his hair back. She wondered how long he’d had long hair. She assumed always. It was hard to imagine him with short hair.

It just wouldn’t look right.

He stirred on the cot before her, and Nesta’s eyes jerked up to him, but he still didn’t wake. She watched him for another moment, making sure he was sleeping peacefully, then looked back down at the scrap of leather in her hand.

It occurred to her how little she knew about him then. She knew about his mother and lack of a father, but he’d mentioned brothers. Were they blood or was it more in a camaraderie sort of way? And who were they? Did he love them the way she loved her own sisters?

Perhaps she had been selfish thus far, in asking so little about him. Usually the man never shut up, was always making sarcastic remarks with his raunchy humor, and now as he lay unconscious, she wanted him to speak.

She wanted to ask him questions.

He mentioned Velaris, but Nesta had only been there once as a child and didn’t remember much from it. She wanted to ask him about it, ask him what it was like growing up in the famous City of Starlight.

She wanted to ask about those brothers of his, if he had any other siblings, and how his mother, who had never married, survived it, living in the world that they did.

She wanted to ask if he’d ever had any pets, what his favorite subject was in school, if he’d ever broken a bone or climbed a tree for fun or been in an airplane.

She wanted to know where this scrap of leather came from that she had been fiddling in between her fingers for far too long.

Eventually, she rested her head against her own arm, still holding onto his fingers in one hand and clutching that strap of leather in the other. It didn’t take long before she was asleep herself.

A few hours later, a firm hand on her shoulder had her jolting awake. She sat up quickly, finding Madja standing behind her.

Standing, she cleared her throat, releasing Cassian’s hand, still holding onto that piece of leather. “Madja, I—.”

A gentle smile was on the old healer's face. “You should get changed, Nesta.”

Glancing down at her open robe and nightgown, Nesta blushed and nodded, before replacing the strap of leather in the book she’d leant to him.

The sun was up, but the chill in the air told her it hadn’t been for long. She hurried across the camp to the tent she shared with a few other nurses. Quickly changing, she tied a fresh apron around her waist and was surprised to find Madja standing outside the tent as she emerged, still braiding her hair back.

“Walk with me,” she said, and took off, not waiting to see if she followed.

Nesta couldn’t help but feel like she was a child about to be scolded.

“There is no rule stating you can’t have feelings for your patient, Nesta,” she said, glancing over at her.

Nesta blinked, not expecting her to be so blunt. She immediately went on the defensive. “I don’t have—.”

Madja gave her a look that told her the woman knew she was full of shit. She went on. “This isn’t a formal job. There is no rule book saying you can’t fraternize with others. He’s very handsome, and it’s clear he’s taken quite a shine to you. But remember where we are, what we’re doing. Why we’re here.”

Nesta nodded, hesitantly.

She knew.

The soldiers came in, they healed, and they left, went back to war.

And that’s exactly what Cassian would do, Nesta was fully aware of that fact. There was no romance, there was no happily ever after, not when it came to war.

“I just want you to be careful,” Madja continued, her voice gentle. “I have seen young women, time and time again, fall for men who did not come home. It is okay to feel for another, my dear, but you must remember the risks.”

The risks. It was a long list.

“I was not planning on anything happening between myself and the Major,” Nesta said, at last.

Madja’s smile was soft. “That’s always when it happens, Nesta. When no plans are made.”

#snacmc ibsy #i’ll be seeing you #snacmc collab #nessian ibsy #nessian #nesta #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #1940s au

[slashersins]

the boys get blow jobs 

because we are filthy and wanted to see what we would come up with @august-burns-red​ & i decided to write three of the boys we love getting sick blowies . here’s my set , let’s see how these boys hold up !

thomas hewitt

it’d been a couple of rough days at the slaughterhouse for tommy . he’d been stomping and grumpy and shoving you off , even for the cuddles and slight heavy petting and kissing the pair of you had started enjoying . you knew his job could be stressful , especially when it came to management and the jeers of others . 

you wanted to help him , cheer him up a little , but there were only so many ways to get tommy out of one of his moods , and they only worked half the time . usually a kiss or seventeen , sitting in his lap and stroking his neck while he guided your clothed hips over his , had been your best bet at cheering him up . maybe it was time for something a little more drastic ? maybe he just needed a pick me up or something ? 

your mind swarmed with all the little things you could do . bring him lunch and steal kisses from him in between bites of food . maybe you could sneak into his room tonight ? the kitchen door was never locked and it wasn’t like luda minded you coming over so long as you were quiet enough . maybe he needed a confidence boost ? should you just show up at work and kiss him stupid in front of all those people ? show them that tommy had someone who wanted him ? you huffed , laying back on your bed , arm over your face as you tried to figure out something to do . and then and idea popped to mind . it was risky , and tommy might be mad at you , but probably not for long . and it could cheer him up . with a mischievous smile , you were quickly tugging on your boots and rushing out the door . 

