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2dmenforme · 2 years ago

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(Keisuke Baji x female reader) Mature Content, 18+

Tags: porn with a plot, marijuana use, mentions of alcohol consumption, oral sex (male & female receiving), smut, fluff, Baji has a big dick, breast worship, slightly shy & awkward reader (she can get it though!), Baji w/tongue piercing, pet names (mostly ‘baby’), penis in vagina sex, unprotected sex, Baji is a big simp for the reader, very fluffy ending, Baji and reader are over 18

Synopsis: You recently became friends with Keisuke Baji. You're co-workers at a pet shop and UTokyo students. Now you’re finally alone with Baji for the first time at his place. Your plan is to get high and seduce him. But you're more nervous than you thought. Baji is hot - like so hot.

Word count: 4.5k

A/N: originally posted as a 3 part series on my deactivated tumblr (username Bajiisofine). This is the full version in its entirety, slightly edited.

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It’s the first day of winter break for UTokyo students. To celebrate, Keisuke Baji invited you over to the apartment he shares with his friends and co-workers, Kazutora and Chifuyu. A few weeks ago you began working part-time at Pet Shop Palme, which is how you met the trio.

You had quickly grown accustomed to the four of you going back to their apartment after work to unwind with a few beers or to smoke a bowl. However, today is the first time you've been completely alone with Baji at his place — his roommates are both out of town with their girlfriends.

You and Keisuke are sitting crossed-legged on his bedroom floor, leaning against the wall opposite his unmade bed. A large overflowing ashtray sits between you. His walls are covered in karate tournament flyers and motorcycle posters. A punk playlist plays at a low volume, providing background noise.

"There's like maybe one hit left."

Straightening out his legs, Baji gently taps your bare foot with his pinkie toe to get your attention. You’re trying not to stare at the skin peeking through the rips in his black jeans.

His honey-brown eyes are red and glassy from the weed. After taking his last hit from the pipe he passes it to you. Grasping it, you brush your fingers across his thumb ring. An electric spark jolts through you. You notice the bowl is mostly gray ash at this point but attempt to light it anyway.

“Ugh! That was gross!" You laugh, coughing as you exhale, dumping the remnants into the ashtray between you.

“I warned you,” he chuckles at the face you’re making. “So, whatcha wanna do tonight?" Baji leans his head back against the wall and raises his eyebrows expectantly. Turning to face him, you’re mesmerized by his ink-black hair cascading in soft waves down to his shoulders. Suddenly you feel very shy and break eye contact.

"Um, well… Emma texted me earlier. She said she was able to convince Mikey and Ken to agree to go to karaoke tonight," you giggle, looking down at your chipped nail polish. You met Emma and her best friend Hina at the beginning of the semester and became fast friends. Emma was the one who told you about the job opening at the pet store.

"Pfft," Keisuke laughs, "I would definitely pay good money to see that." He pushes the ashtray away and repositions himself. Before you can raise your head to look at him, he lays his head in your lap, his long hair spilling over your thighs.

Keisuke grins, his sharp canine teeth graze his bottom lip as he reaches up to trace his knuckles along your jawline. His smile widens when your eyes meet. “Hey, pretty,” his deep voice is barely above a whisper.

You freeze, suddenly aware that your heart is beating too loudly. So loud in fact, that he must be able to hear it.

"Baji, I have to pee!" You push yourself up off the floor, trying to hide the fact that you're trembling. His head hits the ground with a hard thud.

"Ow!” Keisuke grimaces, laughing and rubbing his head.

"I'll be right back!" Rushing to his bathroom, you lock the door and look at your reflection. "Shit!"

Your innocent workplace crush on Baji has intensified over the past three weeks you've known him. Normally getting high relaxes you — that was the plan for today: smoke with Keisuke and make your move. But for some reason, his sudden flirting made you feel self-conscious and nervous.

Turning on the faucet, you splash cold water on your face and try to calm down. Glancing in the mirror, you're grateful for your waterproof mascara. After patting your face dry and trying to salvage what you can of your makeup, you text Emma and Hina in group chat to tell them what a fool you just made of yourself. Realizing you've now been in Keisuke's bathroom for over 20 minutes you sigh and flush the toilet.

