#yeah that had knives running through my mouth and down my throat

[unnecessarilygrandiose]

i'm weak.

#there's something i do while watching/reading stuff in which my eyes well up out of empathy #like i'm not even feeling as much emotion while watching as it would take me in an irl situation to cry but i well up when i see in fiction #but then hearing the words aromantic and asexual? just hearing them? just hearing the guy say one line about it? #yeah that had knives running through my mouth and down my throat #out of something i feel not just regular audience sympathy #how do people watch stuff about their own sexuality or gender identity? i have watched 15 seconds of that scene and i'm having #a full body reaction #oh fuck #idk man i'm gonna be honest. i have this belief that no one i meet irl who will ever *quite* understand what it means to be aroace #i daydream about meeting someone like that but it's not super likely to happen #so to see it. idk. idek. i'm #it's not super hard to pretend that amatonormativity doesn't hurt me deeply but it does #and just seeing someone talk about the feeling of isolation #like i can't *exactly* relate to that #but oh god i can feel the essence of it #heartstopper spoilers

[la-petite-lapin]

Double the Love | Part Five

Double the Love masterlist

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x female civilian!OC Word Count: 2.5k Series warnings (may change between chapters): 18+ Minors DNI, angst, mentions of death, mentions of violence, injury description, eventual explicit sexual content, polyamory, M/M/F, FMC is bad at feelings, miscommunication, Ghostie is home

The apartment walls are thin

Last night, I dreamt about sleeping with them.

It's not even the first time I've dreamt about sex with Johnny and Ghost. Of seeing Ghost's face unimpeded by masks or shadows. Of hearing up-close the throaty groans that Ghost draws out of Johnny nightly. And, if anything, it's only worsened by the moans that drift from their room down the hall in the night-time hours.

"Well that's not very good," Winnie clarifies, stating the obvious as usual, voice filling the room. Usually, I'd call her with my airpods in, but Ghost is in Russia, and Johnny is at a check-up for his stitches. Which means that I can rant to my best friend and seek advice on this incredibly fucked up situation. "Jesus, Tali."

I roll my eyes even though she can't see me. "Yeah, no shit."

"Hey, don't take your frustration out on me. I don't want to fuck them; that's all you." There's a beat of silence before, "Right, I have questions."

"Don't we all," I say exasperated, my head falling back onto my pillow with a muted thud.

Winnie clears her throat. "Well... are they gay? Or are they bi?"

"I don't know. Haven't asked."

"Okay. Have they been flirting with you or anything?"

"I don't know."

Winnie exhales a heavy sigh. "Explain."

It's hard to explain. The possibility is in the subtle things; the casual brushes against me as they walk past, the unnecessarily prolonged eye contact, the inside jokes. But it's never overt. Everything is just a little on the far side of friendly, but not so far as to be awkward or out of line.

"Johnny's started napping on the sofa with his head in my lap. And sometimes he rubs my shoulders while we watch TV." I think back to what happened three nights ago, just before Ghost left for Russia with John and Gaz. "And then the other night I was doing the dishes. Johnny started drying them like he normally does, but... Ghost came in too."

There's an almost comically long pause on Winnie's end of the line. "Then what happened?"

"He started talking but I didn't know he was there. I dropped the knife I was holding and when I tried to grab it, I sliced my hand open. Ghost patched me up."

I think back to it. Ghost was attentive and diligent as he sterilised the wound with some alcohol wipes from their first aid kit, pulling the raw edges of my skin closed with butterfly stitches. The entire time, his touches were gentle and caring, his free hand running soft, gentle lines along the back of my injured palm with his index finger.

It reminded me of the thing he does to soothe Johnny sometimes. The casual intimacy of it.

"Tali," Winnie says, her tone an admonishing one, "what have I told you about those bloody knives? You need to be careful with them." She sucks in a breath. "But I am surprised. If anything, I'd have thought that would Johnny patching you up."

"Exactly." A spark of something flares deep within my chest. "Ghost isn't a tactile person at all. Johnny tried to help but Ghost wouldn't let him near me. Said he wanted to do it himself. And he called me love."

Winnie makes a noise akin to a purr. "Oh dear. I mean, if it helps, I'm picking up on some vibes here too. Is it worth just asking them where you stand?"

Before I can open my mouth to answer, the front door opens and a cheerful "honey, I'm home!" rings out through the apartment. Hurriedly, I take the phone off speaker and press it against my ear. "Johnny's back."

"I figured," she giggles.

"Can I call you back later?"

We say our goodbyes, with Winnie agreeing to call me in the evening once she's had her dinner. With the call ended, I hop off of my bed and pad out into the hallway.

Johnny is standing in the living room with shopping bags hanging from both hands. There's a beaming grin on his face, his eyes shining. "I hope ye did'nae mind. I did some shopping for us."

I rush over to take the bags from him and place them down on the counter. "Thanks, Johnny. How was the appointment?"

"It went well." He follows me into the kitchen, taking up a large amount of space with his muscular build. "I'm even better for seeing ye though, bonnie."

Heat rises to my face as he takes my injured hand in his, folding his fingers around my wrist loosely and guiding my palm into his line of sight. With a feather-light touch, he runs a single fingertip along my butterfly stitches, checking on Ghost's handiwork. Then - as if satisfied that they're holding up - he drops my hand and moves past me, his front pressing against my back for a brief breath-stealing moment, as he starts to put the groceries away.

Bonnie. That's a new one.

"Want me to cook tea tonight?" Johnny asks, moving around the space with a certainty that is so unbelievably attractive to me. He's only been living here for a week now, but he's already settled in. He knows where everything is and just how I like the kitchen arranged. It's like he's always been here.

"You don't have to." I hop up to perch on the countertop, resigning myself to the fact that he's unpacking and putting the shopping away. A few days ago, I might have tried to argue with him or step in and take over. Now, I just sit back and watch, keeping him company. "Heard anything from Ghost yet?"

Johnny nods his head, slotting the milk into the fridge. "They're coming back from Russia tonight. Probably won't be home for a couple more days though; they've got someone to interrogate at the base."

I'm so distracted by the fact that he just referred to the apartment as home that I almost miss the mention of an interrogation. I wilfully choose to ignore it; to not let my mind linger on the darker side of Ghost that he will undoubtedly be unleashing.

I'm still distracted when Johnny starts to walk towards me again, a bag of pasta in his hand. If he follows my system, it should go in the cabinet above my head. As he inches closer to me, I can see the cogs turning behind his opalescent blue eyes. I know I should move out of the way; to the side or off of the counter altogether to move myself out of his path. But I don't. And he doesn't say anything either, slotting himself firmly between my spread thighs as he opens the cabinet.

I can feel the sheer heat radiating off of his huge, muscular body. Can smell the heady, woody, and floral scent of his aftershave. The strong column of his throat is just inches away from my lips, and - up close - I can see the generous dusting of dark hair that decorates his chest and abs underneath the thin white fabric of his vest.

Instinctively, my hand rises up to rest against his abdomen, making sure to fall on his uninjured side.

"Tali," the word is mumbled, verging on breathless.

My eyes dart up to find him staring down at me. Even seated on the counter, he's taller than me, and I can't help but find the size difference unfairly hot. It makes me think about Ghost; the fact that he's even bigger. A shiver runs through me at the thought of both of them standing here, crowding me in...

Johnny's gaze is heated - something intense shining under the surface of those sweet baby blues - as he hooks a single index finger under my chin. "What's gotten into you, lassie?"

My breath catches in my throat. For a second, I question if I'm doing the right thing.

The finger leaves my chin and I'm rewarded with a gentle squeeze just above my knee. "I asked ye a question."

"I... I-" I stumble over my words like an idiot. "You've been flirting with me." The way my tone pitches up at the end makes it sound more like a question than a statement.

Johnny chuckles, eyes sparkling with humour. "Ye don't sound so sure, lovey."

I wince. My muscles tense as I pull back slightly, leaning back on my hands. "You're in a relationship with Ghost."

"Very observant of ye." He closes the cabinet with his free hand, then runs his thumb along the curve of my cheekbone, the other hand shifting slightly higher on my thigh. "I am. But I've seen the way you look at us, Tali. And I've heard ye at night." His hand brushes the very top of my thigh and my breath catches once again. His eyes darken. "The walls in this apartment are pretty thin."

All moisture leaves my mouth. Oh brilliant. Johnny, and possibly Ghost, have heard me touching myself at night. I don't know whether to feel embarrassed or turned on. And then there's the way Johnny says it; so casually - so easily - like it doesn't bother him in the slightest. Like it would be unusual if I wasn't masturbating with them just down the hall.

"Does... does Ghost know?" is the only thing I can think to ask.

Johnny grins. "Aye, he does." We're both leaning closer and closer to each other again, until I can practically feel the warmth of his mint-scented breath against my skin. "He thinks it's cute."

Cute. Like a puppy or a kitten. Something adorable.

Not sexy or hot. Adorable.

Embarrassment hits me, jagged and icy, flooding through my veins. And suddenly I feel so. Fucking. Stupid.

I'm not some kind of femme fatale - not the kind of woman who can pursue one man, let alone two.

What did I expect? For Johnny to confess that they, too, have been thinking about me in less than appropriate ways and then what? There's no happy ending for me lusting after Johnny and Ghost in their committed, serious relationship - I knew that from the first night I dreamt about them. And I was mad for even thinking that maybe - just maybe - they could have been looking at me like that too.

No; they go out into parts of the world that people like me rarely ever see, putting their lives on the line to save the world. They don't want to fuck an interior designer with commitment issues, and deep-rooted family trauma.

"Okay, cool," I mumble under my breath, eyes focused on a spot on the tiled floor. I move my hand away from his side, gently pushing him away as I do so.

With a frown, he takes a step back. He looks almost hurt.

I hop down from the countertop and fold my arms across my chest, stepping back in the direction of the hallway. "I'll, um... I'll try to keep the noise down. I- I'm sorry for being a nuisance."

Johnny's face falls. "No, lassie- that..."

I'm already out of the kitchen before I can hear the rest, spinning on my heel and taking off in a brisk walk until I get to my room. With the door firmly closed, I pull my phone out of my pocket and fire off a quick text to Winnie.

TALIA KELLER: They don't feel the same.

She's online in half a heartbeat.

WINSLOW SLOANE: Wait WINSLOW SLOANE: What happened? TALIA KELLER: Was helping Johnny put the food shopping away. He told me that him and Ghost can hear me in my room at night and that Ghost thinks it's "cute". TALIA KELLER: It was so fucking mortifying. WINSLOW SLOANE: Oh Tali :( WINSLOW SLOANE: Context is key, baby. Maybe cute is a good thing. Does Ghost strike you as a man who thinks that many things are cute?

I tip my head back. No matter the positive spin that Winnie wants to try and put on this, I'm still not seeing it.

So, I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling icky and embarrassed. And wondering how Winnie would feel about sound-proofing the entire apartment.

I'm out for a walk when Ghost comes home.

When I get in, his massive combat boots are tucked in neatly next to the door. I don't immediately see him, or Johnny for that matter, and it's something that sends an unexpected spike of disappointment through me. Which makes me frown because this isn't me. I don't get like this with people - not even Winnie. I avoid commitment and co-dependency at all costs because I know that one day it will come back to bite me.

I think about how I used to wait for Alex to come home, practically counting down the minutes, waiting by the door for his return. I think about how I watch Marcella do the same, and now Johnny. And it's the antithesis of the life I've resolved myself to: complete independence.

I follow the sound of their voices into the kitchen, watching the domestic scene playing out before me. Johnny is pouring sparkling water into two glasses for them while Ghost stands back, his face hidden behind a black balaclava with a white skull painted across the front. Common sense dictates that it's something that should probably scare me. It doesn't.

He dips his head in acknowledgement, and I meet it with my own awkward nod.

"Tali," Ghost's voice is as gruff as ever. The mask shifts and, in the shadows cast by the overhead lights, I can make out a hint of a smile playing on his face underneath the masks. "How've you been?"

"I've been okay. How was Russia?"

"How's your hand?" He completely bypasses my question, as if I never even spoke.

For a moment, I just stare at them, waiting for Ghost to answer me first. When it becomes clear that isn't going to happen, I say, "It's okay. Hasn't fallen off yet, anyway."

Johnny lets out a snort of laughter. "Someone's in a sarcastic mood. Good thing Ghostie is home, aye?"

A beat of silence passes, his words hanging in the air between us.

"So, how was Russia?" I repeat, cocking my head to one side.

Ghost lets out a weary sigh, bracing his hands on the counter, shoulder's width apart. Out of the corner of my eye, I swear I can see Johnny's body tensing up. "It was interesting. We didn't find what we thought we'd find. That's all I can say. Rest is classified." It's a lot more than I was expecting anyway, and probably the most forthcoming he's been with me since the day they moved in. "But I will say that I missed you lot. Both of you."

"You don't have to include me out of pity," I snap impulsively. It's so obvious to me that Johnny's told him what happened that night in the kitchen. For reasons I can't fully articulate, it makes me angry.

Ghost's eyes darken at that, and suddenly I can see what those men in Russia must have seen; a huge, pissed-off man, clad in a skull mask and all black clothes. A man you probably shouldn't be riling up knowingly.

It sends a thrill down my spine and my palms start to sweat.

"Don't start, love," he growls, "I'm not in the mood tonight."

I stutter and stumble over a comeback, but it dies in my throat when Ghost crosses the apartment, leaving an amused-looking Johnny standing halfway between the kitchen and the living room.

"Yeah, Johnny's told me all about the shit you've been giving him while I've been gone. Avoiding him and not answering when he tries to check on you." He comes to a complete stop in front of me, towering over my much smaller frame and levelling me with a serious look. It doesn't escape my attention that he must be over six-and-a-half feet tall and verging on two-hundred pounds of pure, solid muscle. "Misbehaving for him." A single, large paw of a hand comes up to brush over my shoulder, skimming up to rest lightly on my throat. There's no grip there though; it's a hold so gentle that I could break it just by stepping back. "That ends now, princess."

I will myself to come to my senses, but I can't. Instead, I stand there, doe-eyed with parted lips, gazing up at the huge, strong soldier disciplining me. My body is trembling like a leaf in the wind and I'm wet - unignorably so.

I wonder if he knows.

His answering smirk tells me that he probably does, and there's a new lustful darkness in his tone as he adds, "Because I think we all need to sit down and have a talk, yeah?"

a/n: hey guys! sorry that this one took so long hope you enjoy this part. things are starting to heat up ;) - take care y'all, lapetitelapin

#cod #fanfic #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon “ghost” riley x reader #soap x reader #callofduty #cod fanfic #cod x reader #ghost x reader #female reader #female oc #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny x reader x simon #johnny soap mactavish x reader #simon riley x reader #double the love #angst #romance

[they-call-me-emmy]

The Past is The Past 3

Part 1 and 2 on my account <3

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tara was faced with her 3 ghostface, and this time got so seriously injured she was in a coma. When she wakes up, she has no memory of the past 3 years...including you, her girlfriend.

Notes: Imagine this as our gals scream 7...since Jenna apparently quit and left me fucking DYING

Warnings: Uh, injury, violence, blood, our boy ghostyface with knives. Coma and memory loss if thats even a warning. Swearing. Uhm. Shitty 7th grade writing.

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Tara pushed the food around her plate using her fork. She'd barely eaten a bite all dinner, busy glaring at Sam and avoiding any sort of eye contact with Y/N.

"So." Sam began, putting a hand to her mouth and pausing, to finish chewing. "Y/N. How's life been treating you? I haven't seen you around in a while."

There was a second of silence as Y/N finished her food.

"Fine." She stated, setting her fork down on her napkin. "Work's been rough, but nothing besides that."

Sam nodded. "You work at that bookstore, right? The one with the bunny in the window? I drive by it on my way to the grocery store."

Tara had no idea what they were talking about. She hadn't gone shopping since she'd come home. What bookstore? What bunny? It was like listening to people speaking nonsense.

"Yeah. That's the one. Shifts have been longer recently, we're low on staff."

Sam nodded, continuing to eat. Y/N cleared her throat.

"Tara," Tara startled from her daze at the sound of her name, in Y/N's voice no less. "Sam's been telling me your getting back into horror? Is that true?"

Tara glared at Sam.

"I've always been into horror."

Y/N nodded, pursing her lips, sensing the tension in the room. The need to just...not talk.

"I was-" Y/N cleared her throat and took a sip of water. "I was wondering if maybe you wanted to watch some of your favorites...y'know, the few we watched in the last year you really enjoyed? I wouldn't mind re-watching them with you."

Tara couldn't help but feel weird. She's watched movies with this girl. She'd watched horror movies. She'd watched horror movies and enjoyed them. With this girl? This girl she hardly knew now?

"Maybe."

Y/N nodded.

"I've been busy lately." Tara pushed a cooked carrot into her napkin. She didn't like those.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Tara, you've been sitting on your ass for the past week-"

Tara suddenly stood up. "I'm finished. I'm going to go wash the dishes." She took Sam and Y/N's plates and left without another word.

Tara knew they'd talk the moment she left. She hovered at the door, running the sink in the background so they'd think she was cleaning. Maybe they'd mention the big thing tonight. Maybe they'd say something that would finally help her understand her past.

"I'm sorry she's being an ass." Sam's voice was muffled through the kitchen door.

"It's fine. I wasn't expecting a heartwarming welcome. I mean, come on, I'm practically a stranger to her. And it's hard on her too, Sam. Remember she's struggling too."

Tara would have felt mad if anyone else had said this, as if they pitied her and felt sorry for her state of mind. But hearing those words, those words in Y/N's sweet voice...felt like reassurance that someone understand how she'd been struggling.

"I know...I'm trying to get her to...connect. Y'know? Re-enforce those bonds...god, you two were like peas in a pod. I can't imagine how long it'll take for that to be back, especially with her new...attitude." Sam sounded empathetic, but there was still a twinge of annoyance in her voice.

"I'm not expecting it to just click again...but I can wait. I'm assuming you haven't told her?" Y/N asked.

Tara could feel her heart beat a little faster. Was this it? Was she about to learn what this secret was that everyone seemed so desperate to avoid?

"No. I don't feel like it's the right time. I mean, you see the way she is. Putting that much more pressure on her is bound to do no good."

"You have to tell her at some point." Y/N said. "You and her would both prefer you telling her rather then her randomly learning one day, or even worse, getting a flash of memory from it. The doctor did say those happen, especially with traumatic experiences, at least in her case."

"I don't feel like now is the right time."

"Soon, Sam. Please. The girl deserves to know. This is important."

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I'm a slut for comments people.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter

[nevereverthem]

Imagine : ✨ ⛓️Bonnie Bennett x Kai Parker ⛓️✨

Just a little idea....

An Imagine in which Bonnie tied Kai up with those chains.

_ Jokes on you little witch ! I'm into that stuff !

She turns to face him, smiling mischievously.

_ I know.

The revelation takes him by surprise. But his reaction is quickly replaced by the appreciation of her knowledge about his kinky penchant for masochism. How did she notice that ? He couldn't figure it out. But here she was, staring at him, arms crossed on her breasts, eyes dark, as if feigning composure before attacking him. He'd let her try.

As he bit his lip from the thought, he felt the chains tighten around him. It made him groan out of pain.

The witch giggles at this sight.

_ These are enchanted chains. You can siphon all you want, they'll never run out of magic. The more you're being turned on, the more it constricts your body. So, don't enjoy yourself too much.

Another cry of pain escapes his mouth.

_ Oh please, excited solely by my words ? You're way too easy, it's almost pathetic.

He straightens up, steadying his breathing. He grins playfully at his executioner.

_ That hurts. Quite literally. Who taught you to be so cruel ? When we met you were so sweet, trying to help your friends. Now you've come that far as to torture me. Why's that ?

_ I've learnt from the best. And you're not my friend.

He smirks at the remark.

_ My pleasure. I take that as a compliment. But that's not what I meant. You've stabbed me in the past, I stabbed you back. We're even. Now, I wanna know what all that fancy is about.

He tugs on the chains to illustrate his words.

She slowly starts to walk in his direction.

_ I wanted to 'spice it up' a little. Knives are way too old school.

Kai eyes her up and down and inhales in anticipation, earning a compression from the chains. He tries to hold back a whimper, resulting in a low sound from his throat that reaches the witch's ears.

_ And here I take the compliment.

She can't help but smile at his cocky expression tainted by the redness of his arousal spreading from his neck.

He shrugs through the chains, easing the sensations in his body. She's stopped a few feet away from him. He glares at her, challenging. As if he had any say in what's happening in here. As if he could restrain his desire from betraying him.

_ How did you-

_ know about your little preferences ? Or your attraction to me ?

His breathing increases, trying his hardest to contain himself.

_ You're not exactly subtle. I caught you staring at me enough times to get a first hint. During confrontations, you suspiciously glanced at my lips a lot more than people are usually intended to. Mister "I don't feel anything" had quite the shiny eyes on me after the merge.

_ You still betrayed me.

His pain-arousal has somehow switched into hurt.

_ Yeah, and you punished me for that. You revel in violence, giving and recieving. You talked about being even. I saw you, knew you fancied me. I kept it on the side of my mind, persuaded I would use it in my advantage one day. And here you are.

Her burning eyes pierce into his. He feels a twitch in his pants, pain coursing through his skin. A louder cry leaves his lips, head falling in exhaustion.

She's closed the distance between them, a few inches from his body. She bends over to his ear, now whispering.