-

thomas stomped back to his station after his miserable lunch . it was taking everything he hand not to reach out and bash the heads of the bastards he worked with against the walls . why they decided that after months of leaving him be that they would suddenly start harassing him again would of been a wonderful question , but thomas was smart enough to know that there wasn’t an answer that would matter . 

dragging a chunk of dead pig closer to him he raised his cleaver bringing it down with more force than necessary , once , twice , before wrapping the perfectly carved leg into brown paper and putting it to the side . he’s about to pick up his cleaver again , ready to repeat the same motions until he could head home and get away from this place , when he feels a tap on his leg . 

glaring down he takes a half step back , only to see you peak your face out from under his work bench and give a little wave . he frowns , brows furrowed in utter confusion . what were you doing under there ? how long had you been there ? were you just being silly ? now wasn’t the time for that , dammit . he wasn’t wanting to deal with these silly games . 

he’s about to reach down and pull you out , but you tug his pant legs as if to tell him to come back closer to the bench , putting a finger over your mouth telling him to hush . he settles you an annoyed look but finally relents , stepping back to his work bench and sighing .

“HEWITT ! GET BACK TO WOKR YOU LAZY BASTARD !”

thomas tenses , letting out a low growl . you wince under the table , patting your man’s leg and giving his thick thigh a squeeze , anything to show him that you’re sorry and that he doesn’t deserve to be yelled at . thomas doesn’t give a response , just picks up his cleaver and starts cutting the meat . if you wanted to stay under his bloody , filthy table for unknown reasons , so be it . 

it’s a few minutes of you just rubbing and squeezing thomas’ thighs under his apron , trying to get him from a boil to a simmer before you continued , and you could tell from the way his cleaver was being used with less force that he was appreciating the company and attention . you give him one last pat on the leg before you carefully shift so you’re under his apron . he tries to pull back , but you slip your fingers into his belt loops and keep him in place . he can’t be gathering any attention . at least yet . 

there’s no going back now , you think as you unzip tommy’s pants and quickly fish out his cock . you can feel how he tenses , and from the look of how he starts to twitch in your hand you can tell that he’s curious . you only hope he doesn’t pull away . luckily the back of the room , in the corner , hiding behind a hulking man and under his apron , you were pretty much hidden to the world . and right now nothing to you existed expect you and tommy’s cock . 

you’d felt it before , pressing against your crotch or ass as you and tommy dry humped and rutted against each other , but you’d never seen it . and oh , if it wasn’t a pretty sight . you only wished it wasn’t in the dark under his apron , so you could truly admire it . but now wasn’t the time , no , right now you had to somehow stuff this behemoth’s length into your mouth .

the first kiss to his tip has him stilling completely , almost stopping in his breathing . the entire situation took such a turn that tommy wasn’t sure if he was dreaming or not . he was left reeling as you licked against the slit in his tip , pulling back his foreskin to suckle so fucking sweet . just like you did to his tongue when he was lazily tracing the inside of your mouth . 

it takes everything he has not to make a noise when you suckle on him , the cleaver in his hand shaking in his tight grip . he hasn’t moved an inch since you started , muscles tense as you pepper kisses along his shaft . those soft warm lips . . . he’d kissed you so many times , even had his thumb kissed and licked by that pretty pink tongue of yours , but he didn’t ever imagine this . he never thought you’d want to use your mouth on him like this . you hadn’t even used your hand on him , and yet here you were . in the middle of the day , in a room full of bastards and lowlifes trying to make a days dollar , kissing and suckling and licking at his cock like it was some treat from his momma’s store . 