"Hey! I thought you fell in!" Baji shoots you his toothy smile from a reclined position on his bed. His wavy dark hair pools over the white pillowcases like an oil spill. His sheets are surprisingly clean.

In fact, because of your nerves, that's the first thing that comes out of your mouth. "Your sheets are so clean!"

Keisuke rolls his eyes, "Thanks. I do laundry — sometimes." He laughs and extends his left arm out, making a come here motion with his hand. His silver rings catch your eye. Baji’s hands are beautiful: large and veiny with long slender fingers.

He notices you staring at his hand, “What? It's clean, stop judging me!” Keisuke feigns being offended and sticks out his tongue at you. The ball of his silver tongue ring glints in the low lighting from his bedside lamp.

You laugh and climb onto the bed next to him. But not before managing to bump your shin hard on his bed frame.

"Fuck!" You reach down instinctively and rub your shin.

"Hey, c’mere," he chuckles as he sits up to massage your leg.

"Keisuke,” you sigh. "I-I like you." You look sheepishly up into his eyes, noticing that the pupils in his amber irises have widened.

Keisuke bites his lower lip, the tips of his pointy canines peeking out. He swears no one has ever looked at him quite like the way you did just now.

Not breaking eye contact, he lays back down and pulls you towards him. “I like you too.” The sultry tone of his voice sends shivers down your spine.

Hesitating briefly, you kiss him. Tentatively, at first, shy with your affection. Baji pursues the kiss further, massaging your tongue with his. You can just barely feel his piercing, his tongue is gentle, sensual. Feeling bolder, you lick his upper lip with the tip of your tongue. He moans, teasingly biting your lower lip.

“I want you," Keisuke whispers as he moves away from your mouth to nip and kiss your jawline down your neck.

A delicious warmth spreads through your core as your body responds to his. Your skin tingles where he touches you. Reaching down between his legs, you caress the growing bulge straining against his jeans. Baji moans, reflexively thrusting his pelvis against your hand.

"I want you too," you’re practically purring. Lifting his black and gray striped shirt with one hand, you kiss his toned chest and stomach. Your other hand remains pressed against his cock, firmly stroking his erection.

You kiss your way down his happy trail, nibbling and licking it playfully. Glancing up at Keisuke, you see his eyes are closed, his head back against his pillow, clearly enjoying your attention. His blissful expression gives you the confidence to unzip his pants. Baji opens his eyes and quickly helps you pull down his pants and boxer briefs.

You move your head down to his cock, he’s huge and hard and so ready. His dick twitches with yearning, clear drops of precum beading down its engorged head.

"Hey," Keisuke's voice is thick with lust. He clears his throat and looks at you, reaching down to gently stroke your cheek, "you don't have to do anything you don't wanna.”

"I wanna," you murmur, wantonly gazing up into his eyes. You’re nearly drooling, you just want his fat dick in your mouth now.

"Thank god," Keisuke mumbles, throwing his head back, a moan escaping his lips as you grasp his long girthy cock.

Teasingly, you lick away the precum that has begun to drip down his shaft. You drag your tongue down to his balls and up again to just below the tip, coating his shaft with warm saliva.

You repeat this motion, making sure his cock is nice and wet; your mouth's lubrication pooling around the base of his balls. Finally, you reach the head and swirl your tongue over his tip. Baji moans and grabs the back of your head with one hand while bunching up his sheets with the other. He continues to rake his fingers through your hair as you take him as far as you can into your mouth, wrapping your lips around him. He’s too big to take entirely into your mouth so you grip the base of his cock with both hands.

Creating suction with your cheeks, you gently hum as you continue to swirl your tongue over the head of his cock and back down, running your tongue along the thick protruding vein on the underside of his shaft.