_ I'm not even doing anything, but I could. Teasing you 'till you're screaming in agony.

Another whimper.

_ You'd adore that in a twisted way. Am I right ?

He raises his head, panting, however, he remains composed in his speech.

_ You're the one who tied me up. And you wonder who got the twisted mind ? You're enjoying this as much.

_ Maybe just a little.

She shows him a tiny gap between her thumb and index finger, smiling innocently.

_ Filthy little sadist of a witch !

At his words, she slides a hand behind his head and grasp the back of his neck, eliciting a gasp from the man in front of her.

The sudden grip she has on him makes a wave of want run through his body, along with a whirlwind of suffering caused by the chains.

_ Fuck !

His head jerks backwards, mouth agape from the sensations. He lets out cries of agony mixed with arousal.

After a while, he relaxes in Bonnie's hand, still locked on his neck. He's all sweaty, face reddened, already ruined by the mere attention he's been a victim of.

He hadn't noticed he'd closed his eyes. When he opens them, he's met with a menacing glare stabbing daggers through his irises.

_ Everybody's using me. I'm a great tool 'cause I have powers. I'm too much of a 'good and loyal friend'.

He's stunned by the unexpected confession.

_ Now it's my turn, I'm using you. For my own interests. For my own pleasure.

A moan. Desperation spreading through him. He wants to help, soothe something in her.

_ Untie me ! I'll give you pleasure.

It's not so much of an affirmation, more like a promise.

At that moment, she's the one whose breathing's perturbed. She's not giving in his words.

_ No. It's funnier that way. I've got that little loophole of a day to play with my toy all I want. I'm not finished with you yet.

He can't help but groan at her statement, jolting from the pain caused by his restrains. Staring at her face, he almost can't believe it when he notices the glimmer of lust in the witch's eyes.

_ Bonnie Bennett.... I didn't know you had that of a wicked side.

Her grip on his neck tightens. She moves her head closer to his, lips an inch away from his own. So close she's able to swallow the air coming from the whimper escaping his mouth.

_ You have no idea.

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

✨⛓️ Thoughts ? ⛓️✨

Update : [Part 2 here]

#tvdu #the vampire diaries #smut #bonnie bennett #kai parker #the vampire diaries imagine #writing #chains #prison world #bonkai

[piers-wifey]

In my Remains

Chapter 1: Nightmares and visions

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Swearing, vomit, blood, gore, mention of sex. (Do not interact if this will affect you, or if you're a minor)

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

The cold, dark ocean water fell upon them like a savage beast. Its touch felt like as if the sharp blades of a thousand knives were leaving their marks on the woman's skin. But the sharp pain of the saltwater in her wounds was nothing compared to the burning sensation inside her body.

Like a ruthless force, the fire inside her tore at her guts; melted her bones and boiled her blood. She could literally feel her body turning and twisting under the heat. Her head felt like it was about to explode any second and the ear ringing howling of the alarms, which created a counterpoint to the splashing and gurgling of the icy seawater as she waded through the masses, only worsened her state. What in God's name was happening to her?

“Hang in there, okay? We'll be out of here in no time. Just keep moving,” a unfamiliar voice urged as a pair of hands kept pulling at her.

Every step felt like as if someone had put weights on the woman's ankles. Stumbling and groaning, she moved forward. The world around her was spinning. With her eyes wide open, she tried to see something in the blackness around her as she followed the unknown voice. But no matter how much she blinked, or how hard she squinted her eyes, the world around her remained dark. A wave of panic came over her.

Was she blind?

She wasn't a medic, but she could definitely tell that something was wrong with her eyes. They were burning, just like the rest of her body. The only thing she could "see" were sudden flashes of light. But these were not enough to help her find her way in her surroundings. Desorientated, presumably blind and resisting the urge to throw up, she did what the man had told her and kept walking.

“We're almost there, just hold on a little longer, yeah? We'll get you out of here.”

The woman wanted to lift her head to see who was talking to her, but she could barely muster the strength to stay on her feet. When she opened her mouth to ask the stranger what was going on, a grotesque sound came out.

'My voice! What's with my voice!?' The woman panicked, trying to reach up to feel if her throat was being ripped open. But the moment she tried to move her arm, another wave of excruciating pain rushed through her body. She let out a quiet whimper. Why did everything hurt so much? What the hell was happening to her?

“Shh, don't talk. Save your energy,” the man said in a gentle voice and carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Something about the way he talked to her felt comforting.

“Come on you two! This whole thing will collapse any moment,” a second voice yelled. It sounded a lot rougher and commanding. The woman could feel the person next to her stiffen up. She half expected him to say something, but he just sighed, tightened his grip on her and began to walk faster. That caused her to let out another pained groan.

“I'm sorry,” the man mumbled and and gently squeezed her hand. “It's not far now, I promise. We're almost out.”

The woman just nodded and let the unknown man drag her through the masses of water. At first she tried to keep up with him, but the more she tried to adapt to his pace, the more her legs gave way. It was thanks to the strangers strong hold that she didn't fell to the ground.

“Shit!” The male cursed loudly before lifting the sniper onto his back. Panting and grunting under the extra weight, he began to continue his way.

Unfortunately, the sudden movement caused the woman on his back to have a coughing fit. A violent one at that.

“Hey! Hey! Don't die on me now,” the stranger barked, his voice full of panic at the blood coming from his teammate's mouth and running down his body.

Icy claws were running over the female's body as she coughed up more blood and even bits of her intestines. Something felt terribly wrong with her body. Wide eyed and with her mouth full of blood and vomit, the woman began to gasp for air.

“Let go of me!”, she tried to say, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was a gurgling scream, followed by another gush of blood.

“It's okay, I've got you. Help is on the way,” the man tried to reassure her, but it was no use. Within seconds, the injured sniper had regained enough energy to thrash and squirm on his back with such force, that he could no longer hold her and had to drop her.

With a loud »splash!« the woman fell into the ankle-deep water. The man immediately reached down to help the woman sit up. But as soon as he touched her, she aggressively swatted his hand away.

“What-”

“Stay... away from me,” the sniper managed to say before throwing up another load of blood. Tears streaming down her cheeks at the stabbing pain in her head and chest. A sudden urge to hurt the other person rose up inside her. “Please... go...” she whispered.

“I will not leave you here!”

“Not.... safe.”

'Kill him!' Another voice hissed, causing the woman to clench her fists. She had to make the other person leave, before it was too late.

Despite her warning, the male reached down and grabbed her arm, forcefully pulling her back onto her feet and sending a wave of pain and rage through the sniper's body. Making it even harder for the woman to control whatever the fuck was telling her to kill her teammate.

'Kill him! Kill him! Kill him!' The voice chanted almost joyfully. 'I know you want it too!'

'Leave me alone!'

“Let's go! We don't have much time,” the other person said and pulled at her jacket, but the sniper didn't move an inch. Leaving the man confused and worried.

'Come on, just rip out his throat, he deserves it! It's his fault after all!' With a honeyed tone the voice added: 'I just want to help you, my friend~'

The woman shook her head, trying to get that horrible voice out of her head. But all it did was making her feel more dizzy and her tormentor laugh.

'Fine then. You don't want to cooperate? Then I'll have to force you!'

The voice hadn't even faded away yet, when a red flash suddenly shot through the sniper's body. And then - as if someone had flipped a switch - the woman lost all her self-consciousness; a primal urge to kill overcame her. Only seconds later, a bloodcurdling scream rang in the woman's ears, followed by a gurgling and a sickening crushing sound. A warm, sticky liquid ran down her chin and the overwhelming stench of fresh blood made her gag.

“Forgive me...”

“Rachel?” The faint voice of a male called.

“Rachel, wake up!”

With a gasp, the woman awoke to the call of the man's voice. Her heart was pounding painfully against her ripcage and her grey eyes were wide and filled with terror as she looked around frantically. Tiny pearls of sweat, which were glistening in the yellow light, covered her forehead as she slowly came to the realisation, that she just had another one of those terrible dreams again.

“Finally, you're awake,” the man sighed and it was just now that the young woman realised, that the faint voice belonged to her younger brother.

“Jackson...” she croaked but was interrupted by a small coughing fit. Her throat felt sore, almost as if she had spend the past two hours screaming non-stop, and her lips were drier than a fucking lawn in the summer heat.

“Hang on, ima go get you some water,” the young man said and rushed out of the room; leaving Rachel with the rest of their team who was now wide awake and eyeing the young woman with curious and worried expressions. One of them, a tall man in his late twenties with short, dark brown hair and green eyes named Vitali Dogranov, walked over to her. His scarred face showing a concerned frown.

“Hey, are you okay, comrade?” Vitali asked. He was the youngest of the senior members and also Alexey's second in command.

“He, kroshka,” the lieutenant said, squatting down to get a better look at Rachel, “you know you can always talk to us when something's upsetting you, right? We're family and there to help each other.”

The woman responded with a short nod, but without looking at the slightly older man. Instead, she kept her eyes focused on the heavy blanket - which she had kicked to he foot rest of her bunk bed - and tried to somehow process that fucked up dream. That horrible scream was still ringing in her ears. Faintly, but it was there.

Vitali sighed and was about to say something when Jackson returned with the promised water. But to Rachel's dismay, he brought more than just that with him. Right behind him was their captain, Alexey Dogranov - a retired member of the Soviet Army and founder of the Special Alliance Against Terrorism, also known as S.A.A.T.

“Good morning, comrades,” Alexey greeted his team with his deep, accented voice. His bright blue eyes scanning the room.

'Fuck!' The woman thought and quickly got out of bed, trying her best not to look too worn out in front of her captain. The last thing she wanted was to raise any concerns.

“Morning captain,” the troop replied with sleepy voices, which caused Alexey to look at the team with a frown.

“Now, what's that you lazy sloths? Is this how you greet your captain? With sleep dancing on your tongues?” The older man snorted, surveying Robin Kozbi - the team's explosives expert and Jackson's best friend - through squinted eyes.

“It's almost five, where's your motivation, Coyote? This isn't a slumber party! Up! Up!” Alexey scolded the younger soldier. His loud, raspy voice, paired with his strong accent and intimidating appearance was enough to get even the laziest of them all out of bed in no time.

“Yes sir, sorry sir,” Robin, a sleek, blonde man in his mid-twenties said, as he practically jumped out of bed and almost knocked his bunk bed buddy - and the team's medic - Tyler Mulani off his feet.

“Good, now that everyone is awake and out of bed,” Alexey said and checked his watch, “training starts in fifteen minutes. I expect you to be at the training ground on time, and if you're not, then you'll do five extra push-ups for every minute you're late!” The older man warned before leaving the room.

“Here's your water,” Jackson whispered after Alexey had left and handed Rachel the glass. The woman gave her brother a grateful smile before emptying the whole thing in one go. She hadn't even realized how dehydrated she actually was.

“Alright, you heard the Cap, boys. Ten minutes. Go go go!” Vitali said sternly and watched, as the rest of the team began to gather everything they needed for the day.

“Aw man,” Robin yawned and scrubbed the back of his head. His icy blue eyes were clouded by sleep.

“Aw, were you sexting with your girlfriend again, Rob?” Jackson teased the blonde man with a grin, wich earned him a grim glare and a punch to the shoulder in return.

“Fuck off, Jack!” Robin snapped and quickly turned around to grab his clothes.

“Oooh, someone's blushiiiiiing~” Jackson chanted and had to duck to avoid getting decked in the face.

Rachel just shook her head and turned away from the quarreling duo and decided to make her bed first. As she picked up her blanket to fold it, she couldn't shake off the feeling that someone was watching her. And like so many times before, her intuition had not failed her this time either. Out of the corner of her eyes, Rachel noticed that Vitali was watching her intently.

With a raised eyebrow, the young woman turned around and mirrored the lieutenant's expression. “What's up, Vitali?” Rachel asked, knowing damn well what his problem was, but decided to act completely oblivious. Maybe there was a chance to get out of this whole thing without having to have an hour-long heart-to-heart conversation with mother hen Vitali himself. As small as it might be.

The soldier frowned a little at her question, but his voice was calm and collected. As if he were talking to a child.

“I'm worried about you, Rachel. It's not the first time this happened. Say, is something troubling you? You seem a little distracted lately.”

The laughter in the background died down immediately. Everyone was now looking at the two soldiers. Something, that annoyed Rachel but more so made her uncomfortable. She never liked being the centre of attention, so, she quickly dismissed her superior with a short wave of her hand.

“I'm fine, Vitali. I probably shouldn't have read that novel Isaac gave me. It somehow must've messed with my mind.”

Vitali raised his brow; a clear sign that he absolutely did not believe her - admittedly weak - explanation.

“You sure?” He asked more insistently. His piercing gaze practically urging her to tell the truth.

Rachel nodded and quickly folded her blanket to keep herself busy and to hide her growing discomfort. She really didn't want to cause a fuss over a stupid nightmare. She wasn't a fucking child anymore.

“Yep, I'm totally fine. Can I make my bed now, or is there more you want to ask me?”

Rachel didn't mean to sound aggressive, but since Vitali could be a bit of a pain sometimes, it was the only way to get out of this situation without sinking any further into the pit of discomfort and unwanted attention.

“Fine then,” the lieutenant sighed with a disappointed undertone and finally turned his attention to his own messy bed.

'Oh thank God!' The woman thought, threw the blanket on her bed and grabbed her clothes before hurriedly leaving the room to change in the tiny bathroom at the end of the hallway. Within five minutes, she was ready and on her way to the training ground where Alexey already awaited her.

They greeted each other with a short nod, before Rachel began to warm up her muscles by stretching them thoroughly. One by one, the others came onto the training field and just like Rachel, they also did some warm up first.

“Where are Robin and Jackson?” Alexey asked, the annoyance in his voice was unmistakable.

“Robin went to the bathroom,” Vitali reported. “But I don't know where Jackson-” the lieutenant admitted, but was interrupted by a loud, heartfelt “Fuck you, Jackson!” Followed by a familiar cackle and an even louder “I'll rip your fucking dick off!”

“Sounds like they're on the way,” Tyler stated nonchalantly, before continuing with his sit-ups.

Vitali and Alexey both sighed.

Less than ten seconds later, Jackson came running onto the field. And right behind him, a raging, drenched Robin.

“Get your ass here, dipshit!” The blonde man cursed and pulled Jackson's leg away, causing the much taller male to stumble and - after an unsuccessful and rather hilarious attempt to keep his balance - eventually fall to the ground.

Like a bunch of feral alley cats, both men rolled on the floor; one highly amused and laughing his butt off and the other red in the face from his anger and cursing loudly.

Rachel just shook her head. There really wasn't a single day where her brother did not decide to be a total menace to everyone.

Alexey, who had watched the duo with furrowed brows, took a step forward and reached down to pull Robin off his 'victim'. “All right, that's enough you two,” he scolded sternly, but Rachel did not miss the amused sparkle in his eyes.

“Ten rounds, for each of you.”

“But captain-” Robin tried to argue, but Alexey interrupted the younger man with a sharp “Ten rounds, Coyote!”

“...Yes sir.”

With that, Robin took off; Jackson joined him quickly after. And while both of them dutifully did their laps, the others formed pairs to practice their hand-to-hand combat skills; something Alexey was particular keen on. He believed, that a good soldier should never rely on his weapons only and must be able to resort to his physical abilities at all times.

“Need a partner?” Vitali asked, his lips twisted into a impish smile as he walked up to Rachel.

'Oh no.'

“More like a mortician,” Rachel replied wittily, which earned her a amused snort from the lieutenant.

“Still mad about last time, huh?”

Rachel scoffed. “Well, I can't really say I was thrilled about that dislocated shoulder.”

“Yeah, I wouldn't have been either.”

The woman rolled her eyes; she knew there was more to Vitali's offer than he was willing to admit. His tenacity was both one of his greatest strengths and his greatest weakness.

“Look, Vitali, I know how you work. I told you, I'm fine. There's no reason for you to rack your brains.”

The male's brows arose in surprise.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” he chuckled, his green eyes sparkled with what seemed like mild embarrassment.

“It's not that hard to read you, my friend,” Rachel said and playfully flicked the lieutenant's forehead, to which he retorted with an annoyed grunt. “I could make you do fifty push-ups for your disrespectful behaviour towards your lieutenant.”

“But you won't,” Rachel replied with a daring smirk.

“Why so confident?”

“Because if you do, I'll tell Mamushka that it was you, who ate all the oreshki.” Rachel said with a triumphant grin. Checkmate.

Vitali's eyes widened and for a few seconds, he looked like one of those silly cartoon characters which elicited a soft giggle from the sniper. Vitali quickly cleared his throat and switched back to his usual calm expression. “Are you blackmailing me?”

Rachel chuckled. “Yes. I absolutely am.”

The male let out a defeated sigh. “Fine, I'll give you a pass on this one. But don't expect to get away with that attitude all the time.”

The sniper clicked her tongue. “I really wish I had that kind of daring confidence. Must be fun.”

Vitali rolled his eyes at her words and as he opened his mouth - ready to scold Rachel for her sassy attitude - another voice sounded from behind them. “Ooh Vitali, are you flirting with my sister again?” The lieutenant quickly turned around, his eyes practically glowing with anger and annoyance. “For the last time, I am not flirting with her you moron! Now shut up and do your laps, before I add ten more!”

“Oi! Cranky aren't we? Oh, by the way, you're blushing mate,” Jackson hummed and wiggled his eyebrows a little; irritating Vitali even more with that. For a brief moment, the siblings exchanged amused glances. “Run,” Rachel mouthed silently, knowing that, if her brother kept annoying their lieutenant like that, he'd be in a lot of trouble.

When Vitali - who had had enough of Jackson's teasing and ambiguous allusions - approached him, the younger of the two siblings suddenly emitted a hyena-like cackle and ran off to avoid getting whacked upside the head.

Rachel couldn't help but snort at her brother's ridiculous behaviour; or at the fact that Vitali's cheeks were indeed a tad pinker than usual. Damn, Jackson really must've hit a nerve here.

As soon as Jackson was out of earshot, Vitali let out a suffering groan. "Remind me to tell my mother that your brother is now responsible for cleaning the clogged drains."

“Only if you can defeat me,” the sniper said with a bold smirk and adjusted her stance, encouraging her training partner to do the same.

“Challenge accepted.”

The two soldiers slowly began to circle each other, careful not get too close as they tried to find a weak spot in the other's posture.

'If I fake an attack, maybe I can get him to use his arms, then I could dodge the punch and go for the solar plexus.' Rachel thought and took a small step forward. Her eyes were now fixed on Vitali's muscular arms. She knew the lieutenant was not only strong, but also quick to strike. Escaping his firm grip was nearly impossible once he got a hold of you, so, she had to be extra careful here.

“Scared, Rachel?” Vitali teased, his eyes never leaving her body as he watched her every move closely. It was obvious that he was hoping to distract her enough to make a mistake, which he could use to his advantage in return. But Rachel wasn't stupid. If Vitali really wanted to land a hit on her, he had to come up with something better than that.

“In your dreams maybe,” she replied cockily and leapt forward. Vitali, who was prepared for her attack, swerved to the side and immediately launched a counterattack. Little did he know that Rachel had foreseen that outcome and therefore was quick to react to that. Turning on her heels, she now stood face to face with the larger man. With a coy smirk on her lips and a triumphant spark in her eyes, she grabbed his fist, stopping it from landing its fatal blow.

“Surprise!” Rachel snickered and lifted her leg to hit Vitali in the guts, to which he raised his own to dodge the blow and protect the sensitive area. “Nice try, Ray,” he panted and grabbed her left arm with his free hand, catching the sniper by surprise. “But don't try to play dirty unless you know how.” With that, he tossed Rachel over his shoulder and onto the hard ground.

A stabbing pain shot through the woman's body, causing her to let out a loud, pained gasp. And as she laid there, with her eyes wide open, immobilised and unable to breathe, the memories of her dream returned. Masses of water crashing down on her; filling up her lungs and burning every inch of her body. The bitter-sweet taste of vomit and blood rose in her mouth, making her gag and shudder in disgust.

'Please. Not again.' She thought as she forced herself not to throw up. Luckily, Vitali noticed her distressed expression and immediately bent down to pull her up into a sitting position; his hand resting comfortingly on her back as he called out to Isaac to get some water.

The rest of the team stopped their training and looked over at the two soldiers, while Jackson rushed over to them.

“What's wrong?” he asked, his voice and eye filled with worry as he checked his sister for any injuries.

“We were practicing our combat skills when I performed a shoulder throw. She hit the ground pretty hard,” Vitali explained with a guilt ridden face, to which Jackson replied with a grim hum.

“Vitali!” Alexey barked, “what happened?”

The lieutenant got up and explained what had happened. Alexey listened attentively before turning to Tyler and signalling him to come over.

“Yes, sir?” the man asked and eyed Rachel through squinted eyes. Listening carefully as his captain explained the situation to him. “I understand. Jackson, would you be so kind and help your sister to the hospital wing?”

Jackson nodded, and just as he was about to help Rachel to her feet, the woman gently, but firmly pushed him away. “I'm fine,” she assured him and attempted to get up on her own. Slowly and with some effort, she managed to stand again. “I don't need a check-up, Cap.”

But Alexey, who had the welfare of his team at heart and didn't want to put up with the young sniper's stubbornness, gave her his best "I'm the captain and my word is the law"- voice. “And I say you do.”

“But-”

“That's an order, Rachel!”