“HEWITT ! GOD DAMMIT , GET TO WORK !” 

the snarl he let out , reverberated through him . and you jumped a little , quickly rubbing a hand up his thigh to fist his pant leg . best keep him here . keep him still . you waited a moment , hearing the man previously shouting at tommy giving a stammering , get back to work now , in a weaker almost terrified voice at the way tommy had snapped at him . and you felt tommy move , and then heard and felt the solid thunk of the cleaver cutting through meat and bone . it’s only then that you decide to go back to your teasing and exploration , hoping like hell that you didn’t get tommy in any more trouble . but then again , maybe that’s just what your tommy needed .

thomas works , cutting through meat a bit sloppier with your lips on him . it seems the fact that he keeps getting yelled at for being distracted isn’t stopping you from lavishing him with those sweet kisses . and fuck , he wants to buck his hips , to feel more , to pull you out from under the table to kiss and rut against you . but he settles for this . this little secret . he lets out a grunt and a hiss , cleaver digging harshly into the table when you take him into your mouth , the velvet heat of it all but melting him . he has to grip the table to keep from bucking , to keep from spilling into your sweet little mouth right then , and then you take another inch . he huffs out , shakily gripping his tool as he decimates the meat on the table , not caring about the quality so long as you swallow him down just a bit more . 

you don’t take much more , and tommy wonders if he’s too big for you . and that thought causes him to shiver and lean against his work table . what did you look like under his apron ? were your lips stretched around him ? swollen and pink and wet ? did you want to take more ? were you just going slow ? would you look up at him the same way you did when you whispered his name , rocking your hips against his for relief from the ache you both felt ? he tried to imagine in , shoulders shaking as his hips jerked a fraction , causing you to make a little noise that has his balls twitching and precum leaking heavily from his tip . fuck , what did he do to deserve this ? 

it seemed like you were picking up on his signals , wrapping your  hand around that part of him you couldn’t fit , stroking his heated flesh so sweetly while you started to bob your head up and down . already you could taste the thick saltiness of precum , it stuck to your mouth and mixed with saliva making it wet and sloppy , a bit easier to move him in and out of your stuffed full mouth . your jaw was already aching , but it felt so good that you just pressed back further and moaned so soft and sweet . it had tommy jolting , hips rocking forward as the cleaver , or something else hit the table with a harsh thud . 

tommy grunting , trying desperately to keep working and failing miserably . how could he focus when that sweet mouth of yours was moving up and down his cock , when that tongue flicked over his tip when you pulled back ? when you rubbed your tongue along underside of him when you pushed onto him ? when you moaned so sweetly that he could feel the vibrations . your eager hands squeezing his hardened flesh as massaging his heavy sack . how the fuck was he supposed to do anything else but snarl in pleasure ? 

the manager was coming back , thomas could hear his voice as he started back towards him , but he didn’t care . all he cared about what how you started to suck him harder , faster , desperately as you moaned louder , almost too loud . someone could hear you , and people could definitely hear him . his grip on his work bench was white knuckled , body trembling with how utterly overwhelmed he was . he wouldn’t be able to last much longer , and one particularly harsh suckle had him letting out a loud grunt , the wood of the table creaking under his grip as he spilled inside your wanting mouth . 

he cums more than you thought he would , and it chokes you . somehow you managed not to cough or gag , and with no real way to hide or clean up the evidence of what you just did you somehow manage to swallow what you can . you know your face is a mess , feeling cum dripping down your chin , and you don’t want tommy’s still leaking cock to stain his pants so you try to suckle his tip to get as much into your mouth as possible . what mess made it onto your hands you wipe on your shorts , using your shirt to clean your face quickly before you give tommy’s cock one last kiss before tucking him away . 

“Hewitt what the fuck is wrong with you ? Why the fuck are you being a fucking lazy ass -”

thomas growls at them , half turning , but you pop out of the table next to him before he can do much about the yelling . you know that they’re gonna think you’re a whore , a two bit slut , but fuck , at long as they think you’re tommy’s you don’t care . and this is the type of ego boost you want to give your man . 

you smile at the startled expressions on the faces of the manager and floorman , ignoring the hoots and hollers from other workers . “sorry . guess lunch took a little longer than i thought .” you lift up , kissing tommy’s masks cheek before happily walking out of the building , a flush on your face so bright you might as well as be a strawberry . you can only hope that tommy’s in a better mood when he gets home tonight . 