You begin bobbing your head up and down while simultaneously pumping the base with both hands dripping with your saliva. Baji thrusts his hips up, groaning as he pushes himself further into your warm wet mouth. A low guttural sound escapes his lips. He opens his eyes, “B-baby... uff... I-I’m gonna cum.”

You look up, your lips still wrapped around his thick shaft as far as they will go, and nod, signaling him to cum in your mouth. Baji moans your name as he ejaculates, you continue sucking and pumping until he’s left shuddering and jerking beneath you. After swallowing his load, you sweetly smile up at him, and gently kiss the tip of his sensitive cock.

"Damn… you’re amazing,” Keisuke gazes at you with starry-eyed affection for several seconds before sitting up and pulling you into his lap. He kisses you deeply, tasting himself on your tongue.

“It’s your turn now, pretty baby,” Keisuke chuckles as he pushes you playfully back onto his bed.

Baji stretches to hand you a bottle of water from his bedside table. His black and gray striped t-shirt raised halfway above his toned abdomen. He smiles down at you — his amber bedroom eyes and sharp canines giving him a distinctly predatory air. Not breaking eye contact, he pulls a hair tie off his wrist and holds it between his teeth, gathering his wavy black hair in a ponytail.

“I like to tie my hair back… before I eat,” Baji winks, sticking his tongue out suggestively, the silver ball of his tongue piercing protruding forward on its bar.

You snort-laugh, nearly choking on your water, even though he’s making your heart pound — no longer from nervousness but desire. Your body tingles, yearning to feel the sensation of that tongue, his hot breath between your legs.

“Ohh — you laugh,” his tone is light, teasing. He leans over to tickle you, burying his face in the curve of your neck. “But, I know you’ll like it,” Keisuke whispers in his smooth baritone, tugging at your earlobe with his teeth.

“Lemme taste you,” Baji licks the sweet spot just beneath your ear, coaxing a moan out of you. “Hmm… pretty baby?”

“Yess, Keisuke…,” your voice hitches in your throat, a surge of heat flooding through you, culminating between your thighs. You grab at his shirt, tugging it over his head.

“You’re the one whose clothes are in the way,” Baji mumbles. Hungrily eyeing your body, he runs his silver-ringed fingers over the swell of your breasts and down your torso. Curling his fingers under the hem of your shirt, he caresses your bare skin with his knuckles as he pulls it over your head. Tossing your shirt aside, Keisuke wraps his large hands around your rib cage, lifting you further back onto his bed so your head rests on his pillows.

You hold your arms out, inviting him in. Smiling up at him, your expression somehow both innocent and full of desire. Swooning at your eagerness he bends to kiss you — deeply, wantonly, moaning into your mouth as you palm his hardening cock.

“Wait — wait, baby… let’s get you naked.” Baji stands, his already huge erection bobbing in your face as he helps you pull off your leggings. He pauses to admire you in your bra and panties.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful,” he purrs. Watching you undo your bra, he groans appreciatively as your breasts bounce free. His dick twitches, a bead of precum leaking from the swollen head.

Quickly leaning back against his pillows, you open your arms and legs for him. Baji lays on top of you, caging you in. His silver pendants dangling from his neck. He grins, his canines cutely scraping against his bottom lip. Keisuke lowers his head to kiss you again, more slowly this time. He massages the ball of his piercing sensually over your tongue. His lips linger on yours, swallowing your little moans. Pulling away from your mouth, he licks and bites down your neck and collarbone before moving to your breasts.

Groaning quietly, he cups your soft flesh in his large palms, sucking and licking your nipples lasciviously. “Mmm— I’ve wanted your titties in my mouth,” Baji’s resonant voice against your sensitive nipple vibrates through your core.

“Keisuke.” You sigh, grasping at the nape of his neck, pressing his head closer to your chest.

He grins against your breasts, swirling his tongue around one of your erect nipples, rolling the tip of the other between the pads of his fingers. He’s satisfied once the peaks of both your breasts are tender and wet with his saliva.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” Keisuke murmurs as he kisses and licks his way to your stomach. He teasingly dips a fingertip into your belly button, eliciting goosebumps and a breathy sigh. He chuckles at your reaction, “You’re so cute.”