The woman lowered her head in submission. “Yes sir.”

With a simple nod, Alexey dismissed Tyler and the siblings, before returning to the others, who were still watching in anticipation.

“Come on,” Jackson said and gently led his sister off the training ground.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—

Tag list: @mirandawesker @sassiest-captain @dumb-of-ash @likesugarandcyanide @sobersaber

Next chapter

#resident evil fanfic #resident evil fanfiction #In my Remains #My writing #My Oc's #Rachel Callahan #Jackson Callahan #Robin Kozbi #Tyler Mulani #Alexey Dogranov #Vitali Dogranov #Isaac Montgomery #Monty Fitzgerald #resident evil

[fanficwriter284]

The Sewers Pt 4 (Last Part)

@gcatmsg Hope I did it justice!

The two looked around, all they saw was darkness and heard paint chuckling. The walls of the underground were covered in blood spelling out Pennywise. Suddenly the clown began to come into view. He was holding Glen and Tiffany by the neck and giggling. The horrific image caused an unsettled feeling in Chucky. His face contorted to anger once he saw the clown swinging Tiffany and Glen side to side.

Chucky drew his knife and locked eyes with the beast.

"Let Them GO!"

"If you insist"

The clown threw the two to the floor and had an intense stare-off with Chucky waiting to see who would make the first move. Chucky ran at the clown and leaped up at him. He managed to grab on and claw at his massive head digging his nails into it. It began screaming, tossing, and turning trying to get him off but nothing worked. Then the clown began screaming in Chucky's father's voice. This threw Chucky off a bit but he persisted with his attack.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!"

Chucky stabbed the oversized Ronald McDonald in his twisted jaw. His mini victory was short-lived when It managed to grab him and throw him to the floor. He threw Chucky to the ground and rammed his long talons in his back, causing him to scream in anguish. He pinned Chucky to the floor, but his attack was stopped by Glenda. She ran at the clown and stabbed him in the leg several times. The attack on his legs caused the hideous clown to fall back landing on the two. Chucky managed to stab It in the cheek causing It to jump off the two and retreat for a moment, taking refuge in the shadows.

"You ok?"

"Y---Yeah"

Suddenly Chucky heard another attack coming straight at them. He pushed Glenda out of the way saving her. The clown unhooked its twisted jaw trying to bite down on Chucky. However, Chucky held Its jaw open preventing it from clamping down and devouring him.

"G---GLENDA!!! RUN!!!"

"NO!!!! I'M NOT LEAVING YOU!!!"

Glenda grabbed a metal rod and sprinted at the clown and stabbed it through his head.

"AHHHH"

The clown screamed in agony and retracted It's jaw releasing Chucky. The clown swatted Glenda away with his massive claws.

"GLENDA!!!"

Chucky tried to get back out but whined in pain from the blood pouring out of his hands.

The clown turned his attention back to Chucky and pinned him to the ground by the neck gaging him. Chucky tried to break free but Penny was too strong. Chucky's airways had been blocked and his breaths became less frequent. The clown locked eyes with him and began unhooking Its jaw, revealing the dead lights. Chucky tried to look away and tried to shut his eyes but he couldn't. He felt the grip around his throat tighten making it even more difficult to breathe.

"You're a strong one aren't you?"

Pennywise felt a spark of joy once he sensed Chucky's eyes began to fade from a baby blue to a lifeless white. But suddenly he felt a sharp pain in the side of his head.

"Remember me?"

"AHHHH"

Glen retracted the knife from the clowns skull and handed it to his sister.

"Your turn"

Glenda smiled and took the knife and sprinted to the clown. She stabbed him in the eye causing the beast to roar in anguish. Glenda clings on and still attacked the clown. Chucky took a deep breath and stood out and took out the clown's other eye. Tiffany appeared out of the blue and slit Its mouth, giving it a twisted smile on Its face. Glen grabbed a knife and stabbed It repeatedly. Chucky rammed a large blade through the center of the clowns head.

"ON MY COUNT!"

"1"

"2"

"3"

All the Rays grabbed the knife and slide down slicing the clowns face open.

"AAAAAHHHHHH"

The clown grabbed its face and backed away cowardly. HE was now afraid of the Rays. The Rays had it surrounded holding their blood-soaked knives and watching It crawl away. Pennywise was now backed up against a well. Seeing it as his only escape by backflipped into it uttering one more word before he left.

"Fear"

All of them sighed in relief as they watched it vanish from their sight. They all looked at each other happy it was over. They made their way out of the sewers and went home together as a family. Reunited once again.

#Chucky and the Fam #chucky #chiffany #childs play #charles lee ray #raysforever #chucky x tiffany #tiffany valentine #chuckyxtiffany #glen and glenda

[frischkasekuchen]

Christine AU- The Breaking Rod

Credits:

Christine by Stephen King

Vanya by Thrift-lita

Titlecard by @herrow

Warnings:

Swearing

Gore/Body Horror

Sexual Harassment(mentioned)

Attempted Murder(mentioned)

Murder

Blood

Evil Dilf

Starring:

@frischkasekuchen as Dennis Guilder

Vanya as Christine

(Mentioned)

pearlsongfromstuff as Leigh Cabot

@shu-dzhoker as Arnie Cunningham

(Author's note: I decided to let both protagonist and antagonist go ape, this is the result.)

Paint your smile on your lips Blood red nails on your fingertips A schoolboy's dream, you act so shy Your very first kiss was your first kiss goodbye

Whoa-oh-oh, you're a loaded gun, yeah Whoa-oh-oh, there's nowhere to run No one can save me The damage is done

-You Give Love A Bad Name by Bon Jovi

I woke up to the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. I pushed through my grogginess and checked outside the window above my bed.

Vanya had pulled into the driveway.

I nearly shit myself when I saw someone exit the car and walk up to the front door. Fortunately, I had a plan; I was going to beat his ass. I made my way downstairs, my face taunt with dread.

‘The kitchen,’ I thought, ‘I need bug spray or a knife.’

When I hit the lower floor’s landing, I turned into the kitchen

Goddammit.

He was already there.

“Good evening, dear.” Vanya purred. He was uncomfortably close to the very knives I wanted.

“G-get out.” I said, “Or- or I’m gonna do something you’ll regret.”

Vanya’s smile dropped as I stammered the last syllable.

“Oh really?” his head tilted in curiosity, “What harm can a pudgy, little girl bring? You don’t even have a weapon.”

“I, uh, I have wit, rage, and idiocy. I’m fine.” I huffed, crossing my arms around my chest.

Vanya made a parental(exasperated) sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re lucky I didn’t come here to fight. I’m here on Shu’s behalf.” 

I felt a grin creep upon my face, “They’re gonna send you to the junkyard? Finally-”

“NO!” Vanya bellowed, getting all up in face.

I jumped back and kept my mouth shut.

Vanya created more distance as he leaned back.

“I will be honest Kase; I did not want to come here-”

I butted in “Why the fuck you came then?”

“For Shu!” He gave another exasperated sigh. “I came to apologize for my actions last night. I made you uncomfortable, crossed boundaries I shouldn't have, and I said many things I regret.”

“Uh-huh, that’s it?”

Vanya ran his fingers through his salt and cinnamon hair. “I want Shu’s happiness, but I alone cannot give her that; she needs friends- one at least. Go; make up with Shu, not for me, but for her.”

I shuffled closer to the butcher’s block, reaching out for a knife.

Vanya stared at the outstretched hand, “Don’t you dare, you know what I’m capable of.”

“No. I don’t forgive you for what you did either.” I wrapped my fingers around a knife, “You’re a murderer, and you need to get off my property.”

“This murderer was looking out for you!” he yelled, “We both know what they did to you, things they would’ve continued doing until you graduated- Yes, how dare I care about you!”

“I didn’t tell you to do that! I didn’t ask for your help!”

“The Moochie boy groped you- Shu told me that part. I dragged you out from behind the bleachers as you bled out from being brutalized in broad daylight!” He grabbed my wrist, “You would’ve been dead if it weren’t for me! You need me, and Shu needs you!”

I tried to pull away from him.

“I cared for you- protected you, like a father should! Where was your father when you were dragged kicking and screaming to your death?”

“I’d rather be dead than thanking you!” I screamed.

Vanya shrugged and kicked me in the stomach. As I fell, I took all the knives down with me.They scattered across the floor. I felt one of them prick my right foot.

He placed his foot on my throat. “So be it, I’m done being patient with you.” Vanya pulled a switchblade from his shirt. 

I wheezed and my free arms flailed across the floor, trying to grab hold of a weapon. I caught the hilt of a steak knife; Vanya did not take notice.

He bent over, blade hovering over my throat.

Using both hands on the knife, I brought the point to where his Achilles’ tendon should be. I pushed the knife through, and a warm sensation dribbled all over my fingers.

Vanya howled in pain and fell forward and his foot came off of my neck. I slipped away as he fell forward. When he went ‘thud’ on the floor, I crawled on top of his back with the knife still in hand.

“You’re-” I wheezed, “joking if you think I’m gonna let an old man push me around.”

I aimed the knife at his throat. As I did, he placed an arm on the island, and began heaving himself to his feet. I clamped my legs around his waist, and I gripped the collar of his tank top. I stabbed blindly as we got off of the floor. I hit something, and then there was blood all over my forearms. I dragged the knife to wrench it out where I had stabbed him.

I lost my grip on Vanya and fell off. Some blood smeared onto my biceps and I looked up to see the damages.

I gasped and began scrambling away as I laid eyes on him.

My carving work had slit his right cheek and one could lay eyes on his tender, pink gums. Vanya slammed a hand over his wounded cheek to stop the flow. Blood streamed through the crevices of his fingers, trailing down his neck to inside his shirt.

I composed myself and got to my feet. I took shelter in the living room and took cover behind the couch, nearly dropping my glasses. Behind the couch, I could hear the off step thudding of Vanya’s only working leg.

“Where are you?” he made a strange, pained noise; “I will find you eventually…You can’t hide forever.”

“I can- and I will!” I snarked. Oh shit.

The couch tipped over and fell over on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. There was a spot of hope where I was able to squirm out from under the couch. But then a mountain of a man came crashing down on me.

I wheezed in surprise and pain. He shoved my face into the floor, making it hard to breathe. I didn’t panic at first, I wanted to save my breath.

It wasn’t until I felt the blade ghost my spine did I begin squirming again. I swung behind me blindly, I nicked him, I think.

I stood to my feet and took some deep breaths, the floor wobbled beneath me as I recovered from the smothering. I hadn’t noticed Vanya had gotten to his feet too. And before I could run away, my glasses flew off of my face and clattered to the floor.

My eye screamed in pain, and I did the same vocally; my music teacher would’ve been proud.

I dropped the knife and placed a hand on my left eye- I couldn’t open it. I began sobbing as I pulled away my bloodied hand. I bolted away, heading upstairs to my room, needing a place to recover. I heard Vanya coming up the stairs, but due to his injuries, there was no hurry. I locked the door behind me after I got into my bedroom.

It was game time.

I strode over to a window at the opposite end of my bedroom. I unlocked it and the cold winter air rushed in. I smeared blood all over the sill. Next, I went through the drawer in my nightstand and pulled out a present from Shu. A switchblade with a violet hilt.

I went into my closet; blade drawn and breath bated.

Thud, thud, CRASH!

My bedroom door had fallen, I presumed. I nearly jumped at the sound, which was accompanied by dripping and squelching sounds.There was a sigh and another thud. I took a risk and opened the closet door to take a peek.

Door ajar, I could see Vanya leaning against the window, panting. Perfect.

Taking a deep breath, I burst out of the closet, running since my life depended on it.

My knife pierced his chest.

Vanya grasped my wrists, trying to push me away. But the more we wrestled, the deeper the knife nestled in his breast.

I took off one of my hands and took hold of Vanya’s collar. I pushed his head and shoulders out of the window. He began to lose his footing.

He tried to grab hold of the edges, but the blood on his hands made his hold slip. His feet came off the floor and I dropped, grabbing his heels and pushing.

“Stop!” he yelled at me “STOP!” 

I made a scream of exertion as I tipped him over. My grip slipped as Vanya went through the window, nearly pulling me through with him. Fortunately, I fell on my ass.

There was a crunch, squelch, and a bellow of agony. 

I took a deep breath and cringed, knowing what I had to do next. I had to go and check if he survived.

I stripped my pillow of the pillowcase and sloppily tied it around my wounded eye. When I got downstairs, I stopped in our laundry room.

My father had tried to get me into croquet, but books became the superior choice of pastime rather than a sport- much to his displeasure. I had left my old mallet here; looks like it was finally going to be put to good use.

I went outside to where Vanya had fallen. He was a mess.

His right leg looked like it was ready to fall off, a bone sticking out. The left leg was contorted, positioned in an inhumane manner like a crumpled foldersheet. Vanya was covered in our- mostly his- blood; and he was crawling in a hurry.

Vanya was scared of me. How ironic- hilarious even.

I approached him, still alert.

“Don’t-” he said, his pace increasing.

I sprinted for a moment, now beside him. I stamped on his mashed legs, earning a strangled cry. “You don’t get to beg.” I brought my foot down on his back. I squatted so that I was eye level with him. “You came here, and despite my demands for you to get my property, and you got upset I defended myself.” I pointed to my wounded eye for emphasis, “You came after me when you had the chance to save yourself the pain. You lost any sliver of mercy after you took out my eye.”

Vanya hacked up some blood, before raising his head to protest, “I’ll go, I’ll go, just don’t hurt me anymore-”

I growled, “I’m not gonna hurt you; I’m just gonna bash your brains in.” Vanya squirmed underneath my foot. “You’re gonna feel every bit of hurt I- and Pearl felt, when yOU RUINED OUR FRIENDSHIP!” 

I raised the mallet over my head and brought it down. Every impact tore through flesh, and blood spilt on my leg. 

Why couldn’t he just stay away?

Why, in that summer afternoon, did he beckon to Shu?

Why did he try to kill Pearl?

Why did he kill Moochie, Buddy, and those other boys?

Why did he kill Darnell?

Why did he place Shu and I in roles we didn’t even know how to play?

…Why didn’t he just let me die behind those bleachers?

Why?

I was dressed in blood. My thighs, knees, and my arms up to elbows.

Vanya was no longer recognizable, I had really done him in. Some of his brains were on my feet; and there was a squashed eyeball near his jaw. I had torn his nose off, and there was a blend of blood and hair in the grass.

I’m a horrible person.

I backed up against the nearby wall and put my head in my knees. I began wailing.

I wanted Shu to bring me a frog they had found by the river. I wanted to tease Pearl about his taste in men. I wanted my mummy.

–

I woke up. I threw myself out of my bed and rushed into the bathroom. My left eye was still intact… but there was a slit in the brow above it. He could’ve taken my eye.

I laid eyes upon the gold chain still around my neck. Forgetting the clasp, I tore it off with the assistance of adrenaline alone. I threw the horrid gift into the garbage.

I slipped underneath my comforter, taking the time to cry some more before I had to face the day.  

I heard someone pulling out of the driveway; then speeding off.

#tw swearing #tw blood #tw body horror #tw gore #tw murder #christine au

[manjiroscum]

angel of the morning

Character/s: Bonten!Kakucho Hitto

Warnings: f!reader, sexual themes, violence, blood, guns, blades/knives, murder, fingering, manhandling, hair pulling, unprotected sex, gunplay, hard!dom Kakucho x sub!reader. Minors don't interact.

Synopsis: A handsome stranger walks in on you about to assassinate your target.

✃WC: 4.4k

Revenge served with a slit throat—the client was adamant on this single detail. How to get him drunk and vulnerable? Any means were possible. Where to dispose of his carcass afterward? As long as you didn't dump the body somewhere his unsuspecting pals wouldn't see, any area in the club will do. The more eye-catching it was, the better as long as you don't get caught.

But the method of killing was a dagger to the throat—nothing else or more extravagant. Said that the bastard needs to die a pathetic death and get ridiculed until his next life.

Frankly, you would've recommended the target dying during sex with his eyes and mouth agape. A picture for his friends and enemies to laugh about. What was more pathetic than a man who didn't even get to nut seconds prior to his soul leaving this earth?

However, you knew that won't get you the hundred thousand payment nor follow the client's wish which is against your work ethic as a renowned hitwoman.

The plan? Stick to the client's method, finish the job without a single hitch and get the fuck out.

You could only mutter a sort of prayer as you walked into the club.

Clad in a scandalous midnight blue dress and silver high heels, you slithered past the grinding bodies and drunken laughter. Neon lights blaring like sirens and the music's beat pulsing and bouncing against the thick walls of the club. The scent of spilled tequila, smoke, sweat, and drugs mingled in the damp air. Boisterous and wildly entertaining, the scene reminded you of all those frat parties back in college—one you missed due to how carefree it was back then... Back when you were an average woman who wasn't thrust into a life of death, blood, and everything foul to stay alive.

The good old days, as you called it.

Hand grabbing a drink by the bar where several alcoholic beverages were free for tonight's party, you took languid sips as you scanned the sea of unknown strangers dancing the night away. You hope to catch a glimpse of anyone close to the image of tonight's victim through colorful lights after having memorized his features throughout the day.

Shouldn't he be finished with his dealings by now? Who rents out a bar, throws a party, and doesn't show up at the beginning?

"Hey, pretty girl. I've never seen you here before..."

Offering a small smile at the obviously hammered man, you giggled sweetly. "Hi! Yeah, it's my first time here." Meaningless as it was to give the idiot the time of day, it didn't hurt to have someone to mess around with until you had to jump into action. No matter how many times you've taken someone's life, innocent or not, it always frazzled your nerves a bit. "Why'd you ask?"

He shrugged. "Nothing, I just find you interesting..." Leaving his almost empty glass of whiskey, he directed his undivided attention to your cleavage. Shamelessly running his gaze down to your bare legs. "It's not every day you find gorgeous babes like you in a club filled with cheap whores. It's... refreshing."

"I see."

"Do you want a better drink?" Gesturing to your rum and coke, he winked. "I know some drinks are free tonight, but the best ones aren't. Stingy, huh?" Without even waiting for your response, the stranger slurred at the bartender. "Black Calavera Noir 89.9, two shots for me and the lady. Put it on my tab."

Absinthe? You fought back a wince at the order. Is he looking to get blackout drunk?

Two shot glasses were then placed on the counter, one for you and the other for the grinning bastard who continued to ogle your breasts. Perhaps getting blackout drunk all by himself wasn't his motivation after all...

"Let's make a toast, pretty girl," he purred, lifting his own cup of poison at you. Following suit hesitantly, you cracked him a faint smile. "To new... beginnings and the promise of a great night."

A few seconds before you could take a sip of the strong liquor, the target made his grand entrance—not bothering to even blend in the crowd as he sauntered in with his three bodyguards.

Mentally cursing, you pulled the shot glass away from your lips and splashed it onto your dress instead.

"Oops, my bad," you laughed, the sticky liquid all over your fingers, skin, and dress. The man cursed, holding his dizzy head as he tried to helplessly wipe away the stray droplets from his face and shirt. "How clumsy of me! I should go and see if there are any napkins in the restroom, okay? I'll be right back."

Lies. You never went back nor proceeded down the path to the restroom.

Ruffling your hair, you smudged the red lipstick you carefully applied earlier while making your way towards your victim. As soon as you were a couple of feet away from bumping into him, you started to sway your hips—carefully dodging the real tipsy party animals to where he was. Now inches away from him, you threw yourself into his unsuspecting form.

To capture men and women alike was like catching fish. Your old mentor always reminded you of this, speaking as if she was an avid fan of fishing rather than a trained killer.

First, make sure your equipment is prepared. Tools always in perfect condition.

"Whoa! You okay, beautiful?" The middle-aged man known as Mr. Takato caught you, grinning at your performance.

Then, cast a bait. Colorful and tempting.

Giggling non-stop, you latched yourself onto his plump body, grinding against him thoughtlessly. His reaction was instant, hands wrapping themselves around your waist and bringing you closer. Nostrils breathing in the scent of absinthe on you, he chuckled. "You're quite intoxicated, aren't you?"

"N-no..." Voice humming lowly, you shook your head as you tried to maintain eye contact with him while your body swayed. "I'm not drunk, handsome... Just tipsy."

"Well, you're glad I caught you. Almost made out with the floor, huh?" he lightly chuckled, rubbing his disgusting hands on your back and to the curves of your hips. Beady eyes lingering on your chest. "Wouldn't want a pretty baby embarrassing herself now, do we?"

The fish may seem hesitant, testing the bait and seeing if it's nonthreatening. Sometimes, the fish gets too smart and swims away.

You can't expect to catch a big fish if you aren't prepared to lose something, either. But don't give up.

Wait.

"No..." you whispered against his lips, arms now around his neck as you pulled. "I've been drinking. Been drinking my loneliness away because no one seems to give me a good time." Arching your brow suggestively, you smirked. "What about you, handsome? Can you guarantee me a good one tonight?"

Because if you catch it, your win will be even more rewarding than easy prey.

"Meet me upstairs, princess." His obnoxious breath almost knocked you out, fighting the urge to make a disgusted face. Whatever he ate for dinner sure had lots of onion and garlic. "I'll show you a great time, one your pretty pussy will never forget."

And once it's attached, reel it in.

"Nice..." Licking your lips, you pressed a sloppy kiss on his cheek. It took everything for you to quell down the gagging expression about to surface. "Let me freshen up for a moment and I'll see you up there then, daddy."