brahms heelshire

“i promise you’ll like it . i just wanna try it . okay ?” you give a smile to brahms , who is currently pouting with his arms crossed over his chest despite the fact that he’s naked with his cock out only inches from your face . you almost want to laugh at how fussy he looks , sitting up and leaning against pillows , legs spread like you asked him , even with the mask on you know he’s glaring at you . towing the line between impatient child and demanding man . 

you didn’t know how he hadn’t read about this yet with all his filthy romance novels , but you’re happy that you can show him . even if he is glaring at you . “brahmsy , please ?” you stroke his cock with one hand and his breath hitches , hips jerking , fingers digging into his arms , but he still puts up the fussy act . you sigh , lifting up to kiss the lips of his mask only to pull away before he can grab you . 

there’s a growl , deep and angry that comes from the man above you , a hurry up and get whatever it is over with so i can fuck you , kind of growl . one you know all too well from times you spent teasing him too long . so you decide to give him what he doesn’t know he wants and wrap your lips around his pretty cock . 

the sudden change from annoyed to shocked is evident in the startled noise he makes . how his hips jerk and he slips an inch more inside of your mouth . it might be cruel of you to overwhelm him , but you give a suck , hollowing your cheeks around the few inches you have in your mouth only to pull back with a pop and lick around his tip . 

his hairy chest is heaving now , hands moving from being crossed over his arms like a fussy child to digging into your hair and gripping hard , making it so you can’t move away from him , not that you want to . you coo softly at him , taking his tip into your mouth again , and then in one go , take him to his base . you’re thankful of his size , not so thick it makes your jaw ache , and long enough to only make you gag a little . but oh , you love how he feels inside of your mouth . and from how he grunts and moans above you , you know he loves it too . 

his grip in your hair tightens , holding you still and on him as he twitches and shakes . it’s so much like being inside of you , and yet so utterly different . and the way you move your tongue and suckle and swallow around him . he’s dizzy . before he knows it , he’s bucking his hips , fucking your face with all his might . he needs it . he’s never known this before . if he had he would of tried it so much earlier , without your prompting . 

you can’t help but gaps and moan around him as he uses you . it’s not the way that you’d planned this on going , but the pure excitement and bliss brahms’ showing you is more than enough to make every harsh thrust into your mouth worth it . somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his waist , holding him close so he jack rabbits into your mouth , sucking and licking and moaning around him . 

he’s fast to cum , barely lasting a few minutes before he’s spilling into your mouth , hips still moving so desperate that it’s hard to swallow and not make a mess over him and the sheets . it’s a few more moments before he stills , panting and letting go of your hair in favor of petting your head . you smile , lips still connected to his cock by a sting of saliva and cum , only to be broken when you ask , “did you like it , bramsy?”

vincent sinclair 

his gaze makes you tremble . eye blown dark with lust and want as you look up at him . you almost feel ashamed at being so eager to be on your knees for him , at wanting to taste him for the first time and please him . and oh , you were worried about not doing good enough . you must be showing it on your face , because vincent’s hand ups your cheek , rubbing his thumb over your lips soothingly . 

his gaze is no less intense as he presses his thumb past your lips to rub against your tongue . he knows what’s to come . he knows that pretty mouth of yours , the one he is captivated by , is about to be wrapped around him in the most intimate of ways . he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited at the prospect . and oh , he wanted to memorize this moment , almost tempted to grab his sketch book to he could capture how utterly flustered and wanting you were . but instead he merely saves you the trouble of getting him out of his pants . he doesn’t need to stroke himself , he’s already hard . he had been since the moment you knelled down between his legs .

he guides you , wondering if you’d ever done this before , wondering what it would take to kills those who’d felt your lips before him . he wanted this pleasure for himself alone , maybe that was selfish , but he was a selfish man when it came to you . he doesn’t let his mind linger on that , instead he focuses on how you swallow and part your lips , letting him guide your face closer so that you can take just the smallest bit of his tip into your mouth . 

the feel of his silken tip against your lips makes you moan . all previous embarrassment forgotten as you rub your tongue over his tip . your eyes flutter closed , wanting to savor the feel and taste and you mouth at him . lavishing his tip in affection and sweet sounds before you look up at him through long lashes . the intense want in his eyes making you all but mewl .

you keep your hands in your lap , wanting to only get him off with your mouth , as you take him inch by inch . you know you don’t have to , you know that you might gag and it might be uncomfortable as he slips into your throat , but you don’t care . you need to have him fully inside of you , you need him . 