Baji slowly inches down your body, kissing and nibbling around the outline of your panties. Sharp teeth grazing the soft skin of your belly, hips, and upper thighs. He is a tease, purposefully ignoring the growing wet spot on the fabric centimeters from his lips. He chuckles at your desperation, the way you thrust your pelvis, trying to get relief from friction by rubbing against his face.

Finally, he plants a kiss on your clothed slit. You moan, wriggling your hips, hands tangling a mess in his ponytail. Keisuke chuckles again, “Okay, okay, baby… I’m gettin’ there.”

Hooking his long fingers beneath the waistband of your panties, he slides the sopping garment down your thighs. A low growl forms in his throat as a slippery strand of your arousal clings to the crotch of your panties. “Fuuck,” Baji's breath is heavy as he licks his lips, looking up at you. “Your pussy’s so wet.”

You squirm, self-conscious and horny, “Keisuk-ehh,” you whine, turning your head, burying your face in his pillow.

Completely exposed to him, Baji splays his big hands between your thighs, spreading them wider. His bronze eyes are lustful and dreamy as he admires your glistening wet lips. Mesmerized by your pussy, he traces the outline of your swollen labia with his fingertip before gathering the slick seeping out of your little hole, spreading it around your lips.

You whimper as Keisuke puts his nose practically inside of you. Inhaling the scent of your arousal, he moans about how good you smell. The sensation of his hot breath against your naked pussy makes your toes curl.

Grinning at your soft mewls, he presses an open-mouthed kiss to the hood of your clitoris. You jolt, the sensation sending a rush of heat through your body as you thrust up against his lips.

Keisuke purrs, sliding the tip of his tongue between your lips, tasting you. “Mmmm.”

The vibration from his deep voice sends shivers through you, making your hips buck again.

“So squirmy,” he chuckles. Curling his arms underneath your thighs, he grips you with his biceps, holding you firmly against him so he can continue.

Baji looks up at you with pure want in his eyes. Wetting his lips, he sticks out his tongue, holding it flat against his chin. The ball of his piercing raised from its stem. Slowly, sensuously, he licks you. His wide tongue trails saliva up and down your pussy and over your clitoris. His slow pace is deliciously agonizing, you writhe beneath his strong grip on your thighs. Panting, you rake your fingers through his hair, loosening his ponytail.

Baji moves his attention to your clit, slurping and sucking it noisily. Encouraged by your moans, he slips a single finger inside you. Deftly curling it upwards, exploring your warm wet walls, searching for your special spot.

Trembling, you reach to touch his lips, putting one of your fingers inside his mouth. You start rubbing your fingertip over your swollen nub while his mouth is on you. Groaning at the sensation of your finger in his mouth, Keisuke slides a second finger into your drooling pussy, stretching you out. He’s found your sweet spot and presses it with a firm, deep pressure. An intense wave rushes through your entire body, arching your back in pleasure. Baji greedily licks your fingers, sucking on them.

“Unff…ffuu…,” you whimper, as more meaningless words spilling from your lips. Your face muffled against his pillow. You’re so close to release; your whole body tingles, toes curling. Panting, you gyrate against Keisuke’s mouth, rubbing your wet pussy on his face. He thrusts and curves his fingers inside your walls, rhythmically massaging your G-spot. His lips make sloppy wet sounds as he continues sucking your clit. Your wet walls contract, pulsating. Baji moans as your pussy flutters around his fingers.

“Keisuke!” You cry out, cumming hard against his face. He keeps his mouth over your clit and fingers firmly inside you as you ride out your high.

Still panting, you sigh contentedly, giving Baji’s head a little squeeze between your thighs. He sits up, amber eyes beaming at you, a triumphant grin on his face. His long dark hair has come out of its ponytail, wisps sticking to the sweat on his forehead. His lips, chin, and the tip of his nose glistening with your slick.