Hook, line, and the fucking sinker.

The target, a middle-aged man who spent most of his time wasting his money in pointless parties and whores, was a local firearms dealer—dumb enough to get entangled and mess with the wrong crowd. Should've thought twice than to run and pretend he didn't fuck up their deal. Your current employer was quite livid, but too much of a coward to get his hands dirty.

Steely eyes watching him disappear into the crowd and up the stairs, you exhaled deeply.

A drink. You figured you needed one before rejoining the bastard up the VIP lounge and possibly to the bedrooms where he will most certainly bring you to. Heading back to the bar, you sighed in relief when the idiot wasn't there anymore to bother you.

Instead, a dark-haired man sat by the stool while holding a glass of what seemed to be bourbon. A scar ran down the left side of his face and his silver eye. Despite how it seemed awful, the scar made his attractive face even more appealing to which you couldn't explain why. The mismatched irises flickered to you for a moment then back to his drink.

Biting back a disappointed groan, you diverted your gaze away. Silently wishing the target was as hot and shrouded by mystery as him.

Paying no heed to the stranger, you took a free glass of margarita and downed the content in one go. In fact, you probably need even more considering who you were about to entertain but getting inebriated would most certainly affect your job.

"Rough night?"

Eyes blinking at the question, you turned to the stranger next to you. A bit shocked that he spoke considering how he had the aura of wanting to be left alone.

"You won't be able to imagine how bad it's about to be," you responded, placing the empty cocktail glass on the counter and shooting him a grin. He went rigid at the genuineness of it. The taste of the drink buzzing around your taste buds and the back of your throat. "But thanks for asking."

With the confidence of a vengeful soul, you made your way through the crowd and up the stairs. The beat of the music dropped at the same second your genuine smile for the first time tonight disappeared without a trace.

Everything happened all too fast akin to a hurricane whirling around, causing its damage without care. The same characteristic in this bastard's open-mouthed kisses that peppered your breasts as you laid underneath him, half-naked as the top of your dress pulled down. Heels dangling at the edge of the bed. He was like an impatient child on Christmas day, not bothering to unwrap his gift fully to gaze on it. The sheets ruffled due to his excessive caresses and hunger to taste you, mind too far gone to care about your judgemental stare as you waited.

You waited for the right moment to knock the maniac out without alerting his ever-loyal bodyguards stationed right by the door and hear him struggle.

"Pretty, pretty girly..." he purred, failing to see the grossed-out face you made as he buried himself deeper into the valley of your breasts pooling out of your bra. Nearly crushing you with his weight. "Fucking lucky to have you, all mine to fuck," he drawled drunkenly because of the countless glasses of liquor you drowned him in while pretending to be equally intoxicated.

Too wrapped up with the idea of helpless, naive you—sprawled up and ready for his taking.

"Gorgeous and all mine, right?" he hummed, lifting his head up, and lowered his hands. Just when he was about to rip your black bra off of you, your hands shot up from the sides to stop him. All the while smiling ear to ear, dropping the act of a defenseless drunk girl.

"All yours? I fucking doubt it."

A hard blow to his nape caused the trusting Mr. Takato to fall flat on the mattress. Knocked out cold.

Gagging at how close his face was, you pushed him off of you and straddled his unconscious body. Taking the sharp dagger you've hidden perfectly out of its holster strapped to your thigh, you raised it to the air, ready to deal a fatal jab when you felt something cold against the back of your head. Eyes wide and heart pounding against your ears.

"Move out of the way if you don't want to get hurt."

Wait, isn't that—

"Oh. It's you." Glancing away from your victim to the man behind, you huffed. The mysterious stranger by the bar now stood there, pointing his gun at you with menacingly cold eyes. "You're here to kill him too? Lucky fucker." The laugh you elicited caused a shiver to run down the scarred man's back, still holding the gun against your head. He didn't expect you to do this, nor be so calm about it. "So, you're a contract killer, too?"

"No," he replied, lowering his gun once he read the situation. "If you paid more attention to your surroundings, you'd know this bar is run by Bonten." Form stilling at the mention of the infamous gang rampaging in the dark, you knew better than to cross them. Let alone be under their radar. "And you're obviously interfering with what I came here to do."

"Interfering? How so?" You slid the dagger on the unlucky man's throat, blood splattered the sheets and on your face. Smirking, you then turned to the handsome stranger once more. Pretty face all bloodied. "If anything, I just finished the job for you. Maybe you should congratulate me instead!"

The scarred man sighed, shaking his head at the dead man sprawled half-naked on the mattress as you climbed off the bed. Your mission now was to clean your face and leave. Finding a box of tissues, you began to wipe away the stains and grinned at your work.

Your employer was right. It was indeed a pathetic sight for a firearms dealer to die by a blade.

"Who are you working for?"

"You know very well that I won't answer that," you chuckled, pulling your dress up to cover yourself. The stranger, now only noticing you were in an indecent appearance, coughed and found the floor more interesting. "Besides, you're working for Bonten, correct? Maybe you'll find out tomorrow. My employer would certainly gloat about it."

Your attention was suddenly shifted to the sound of gunshots outside and screaming, ripping away the stranger's response as he took note of it too. Meeting the scarred man's gaze, you tilted your head at him in wonder.

"Wait, how did you get through that door anyway? What did you do to the guards?"

"The same thing you did to Mr. Takato," the Bonten member answered while gesturing at the dead man. "I took care of them silently."

Grabbing his hand without much thought, you pulled him to the door. The scarred man followed behind you, putting up no fight. You were no threat and you indeed took care of his job as you stated a while ago.

"Well, your efforts are in vain now that his crew noticed. You said Bonten owns this bar, right? Where's the nearest exit?" Eyes peeking through the door, you whistled at the bodyguards now lying on the floor. "You really took care of them, huh... You'll be a good hitman."

"I'd... rather not be."

"What's your name?" Your inquiry caught him off guard, blinking down at your curious expression. Everything was truly peculiar but at the same time, saddened him. You, a beautiful creature in a world meant for the nasty and vile souls—killing people to survive didn't sit right with him. Especially since you seemed good at it.

"Kakucho."

"I'm [Y/N]," you giggled softly before pointing down the hall, the sound of gunshots growing nearer. "So, Kakucho..." His name felt good against your tongue, liking it. "Where do we go now? If we get caught, we won't only be dealing with Mr. Takato's men but our superior's anger. You don't want to get caught now, do you?"

Fate was certainly playing its usual jokes because the moment Kakucho led the way, Mr. Takato's men burst through the doors and flooded the hallway. The bastard's men opened the rest of the rooms, earning high-pitched screams from the women pleasuring their patrons. Thinking fast, you pulled Kakucho to one of the vacant rooms and shut the door.

He sighed.

"Follow me, I know the way."

"Wha—"

"Kiss me." Pulling him by the lapels of his coat, your eyes shifted between Kakucho and the door. The footsteps growing nearer caused your heart to throb in panic. Right now, putting on a show was all you could think of. Anything to convince those men that you and he had nothing to do with the death of Mr. Takato. "Kakucho, do it."

"Huh?"

Fuck it.

"Just kiss me, you fool," you hissed, crashing your lips with his. Kakucho, caught off guard, stood frozen but then started reciprocating at your sweet taste in his mouth. Hands roam your waist and back, finding comfort in your warmth and soft mewls due to his teeth biting your lower lip.

"K-Kakucho—"

He hushed you, giving in to his desire at wanting to have you. Ever since he saw you walk up to the bar, midnight blue and silver gleaming under the led lights, he never encountered such an impulse. He was never one to entertain his temptations, knowing better than to end up like his colleagues. But the second you kissed him, every rational bone in his body trembled at your passion and lust. Even when he saw you slit a man's throat, it only fueled his attraction to your ephemeral aura. He had to be honest to himself.

Kakucho wants you.

Bad.

Kisses searing, you gasped when your back hit the wall, legs around his waist. Moonlight guiding Kakucho's hands pulling, almost clawing, your dress off in the darkness of the room. The material met the ground as he nibbled on your earlobe, rutting against your clothed pussy. And fuck, he was rock hard. The tent of his pants was hard to ignore and you wanted nothing more than to touch it, have it inside your pussy and stretch it deliciously. To have it fill you to the brim and have his cum ooze out of your abused cunt. The image of it was enough to have your pussy squeezing around nothing.

Kakucho's fingers were pulling your lace underwear down, mind reeling at how wet you were when the doors burst open. Letting out a scripted shriek, you buried your face into Kakucho's still-clothed chest to hide. Nose inhaling the scent of his faint cologne and sweat mingling with it. The Bonten member refused to move, still pinning you against the wall as he glanced at Mr. Takato’s men, the light flooding into the room accentuated the frustration in his narrowed eyes.

“What do you want?”

"S-sir, did you see anyone suspic—”

“Do you think I’d be paying attention elsewhere when I’m fucking my woman?” You bit back a mewl when one of his digits entered your cunt, and then another one. Thick fingers scissoring the tight muscles, Kakucho continued to glare at the men as if he wasn’t in the middle of fingering you. “Now fuck off while I’m still being nice.”

One of the men foolishly tried to step in, probably about to reason out. Kakucho’s fingers then slipped out of you to touch his gun hidden in its holster, preparing to pull it out and shoot the fucker when the other pulled his companion back.

“Sorry about that, Sir. C-continue on with your evening.”

As soon as the men left with flustered expressions and their lower regions aching, Kakucho wasted no time hoisting you up, carrying you over his shoulder, and throwing you to the bed. You squeaked, the rest of your moans drowned by his kiss and tongue. Kakucho removed the rest of his clothing and yours, throwing them like a used napkin, and proceeded to pin you against the mattress. Mewling at the sheer strength of Kakucho and the sight of his chest, you reached up to cup his cheek. Pupils close to turning black in hunger.

"Fuck me, Kakucho," you pleaded with a sob, tears threatening to spill out of your eyes as you clung to him. "I want you inside me.”

Such a wish was granted in mere minutes. Kakucho pistoning his hips rapidly, one hand pulling your hair while the other pinned you against the mattress with your back to him. Sobs and choked moans belonging to you filled the air as he fucked you hard and good. His thick cock stretching your glistening pussy from your arousal, promising you the inability to walk in the morning. This was what you wanted—to be railed by a hot stranger who hit your sweet spot with every fucking thrust.

“Fuck, be quiet...” he muttered at the sight of you moaning shamelessly into the air. You failed to hear his words, the ecstacy getting to your head and thinking nothing but Kakucho’s cock impaling you. “I said be quiet.”

His gun was then shoved into your mouth, causing you to gasp aloud but the gun’s barrel muffled your confused cries that morphed into more whines as Kakucho resumed his thrusting. Your knees now hurting from being in this position for too long.

And even though he denied countless times that he was different from the rest of the crazed executives Bonten had at its disposal, the sight of you biting down on his gun made his dick twitch.

"S-shit. Cum, pretty baby," Kakucho almost roared, flipping you without warning. His eyes squeezed shut when your walls clenched around him tightly. "Cum for me, fuck. Let me see you cum around my cock." Taking his gun off of your sore lips, he set it gently next to your quivering body. “Let me hear you.”

You screamed at the overwhelming feeling, a clear white light flashed in your eyes as you climaxed. Nails digging half-moon prints on his back, gummy muscles bent on milking his thick cock dry. The sight of your face as you creamed around him was enough to drive his insane. Kakucho painfully moaned, pulling out just in time and cumming on your stomach. He then buried his face into the crook of your neck where your pulse was throbbing erratically, groaning lowly in satisfaction.

A police siren snapped both of you out of the blissful atmosphere, causing you to sigh in disappointment and frustration.

"Perhaps we should move to somewhere more private?" Kakucho suggested, knowing all too well that some of his colleagues were probably in the area to his rescue. The last thing he want was for them to call him out for sleeping around while on the job. Plus, he wanted to spend more time with you. "A hotel?"

You smiled, dipping a finger to the cum still on your stomach and popping it into your mouth. Kakucho's eye darkened, feeling his dick twitch and harden again. The urge to shove his cock into your mouth and fuck it until your voice was hoarse was truly enticing.

"Lead the way, hotshot."

"If you think you can leave without me noticing, think again."

You paused your attempt to tip-toe to your dress, a curse slipped past your lips. Last night was indeed amazing for you and probably the best sex since sleeping with men you were contracted to kill. But you weren't used to greeting those men in the morning, let alone alive. You wanted to save yourself from the awkward situation you were in right now.

Yet, Kakucho had different plans. You slipping past his fingers would be the biggest mistake of his life and he won’t allow that to happen.

Turning back to the bed where Kakucho was, you averted your gaze from his delectable pectorals and kept your eyes on his. The sight of the hanafuda tattoo on his chest brought back images of you licking it last night which made your cheeks burn. Vivid pictures of Kakucho fucking you in different positions throughout the night almost frying your brain. Even with a blanket wrapped around your bare form, you still felt naked under his eye.

Under the warm sunlight streaming through the ceiling to floor windows, he appeared softer and more... human. Scars, big and small, littered his skin like stars. Old and fresh wounds etched on his flesh like paint on a blank canvas. And Kakucho saw the same as he laid his eye on your body. Lips desiring to kiss every scar, every past and present wound—wishing for the lingering pain to go away.

"You were awake this whole time?"

"I'm... a light sleeper."

You snickered at his confession, "Well, considering what you do, I won't be surprised." To pretend he wasn't there staring as if you were an artwork was hard as you got dressed. You still had to report to your employer how you aced the job.

"Work for Bonten."

Your eyes grew wide at the proposition thrown at you without warning.

"W-what?"

"I said work for Bonten," Kakucho repeated, rising from the bed. All his glory is now visible under your naked eye, reminding you of where your tongue ran against his skin last night. Marks littered on his chest and neck courtesy of you. "Bonten could offer you more. More than any of the jobs you can ever take. Plus, it's consistent and will provide you protection."

"That depends..." Pulling up your dress, you then turned your back against him. Pointing at the zipper, you continued. "Zip me up and I'll tell you my terms. If you’re alright with it, then it’s a deal."

Rough pads grazed your sensitive flesh as he zipped your dress up, obviously taking his time as he stared at the love bites he left on your nape. Kakucho licked the front of his teeth, reminiscing the touch of your supple skin and how you tasted. He would certainly get addicted. The moment he was finished, he kissed your bare shoulder.

"Your terms, [Y/N]?"

"I'll work for you, not for Bonten." Clarifying your statement, you spun to face him with a teasing wink. “And before you say anything more—what kind of work exactly? Is it strictly killing or having sex—"

“We shall discuss this more later,” Kakucho interjected, the tips of his ears giving away his embarrassment. Hearing you giggle while rambling how you wanted to spend today eating delicious food, he couldn’t help but picture you as an angel under the soft morning light. An angel, you were indeed—charming him at first sight that night. An angel, be it of love or death—Kakucho would take your every form.

He'd be stupid to even think about letting you go.

🎐taglist: @haruphilia @thesimpsclub @wakaslut

#pat.✍️fics #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev smut #bonten kakucho #kakucho hitto x reader #kakucho hitto #kakucho smut #tokyorev x reader #kakucho x reader #tw.manhandling #tw.murder #tw.unprotected sex #tw.gunplay

[thighs-of-betrayal-blog]

I Had It Under Control

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger! reader (based on TFAWS)

Summary: After almost dying during a fight against the Flag Smashers, you wake up to an angry Bucky and a fight ensues. 

Warnings: angst, fluff, violence, cursing

A/N: Thank you so much for all the love on my first fic! I really appreciate it!! For this one, I decided to incorporate a little angst. I hope you like it! :)

You wince as your back slams into the ground. The Flag Smasher that just knocked you down, turns away from you and heads toward Walker. With only a few seconds to get off the ground and collect yourself, you scan your surroundings. Bucky is to your right, dodging two Flag Smashers with knives, while Sam is to your left, landing punches here and there. You were losing this fight. It was the four of you against seven super soldiers. 

“Shit. This isn’t good looking.” You whisper to yourself. 

“It would be nice if you stopped talking to yourself and helped out a little, Y/N” Sam says into your earpiece. 

“I just got knocked down, thank you very much. Couldn’t really fight when I’m laying on the ground, trying to catch my breath” you say back. 

“You got hurt, doll?” Bucky asks worriedly. 

Sam laughs. “Mr. Knight and Shining Armor always worrying about if Y/N is hurt or not. Where was your concern when I got shot in the leg last week, huh?”

I could feel Bucky rolling his eyes from where he was standing a few feet away. “You walked it off. You were fine.”

“No, no, I didn’t walk it off, tin man. I couldn’t walk because I was shot in the leg and where were you…” 

You interrupt Sam before he can continue, “Alright, we get the picture. Let’s stay civil here. We already have enough around us to fight. Don’t need to start fighting each other too.” 

Right after you speak, you are surrounded by two super soldiers and instantly get into a fighting stance, already pulling the knife out of your leg holster. 

“Looks like we fancy the same type of weapon, boys,” you speak while gesturing towards your knife. “Unfortunately for you, I fight better with it.” 

You dodge the super soldier on your right, throwing your knife into his leg, and quickly grab your second knife from its holster, throwing it into the side of the super soldier to your left. Before either can react, you pull the knives out of both soldiers, sending them to the ground in pain. 

You step back and wipe the knives onto your clothes, cleaning the blood off them. 

“You know, fellas, it’s a shame it had to come to this. I was open to talking it through.” 

You turn to look towards Sam. “Now, who did you say needed to help out a little, birdman?” 

Sam’s reply is like a distant memory as you suddenly feel a tremendous pain in your stomach. You look down and see blood pouring out of you. Your hand instinctively moves to cover the bullet wound.

“And, unfortunately for you, sweetheart, I have a gun” says one of the super soldiers you stabbed. You turn to see him lying on the ground still, but this time with a gun in his hand, looking at you with a smirk on his face. 

Your legs give out beneath you, but before you can hit the ground, Bucky is there, holding you up. “I’ve got you, doll. I’ve got you.” He looks at you with nothing but terror in his eyes. 

“Sam!” Bucky yells. “I’ve gotta get them out of here.”

Sam comes running up to your other side. “Shit” he says. “Go, Walker and I will cover you.”

Bucky doesn’t waste another second, as he picks you up and starts running towards the nearest building. 

---------------------------------------

Once inside, he places you on your back, on a table in the middle of the room. 

“Bucky” you whisper. Your vision was starting to blur. You were losing too much blood. 

Bucky doesn’t hear you, as he is frantically ripping off your shirt and tying it around the bullet wound, trying to stop you from bleeding out. 

You lazily reach your hand up to grab his wrist. “Bucky” you say a little louder. 

Bucky whips his head to look at you. 

You reach your hand up to touch his cheek. “Bucky, I have something I want to tell you.”

“You can tell me after we get you stitched up.”

You start to talk a little louder. “No, Bucky, no, I need to tell you now. In case I don’t make it.”

“Stop that!” Bucky yells. “You’re going to make it. You’re going to be fine. Don’t say shit like that, doll. Just don’t.” Tears start to fall down his cheeks. “We are going to get you all fixed up. Just sit tight.” 

You start to cry. You reach your hand back down to grab his hand. “I love you, Buck. I love you so much. And, I have for so long. I just want you to know that. It’s important that you do.”

Bucky starts to cry harder. He opens his mouth to speak, but you don’t hear anything he says. 

The darkness in the corner of your vision starts creeping in and after a couple seconds, you fall asleep. 

------------------------------------

You slowly open your eyes and see white all around you. You hear a faint beeping sound to your left. Your body aches everywhere, especially your stomach. You feel a slight squeeze to your right hand and turn your head to see Bucky sitting in a chair next to you, with his hand holding yours and his head down. 

“Buck” you attempt to say, but your voice is so scratchy it doesn’t sound like anything. 

Bucky’s head immediately lifts up and he springs to his feet. 

“You’re awake. Oh my god, doll, I thought... Let me go get a doctor.” 

You shake your head slowly. “No”, you manage to get out. “Stay please. I just need some water.” 

Bucky nods. “Water, right, okay.” He hands you a cup of water. “Here you go, love.”

The water burns down your throat and you start to cough. 

Bucky instantly grabs your hand again. “Are you okay?” 

You nod. “I’m okay. Just burns a little.” You look him in the eyes. “What?” you ask him as he looks at you with a strange look. 

Bucky’s mood immediately changes. “I should be asking you that. What were you doing turning your back to the enemy?” he asks angrily. 

You scoff. “We are really going to have this conversation right now?”

“Yeah, we are. What the hell were you thinking? You can’t be doing that. You could have died!”

“But, I didn’t. I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Bucky slams his hands down on the bed and stands up. “But, you almost did!” he yells. “You almost fucking died because you wanted to make some stupid comment to Sam, like a dumbass!” 

“Me? A dumbass? I had it under control. I had both of those men on the ground, while you were still busy trying to dodge the fucking knives being thrown at you! Some super soldier you are, huh?”

“Under control? You call getting shot ‘under control’?” Bucky screams at you. 

You look back at him incredulously. “What the hell is your problem?” 

He throws his hands towards you. “You! You’re my fucking problem. Damnit, you could have died! And, then what? Do you even care? I could have fucking lost you.” He starts to break down and cry. You look into his eyes, as tears run down his face. “I almost lost you and I love you too much to lose you! And, of course, you finally said you love me and I didn’t even get a chance to say it back. I was so scared.” He sits down next to the bed and places his hand on your face. “I was so scared. I’ve lost everyone. I can’t lose you, Y/N.” 