vincent exhales sharply as you gag around him , fingers brushing through your hair in praise , urging you to take your time despite knowing you’re desperately stubborn and will push yourself . so he keeps you there . right where his tip is tickling the back of your throat for a few moments longer before he allows you to take more of him , and oh , if your mouth was heaven then there was no expression for the pleasure of being fully seated and feeling how you swallowed around him . 

he doesn’t tears his gaze from you , even as your eyes are shut tight . you make such a pretty picture . so beautiful and perfect as your eyes flutter open and you glance up at him in a way that asks if you’re doing a good job . he only pets your hair , presses his thumb to the side of your mouth as your lips stretch around him . the noise you make , high and keening around his cock has him grunt out . you must have no idea how utterly captivated he is by you . 

you can’t help yourself . you can’t stop yourself . vincent’s eyes are too intense , too passionate , the way he strokes your hair too gentle . you have to move . you have to worship this man in anyway you can . so you pull back , sucking and lapping at his sides and pressing hot kisses to his flesh before taking him back into your mouth and bobbing your head . 

his hips jolt , rocking just so slightly that you almost miss it . you’re too busy working your mouth over him , too busy trying to all but face fuck yourself on him to notice how his abdomen jumps , how his hand tightens in your hair , how he’s panting harshly leaning forward to watch you work yourself over him . 

all you know is that the feeling of his heated length spearing your throat and filling your mouth is utterly addicting . a sensation that has you humping your hands as you desperately try and get vincent to come undone . your eyes flicker up to him , and the look on his face makes you sob around him . 

his twisted lips part , hair hanging over his shoulders and framing his handsome face , eye hard and black with want as he watches you with a look so intense that you want to pull off him and sit on his lap and let him have his way with you . but you manage to push that desire to be utterly taken by vincent down in favor of getting him to cum from your mouth . 

you can tell he’s close , and he tugs at your hair , trying to pull you off , but you only whine and press forward , shooting him a pleading look that has a broken growl coming from his ruined vocal cords . with new fevor you work your mouth over him , deep throating him and swallowing harshly , hallowing your cheeks , moaning and humming until finally he’s spilling inside of you . 

you cough a little , the feeling strange , as you try to hold as much in your mouth as you can . it’s filthy , but you want to show him you were able to get all of it , and when you part your lips to show vincent how you collected his seed he looks as if he’s ready to climb on top of you and imprint himself inside of you with everything he has . you can’t help it . you swallow everything and watch that dark look darken . 

you don’t need to ask if you did a good job , you already know you did , vincent makes it clear as he lifts you off the floor and into his lap , fingers moving over your lips as he leans in to taste himself on you . 

#thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt imagine #thomas hewitt x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire imagine #brahms heelshire x reader #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair imagine #vincent sinclair x reader #slasher #slashers #slasher imagine #slashers imagine #slasher x reader #slashers x reader

[royalydamned]

SOAKED

|Mycroft Holmes x Reader|

|AN|: I haven't written one shot, let alone something x reader in like? two years? maybe? Reader is written as non-specified gender and is only referred to as "you" , so no pronouns for reader. My love for Mycroft suddenly hit me like a truck after years so I had to contribute.

Summary: Bit of rain, whole lot of feelings, and one love confession. Maybe storms aren't that bad, if they show you that you are worthy of love after all. In Mycroft's case for sure.

Mycroft sighed as he rubbed his tired eyes. The clock on the wall in front of him showed early afternoon, yet cold and darkness spread outside of his windows as the sun hid behind heavy clouds early in the morning. Peaceful but gloomy day. Still, the heavy pounding of rain against the glass of widows and road, as well as the rustle of the wet trees in the wind was oddly peaceful and comforting.  He had a hard day of work behind him, and another evening of more work ahead, just another weak attempt to distract himself from a foul mood he was put in because of the complications that came with the weather. 

Important plans, well, to him at least. He was supposed to get to see you.

A busy man he was, that wasn't even up for a question. His schedule tightly packed with meetings, paperwork and more than occasional fixing of his brother's mess, or just simply preventing it, it left a very little time for pleasant distractions such as a quiet time spend with delicious cup of tea and your sweet smile. Today was not the day for distraction it seemed, certainly not as big as your company, that left him flustered and distracted hours after you said your goodbyes. 