“I wanna fuck you now,” Keisuke smiles wolfishly up at you from between your thighs, his bronze eyes heavy-lidded with desire. Sitting up, he wipes away the sweat from his forehead, running his fingers through his long tangled hair. “Fuck… I need some water,” he chuckles. “Your little pussy made me thirsty.” He notices you’re still panting and grins, “I bet you're thirsty too, huh?”

“Oh my god, yes! I just didn’t want to ruin the moment by saying anything,” you laugh.

“Baby, this is a marathon, you gotta stay hydrated,” Baji winks at you as he gets up from his bed, his huge veiny hard-on bobbing in front of him. It leads him from his room to the kitchen. Sighing, you stare at the little bounce his sculpted muscular ass produces as he walks away. Your wet pussy leaks onto his sheets as you stretch your arms above your head.

Hastily, you sprint to his bathroom to pee, making it back just as he returns with a bottle of water from his fridge. He’s about to hand it to you when he has a better idea.

“Open your mouth, gorgeous,” Keisuke opens the bottle and slowly pours it into your mouth, his eyes filled with lust as he watches the stream of water spilling from your lips down your neck to your bare breasts.

Palming his neglected erection, he takes a gulp of water and bends down to kiss you, sensually passing the water from his mouth to yours. Keisuke slowly swirls his tongue, teasing yours with the ball of his piercing. The taste of your pussy is still on his lips and tongue. You moan into his mouth as he takes the tip of your tongue between his lips and gently sucks it.

Baji eagerly lays on top of you as you reach down between his toned quads to stroke his cock from base to tip. Warm precum leaks from the engorged head into your palm. The veins in his thick shaft are completely swollen, his dick feels so heavy and huge — you need both hands to stroke him properly. Groaning, his hips reflexively roll forward, thrusting his needy cock against your hands.

“Keisuk-ehh,” you purr, looking up at him with yearning eyes. Bending down to kiss you, his pendants dangle from his neck above you. Baji slips one of his large hands between your legs. His silver rings scrape against the tender skin of your thighs. He easily penetrates your drooling wet pussy with two long fingers, curling them upwards. A low groan vibrates from his Adam’s apple when he feels just how wet and ready you are for him.

“Ufff… I need to be in you,” Keisuke grunts, his usually velvety deep voice sounds gruff now, making your pussy ache. You whimper, gyrating against his fingers inside you, needing to feel the friction from his hand against your slick lips and swollen clit.

Your horny noises and thrusting pussy are too much for Baji — a hoarse growl emanates from his throat as he grabs you by your thighs, spreading your legs and pulling your hips flush beneath him. Your pelvis instinctively bucks up as he grips his thick cock in one hand, gliding it over your slippery folds. You both moan as he slaps the head against your needy clit.

“Mmm, baby… you’re so wet,” Keisuke gazes down at your glistening cunt, his sharp canines biting into his lower lip. His eyes transfixed on your shiny swollen labia, he slowly eases into your warm wet hole, groaning at the sight of your drooling little pussy taking in his lengthy cock.

Baji bends to kiss you, teasingly licking your lower lip before penetrating your mouth, massaging your tongue with his. Your whole body tingles from the sensations of his fat tongue in your mouth and fat cock in your pussy.

He moans into your mouth as the plush walls of your hot little cunt stretch to accommodate his lengthy hard dick. He sensually circles his hips, thrusting into you, his large hands firmly gripping your ass and thighs.

Keisuke fucks you hard, burying his shaft deep in your pussy, with each thrust his heavy balls bounce against your ass. He stares lustfully at your breasts bouncing as he pounds into you. Both your bodies slick with sweat, incoherent sex noises and lewd squelching sounds from your pussy fill the room, the air thick with pheromones.

Baji reaches between your legs to rub wet circles around your clitoris, then gently pinches it. “Fff…uff,” you moan, toes curling, back arching off the mattress as you writhe beneath him. He groans as you buck your hips up, grinding your swollen clit against his pelvis, your walls gripping his entire length inside you.