Tears run down your face. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, Buck. I’m so sorry I scared you. But, I meant it when I said I love you. I love you so much. I’m here as long as you’ll want me.”

Bucky smiles. “Then you’re stuck with me forever, doll, because I’ll always want you. Just please don’t do something like that ever again.”

You smile and lean up to kiss him. Right as your lips connect, the door opens. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. What did I just walk into? I guess Tinman finally admitted his feelings, Y/N?”

Bucky rolls his eyes and moves back to sit in the chair. 

You laugh and look at Sam. “Cut him some slack, Sam. He’s had a long day.”

Sam walks over to your bed. “How’re you feeling?”

“Better. Just sore.”

Sam grins. “Bucky’s lips make it all better?” 

Bucky turns to Sam. “Hey now, don’t start.” 

“Oh, yeah? And, what are you going to do, old man?”

You watch as Bucky and Sam bicker with each other and smile to yourself. 

Sam interrupts your moment of thought. “But seriously, please tell me you guys aren’t going to be making out every time I turn my back.” 

You and Bucky look at each other and laugh. “Don’t worry, we’ll make sure to be quiet” you say. 

Sam groans in response and Bucky starts to laugh even harder, just as the doctor walks in.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #fatws bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x avenger!reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #falcon and the winter soldier #bucky x avenger!reader #sebastian stan #marvel fanfiction #marvel #sebastian stan x reader #sam wilson #tfaws

[midgardianweasley]

I beg you with my life, PLEEAAAASE can we have a Natasha x female reader where Reader comes back from a one month mission and sneaks into the compound to surprise Natasha who’s sitting in the living room with Tony. He sees reader sneaking up on her and all he says is “Natasha, do me a favor and don’t move.” As she’s very confused, reader jumps from behind her and wraps her arms around her red head. JUST FLUFF FOR DAYS!! (I will forever be in debt with you if you do this request!)😭🙏🥺🥰

of course! I hope it's okay love. I also thought this request would be the perfect way to apologise for my angst earlier lmaoo<33

I’m back!

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N returns from a month-long mission, eager to see her girlfriend. Though her girlfriend literally doesn’t see her coming.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Pureeee fluff

Message/ask if you’d like to be added to the taglist!

Requests are open <3

“God, I can’t wait to get back and shower. I feel disgusting.” Clint announced to the other team members in the quinjet. Everyone tiredly nodding their heads in agreement.

Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Clint, alongside you, had spent the last month trying to infiltrate one of the HYDRA bases in Siberia. The sole intent being to take back stolen records and information about some military weapons that they were planning on using to invade other countries. It was supposed to be a simple ‘in and out’ job, a week, max. However, when you all saw that the base was more heavily guarded than expected, you all knew immediately that it wouldn’t be the case.

“Well, I’m pretty sure Y/N here is gonna be making a beeline for her girlfriend.” Sam nudged you with his elbow, a smirk plastered on his face. A blush crept up to your cheeks, reddening in slight embarrassment.

As it turns out, a month away from Natasha hadn’t done wonders for you. She wasn’t able to come on this mission, having to stay and hunt through files with some of the SHIELD agents at headquarters. Of course you were fully capable of being away from each other, but it had been at least 4 weeks now, 3 more than expected. You had missed her. To be honest, hearing the news that you’d be heading home today filled you with more happiness than knowing you’d retrieved the stolen files.

“Uh huh, don’t make me cut off those wings, Falcon.” You narrowed your eyes playfully towards him as you gave him the completely empty threat, still, he raised his hands in surrender, making the rest of the team snigger at your antics.

With hearing the quiet hum of the quinjet and murmurs of small talk coming from your team, you sat with a content smile, feeling your eyelids beginning to flutter shut, finally able to relax knowing that in no time at all, you’d be back in Natasha’s arms.

__________________________

“Hey, Y/N, wake up”

Groaning slightly, your eyes slowly opened once again, squinting as they adjusted back to the bright lights. Once they’d focused a bit more, you took in the fact that Wanda was standing in front of you, her hand resting on your shoulder as she held a relaxed smile.

“We’re back.” She tilted her head as she encouraged you to look to your left, seeing the familiar building only a small walk away. The sight instantly filled you with energy, nothing except excitement now running through your veins.

With a quick smile sent in Wanda’s direction, you jumped from your seat and started to rush off, leaving the team in the dust as they laughed among themselves.

“She’s like a puppy.”

“She’s in loveee” Clint responded to Steve’s comment

“Leave her be, at least she’s happy.” Wanda piped in after catching up with the others, watching you run up to the doors of the compound, with absolutely no care in the world.

They enjoyed seeing you so full of life. It was nice to witness, especially after missions like the one they’d just gone on, where everyone is left exhausted and burnt out. You were tired too, of course, but you’d always tried to keep spirits high and moods lifted. It was something the team admired about you, Nat especially. She always loved coming home after a mission or just a day out and knowing that you’d be there to welcome her back.

It was almost routine that after an intense mission, you’d both take the evening off to spend time together and let the stress of the day roll off your backs. The two of you would often take a long shower together, just to feel close to one another and take the time to wash each other’s hair, engaging in the occasional stolen kiss and wrap up in towels afterwards.

You’d both stand in front of your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth and making silly faces at the other and the sink was always guaranteed to be covered in toothpaste afterwards. It was a treasured time together. Time that you and Natasha had missed dearly in your absence. Not for much longer though.

________________________

Walking up the last set of stairs, you peeked round each doorway, hoping to catch a glimpse of some short red hair belonging to your girlfriend, not a middle aged SHIELD agent who was getting himself coffee. Ooops.

It wasn’t long before you heard some muffled chatter coming from the main seating room in the building, where most people went to hang out when they had nothing else to do, or have their movie nights. You hadn’t paid much attention, until you heard a familiar voice, laced with a slight russian accent speak close by, causing your stomach to fill with the same butterflies you felt on the day you met her.

You stepped forward, careful to not make too much of a sound in the hopes to surprise her, not entirely certain about how it would go down considering she’s a trained spy. However, hope was ignited when you saw Tony Stark talking to her, knowing he’d go along with your plan.

It wasn’t long before he noticed you in the doorway, quick to see that you’d raised a finger to your lips, silently telling him to not reveal that you were there. He didn’t even need to say a word as he turned back to Natasha with an overly concerned look on his face, taking note of how close you were getting.

“And then Fury was saying that we’d been looking through the wrong-”

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds great.” You had to cover your mouth at his interruption so you wouldn’t burst into laughter and blow your cover, fully able to picture the look on Nat’s face right now. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Okay?”

“Don’t move a muscle.” She listened, but you could see her back noticeably tense up at the request, instantly defensive at what was behind her. Oh boy.

Taking this as your que, you hurried the last few steps, coming up right behind her and threw your arms around her neck, burying your face into her neck in the process as you let out giggles you’d been holding for minutes previous.

It took her a minute to process, almost jumping out of her skin at the contact, but she soon relaxed when she realised who it was, her hand coming up to run through your hair that was all over the place.

“Hi baby.” She smiled.

“Hi. I’m back.”

“I see this. Gotta say, this is one of my favourite surprises.” You both leaned in for a kiss, only a breath away when you heard someone purposely clear their throat.

“Hi, hello, one, you’re welcome for the surprise Romanoff, I’d like some artistic credit, thank you.” Nat rolled her eyes. “Second, it’s great to have you back, but respectfully, please get a room.”

With one last exaggerated sigh, the pair of you walked out the room, Natasha tugging her hand into yours and holding on tightly, fully appreciating having you back home with her. She turned to face you, emerald eyes sparkling as they met yours, whispering a question that’s plagued her mind since you walked in.

“So, shower?”

Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @wandaromanova

#Natasha romanoff #Natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x Y/N #Natasha romanoff fluff #Natasha romanoff angst #Natasha romanoff imagine #Natasha romanoff oneshot #Natasha romanoff fic #fanfic #marvel #mcu #Natasha romanoff smut #Natasha romanova #Natasha romanoff x fem!reader #Natasha romanova x Y/N #Natasha romanova x reader

[eliemo]

Call Me When You're Sober

Summary: Remus tells Janus he loves him for the first time. Or at least...Janus thought he had.

TWs: alcohol usage in the beginning and talk about being drunk throughout, misunderstandings, hangovers

Notes: Human au, loosely based on a drawing from @underdog-arts their art is amazing go support their patreon.

Established romantic Demus/Dukeceit and background (very background) Prinxiety

“I’m not going to kiss you.”

Janus frowned, something that could probably be considered a pout with how out of it he was. He chased Remus’s mouth as the other man pulled away, one hand still carded through Janus’s hair.

His frown was definitely closer to a pout judging from the way Remus laughed out loud, eyes softening in a way anybody else rarely got to see, and Janus felt his cheeks flush even further. They’d been tinged with pink since his second drink (Remus hadn’t stopped pointing out the color in his face all night, adorably smitten by it) but at this point there was no way to blame his blush entirely on the alcohol.

“I’m not gonna kiss you, Jan,” Remus repeated, grinning insufferably when Janus slurred an illegible plea. “Not right now.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re drunk,” Remus said, moving his hands from Janus’s hair to keep him steady on the bar stool. “You won’t even remember any of this in the morning.”

“I will,” Janus protested, tongue slow and heavy in his mouth. “I always do.”

“Alright then, party animal.” Remus smirked, standing from the bar stool to drape one of Janus’s arms over his shoulder, helping him stagger to his feet. “Let’s get you home. Pat bought us an Uber.”

“But--”

“You can have a kiss when you’re sober,” Remus said, waving at a blurred shape Janus thought might be Patton. “Ok?”

Janus couldn't even make out his own reply, stumbling and leaning heavily against Remus’s side. He felt weightless, floating through the air, and it took him a moment to realize it was because Remus had picked him up and carried him out of the bar.

It felt like forever since he’d let himself get this drunk at a party before, and even longer since Remus had been the one sober enough to take care of things.

It was...nice. Really nice. Even if what rational thought he had left knew for a fact he would feel like shit tomorrow.

He was vaguely aware of Remus gently putting him in the backseat of a car and carefully following in after him, their hands loosely intertwined.

The driver said something before pulling away from the curb and driving off but Janus couldn’t make anything out, overcome by giddy exhaustion, and focused entirely on Remus.

He snorted when he caught Janus staring, and Janus knew he’d never get Remus to admit to blushing at the attention.

Janus leaned into the touch when Remus carefully framed his face, running his thumbs along his cheekbones, seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

Nobody else got to see Remus like this, thoughtful and loving and gentle. It was rare, but Janus always felt honored in some way. Even if he was so drunk he could barely comprehend it.

Remus suddenly leaned closer to press a gentle kiss to Janus’s forehead, slow and careful, one hand still cupping his jaw. He pulled back, just barely lit up by the passing streetlights, gaze soft as he looked Janus over.

“I love you,” he said for the first time, and Janus’s heart soared. “And I know you won’t remember this tomorrow.”

His face was beginning to ache with how much he was grinning, replaying the words over and over again in his head despite the fog weighing him down. Janus fell into Remus’s chest and shut his eyes to the sound of the car’s engine, trusting Remus to get them home safe.

---

Janus unfortunately did remember the night before, blurred and distant as it was, and that last conversation with Remus was the only thing keeping Janus from swearing off alcohol for the rest of his life.

His head was pounding, the light filtering in from the window felt like someone was poking knives in his skull, and every time he tried to sit up every single bone in his body violently protested, stomach lurching dangerously.

But he couldn’t even be annoyed at any of that right now.

Remus had said he loved him for the first time last night, holding his face like the most precious thing in the world, and that was the only thing on Janus’s mind.

He’d known Remus loved him. Or at least, he’d assumed. Remus tended to show love every way except verbal. It had taken some getting used to, insecurities Janus refused to voice always making him doubt that Remus actually felt the same, despite them dating for months and being friends for longer.

But Remus had said it last night. Remus had kissed Janus’s forehead and looked at him with soft fondness and told him he loved him.

He loved Janus.

And he had assumed Janus would be too drunk to remember, which meant he got to mercilessly tease Remus for the rest of the day about it.

Janus forced himself out of bed, noting with a small smile the water bottle that had been left on the bedside table. He could hear some commotion from the other room, probably Remus looking for food in the kitchen.

He sipped at the water, untangled himself from the sheets and slowly stumbled to his dresser to get a change of clothes. As uncomfortable as sleeping in jeans was, he appreciated Remus not changing him into pajamas while he was passed out.

When he felt human enough to leave his bedroom, wrapped up in sweats and a flannel, Janus slipped out of his bedroom and padded down the hall where Remus was sprawled out on Janus’s couch with a half eaten poptart on the coffee table.

“You could have slept in the bed, you know.”

Remus grinned up at him, disheveled and probably a bit sore. “Yeah well, you smelled gross.”

Janus knew Remus would never admit he just hadn’t been sure he was allowed, if Janus would be comfortable with someone sleeping next to him without clear permission.

Remus had a brass sense of humor, he was forward and grossly affectionate in public, but he was always so careful with Janus. There were so many unspoken questions, silent searches for approval, and private check-ins.

“You’re cute,” Janus said, grinning when Remus stuck his tongue out. “Do I get my kiss now?”

Something unreadable flashed in Remus’s eyes, and Janus assumed it was the realization Janus hadn’t been drunk enough to completely forget the night before.

It was gone in an instant, and Remus pushed himself up off the couch to shuffle across the small room, gather Janus in his arms, pull him close and kiss him just like he’d wanted the night before.

Remus pulled away with a wink that made Janus scowl playfully, and made his way to the connected kitchen. “I can’t figure out how to work your coffee maker.”

“If you break anything else in my kitchen I’m killing you.” Remus had managed to break his old toaster when they’d first started dating, and Janus never planned on letting him live it down. “I’ll make you some.”

Remus jumped up on the counter, watching Janus refill the pitcher in the sink and grab the coffee grinds from the counter, eventually distracted by scrolling through his phone while the pot brewed.

“Hey,” Janus called when it was done, smirking when Remus hummed nonchalantly. “Did you tell me you loved me last night?”

Remus jumped and nearly dropped his phone, fumbling for a second before managing to put it down on the counter, hands ridiculously unsteady.

Janus expected the momentary surprise, but he didn’t expect Remus to bark out a panicked laugh and shake his head.

“What? No.” He scoffed, swinging his legs over the side of the counter. “I didn’t say that. Jeez how much did you drink, Jan?”

Oh.

He’d been ready for a bit of embarrassed denial, some teasing and flirting that had become normal between them. Last night had made Janus stupidly happy- happier than he remembered being in months- but Remus had jumped straight to denying it, like it was the most ridiculous thing in the entire world.

He suddenly felt cold, and a little bit like someone had shoved him to the floor. He quickly averted his gaze so Remus wouldn’t see how much that had hurt.

“Right,” he said, sliding Remus his mug of coffee. “Yeah, duh. Sorry. I was...super out of it.”

“It’s cool.”

Janus didn’t know what he was supposed to say now. There was a lump growing in his throat, something a little more crushing than simple disappointment weighing down on his chest.

“I’m...gonna make some food,” he said after a few seconds of unnatural silence. “We still have those frozen waffles, you want any?”

“Sure.”

Remus was being abnormally curt and dismissive, and Janus could practically see him searching for an excuse to escape the tense atmosphere that had never existed between them before.

“I, uh, have a change of clothes in my bag,” Remus said, waving a hand at the hallway. “I’m gonna go get dressed.”

Janus nodded, not trusting himself to speak as he went to rummage through the freezer to hopefully distract himself with making breakfast once Remus disappeared.

This wasn’t a big deal. He could blame his suddenly blurry vision on the hangover.

He’d...really thought he remembered last night. He could still feel Remus’s hands in his hair and that stupidly sweet smile on his lips when he refused to kiss him when he was drunk.

He remembered the pink blush on his nose when he’d said those three words, quiet like they were in their own little world that night. The scene had been replaying over and over in his head until he fell asleep, and had picked right back up when Janus had woken up.

It had felt so real. He’d thought...he’d thought it was real. He thought he’d finally be able to say it freely without worrying about moving too fast for Remus.

It was possible it could have all been a dream, but...

But Remus had answered so quickly. He’d been so adamant about how he hadn’t told Janus he loved him. Like he would never even consider doing such a thing.

Which...which was fine. Janus wasn’t going to hold Remus’s feelings against him, and he certainly wasn’t going to make a big deal about it.

He’d just been mistaken assuming he and Remus wanted the same kind of relationship. Janus loved Remus and Remus...didn’t. Janus wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted, but he’d made his feelings on the matter pretty clear today.

Janus had just been too blind to realize it after months of spending nearly every waking moment together.

That was fine. It was a stupid misunderstanding. Janus wasn’t going to cry like a heartbroken idiot just because Remus didn’t love him back.

He hissed out a curse under his breath when almost immediately there were tears slipping down his cheeks, and Janus pressed a hand firmly to his mouth to muffle the sobs that tried to escape.

He was so stupid. It wasn’t like this was the first time this had happened, Janus figured he would have been able to see the signs by now. People just didn’t want him like that.

He’d just...really thought Remus was different.

He didn’t think he would ever laugh off the idea of loving Janus.

Janus wrapped his free arm around himself, swaying slightly in the middle of the kitchen as he stared blankly at the toaster, trying and failing to get himself to suck it up and stop crying.

He was being ridiculous- shaking with the force of trying to hold back his sobbing, blinded by endless tears gathering in his eyes and flowing down his cheeks- and he needed to get a hold of himself before-

“Woah, what the fuck?”

Janus jumped, refusing to look at Remus standing in the hallway as he quickly tried to wipe his tears away with the palms of his hands. “Do you want syrup?”

He heard Remus move closer and kept his head down, staring resolutely at the kitchen tiles until he could see socked feet step into the room.

He still didn’t touch Janus, still so focused on his comfort (was any of it even for Janus’s comfort? Maybe Remus just hadn’t wanted to touch him this whole time) but he moved as close as he dared and lowered his voice.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” Janus said automatically, choking on another hiccuping sob. “I just...have a headache. Stupid hangover.”

“Oh.” Remus hesitated, and Janus could feel him staring. “Did you take an ibuprofen? I can get you a couple from the bathroom. And like...gatorade. You still have some, right?”

Janus nodded and took a shaky breath, hating the way the tears still wouldn’t stop falling. “Yeah. In the fridge.”

“Good,” Remus said, and Janus still couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want you hurting.”

“I’m fine. Just drank too much.”

“You were pretty drunk.”

“I don’t remember last night at all,” Janus said, more bitter than was probably necessary. “Clearly.”

It was enough to give Remus pause, plunging the kitchen into heavy silence. Janus crossed his arms and risked a glance up when he awkwardly cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah. Anyways, gatorade—”

“I can get it.”

“No, I got it,” Remus said, and Janus watched warily as he pulled out a chair from the table. “Sit down.”

Janus hunched his shoulders, tears still sliding down his jaw just as fast as before, but he did as Remus said and shakily made his way over to the table, lowering himself carefully until he could curl up in his chair.

Remus returned almost immediately with a bottle of blue gatorade from the fridge and two painkillers from the bathroom medicine cabinet. He handed them over silently, standing awkwardly by the table while Janus took them.

Janus did his best, carefully swallowing the pills and sipping the gatorade with shaky hands. But he couldn’t get himself to stop crying, or even slow his tears, wracked with seemingly never ending sobs no matter how hard he tried to get a hold of himself. Remus standing there just made it so much worse.

He saw Remus crouch down to Janus’s level, breaths only coming out more frantic when Remus frowned and moved to hold Janus’s face in his hands.

“C’mon,” Remus said softly, brushing Janus’s cheeks with his thumbs. “What’re you crying for?”

Janus couldn’t answer. Remus sounded so gentle and adoring and it only made him cry harder, choking on a pathetic whimper as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Hey, hey, you’re ok.” Remus kept wiping Janus’s tears, his touch light and grounding. “It’s just me, Jan. You can tell me.”

Janus shook his head, weakly clutching at Remus’s sleeves. “N-no, I’m just...I’m being an idiot. Go get your waffles.”

Remus didn’t move, and Janus could practically feel him staring. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m being stupid,” Janus insisted, because he was. He knew he was. “I sw-swear I just...you don’t want to deal with this right now.”

“I’ll be fine, Jan. Tell me what happened.”

Remus kept brushing his tears away, warm and gentle, and Janus couldn’t catch his breath. Maybe there was a way he could fix this, get Remus to change his mind, or at least understand how he’d misread everything so horribly.

Janus finally managed to take a shaky breath, loosening his hold on Remus’s arms. “Did...did I do something wrong?”

“Wh- no?” Remus frowned, straightening a little to try and look Janus in the eyes. “You didn’t do anything.”

“You just,” Janus hesitated, wondering if it would be easier if he just gave up and dropped it. “You answered really fast when I asked about last night.”

Realization dawned on Remus’s face, and Janus’s heart dropped when he suddenly looked uncomfortable. “Oh.”

“I get it,” Janus said quickly, because now Remus was the one refusing to meet his gaze. “I do, it’s fine. I just...didn’t know if I had done something, or—”

He cut himself off when Remus suddenly pulled back, taking his comforting warmth with him, leaving Janus feeling frigid and empty.

He curled in on himself, wondering if at this point it would be a better idea just to kick Remus out of his apartment so they could start over and pretend none of this ever happened.