Your meetings were always a special occasion, even if they were short, brief and unfrequent because of how far you lived, Mycroft always cherished them for weeks following, replaying your lovely laugh and almost sparkling eyes in his head as he woke up and texted you a good morning message, or as he layed down to sleep and wished you sweet dreams. 

He might have...cared. For you, your happiness, your well being. Much more than he would ever admit, to others that is. Inside his own mind, he knew far too well how utterly enamored he was with you. 

The eldest Holmes wasn't the one to act, God forbid act upon his feelings. He could watch you, with crushing ache in his heart and deep longing as you always talked about your newest acquaintanceship, secretly wishing you held the same sentiments as he did. 

You never seemed to have a shortage of suitors at your heels, one better looking that the other, with charming smiles and magnetic personas. Likeable, social, just as you deserved. While he--, well, there was no need to ruin his day further with self-describtions. He knew very well how others percieved him and how he looked. Sherlock never failed to remind him if he occasionally forgot. 

Mycroft Holmes was aware, that he was nothing anyone would have ever wanted. 

The relationship the two of you had now was more than he could ask for, in all honesty. Time spent together, secrets shared in quiet moments and deep trust you held, it was enough. It was all he needed, if he still could watch over you. 

Outside a thunder struck, pulling him from the spiral of thoughts that he always seemed to fall into in the loneliest moments. With a deep sigh he stood up from behind his desk, eyes burning from how long he stared into the bright computer screen, and made his way downstairs into the liquor cabinet. He deserved a small break. 

His house was dark, almost like a nighttime had fallen outside, but he didn't bother turning on the lights, instead he carefully climbed down the stairs, gripping the wooden railing at the side for security. By the end of the staircase, he deeply regretted his foolish decision, but before he could make even one step towards the nearest lightswitch, a doorbell stopped him. 

Confused, he opened the door, only praying not to see his younger brother and his babysitter standing outside, as he had no intention nor the mood to put up with his obnoxious antics this afternoon, but instead his eyes landed on you. 

A soft surpised gasp escaped his mouth as he saw you on his doorstep, shivering with cold, your clothes completely soaked, excess droplets falling on your face and the tiles outside, and arms cluthing yourself for the tiniest bit of warmth. 

"|Y/N|?" He asked in quiet disbelief, almost as if he thought  he was imagining you. 

"We agreed to meet after too long, like hell a bit of rain would stop me," you replied with a victorious grin, lips almost purple from the cold and your whole body visibly trembling. 

"Foolish," he muttered pulling you gently inside from the atrocious weather. "You are completely soaked."

"You apparently have that effect on me," you smirked, the witty remark escaping your lips without control, and Mycroft was glad you couldn't see the embarrassed shade his cheeks caught. "No, but really, I walked most of the time. You know the tube is too far away from your place, and I didn't have enough money for a cab, I figured it isn't going to be that bad."

"It was." 

"It was," you agreed, rubbing your hands together in quick motions, trying to gain the feeling back into your fingers. 

"You should change or else you'll catch cold, come." You let him grab your hand, his skin pleasantly warm against your cold numbed one. He tried to think about anything else rather than the feeling of your connected hands, there were more important things now than such minor distractions. The image of you walking outside in the storm, just to see him. Just to be with him. It sent the most pleasant feeling into his stomach, the idea that maybe, he was almost as important to you as you were to him. But that was nothing but a wishful thinking, a desire of a naive man, and that is not who Mycroft was. There was no need for false hopes and embellished reality. 

He lead you into his bedroom, the idea of what it would normally mean coloring his cheeks, but he ignored those intrusive thoughts, focusing on helping you warm up in any way possible. "You have to change into dry clothes. Mine should be sufficient for now." 

"Alright." Came your voice from behind him, and he turned around to see your topless form. 

His breath hitched as he quickly dropped his gaze onto the floor, trying to keep the image he saw out of his mind, out of respect for you. No matter how badly he wished to remember it. Your skin glistening with water, body hiding under the clothes he strangely found himself craving, too primal and illogical for himself to admit. It was too hard keeping his head clear, with the sight from a few seconds ago burned into his brain, unable to ignore, unablet to forget, twisting his inside it certain ways he rarely felt before. 

"I will wait outside," he stated finally, pushing the neatly folded pile of clothing towards you without looking up in the slightest, and left the room. 