Keisuke leans forward to suck on your titties. He wraps his lips around one of your nipples, sucking it, swirling his tongue around the hard tip, drooling — his eyes closed in pure ecstasy. Mewling, you grab his muscular ass with both hands, pushing him deeper into you. Baji moans as your sopping-wet pussy sucks him in.

Your walls begin to contract and flutter around him, and you whimper, burying your face in one of his pillows. Your toes curl as his cock swells even larger inside you, making your pussy throb. Your entire body tingles, waves of pleasurable heat flow through your core. “Ffuu… uhf… KEI!” You call out his name, moaning, trembling, your thighs shaking. Keisuke gazes down at you, his golden brown eyes half-closed and dreamy as he fucks you through your orgasm.

The hot pulsating sensations of your wet walls fluttering and squeezing his cock soon push Baji to his limit. There’s a warm tingling in his balls, the muscles at the base of his dick tighten and contract. Keisuke grunts, clenching his pelvic muscles, trying to hold back, but it’s no use.

It’s the way you look panting beneath him: You’re just too hot, your pussy’s too wet. Your sexy little moans… the fuckin’ needy way you called out his name as you came so hard, creaming around his cock…. FUUCK!

Baji groans, exhaling a deep breath he didn’t even know he was holding. “I’m gonna cum!” He calls out your name, you moan as you squeeze his thick cock, milking it as he thrusts into you, sloppily jerking his hips, shooting his hot cum deep in your pussy. Keisuke moans, his shoulders shuddering, the aftershocks of his orgasm sending shivers down his spine. He collapses on top of you with a little grunt.

“Fuck, baby... you wore me out,” Baji chuckles as he rolls over onto his pillow next to you.

“You’re so pretty when you cum…” he touches your mouth, tracing your lips with his index finger, “and your little noises are so sexy.” He smiles at you with soft affection in his eyes.

“You’re pretty hot, yourself — Baji-san.” You both laugh at the name he specifically told you not to call him when you first started working at the pet shop.

“C’mere, gorgeous.” Keisuke pulls you onto his sculpted chest, embracing you in a full-body hug. He lowers his chin and kisses the top of your head, “You smell so good,” he murmurs into your hair.

The silver pendants from his necklaces press against your face. You push them gently aside, laying your hand on his heart. He begins drawing tiny shapes on the back of your hand with his fingertips. Sighing, you nuzzle in closer to his chest. Baji’s skin smells warm and comforting — a faint blend of sandalwood, pot, and sex. Soft strands of his long wavy black hair tickle your face.

“Y’know, it’s kinda funny…,” Baji pauses to clear his throat. You can feel his Adam’s apple bob and vibrate as he speaks, his deep voice low and soothing. “I asked you to come over tonight ‘cos I was gonna ask you out.” He entwines his fingers with yours. “I even made sure Chifuyu and Kazutora would be gone so we could be alone.”

“Really?” You smile as you feel Baji’s heart begin to beat a little bit faster in his chest.

“But I wasn’t sure if you liked me in that way… y’know — romantically,” he mumbles, and you can practically hear the blush in his voice.

How is he so fucking cute?

“Keisuke,” you lift your head to peer up at him. And he is blushing, his chiseled cheekbones dusted pink. He momentarily looks away from you, breaking eye contact. He’s embarrassed because he blushed and you saw it.

“Kei,” you sit up and place a hand on one of his pink cheeks. “I came over because I wanted to have sex with you. Like, that was my plan from the beginning,” you tell him, thinking it will reassure him.

Baji looks into your eyes. His expression is soft and sincere, vulnerable. “I don’t want just that though…,” he pauses and self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, trying very hard not to break eye contact.

“Fuck — what I’m tryin’ to say is… I don’t wanna be,” he makes air quotes here, “‘friends with benefits’, or fuck buddies. Or any of that shit. I want more than that. I really, truly like you… a lot,” he realizes he’s still rubbing at the back of his neck and puts his hand down. He grins at you sheepishly, a wide smile that makes his brown eyes crinkle adorably shut.

“Keisuke!” You’re completely unable to think of anything even remotely coherent to say. He looks down at you expectantly. And you just stare back up at him for several long seconds, with pure adoration in your eyes. If heart eyes were real, you’d definitely have them.