“It’s not...you- you didn’t...” Remus was stumbling over his own words, shuffling uncomfortably where he stood, and each attempt to explain only crushed Janus further. “It isn’t—”

“Yeah, no I get it,” Janus snapped, any venom overshadowed by the misery in his tone. He was hurt and tired and he just wanted to go back to bed. “It’s fine, Remus.”

“No, I’m—”

“I said I get it! It’s ok, I...I shouldn’t even have asked.”

“I lied.” Remus wasn’t looking at him, his back turned to Janus as he pulled and fiddled with his chain necklace. “Sorry.”

“Oh.” Janus...suddenly wasn’t sure what to say. “That you...loved me? Or that you didn’t say it.”

“That I didn’t say it,” Remus confessed, and Janus’s tears started to slow. “I, uh...I did. I said it.”

Janus didn’t move, terrified that he might somehow break the illusion and Remus would turn around laughing again, waving off any silly ideas of love or commitment.

“Did you mean it?” he asked carefully, hating how shaky his voice was. “If you were drunk we can just drop it.”

“I wasn’t drunk,” Remus said. He sighed, running a hand over his face, still turned away. “Yeah, I...I meant it.”

“Oh.” Janus expected to feel relieved, but now Remus was shaking too, and he still wouldn’t turn around, and Janus just felt scared and numb. “Why did you—”

“Because I wasn’t ready,” Remus blurted. “I don’t...I don’t know if I’m ready, and I don’t know if you...I didn’t think you would remember. It’s...it’s a huge jump, Jan. And usually I’m all for being impulsive, you know that, but you just...this is different. You deserve better than that.”

Janus wiped once more at his eyes, but something had loosened a bit in his chest at Remus’s words, the other man still tense and refusing to look up from the floor.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, rubbing his sleeve over his face until his eyes burned. “I shouldn’t have pushed, I just thought...something else.”

“What?” Remus finally turned to face him, but his confusion only lasted a moment before his eyes widened. “Oh, fuck I didn’t even...I didn’t think about your feelings. Shit, I’m- I’m so sorry, I didn’t—”

“No, Remus it’s fine—”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Remus pressed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“I jumped to conclusions,” Janus said, trying to sound casual despite how his face was stained with tears and it felt like he’d just been punched in the chest. “It’s ok.”

Remus nodded, though he still seemed a little frantic. “We can just...ignore this. If you want to.”

Janus wasn’t sure how he felt about that solution, but he wasn’t going to push Remus out of his comfort zone any more than he already had today. “Is that what you want to do?”

“I don’t want to make you...uncomfortable,” Remus said slowly, and he smirked at the irony of his own words. “Not with this, anyway. Feelings are fucking gross and dumb and I know you don’t want any part of that, and I’m really sorry.”

“What?” Janus sat up a little straighter, wondering how he’d managed to find someone just as stupid as he was. “No, Remus—”

“I understand!” Remus kept going, barrelling over whatever Janus had been about to say. “Like, obviously I understand. I’m awful but I’m not gonna—”

“God, you’re such a dumbass.” Janus scrubbed a hand over his face, smiling into his palm. “I was upset because I thought you didn’t love me.”

Remus froze, staring with wide eyes like Janus had just said spoken in a foreign language. “Oh.”

“You answered so fast when I asked you,” Janus explained. “I thought I did something to fuck this up. Or that I’d just...misunderstood your intentions.”

“You didn’t,” Remus said. “I was- you know. Just scared.”

Janus nodded, forcing himself to take a deep breath and look Remus in the eyes. “I know. I...I know. I love you.”

Remus’s head snapped up. “You do?”

Janus actually laughed outright at the shock on Remus’s face, like a child that had just been told he was getting his first puppy. “Yeah. Fuck, yeah of course I do, Remus.”

“For real?” Remus asked, even as a huge grin began to take over his face. “Like no joke? You’re not fucking with me?”

“Well, I did think it was obvious,” Janus said, and he couldn’t help but match Remus’s smile. “I love you, you idiot.”

“Me? Shit, Jan, you need higher standards, dude.”

“Don’t call me dude.” Janus took another sip of his gatorade to hide his obvious smile. “I literally just confessed to you.”

“You confessed to having horrible taste.”

“I love you,” Janus said again, because Remus was blushing and he was absolutely using this to his advantage. “Obviously. I’m sitting here crying at ten in the morning because I thought you didn’t.”

Remus had the decency to look embarrassed, another thing almost no one besides Janus got to see. “You could have been crying because you were hungover.”

“No. I was heartbroken, dumbass.”

Remus made a face like he’d tasted something sour. “That’s gross.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Janus scoffed, capping and pushing away his drink. “You said you loved me first.”

“Gross, don’t bring it up,” Remus said, and Janus smirked as he pushed himself to his feet. “I sound like a sap.”

Janus laughed, moving to wrap his arms around his boyfriend’s (Boyfriend? They’d have to talk about that one later) waist and rest his head in the crook of Remus’s neck. “You told me you loved me. While I was drunk.”

“You cannot tell anyone.”

Janus scoffed, having no intention of honoring that wish. “Why not?”

“Because,” Remus said. “It makes me sound gross and gay.”

“You’ve always been gross and gay.” Janus pulled back, just enough to grin at him. “Besides, you’ve been teasing Roman about Virgil for months.”

“He deserves it,” Remus declared. “He needs to get over himself.”

“At least he doesn’t confess to people while they’re drunk and then lie about it the next day.”

Remus’s blush deepened and Janus finally relented. He leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of Remus’s lips- which quickly turned into something deeper when Remus moved to capture the rest of his mouth and pull him closer.

He only pulled away when he realized he'd started crying again, the relief that Remus loved him, that he hadn’t been wrong, that he wasn’t losing what they had, hitting all at once.

Janus shuddered and struggled to catch his breath, his breathing coming out in quick gasps again, and he clung onto Remus’s shirt like a lifeline.

“Oh, shit.” Remus’s eyes went wide in panic, and Janus found himself laughing around the tears. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

“You’re ok,” Janus assured him, leaning forward again to rest his head on Remus’s shoulder. Remus didn’t hesitate before wrapping his arms around him. “I just...really thought I was losing you.”

“You’re not. I’m still here.”

“I know,” Janus said. He was overwhelmed and exhausted and he’d never been awake this long with a hangover. “The ibuprofen didn’t help either.”

Remus had one hand carding through his hair, the other cupping his jaw as he pressed a kiss to Janus’s forehead. Just like he had last night when he’d told Janus he loved him.

When he’d told Janus he loved him and meant it.

“We should get you back to bed,” Remus said, every bit as adoring as he’d been when Janus was too drunk to stand. “How about I bring you your waffles and we can put on a movie?”

“You’re going to get crumbs in my bed again.”

“No I’m not.” Janus didn’t even get a chance to protest further before Remus had his arms around his waist, hoisting him into the air and over his shoulder. “And you’re too hungover to stop me.”

Janus couldn’t argue with that, relaxing into Remus’s hold as he carried him down the hall and back into the dimly lit bedroom, the darkness already soothing his pounding head.

Remus set him down on the bed, kissed him again for good measure, and returned a moment later with the waffles Janus had left in the toaster. He put the plate on the nightstand beside the half empty water bottle, and settled in beside Janus.

He didn’t even pay attention to Remus’s laptop opening, or the waffle that was offered to him. Janus just wrapped his arms around Remus and rested his head on his chest.

“You’ll stay with me?” Janus asked, already drifting off to the smell of waffles and the clicking of Remus’s keyboard.

“I never planned on leaving,” Remus said, muffled from where he’d pressed his nose into Janus’s hair. “And I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

Janus muttered something even he couldn’t make out, letting his eyes slip shut, breaths steadying in sync to Remus’s own.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when he must have thought Janus was already asleep, that Remus began running his fingers through Janus’s hair again, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his temple.

“I love you too,” he said, barely above a whisper. “I love you, Janus.”

Janus smiled, content with letting Remus believe he’d fallen asleep before he could hear the words. Just this once.

People who asked to be tagged for this one:

@self-taught-mess @hannahdra-ws

#sanders sides #romantic demus #romantic dukeceit #ts janus #ts remus #alcohol tw #kissing tw #misunderstandings #miscommunication #fanficiton #writing #human au

[stateofloveandnegan]

All Grown Up II - Negan Smith

Here it issss, the second part. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it! I felt this was a good way to end it, but if anyone is interested in more parts to this story, please do let me know! 

pairing: negan x reader

short summary:

Your community comes across a community known as Alexandria. You come along on a visit to this new found community. What you never expected, was to see a familiar face living there; your old gymnastics teacher, professor Smith.

warnings/notes:

the reader is about 25 in this story. age gap relationship.

word count: 2.4k

Part one

Part two

Part three

MASTERLIST

“Welcome home.”

That sounded odd to Negan, considering he’d never been to Safe Haven, but it made him smile, nonetheless. “Thank you.” His voice was rather soft, almost a whisper, and you practically melted right there, his hands still holding your form ever so lightly.

After a moment of gazing into his eyes, you blinked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a tour.” When you finally looked away from him, you noticed some of your friends giving you knowing grins, which you brushed off with a roll of your eye.

Moving away from the older man, you smiled at him again. “Let’s start over here and then go around.”

Negan agreed and followed you around as you showed him the entirety of your home; Safe Haven. It was refreshing to him, to see a new place with new faces. No one judging him for his past.

When you’d gone through the whole community, with an occasional stop here and there, you eventually made it to your house. “You have a beautiful home here, (y/n). Thank you for taking me in.”

For someone you used to know as a cocky ass teacher, he had turned very soft. Or it had just always been buried deep inside him. Either way, it was nice to be able to see that side of him. Sure, in the past month or so, you’d definitely seen that cocky side as well, and you had to admit; you loved it. There was nothing like that gentle sound in his voice, nothing that made you as calm as when you heard that.

“There’s something else… since there aren’t any homes free, I was going to offer mine. I have a spare room with a couch that can be used as a bed, too. Unless you’d rather stay somewhere else?”

A little laugh left Negan’s lips as he shook his head, “That sounds perfect.” His smile made you feel a little something inside, but before you could put too much thought into that, you walked up to the door and opened it for him. “Come in.”

After showing him around the house, you felt quite hungry, and as a thank you for giving him this opportunity, he offered to make you both dinner. Much to your surprise, he was an excellent cook, managing to make something very special.

“This is delicious, Negan.” You said after a moment, your eyes meeting his while the two of you sat at your dinner table. He smiled and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’.

Perhaps it was a little awkward, to suddenly be so free in each other’s presence, and to know that you’d be together almost every day from now on. But it was also exciting; you couldn’t wait for it all.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Negan’s voice pulled you back to your dinner, a light blush of embarrassment creeping up your neck as a chuckle left your lips, “Sorry… I was just—I was thinking about how nice it is to have you here.”

A smile entered the older man’s face, looking down at his empty plate as he nodded. “I’m glad to be here.”

That smile… God, that fucking smile had your knees weak every damn time. You were lucky you were sat down on a chair, or your legs would’ve surely given in.

“It’s quite funny, isn’t it? Us… sitting here, eating dinner together. I never thought I’d meet anyone from before again, let alone my old gym teacher.”

“Jesus (y/n), don’t remind me I was your teacher.” A soft groan left the man’s lips, his hand moving up to cover his face. His reaction had you laughing a little and you slowly got up, moving to gather your plates so you could clean up.

When you stood close by him, he removed his hand from his eyes and looked up at you, “Let me help.” but you shook your head at his words, “You already cooked, I’ll clean up. Go get cosy in the living room, have a good look around. There’s some books and stuff.”

He tried very sweetly to get you to agree to him helping you clean up, but you weren’t having it and promptly sent him out of the kitchen, a smile on your lips as you watched him finally go.

Cleaning up the kitchen didn’t take very long, considering it was only the two of you and a few pans and knives. Soon enough, you finished up and left the kitchen, as well. When you got closer to the living room, you smiled when you heard some music playing.

Not very long ago, you were on a run and found a record player and some records, still all in good shape. With some arguing, you managed to keep it for yourself, giving it a nice spot in your living room.

When you heard which song was playing, you had to laugh. It was such a cheesy one, but you loved it. It was an old 80s record: Lady In Red by Chris de Burgh.

As soon as you appeared in the doorway to the room Negan was in, his hand reached out for yours and he gently pulled you closer. Your heartrate picked up at the action and sudden closeness of your bodies, eyes slightly widened.

“Relax.” His voice soothed you, making you relax in his grip as you moved your own arms up around neck. “Just follow my lead.”

You did as he told you, following his lead. Soon enough, you had the moves under control and your body loosened up a little, a smile appearing on your face.

Negan was a good amount taller than you, yet it felt like your faces were mere inches apart from one another.

When you looked up, you noticed Negan was already looking at you and you felt your cheeks heating up. Ever since that first time you saw him in Alexandria, you started falling for him, and now you were in it, deep.

His gazed flicked down from your eyes to your lips, making your heart almost jump out of your chest. Unwillingly, your gaze did the same, really focusing on his lips and the way they were ever so slightly parted.

You were already absentmindedly moving to stand up on your toes, when Negan suddenly pulled away, leaving a cold space behind where his body was just pressed against yours.

It only really hit you what happened when Negan moved towards the record player to turn the thing off. “It’s getting late, (y/n/n). We should go upstairs.”

The realisation of what was going on made your chest ache, a small frown appearing on your forehead, which you quickly hid when your eyes met his again. A small chuckle (that absolutely didn’t reach your eyes) falling from your lips.

“Yeah, let me get you some clean bedsheets for your bed.”

Feeling like you were suffocating in that room, you quickly left to go upstairs and make Negan’s bed. He really… really did just pull away the moment you were about to… kiss? Yeah, that’s exactly what happened. Your eyes closed for a moment while you stood by his bed, the sheets in your hands.

Fucking hell, what were you thinking? What the hell were you thinking? Now everything would be awkward as fuck, just because you couldn’t keep your little crush to yourself.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had you opening your eyes. “You need any help?” It was Negan, of course it was. You quickly shook your head, giving him a smile, “No, I can manage this, don’t worry. You can go use the bathroom now if you want.”

He nodded at your suggestion and left you be again, making you sigh out deeply as you got to fixing his bed.

When you were done, you left to go to your own room. You gathered the clothes you would sleep in and waited until you heard Negan leave the bathroom.

What you hadn’t anticipated, was the fact that he could’ve possibly slept shirtless. So when you saw him standing in the hallway, in just some shorts, you felt yourself freeze on the spot.

There was definitely some awkward tension, despite both Negan ad you trying to act as if nothing happened. “It’s all yours.” He eventually spoke up, smiling while pointing at the bathroom.

“Thanks. If there’s anything else you need…”

He shook his head, his dimples on display making you melt. “I’m good, thank you. Sleep well, (y/n).”

You returned the wish of a good night, before slowly disappearing into the bathroom. After doing your thing, you returned to your bedroom and slipped into your bed.

Another deep sigh left your lips before you let your eyes fall shut, sleep soon consuming you.

The next day, you were up early and that turned out to be a good thing when one of your friends, Julian, came to find you and ask for your help. There was something wrong with one of the barriers holding the wall up by the gates, so you went to work and got it fixed.

It was already noon when you saw Negan’s figure walking around the grounds. He was holding some gardening tools, so you figured he offered to help with planting new crops. It was nice of him, to start working and helping the community so quick after his arrival.

The day went by in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, you were half sitting, half lying on the couch. Dinner had been something easy today and Negan was just finishing with cleaning up before he joined you.

Even though there was some tension between you two earlier, it seemed to be all gone now, which you were very grateful for.

The couch was just big enough for the both of you to fit on, though not without your bodies touching. Your mind was going back to last night, but you closed your eyes and managed to think of something else before you got too into it.

You had no idea what Negan was doing, but when you opened your eyes, you saw him looking at you in deep thought. He didn’t even realise you caught him staring at you before he blinked.

“Everything okay?” you asked gently, making him let out a soft laugh. Something seemed to be on his mind.

Before he answered, he sighed. “I was an idiot last night.”

His words caught you off-guard; did he mean— “I don’t know why I pulled back. I didn’t want to, that’s for fucking sure.”

So, he did mean that. “It’s okay, Negan. I shouldn’t have initiated anything, I was a bit lost in… well, in you, I guess.”

There was no reason to beat around the bush anymore, was there? An embarrassed look entering your face, but he was quick to shake his head. “No, you did exactly what I was hoping for. I just chickened out.”

Once again, his words had you surprised, and the look on your face made him laugh. “Yeah, you heard that right.”

You burst into a soft fit of laughter, moving to sit up a little while your laughter died down. “So… if I were to do it again, you wouldn’t pull back?”

He shook his head.

Well, that made you nervous. But a good nervous. Like, the kind of nervous you get when you get ready for a first date you’re excited for.

Slowly, you scooted closer to him, until your side was practically pressed up against his side. He already turned his body a little; the position would make it easier for you to reach him.

Your heart practically jumped out of your chest with the rate it was beating at, but you pushed your insecurities to the side and moved closer and closer to the man sitting beside you, until your faces were only inches apart, again.

Negan must’ve noticed your hesitation because he was the one to make the last move. Your lips connected in a warm and soft kiss, Negan’s hand gently meeting your face. His fingers were rough as they traced over the side of your face.

You sighed out softly into the kiss, slowly moving yourself closer to him. He got what you were getting at and lifted you up just enough so you could slip into his lap, your arms wrapping around his neck again. Your fingers slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck. The action earned you a soft groan from the man sitting beneath you.

When you pulled apart, you were breathless. your faces remained close, and the feeling of Negan’s beard tickling your chin made you chuckle, which in return, caused him to chuckle.

One of Negan’s hands gently pushed your face back just enough so his eyes could meet yours, “That’s what should’ve happened last night. I even tried to set the mood with the cheesy fucking music.”

That made you laugh, your fingers playing with his hair at the back of his head. It was so soft. “I love it when you smile.”

God, he was on a roll, wasn’t he? Managing to make you feel so good and safe, and managing to make you blush like an idiot. “Thank you. I could say the same about you, you have a beautiful smile.”

Now it was his turn to look down, as if he was shy. The action was endearing, it made your heart skip a beat. Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his forehead.

The two of you stayed like that for a while. Holding each other, sharing kisses and loving glances. The moment was more perfect than you could’ve ever imagined it to be, but like everything, it had to end.

It was already really late and you both had a busy day on the planning for tomorrow, so it was time to go to bed. Before you went upstairs, though, Negan grabbed your hand, that signature grin of his back on his face.

“You making me sleep on the couch again tonight?”

“Woah, woah, tiger.” You laughed at his words, nudging him lightly. “Not so fast. Step by step. Soon enough you’ll be allowed in my bed.”

You finished your words with a wink at him. He was only teasing, and so were you, you both knew that. But to say the idea of him holding you at night while you were sleeping didn’t sound appealing was a lie. In fact, you couldn’t wait until the moment he would do just that.

#negan #negan fanfic #negan x reader #negan smith #fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fan fiction #one shot #negan oneshot #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #twd #jeffrey dean morgan #jeffrey dean morgan fanfic #soft negan #jdm

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 1 - Decoy [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Here we go my loves, the first chapter! ❤ I hope you like it, and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

As always, I don’t own anything.

Word Count: 2200

Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence, death, manipulation, language.

Summary: Trouble has a way of following certain people.

Sometimes you wondered whether you would run away screaming when you were a child if you knew what kind of a person you would turn into.

It wasn’t exactly your fault though. For years and years, several people had put the blame on several different things. Eventually they would reach the same conclusion though; the psychiatrists, your superiors, the very few people you could call your family, they all agreed on one thing.

It wasn’t you, it was the abandonment.

The abandonment you went through when you were a teenager had somehow started this domino, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop this constant fall, not even you.

But as you would figure out soon, you were lucky. Instead of being consumed by your anger, you could direct it somewhere else. You were recruited and trained from a very young age, and somewhere along the way, you realized that if you wanted to survive you were going to have to sacrifice certain things.

Forgiveness was the first one to disappear. Guilt was another.

Then fear.

Then, love.

Ah well. Worse things happen in the world every day.

If anything it made your job easier.

You cracked your neck and opened the door to your apartment, the key sticking to your fingers because of the blood on your hands for a moment and you made a face as you shut the door, leaning back.

A very long shower and a bottle of wine sounded like a good idea.

You placed your gun on the table, took the dagger strapped to your thigh out of its holster and got the knives out of the heels of your shoes before flinging yourself onto your couch and turning the TV on.

“Also called Sokovia Accords 2.0 by the critics—“

“What the superheroes think about this remains a mystery—“

“The first time caused a huge rift between Captain America and Iron Man but nobody knows the new Captain America Sam Wilson’s comment on it—“

You didn’t get to change the channel again when your phone started vibrating in your pocket, making you sit up straight. You muted the TV, and checked the caller I.D before you answered.

“Hey there.”

“Hi, how’s Paris?” the cheerful voice of your best friend reached you, “Had enough croissants yet?”

A small smile pulled at your lips. After your only parental figure had left you to go God knew where, General had decided to adopt you and raise you like a daughter. His actual daughter Chloe had welcomed you with open arms, and you had been best friends since then.

Her being the top analyst of the division didn’t hurt either.

“Mm hm, because that’s all I’m doing. Eating croissants, visiting museums—”

“Killing and maiming targets...” she mused, finishing your sentence for you and you heaved a sigh.