 When he shut the door after him, he finally felt like he could breathe easily again. Leaning against the doorframe, replaying the moment again and again, against his own better judgemnet, without the willpower to stop himself, and gulped heavily, trying to get rid of the strange sensation inside of him. 

It was like his feelings weren't enough. Like the fact that he, after all, wasn't too different to others, as he was so deeply affected by the helpless emotions of love and how deeply he was hurting with every moment without you. So depended on your presence bringing him joy. Now he steeped so low as physical attraction, pure desire of your touch and your body. He would mock himself if he could, you were just too much. 

A soft click of the doorknob caught his attention, and stayed almost staring, asking himself over and over again, why does he love the sight of you in his clothes so much. 

You hugged yourself tightly, still trembling significanty, but now at least rid of the wet clothes, and smiled up at him, with warmth only you could muster at such a moment. "This is much better, thank you. Sorry for such complications." 

"Nonsense," he huffed almost annoyed, like your health would ever be a complication. To him. Ridiculous. "Come, I think fire and a nice cup of tea will warm you up." Placing a hand on the small of your back, he led you back downstairs, where the big fireplace was. The close proximity the gesture put you in flustered you both, but Mycroft didn't want to let go. And neither did you. 

You turned to him, looking up into his face, smiling mischieviously when he caught your eyes. "Don't you have anything stronger?" 

The corner of his mouth twitched upwards, strongly liking your idea. "Your wish is my command."

Downstairs, he found the thickest blanket he had, tightly wrapping it around your shoulders, and you snuggled into its comfort immediately, watching him struggle to start a fire. 

"I suppose you aren't the one for camping," you mused with a small smile, giggling shortly at his grimace. 

"My, how could you possibly deduce that?" A tiny flame sparked inside, dacing across the thick logs of wood before disappearing under them, and growing rapidly. Mycroft stood up from the ground, dusting off the dirt and ashes from his hands and clothes, and looked rather proudly at his work. 

"I guess I was wrong. You are full of surprises, Mr. Holmes." A warm light from the fireplace illuminated your features, the growing flames sparkling in your eyes, and Mycroft stayed just to watch. He didn't believe in perfection, that concept was unachievable and he never believed in such terms, but as he watched you in this  moment, hair frizzy as they were drying from the water, the messy strands falling into your face, and just  then as he watched the orange light color your skin with small smile on your lips , he though you were the only one that came close. 

"Well," he inhaled sharply, pulling himself from the love-sick trance, and smiled back at you, the expression coming off more forced than it really was. "I shall go and fetch us something to drink." 

Later he came back with two short glasses and bottle of a still unopened liquor bottle, sealed with silver paper and a stamp of the highest quality, almost unnoticable smile playing on his lips as he made his way back to you, where you set cross-legged on the little carpet right in front of the fire. He copied your position, awkardly folding his legs, your knees almost touching, and placed the two glasses into the space between you. 

"I'm just," he started unsurely, pouring each of you a glass with impressive precision in the amount, and looked at you again, almost shyly. "I'm very glad we got to spend our evening together after all."

"I'm very glad as well Mycroft," you answered, a fond look in your eyes as you looked at the man in front of you and raised your glass in a silent gesture. He repeated the motion, nodding his head courtly your direction, and took a small sip, watching you in astonishment as you drank it all at once. "Getting warmer already," you laughed, watching the smile on his face widen at your comment and poured you another glass. 

You set together for what felt like hours, and maybe it was, in comfortable silence by the melody of the cracking fire beside you, the bottle almost fully drank and the personal space between you long gone. Your feet were tangled together in the middle, knees pressed against each other, both supporting your heads on your hands as you talked, with blissful smiles and faces almost too close. 

Mycroft adjusted his posture, resting his chin on his connected hands supported on his thighs as he watched you attentively, noticing and drinking in every detail of your face, your voice your tipsy mannerisms. He could never tear his gaze off you, you were captivating, like a mysterious painting hanging in the gallery, attracting everyone to look, to try to figure it out, and know everything about it. But he knew everything about you, and still he wanted to learn even more. Secrets you never told him, things he simply couldn't just see. Every morning he wanted to see your face, to give him the strenght to go through it, and ever evening he wanted to come back to it, because you felt like home. And Mycroft hated himself for being so melodramatic. This wasn't him, all these thoughts, all these emotions, they were stronger than his healthy judgement, which was already clouded by alcohol. 