“Somehow that last one isn’t included in the city guide,” you pointed out. “Chloe, you know this is a line for—“

“Official contact from General, yeah yeah,” she said, “In my defense, you didn’t pick up the phone an hour ago when I called you from my phone.”

“Do you know how hard it is to use touch screen when your hands are covered in blood?”

“What happened to your sniper rifle, did it fall into Seine?”

“It required close combat,” you said, “And the target swallowed the chip before I could get it, so I had to perform a spontaneous autopsy.”

“Just so you know, whenever you talk about your job I have to watch like a hundred cute videos after I hang up.”

“Happens.” you said, “How’s everything?”

“You missed us already?”

You grinned, “Maybe.”

“Good, because dad wants you back. He’ll contact you any day now.”

Your head snapped up and you stood up from the couch, “Really?”

“Duh. Have you seen how negotiations for these new Accords are going? It’s going to be a mess and we need you here.”

“The second one hasn’t passed officially.”

“Well no, but you know how my father thinks.” she said and you tilted your head.

“Are we sure it’s General who wants me there and not you?”

“Okay, that was one prank ages ago and I didn’t hear the end of it!” she protested, “Don’t you trust me at all?”

“Nope.”

“You know, I’m being the perfect friend and calling you to give you some good news but if you’re going to be like this, my news can wait until you get here.”

You pulled your brows together, “What news?”

“What do I get in return?”

“My endless gratitude,” you deadpanned, “Come on. What news?”

“You can’t tell anyone yet but I think you’re getting a promotion.”

Your breath got caught in your throat, “You’re joking.”

“Don’t forget about me when you become a handler, you hear me?” She let out a laugh, I need friends in high places.”

“Your dad runs the division Chloe. It doesn’t get any higher than that.”

“That doesn’t count!”  

You pressed a hand over your chest, “Just— what kind of a promotion are we talking about?”

“I mean I snooped around his files and casually committed treason.” she said, “But even I don’t know yet. They must be still making the adjustments.”

You opened your mouth to reply but then your phone vibrated again and you lowered it to check the message on the screen.

It was simple but again, all his texts were simple and to the point.

From: General

Time to come back. Jet leaves in 2 hours.

Here goes my shower and wine night.

“Chloe?” you said, walking to the sink to wash your hands so that you could start packing, “You want anything from here? I’m coming home.”

                                              ***

The best thing about being on the move all the time was that you could pack in minutes and the division would take care of the things you had left behind.

Apartments, belongings-

Not that you carried any belongings with you, or bought any more than necessary. It would’ve made you form a bond, which was less than ideal for any spy.

You suppressed the yawn splitting your face and made your way to General’s office. This jet-lag was going to make your life pretty difficult in the following 24 hours, and you were painfully aware of it, but it wasn’t like you could just ask for some time to rest.

That could wait. Your job was more important.

“General?” you knocked on the half open door and he raised his head to look at you before motioning you to enter the room.

“Y/N,” he said, “Close the door please. It’s good to have you back.”

“Thank you sir.”

“Take a seat,” he said and you cleared your throat, then perched on the edge of the chair.

“I’ve heard you eliminated the threat and got rid of our target quite fast,” he said, “And we have the chip now.”

You nodded silently, pushing your hair behind your ear.

“Well, that shows me you’re ready for the next step,” he said “No reason to beat around the bush, you’re getting a promotion.”

Pride burst through your system but you tried to control your expression to stop the grin threatening to pull at your lips.

“Thank you sir.”

“Here are the details for your next mission,” he said, handing you a file that was stamped as Top Secret and you flipped the page to find information about your next identity.

Alias: Shrike

“Shrike,” you murmured to yourself, turning the pages, “Like the bird?”

“Mm hm. I assume you’ve heard about the Accords issue?”

You looked up, “Only a little,” you said, “The first one was a disaster and the government had to drop it after The Blip due to the public’s reaction, resurrected people insisted that the superheroes were the ones who saved them, not the government. Then the government said they would go over the details and change it in a way that would benefit both the public and the superheroes, but I haven’t seen the new version.”

“There were some adjustments but to be honest with you, it’s the same deal. We can’t have superheroes running wild with no orders,” he said, “I need you on both fronts, one with terminating specific targets, and one with….well, you’ll see.”

You flipped the page and blinked a couple of times, your stomach dropping.

You were good, but you weren’t that good.

“You- you’re sending me after Captain America, sir?”

“Ah no,” he said, “Don’t worry. Wilson doesn’t have a past we can use against him, and trust me, we checked. The guy is an actual hero but we need a bad guy.”

You turned the page and shut your eyes for a moment.

Bucky Barnes.

Right. You should’ve known.

The government wanted and needed Captain America on their side, but Bucky Barnes could fall for all they cared.

“Sir I appreciate your trust in my abilities but not even an army could take down the Winter Soldier the last time—” you started but General shook his head.

“Y/N, you’re not going to kill him,” he said, “That’s the second front I was talking about. We need you to get close to him, to form a personal bond and gather intel we can use in the future.”

You gawked at him, “I’m sorry?”

“Barnes is the perfect candidate. He can help us with necessary information to prove to the public that superheroes need to answer to someone; us. Besides if it all goes bad, we can just say he was a threat. With that kind of past no one would think he was innocent to begin with.”

Your head was spinning. Scratch that, the whole room was spinning.

You were good at finding and terminating targets, not forming personal bonds or playing this

“When you say get close to him….” You trailed off, your voice way too weak and he smiled slightly.

“You’re an attractive woman, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with that.”

That. That was your promotion.

Not an operations officer, not a handler, but a lover who also happened to kill people.

They were going to use you as a honey trap for him.

“Sir, I don’t think-“ you started, but he held up a hand.

“Before you say no,” he said, “Let me remind you that this will benefit your career greatly, and you will have your own team. Show us you can handle it, and the position you want will be within your reach, you have my word. You want to be a handler, don’t you?”

You dragged your fingernails on the file, deep in thought.

“Barnes is one of the many dangerous people we may need to stop one day, and the only way to do it is to keep him under control and learn everything he knows until we’re ready to take him in.”

“But if these new Accords don’t pass—“ you started but he shook his head.

“Even if they don’t, and that’s a big if,” he said, “He’s still a valuable asset to have. We all have to perform certain missions, Y/N. Even if we don’t particularly like them. You will thank me in the future, when your career flourishes.”

Your blinked a couple of times, a bitterness appearing in your mouth.

“Of course,” you managed to say, “You’re— you’re right sir. It’s a good plan. I accept the position.”

“Great!” he clapped his hands together, “We have a target for you for tomorrow night, there’s this gallery opening. He needs to be eliminated, I think you can handle that? Start planning how it will go with Barnes as well, we can’t lose any time.”

You pursed your lips together and closed the file, “Of course.”

“Congratulations.” he leaned in slightly, “Your dad would be so proud of you if he could see you now.”

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it felt like it was getting bigger and bigger.

“I don’t need his approval,” you rasped out and walked to the door, but stopped when you heard him speak.

“Shrike,” he used your alias for the first time and you looked over your shoulder.

“Yes?”

“I don’t have to remind you that this mission is top secret. If he figures out who you are, or what you’re up to…” he clicked his tongue, “Kill him.”

You paused for a moment, then tilted your head and smiled at him.

“As you wish, sir.” you managed to say, then walked out of his office as if someone was chasing you. You made your way straight to the bathroom and slammed the file on the marble counter, then pulled out the small picture sticking out from the corner. It was an old black and white picture of him with Steve Rogers, probably taken in the 40s, both of them smiling. 

When you lowered the picture to attach it back to the paper, your eyes caught the tiny print under his aliases.

Confirmed Kills: Exact number unknown (Credited with 100+ assassinations)

You were in way, way over your head now.

“Oh, fuck.”

                                  Chapter 2

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #the falcon and the winter soldier #falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #the winter soldier #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #the winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier imagine #burn the witch

[missallsundaes]

Sanji x Male Reader — Amateur Chef

2111 Words • CW dealing with repressed bisexuality

When Luffy heard your self proclaimed cooking skills in the town market to a friend, he immediately invited you on to the ship, even without trying your food. A bigger crew needs more cooks, was his reasoning for Sanji. Sanji wasn't exactly happy about the new addition to his kitchen, possessive about his things and how the kitchen was maintained. And he was sure that you wouldn't take the same care as he did. At least you had your own set of knives, he thought with a sigh.

The first night cooking together proved to be...a challenge. He was paying you no mind, working in his own entrees for the crew, but the haphazard slap of the kitchen knife against the chopping board, well he could only stand it for so long before his temper got the better of him.

“What the fuck are you doing over there, amateur?” He seethed, turning to face you.

You sheepishly set down your knife on the counter, stepping back to show Sanji the vegetables you were cutting. His heart skipped a beat, seeing your rough cut shapes and uneven chops.

“What are you doing to that poor food!” Worded like a question, but spat at you like an insult. He approached you cutting board, staring down at the mangled shapes of potato, carrot and celery, hand frustratingly pulling through his hair.

“Well I'm just making soup..” You started, you were a bit offended but the chef in front of you was too intimating to talk back to. You'd heard enough stories about Black Leg Sanji to know when to keep your mouth shut.

“So you decided to torture your poor ingredients?” He reached for his own knife, wiping it clean with a cloth before trying to salvage the vegetables. You watched in awe as he saved first the potatoes, then the celery. He looked at you before touching the chunks of carrot on the board.

“You taking notes, amateur?” He said. His voice was softer now though his tone was still harsh. He raised the visible eyebrow, “Come over here and learn how it's done.”

He waved you over to stand in front of him, placing his hand over yours on your knife, he guided your left hand into place, showing you the gentle fist to protect your fingers without losing grip on the vegetables. He started slow, chopping motions in cool even bursts, slicing the chunks of carrot into perfectly measured cubes. You tried to pay attention but the beating of your heart in your throat, his warm hand over yours, and his firm chest placed against your back was all that your mind could focus on.

When the carrot was taken care of he let go of your hand, leaving you feeling you were missing something. You watched him cross the kitchen again, standing again in front of his own prep, you watched him skillfully pull the bones from a huge fish in one movement, running his hand over it to make sure it was all removed, looking for even the smallest of bones.

You hadn't heard about how gentle he was. How careful in the kitchen with perfect mannerisms. He looked at you, and you realized how obviously caught up in watching him you were, jumping to peel the garlic in front of you for your soup. He laughed, turning back to his prep, beginning to make a marinade with fresh lemons and cracked pepper for the fish.

“You're not a chef are you?” He said, looking at you briefly as he squeezed the lemons of their juice.

“No not at all,” you said sheepishly, ”I know a few recipes but when a wanted pirate grabs you and tells you you're going to be a chef on his crew you listen, you know? It's not like I was in a position to refuse..”

He sighed, knowing exactly how enthusiastic Luffy could be when he set his mind on something. “Don't worry, you can be my sous chef. I'll teach you what you need to know. We'll start with more knife practice for breakfast tomorrow, I hope you're okay getting up early.”

You thought briefly of how much you were not a morning person, though this was not the time to mention that. You nodded, “Thanks for helping me. You're a kind man.”

Sanji's face flushed at the genuine compliment, turning around quickly as if there was a pressing matter in the fridge to attend to. “N-nonsense it's just the right thing to do.” He stammered, head buried in the fridge, looking desperately for an ingredient to pull out that would make sense.

///

He kicked your hammock in the men's cabin, foot still perched on your side as you swayed back and forth, trying to regain your senses, shaken from a dream about your new crewmates, the one in front of you in particular.

“I thought you could be up early,” he laughed.

The room was still full of the snoring of the other men, the only light from the lantern in Sanji’s hand, casting golden light across him. He was already dressed in his slacks and dress shirt, looking primed for the day. You were sure that you looked the absolute opposite, feeling the drool caked to your cheek and knowing your hair was probably a wreck.

“Uh, about that,” you chuckled, climbing out of the hammock and hopping to the floor of the cabin. “I may not be as much of a morning person as I said.”

“I figured as much when you didn't wake up the first few times I kicked you.” He said, “Though I bothered you enough for you to say my name in your sleep.”

You turned from him, hiding your face by searching for a clean set of clothes, forcing an awkward laugh, “Oh yeah I must have subconsciously known you were trying to wake me.”

“Well hurry up, these idiots won't be asleep forever, and you do not want to see Luffy without his breakfast.” He left the room for you to get dressed, and you trudged to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

When you met him in the kitchen, he had a multitude of fruits set up at your station. You could smell bacon in the oven already, and he was whipping a large bowl of eggs for what you could only imagine was the biggest omelette of all time.

“Took you long enough.” He said, though he had a smirk on his face, his harsh attitude from yesterday softened.

“Am I chopping these?” You said, lifting your knife to slice the strawberries laid out on the board.

“Ah ah wait. Hold on I'm almost done.” He said, setting down the bowl of whipped eggs on the counter. He approached you, watching over your shoulder. “Do you remember the lesson from yesterday?”

You nodded, ”I think so.” you put your hand in the position he showed you, holding the knife how it felt under his guiding hand, breathed in and started slicing the strawberries.

The difference in your cuts from yesterday to this morning was leagues away. He adjusted your elbow, his firm gentle touch making your heart flutter, and just the adjustment of your arm made your slices neater. “Breathe,” he said, his own breath hot in your ear and making you catch your breath instead. You struggled to retain your breathing, but your cuts were messier now. He took your hand again, your heart beating through your chest. “You're making this so much harder than it is, watch. Breath with me.”

You times your breathing to match his, his firm chest pressed into you, his hand over yours. You felt your chests rise in succession together, making you feel as one. His hand held yours in place, but you were doing the work.

“Exactly like that,” he praised, you felt like you could melt right then and there. “You're doing great.”

He let go of you, stepping back to the stove top to heat a huge skillet for his omelette. “You've got it from here I presume.” You watched him for a moment, testing the temperature of the pan before adding his eggs and watching them diligently. “Most of breakfast is ready, so just get the fruit cut and plated and then we can wake up the crew.”

You nodded, “Thanks again, Sanji.” You said, continuing to chop the fruit in front of you, plating it up on the large platter he had set out.

///

The next few weekswent the same, Sanji waking you in the morning. Him teaching you new techniques to use in the kitchen. Making three meals a day together, not including if someone wanted a snack, getting closer and closer until you couldn't bear it. Your feelings for the man were definitely growing, you had a sneaking suspicion that he had similar feelings for you, but the constant doting of the girls on the crew made you doubt yourself, fearing that he wasn't into men the way you were.

You had already made fresh baked bread together that morning, as you watched his hands knead the dough tauntingly slow, his strong hands rolling it out and beating it down, his sleeves rolled up you could see the flexing of every muscle in his forearms.

You were cracking about two dozen eggs into a large skillet to fry, trying not to think about how close he was to you, chopping chives to put on top of your fried eggs.

“Sanji,” you said, rinsing your hands of the raw eggs in the sink.

He didn't look up from his work, now slicing pieces of smoked salmon, “Eh?” He said.

“I think I might have a problem,” you said, trying desperately not to look at the blond sharing the kitchen with you. He set down his knife, immediately checking your eggs over, the stove temperature, any kitchen error he could think of before looking you incredulously in the face. “It's not my food.” He looked more relieved than you expected and you laughed.

“What is it then?” He said, curly brow peaked with curiosity.

“I think I fell for one of my crewmates since I've been on the ship.” You flipped your eggs carefully, trying not to break your yolks.

“Oh? Nami? Robin?” He said, going back to work at his salmon. He wasn't jealous, per say, it's not like he really expect to feel this way about you. Plus the girls were gorgeous in every way, how could a red blooded man not fall for them. He still didn't know how to accept his feelings for you, forcing down any hint of bisexuality that he ever felt, blocking out those feelings, usually with anger.

“Uh no,” you said, turning off the heat on the stove and letting the residual heat finish your eggs as you seasoned them with salt and pepper. Beginning to set up the crews plates with thick slices of your fresh bread, two eggs each (four for Luffy and Zoro), sprinkling the chives on top, and passing the plates to Sanji to top with smoked salmon and hollandaise sauce.

After a moment of silence so thick you could slice it with the kitchen knife next to you, you continued, “Sanji, it's you.”

He almost dropped the plate he was holding, and you both moved quickly in reaction, hands one on top of the other under the plate. “What,” he said, worded like a question but tone flat in disbelief.

“Just, spending all this time with you has meant so much to me,” you withdrew your hand, looking away from him to hide the tinge of crimson on your cheeks. “Having you close to me, your guiding hands. Your strength. I can't help it.” He was still frozen in place, thoughts racing. “Just don't worry. Never mind, forget I said anything!” You said, plating the last of your half of the plates.

“Wait,” he said, as you were leaving the galley to wake the crew, “I think I fell for you too.” You stopped in the doorway, turning back to face him, but his back was to you. “I grew up not allowed to be who I wanted and even though I can now it's still hard to accept who I am. But I want to learn and be better. I want to be with you.”

“Do you mean that?” You said, letting the door swing back closed.

“Yeah,” he laughed, he turned to you smiling with tears in the corners of his eye. “Yeah I definitely mean it.” He wiped his eye, “Come on then, let's go wake up the ravenous beasts.”

#Sanji x reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #black leg sanji x reader #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji vinsmoke #one piece #one piece x reader #male reader

[piers-wifey]

Here is a small reading sample from the first chapter of my story. It's not proof read, so, sorry for any mistakes. Also bear with me, cuz it's the first time I'm writing a story in English.

—-—-

The cold, dark ocean water fell upon them like a savage beast. Its touch felt like as if the sharp blades of a thousand knives were leaving their marks on the woman's skin. But the sharp pain of the saltwater in her wounds was nothing compared to the burning sensation inside her body.

Like a ruthless force, the fire inside her tore at her guts; melted her bones and boiled her blood. She could literally feel her body turning and twisting under the heat, while her head was pounding painfully and felt like it was about to explode any second. And the ear ringing howling of the alarms, which created a counterpoint to the splashing and gurgling of the icy seawater as she waded through the masses, only worsened her state. What in God's name was happening to her?

“Hang in there, okay? We'll be out of here in no time. Just keep moving”, a unfamiliar voice urged as a pair of hands kept pulling at her.

Every step felt like as if someone had put weights on the woman's ankles. Stumbling and groaning, she moved forward. The world around her was spinning. With her eyes wide open, she tried to see something in the blackness around her as she followed the unknown voice. But no matter how much she blinked, or how hard she squinted her eyes, the world around her remained dark. A wave of panic came over her.

Was she blind?

She wasn't a medic, but she could definitely tell that something was wrong with her eyes. They were burning - just like the rest of her body. And the only thing she could "see" were sudden flashes of light. But these were not enough to help her find her way in her surroundings. Desorientated, presumably blind and resisting the urge to throw up, she did what the man had told her and kept walking.

“We're almost there, just hold on a little longer, yeah? We'll get you out of here.”

The woman wanted to lift her head to see who was talking to her, but she could barely muster the strength to stay on her feet. When she opened her mouth to ask the stranger what was going on, a grotesque sound came out.

'My voice! What's with my voice!?'

The woman panicked and tried to lift her arm to feel if her throat was being ripped open. But the moment she tried to move her arm, another wave of excruciating pain shot through her body. She let out a quiet whimper. Why did everything hurt so much? What the hell was happening to her?

“Shh, don't talk. Save your energy”, the man said in a gentle voice and carefully wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Something about the way he talked to her felt comforting.

“Come on you two! This whole thing will collapse any moment!” a second voice yelled. It sounded a lot rougher and commanding. The woman could feel the person next to her stiffen up. She half expected him to say something, but he just sighed, tightened his grip on her and began to walk faster. That caused her to let out another pained groan.

“I'm sorry”, the man mumbled and gently squeezed her hand. “It's not far now, I promise. We're almost out.”

The woman just nodded and let the unknown man drag her through the masses of water. At first she tried to keep up with him, but the more she tried to adapt to his pace, the more her legs gave way. It was thanks to the strangers strong hold that she didn't fell to the ground.

“Shit!”, the male cursed loudly before lifting the sniper onto his back. Panting and grunting under the extra weight, he began to continue his way.

Unfortunately, the sudden movement caused the woman on his back to have a coughing fit. A violent one at that.

“Hey! Hey! Don't die on me now!”, the stranger barked, his voice full of panic at the blood coming from his teammate's mouth and running down his body.

Icy claws ran over the female's body as she coughed up more blood and even bits of her intestines. Something was terribly wrong with her body. Wide eyed and with her mouth full of blood and vomit, the woman began to gasp for air.

“Let go of me!”, she tried to say, but the only sound that came out of her mouth was a gurgling scream, followed by another gush of blood.

“It's okay, I've got you. Help is on the way”, the man tried to reassure her, but it was no use. Within seconds, the injured sniper had regained enough energy to thrash and squirm on his back with such force, that he could no longer hold her and had to drop her.

With a loud »splash!« the woman fell into the ankle-deep water. The man immediately reached down to help the woman sit up, but as soon as he touched her, she aggressively swatted his hand away.

“What-”

“Stay away from me!”, the sniper managed to say before throwing up another load of blood. Tears streaming down her cheeks at the stabbing pain in her head and chest. A sudden urge to hurt the other person rose up inside her. “Please... go...”, she whispered.

“I will not leave you here!”

“Not.... safe.”

“Kill him!”, another voice hissed, causing the woman to clench her fists. She had to make the other person leave, before it was too late.

#In my Remains #My writing #Piers talks

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Barrage

For @whumptober2021 day 3:  taunting | insults | “Who did this to you?”

CW: War whump, WWI, dehumanization, vampire whumpee, degrading language, negative/panic stimming due to sensory overload, casual ableism (it’s not intended as such, but effectively is), period-appropriate xenophobia, implied future loss of limb, brief religious talk at end

1918, the Western Front of World War One

-

If he’s screaming, he can’t hear himself over the sounds of the artillery.

Shells fly through the air with the only warning a high whistle before they burst apart in blasts that shake the trenches like an infant with a rattle, knocking free dirt from the sides of the trenches.

It drifts down to land on his shoulders, settling over the hands he has over his head. His palms press against his ears and it does nothing, absolutely nothing. There are tears in his eyes, fear bleeding pink into mud that simply turns darker, seeing no difference between vampiric saltwater and blood. 

Not that there is much of a difference, really. 

His mouth is wide open against the ground, throat taut, lungs tight with the expulsion of air but the vibration of sound in his throat is so overwhelmed by the rumbling of the earth and the barrage slamming into the ground around him that he can’t feel if he’s making any sounds or not.

If he had a beating heart it would be pounding, but it lays still in his chest, locked in the final heartbeat he’d had more than a decade before. 

That he is already dead never quite undoes the visceral horror of sounds too loud for a human mind to understand, destruction too total and complete. The part of him that is still human shrieks at him to run, but there isn’t anywhere to go.

The barrage is everywhere, it’s in everything. The trees blast apart above their heads, branches and fragments of bark and leaves rain down into the trench. 

The other men hunker down, trying not to look directly up, each of them with eyes closed or staring off into space, flinching now and then, hands trembling so hard their rifles rattle. There’s no point in moving - the shells will find them if they so much as pop up over the bags. All they can do is wait, and wait, and hear the sounds without knowing which come from their own side and which from the enemy.

In a moment like this, the human body knows only terror, and there is nowhere to run to escape it.

Finally, the sounds start to die off. A final whistle, a single explosion, and then everything falls silent.

Not that the vampire boy can tell, not at first.

His ears keep ringing, painful noise that is inside him and not without. He slowly pulls his hands off from his ears and pushes up to his knees, shuddering, rocking back and forth in an attempt to soothe his nerves. He can feel, now, the vibration in his throat. He can’t hear himself but he must be humming, low and tuneless, trying to drown out the panic. 

Once the shells have finished, the gunfire begins.

“Here they come! Steady aim, boys, the Krauts are on us!”

The sound of the soldier’s voice seems tinny and small, so distant, trapped behind the ringing in Tristan’s ears. He screams himself, into the mud beneath him. Someone races past, stopping briefly to pat his head. If they speak, he can’t hear them over the shrieking noise inside his mind.

Short reports break through the air like thrown knives, the soldiers in the trenches alongside him popping briefly up from behind their protective shield of sandbags to fire on the German infantry who come out of the shell-smoke like a swell of horrible phantoms. 

They fall, they cry out, they hit the ground.

Sometimes the Americans let out a cry themselves, someone is fired upon and falls. Someone else yells in fierce victory. Someone shouts a curse. 

He hears a man shout, “I won’t die today!” and hopes it’s true.

Tristan loses time, shivering compulsively and curling into himself, humming and rocking until the ringing finally starts to die down. Longer, still, as long as the rifles continue to fire. He hears a wild, high-pitched cry, and glances up to see a German with a bayonet through him drop to his knees and then fall into the trench, landing less than three feet away.

The man’s probably dead before he hits, but Tristan still screams and pushes back, scrambling until his back hits the wall. His knees are damp from the mud he’s curled up in and he doesn’t care, he’s never cared. All that matters is finding some small hint of peace.

It seems like an eternity before even the gunfire starts to go quiet.

There’s a voice that calls, but he can’t care enough to let the sounds filter into understandable words. He smacks his hands into the mud, again and again, pushing himself forward and back, finally leaning down to knock his head into the ground, over and over. Each contact with solidity is a soothing rush, slowly working its way down his spine and through his muscles, reminding him that the noise is gone, the noise is over.

The voice calls again.

There’s no more guns firing, no more shells. The world settles into an awful heavy silence that is nearly worse than the sounds. They’re in the middle of a forest more vast than any Tristan has ever seen before, and there are no birds, because there are no more trees for the birds to live in.

Only the doughboys and the enemy, everyone the walking dead. They’re as dead as Tristan is, their bodies just haven’t figured it out yet. And they won’t get back up when they fall.

The vampire keeps knocking his head into the ground. It helps to stop his thoughts from spinning and swirling in a mad spiral inside.

It doesn’t help enough.

He’s brought back to himself by a kick, a fellow soldier’s boot knocking hard into his hip and sending him onto his side. He grunts and looks up, squinting. The German soldier’s corpse is gone - they’ve moved it while he was locked within himself, within his terror. The sky above them has a sickly glow beneath heavy clouds brought on by smoke from the fires and explosion. 

The soft sound of distant wounded calling for help filters into his understanding. 

The soldier that kicked him, Kirk, gives him a grin. The man’s face is streaked with mud, dark with it, and only his teeth and his eyes show white. “Hey, medic. Didn’t you hear the officers?”

Tristan looks up at him, and slowly shakes his head. His ears ring, a little, but all their ears ring. They’re all shouting just to be heard.

“Huh. Well, trench got blown apart off to the east. It’s your time to do what you do best, fangs. Go sniff out the ones we can save.” Kirk grins. “Like a fucking dog.”

The vampire closes his eyes, shuddering, looking away, shaking his head more in denial than in real refusal. It feels like the shells are still breaking apart inside him, shuddering rumbles inside his nerves now, not up in the sky. His whole body shakes. “I, I, I c-c-can’t, can’t, I-... I c-can’t go, go up there, c-can’t-”

“Doesn’t matter what you wanna do or not, bloodfuck. You think any of us would be here if anyone important gave a damn about our feelings? Gotta earn your bloodbags, don’t you? Get up there with the dogs where you fucking belong. ”

The other soldiers laugh as Kirk kicks him again. Their laughter isn’t even mean, exactly, but carries an edge of hysteria. It’s a release of tension after the barrage for them, after the gunfire, after the loss or three or four of their own, listening to how Kirk talks to him. It makes them all feel better, reminds them they’re still alive by reminding them that the vampire isn’t.

And, for whatever it is worth, it seems they’ve held the line.

To Tristan’s mind, a bit of land doesn’t seem worth what they are being asked to suffer.

He uncurls himself slowly, his bones aching in protest of his movements, his body begging him not to show himself above the bags, to be potentially seen by a German sniper just waiting for the American soldiers to pop up thinking it’s all over and make excellent little targets.

The vampire reaches out with a trembling hand to pick up his helmet where it’s been discarded beside him, stuffing his hair up underneath as he pulls it on. He tries to buckle it, but he keeps dropping the straps. His fingers won’t close, they’ll only shake. 

Kirk finally huffs a sigh and leans forward, grabbing him by one arm and yanking him over, taking the straps in hand and doing the buckle himself, jerking it too tight until the vampire whimpers at the pinch. “You’re fucking useless, bloodsucker. Go on. Serve your fucking country, like the rest of us. We’ll see you later. Hey. We made it, huh? This time we keep breathing. Well, we keep breathing, anyways. You keep… uh, whatever it is you do.”

The vampire nods, slowly, eyes searching Kirk’s for some hint of something other than his hatred. 

For the first time since they were shipped out, Kirk’s expression does soften. 

Just a little bit. 

“Come on, bloodfuck.” He says the insulting name almost like an endearment. “Don’t look like that. You’ll be all right,” He says, voice low, giving the vampire’s chin a playful little shake. “It’s just the artillery, just a little scrap. They brought out their big guns, and look at us, we still got our limbs, ain’t we? You still got those chompers. Hell, none of us wet ourselves this time, so we’re doing a sight better than last time.”

The other soldiers chuckle, a little. Someone mumbles, “That was once.”

“Oh, hush it, Fallows, nobody looks down on you for it, everybody’s a bit crackers the first time they get shelled.”

“Yeah, Fallows, we’ve all been there.”

“Listen, after my first time it took me three weeks to go to the latrine without a buddy just in case, you’re all right.”

The soldier who must be Fallows shifts, but he half-smiles, a little, comforted by the camaraderie around him. Tristan’s heart hurts, wishing he could be part of it, not kept apart by the curse in his blood. 

A different soldier - Tristan thinks the man’s name is Davies - pulls out a canteen of what is probably supposed to be water and almost certainly isn’t. The American army doesn’t imbibe, officially, but Tristan’s never seen an officer who didn’t look the other way after a battle if his men needed liquid courage to make it to the next one. 

“I, I, I’m scared,” The vampire whispers. A tear trickles down the cleared path along the dirt in his face, following the trails of those he’s cried before. Kirk looks at him and rubs his thumb over the vampire’s high cheekbone, smearing dirt back over. Like trying to fill in a dried riverbank. “I’m, um, sc-scared of the sounds, Kirk.”

“So’re the rest of us. Fritz never does it halfway, does he? I get you. We’re still here, for now.” Kirk pats the side of the vampire’s face, almost gently, and then pushes him backwards with a sudden resurgence of his usual careless violence. “Now go find the crump-hole Fritz made of the others and pull out the wounded.”

He has to do this. It’s his job, and it’s the only reason he hasn’t been staked out like the ones who refused to go willingly. The vampire swallows, nodding slowly, and turns away. He has to jog down the narrow line of the trench, past rows of soldiers who watch him with dulled eyes that stare far, far past him. Twice he pops his head up, just for a second, to get a better look at where he should go. 

Ahead of him, the No Man’s Land stretches. It’s a hellscape, cratered and with any hint of greenery long gone. A morass of mud and the still-standing stump of the occasional tree. There are dead men out there, he can smell them. Some new dead, mostly old, the ones that aren’t worth pulling back behind the lines, not yet. Some wounded men who call for water, for help, but who mostly call for their mothers.

Tristan would call for his, too, if he thought it would help.

There’s dead Germans out there, he can see their uniforms on the prone, still bodies. Some of their wounded cry mama, mutti, mutterchen. A few cry papa, vaterchen. Tristan has seen enough dead - some by his own hand, though he never wanted to kill anyone, William didn’t tell him how not to and he had to find that out on his own - to know that nearly everyone, at the end, thinks finally of who they love most.

Someone cries, in a broken voice, “Cady, help me,” and Tristan closes his eyes against the pleading in the sound. 

Seems like more Germans than Americans, this time, and he might see some French, too. It’s hard to tell, with the smoke is still rolling over the land.

He hopes they don’t try to gas each other again. It doesn’t affect the vampires, but he’s seen too many men die choking on their own lungs already, he’s ready to never see such a thing ever again. 

He sighs, gets back down into the trench, and keeps moving.

The ranks thin out, and he finds himself utterly alone for the last few hundred yards.

There’s a brief burst of gunfire that has him shaking again, flinching and stumbling into a depression underneath the top, where a soldier might sleep at night. The vampire stays there, curled up tight staring in fear, until the gunfire subsides.

Once it fades, he hears the barking.

Ambulance dogs.

“Medics! We have wounded!” A man’s voice cries, rough-edged. “We need help!” Ahead of him, the trench collapses in on itself, blown apart by shells. A soldier’s rifle lays in the mud, bayonet glinting faintly. Next to it, a photograph, a young man and woman standing next to each other, dotted with dirt. The woman has a slight smile on her face, and the young man’s arms are around her waist. They look happy.  

The vampire’s throat closes as he looks at it. She’s very pretty, he thinks. She’ll be very sad when she hears that her soldier isn’t coming home. He wishes he had any photographs of his parents. 

If he must be damned to never see them again, even in Eternity, it seems doubly unfair that he can’t even find an image of them to remember them by. He’s sure there were photos taken at the island where they were processed, but those photos weren’t for them. They were kept by the men and women who barked orders at the young Tristan and his parents as they went through the line. 

“We have living wounded!” The man calls again, much closer, and the vampire jolts back into motion. He picks up the photograph and tucks it into one of the pouches at his waist, next to a small vial of plain alcohol he uses to wash out wounds.

He can see the dogs up top as they dig, paws burying themselves with incredible speed in loosened mud as their handlers move next to them, encouraging them. Every dog wears a big white square patch with a cross on each side, marking them as ambulance dogs. The vampire has a patch on his left arm like that, marked with a cross for medic - and a V to make sure he is always known for what he is by anyone who sees him. 

As if the fangs don’t give him away. As if the way his eyes look in the darkness isn’t a clue all its own. 

There’s a high-pitched bark and a shout of triumph, and the vampire looks up and sees a man so covered in dirt he seems less human than golem being helped to his feet. He’s miraculously uninjured except for having been half-buried in mud. 

“Let’s go, soldier,” The dog’s handler says, and then moves quickly away. The soldier follows him, shuffling more than walking, staring around in amazement that he’s still alive.

The Germans could fire again at any moment, of course, and the vampire finds himself frozen, staring up into the yellow-tinged dark sky. There’s a low rumble, a whistle and boom, and he flinches before he realizes the sound is so distant that it must mean shelling much further down the line than he is.

That doesn’t mean what they’re doing is safe.

He’s still staring up at the sky, waiting for the barrage to begin again, when something closes tight around his wrist and he jolts to the side with a cry of shock and fear.

It’s a hand.

A hand, reaching out from the mud. Dirt is ground into every knuckle, under the torn fingernails, into the callouses worn into the pads of his fingers. The hand grasps wildly, blindly, trying to find anything to hold onto.

There’s a living man buried under the mud.

The vampire has to work his throat to find his voice, and when he does he cries out, “We, we, we have living wounded! Living wounded! B-buried, buried, help! I need help!”

There’s a flurry of movement as the vampire lurches forward, gripping onto the hand and digging with his other, trying to give the man who must be in there some reassurance that he is felt, seen, found.

Trying to give him some air before whatever he’s got runs out. 

One of the other medics hops down and lands roughly on their feet next to him. It’s another vampire, one that Tristan has never seen before. They’re older-seeming, with straggly long dark-blond hair barely held back in a plait down their back. The vampires aren’t usually allowed to speak to one another for fear that they’d plan some sort of mutiny, and so the other medic is silent other than a soft grunt, digging into the dirt with their bare hands with inhuman rapidity, uncaring for the possibility of injuries because they simply cannot hurt their muscles any longer.

Tristan feels the hand he’s holding squeeze and he gives two squeezes in return. We’ve got you, just hold on, hold your breath, just a little longer.

Eventually the frantic work of the other medic reveals dirtied blond hair, helmet-less, marked with mud and blood in equal measure from a cut they can see as the man’s forehead is revealed. Then his eyes open wide and very blue, he gasps in air.

“Pl-please,” He manages, his voice a rasp. “Please, help me-”

Tristan exhales an unnecessary breath in relief, and smiles. “Hold, hold, hold on, hold on, we’ve got you, soldier.”

The man sees his fangs but he’s too full of the rush of adrenaline at the prospect that he has been saved from suffocation to be scared of them. Instead he starts to cry, weeping and holding onto Tristan with a bone-crushing grip. 

The other medic hisses as they dig in and find a dead soldier on top of the living one. This one has the telltale slightly-open eyes of someone long gone, body still warm. There’s an awful caved-in look to one side of his head that Tristan refuses to allow himself to see. “Must have protected him that way,” The vampire notes, coldly informative, uncaring. “Dead took the brunt of the blows. One lucky man, one unlucky one. Flip of a coin, living or dying.” They sound like they don’t care at all.

Tristan wonders how long they’ve been a medic. If they maybe felt more at the beginning.

The smell of blood moves through the air like a bubbling stew, making Tristan’s mouth water. He holds back as best he can, pulling to help dislodge the survivor from the dirt his compatriots have died in. 

Some of them still haven’t yet - the vampires can scent the difference between dead and living, and there are more soldiers still breathing under the rubble. He can smell that some are so wounded they won’t last long. Others, though, they’ll get out in time.

Tristan doesn’t look at the slack expression of the dead soldier whose body kept this one alive as he is revealed. The survivor comes free - first his shoulders, then his arms come up to grip tightly around Tristan’s waist. His torso is revealed, his hips…

It’s only when they finally get him fully freed, laying on the ground, that Tristan realizes one of his legs is… wrong. Bent wrong, nearly blasted off. He swallows at the sight.

“We, we, we need a stretcher,” Tristan says, frowning. The soldier groans, as if only now beginning to feel the pain of the shattered bones from his thigh down to his foot. “He, he, he can’t walk. He’s gonna lose the, um, the the the leg.”

“God, no,” The soldier pleads to no one in particular. “Please, no, not my leg…”

“Hush. Better that than your eyes or your face, mouthbreather.” The other vampire launches themself at the side of the trench, clambering back up - only for there to be a sudden burst of new gunfire, and Tristan stares up in panic as the vampire’s body jolts as three bullets pass through them.

They stumble backwards, briefly, then bare their fangs in the direction the gunfire came from and hold up their hands with middle fingers raised high above their head. They give a loud, half-mad trill of laughter.

“Have at it, Huns, I’m already dead!” 

Then they turn on their heels, moving at a rapid jog towards the medical tents nearby. There are bullet holes in the back of their uniform, new fresh ones alongside several that have already been patched up from earlier hits.

“Please, I have to-... have to go home,” The survivor of the bombardment says in a whisper, and Tristan turns back to him, nodding slowly. The man’s face is pinched with agony, but… but he’s familiar. “I can’t die here, fangs. I can’t.”

“Don’t, um, don’t don’t don’t worry… you’ll go home, you will.” He doesn’t know that, not really, but it’s what every soldier wants to hear, and the doughboy beside him lets out a breath of relief and smiles, a little, trusting him. Tristan hitches in a breath, and digs into his belt-bag, pulling the photograph out. It’s the same young man as the subject of the photo, his sweetheart next to him. Maybe she’ll see him again after all.

He holds it out. He sees the soldier blink, struggling to focus.

Tristan clears his throat. “I, I, I… um, I found this.”

The soldier grabs it with his free hand and gives a hysterical, relieved laugh, pulling it to his lips and giving it a kiss. “Marta,” he breathes. “Oh… thank you, fangs. Thanks for finding it.” he looks up at Tristan with a bright smile, teeth seeming terribly white in his dirt-coated face.

They are so rarely kind to him, the soldiers. 

The vampire closes his eyes against a new rush of tears. He whispers, “Look, look, look at the, the, the photo for just a moment for me,” and lifts the soldier’s wrist to his mouth. The soldier knows the score - he doesn’t even go tense. He's probably been bitten a few times before.

When the vampire sinks his teeth in, it’s as gentle as possible. He takes little blood, only pushes venom into the wounds until the soldier’s body goes limp and relaxed, his eyes still locked on the photo of the woman he wishes badly to go home to.

“Tell, tell, tell me, um, about… about, about Marta,” The vampire says, glancing up. He can hear further shouting. The other vampire’s voice, which  means help is on the way. “While we wait for the stretcher.”

The soldier’s eyes drift shut.

“She’s… she’s nineteen. Preacher’s daughter, her ma and two sisters died from the flu this year. She’s got four little brothers who made it, though. We were married just before I was sent to basic training, last fall… Hey.” The soldier looks right at him, meets his eyes. “What’s your name, fangs?”

No one ever asks him that.

He blinks once, twice, three times. “What?”

“Your name. What can I call you?”

“Uh, Tristan, um, Medical, um, Un-dead Medical Private Tristan Higgs.”

“Huh. I’m Dennis. Just… I don’t care for all the titles we get. Just say Dennis. Tired of bein’ called by what I am and not who.”

He nearly laughs. He knows the feeling. “Nice, um, nice to meet you, Den, Dennis.” 

“You, too, Tristan. You’re Irish, right?”

Tristan nods, a little, his smile widening slightly. “Was. Been in New York since, ah, before the turning of the, um, the the century.”

“Were you a vampire when you came here?”

Tristan swallows, looking away. “No.”

“Oh.” Dennis falls silent, for a moment, then squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to bring on bad memories.”

“That’s, um, that’s all right.” Tristan settles onto the muddy ground, with the body of the soldier who didn’t make it visible in the dug-out part of the cave-in, and listens. The other soldier, he thinks, likely would have his own people waiting for him, who now must be told the terrible news - but this man, Dennis, he’ll go home to his Marta, one-legged but alive. 

Dennis never lets go of his hand. 

Whenever his face starts to show his pain again, Tristan lifts the man’s wrist back to his mouth, fills him with venom again, and asks him more questions about home.  

Dennis thanks him for it, every time. 

He says Tristan reminds him of his own brother, who’s still back home working the dairy farm he grew up on. “He’s always been better with the cows than people, anyway. He’d hate all this racket,” Dennis murmurs.

“I, I, I hate it, too.” Tristan smiles, just a little. “I’d say you, um, you get used to it, but…”

“You don’t,” Dennis says, heavily.

“Right. You… no, um, you don’t.”

Tristan hopes Dennis gets to go home to his pretty Marta, his brother and the cows, and never come back to this hell the rest of them are trapped in until its bitter end. He hopes, deeper than that and in a secret place within himself, that he will redeem some of the damnation of what he was turned into by doing as much good as he can while he’s here.

He can’t go home.

Home is people, not a place, and his are long, long gone.

But maybe if he suffers for the good of the living, he’ll be seen as redeemed enough by God and His angels to be allowed to see his mother and father again.

-

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