 "Wasn't your partner worried, just going outside in such a storm?" You huffed out a breath, both amusement and annoyance mixing in that display of emotion, and Mycroft quite couldn't place, what it meant. 

"We broke up several days ago."

"I am very sorry to hear that," he said genuinely, even though inside he felt selfish joy that he won't have to hear about yet  another perfect match for you, another reminder of everything he wasn't. And could never be. Nothing you wanted nor needed. 

"Don't be, nobody I met yet was really for me," you mumbled, dropping your eyes into the empty glass in your hands, brows furrowed in deep thought.

"Why is that?" He took the last sip from his glass and carefully set it on the coffee table by his side, his full attention at you again. 

"When you meet so many people, good-looking, charming and kind people, but none of them fits you, none of them is right because you set impossible standard, almost unachievable by most people." You set aside your own glass, shifting even closer to him, hearing how he took in a sharp breath, hesitantly straightening his back. 

"That must happen when one deserves perfection," he answered looking longinly into your eyes, unable to look away. You were truly hypnotising, the only thing he could look at hours without  a break and never get tired. The only person he grew to love so deeply. Truly one of a kind. 

"Oh, not perfection, heavens no," you laghed, throwing your head back a little at that, and he still couldn't look away. Why was it so amusing, someone as perfect, as flawless, deserved nothing less than the same. "The thing being, that it's too far from perfection, and in a world where people desire nothing more than to eliminate their flaws, something perfectly imperfect is unachievable."

You leaned closer to him, licking your lips, already pink and sweet again, without realizing, and he almost lost his control. Swallowing heavily, he forced himself to look back into your eyes, trying to forget about the questions appearing in his mind. How would your lips possibly taste? How would it feel having you so close? Heating you up with his own body, blanket too long forgotten?

He couldn't think that way. He had to collect himself, but he didn't know how. Subconciously, he leaned in as well, the gap between your faces just inches apart, your breaths almost shared in one, and it felt like he was dreaming. If that was the truth, he never wanted to wake up.  

"They all lacked just one thing though," you whispered, placing your hand on his leg for support, making Mycroft to freeze completely, too disturbed by the contact and the overwhelming heat it sent through his body to think about anything else. 

"That being?" he forced himself to say, his throat tight and voice quiet, almost as if he had lost his breath. 

"They just weren't...you." A simple statement, a plain sentence bearing more meaning than most conversations he had been part of. His gaze abruptly shot back up, cathing he own almost instantly, but no words made their way out. He couldn't talk nor move, shock too obvious on his features, that even a child would know. 

His hands moved on his own, the other times brilliant brain, his biggest pride during his whole life now shut off by a few simple words, his body moving without a single though. Your cheek was warm already, burning hot under his skin as he gently caressed it, moving out a fallen strand from your face, tracing your cheekbone with his thumb like you were the most fragile thing in the world. 

"May I kiss you?" you breathed out, your eyes looking up at him, sparkling with emotion he thought he would never see in them, and he nodded, fulfilling himself the one wish that seemed too impossible for a realistic man to hold. 

Your lips met in the middle, slow and hesitant as you both silently prayed you wouldn't wake u in the middle of the nigh and find out it was yet another dream. 

He sighed deeply into the kiss as you moved to sit in his lap and deepened the kiss, pressing your lips against his more roughly, more needily, hands carefully placed on his neck and your whole body so deliciously pressed against his. So hot and soft, an opposite picture to your arrival, sinding the most pleasant shivers through his whole body with every slight movement in his arms. Mycroft's arms ended up wrapped around your waist, tightly cluthing your body to his like he was afraid you would leave. He couldn't let go. He never wanted to let go. 

After a short while, seconds, maybe minutes, he didn't know, the best moments of his life, you pulled away, only slightly to cath your breath, and rested your own forehead against his. He could smell the rain in your hair and your unique scent all around him, and he wanted to remember it all. Every single detail, to replay it, to dream it. To live it. 

"I love you," he said quietly, too long of a silence from his last words, and finally gather up the courage to open his eyes and look at you again. At your glowing eyes and wide smile, at your messy hair and body tangled in his blanket, in his own gaze, you were the perfect everyone seeked. 

"I love you too Mycroft."

And he never wanted to hear a sentence repeated so much as in that moment. Fortunately, you would never get tired of saying it. 

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