Finally, you’re able to speak — sort of: “I-I like you too… really, so so much… like I can’t even begin to say h—”

“Then just kiss me already,” Keisuke chuckles, pulling you towards him.

©️poorly written by Bajiisofine 2dmenforme, 2023. Please do not copy, translate, upload to other platforms, or claim as your own.

#tokyo revengers smut #baji smut #baji keisuke #baji keisuke smut #tokyo revengers x female reader #baji keisuke x you #keisuke baji smut #tokyo revengers x you #baji x female reader #baji x reader #tokyo revengers x reader

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t-thedigitaldiary · 7 months ago

Text

Sincerely yours,

(part 1)

author’s note: heey,everyone.Basically this the first fiction i’ve ever written and I’m pretty new to this platform so I’m not entirely familiar with how to make my posts pretty but I truly hope you like it :).Also,for the hashtags,this work of fiction is not at all related to Ellie Williams (although the aesthetic is inspired by her in a.u fictions) nor the tlou world.I just really wanna be a part of the tlou fandom in here,since i will be posting related artworks later on and bc im new,i thought this was a nice way to start :).Last but not least,this piece is extremely personal to me and truly reflects my feelings.Anyways,hope you enjoy!

Warnings!: poor mental health condition (mention of depression multiple times & trauma,not in great detail though),violence (basically someone being hit with a water bottle lol)

Sunday afternoon. Ugh, you hated Sunday afternoons. Not because, like most people, you hated the upcoming Mondays, but because it was dull. Extremely dull, empty. You are not sure if the reason behind this emptiness is depression, but you have accepted it either way. Now that you think about it, you hated almost every afternoon. For the same exact reason. Even though you used to love the darkness of the night, something about the sun setting has now become extremely unsettling to you. ‘’Vitamin D my ass! ‘’, you thought. It wasn’t always like this, though. Something about the last six months has turned you into a living dead, a zombie if you may! No, actually, ‘’something’’ is a very unfair description of the cause. More like ‘’a very specific experience’’ has turned you. You had lost all your livelihood, all your appetite about almost everything and, suddenly, Sunday afternoons were not just dull, they were depressing. Just like every other afternoon of the week, just like every other time of the day. Every day. For the last six months. Wow. You thought about change a thousand times before. You prayed and you prayed that things were going to get better. You desperately asked the universe for a sign. A sign that you were going to survive this and live a happy life. No sign, no change ever came. Except for this peculiar Sunday afternoon. (Not so dull now, is it?)

You were laying on your back on top of your unmade bed. Blank white tee, black shorts, the same ones you’ve been wearing for over a week now (depression really gets the best of you, huh?). You were sitting with open legs and open arms. Your right, sock covered foot was bent and was softly brushing over your bare left knee. You had your hands thrown on top of your head. Someone that had just entered the room would’ve thought that this is the position of someone highly frustrated. Little would they know. In your mentally uncomfortable but physically soothing position you found yourself begging again. ‘’Please, universe, just one sign is all I’m asking for!” . You truly were desperate. You hated the life you were living, a life created in fucked up ways. All you needed was a sign. A sign of change, a sign that things were going to get better.

*knock knock*

The loud knocks on your bedroom door brought you back to Earth. What the fuck?! You were home alone for the entire weekend and you specifically remember locking the front door (you even double checked!!!). Now, you were not just surprised, you were also terrified. Whoever was knocking on your door definitely was not here for a good reason..

*knock knock knock*

You had no more time to think about it, you had to act. You went full-on survival mode. Even though you didn’t like the life you were living, you still wanted to live. You believed in that change. You collected every drop of bravery you had in you, grabbed your water bottle, the biggest object near and prepared for whatever it was behind that door. The knocks became louder and louder. You were sure now that within a bunch of seconds you were about to fight for your life. You shut your eyes close and took one last big breath. One last big breath befor-

The last loud noise heard was not from the knocking. It was the sound that your bottle and someone’s head made after they collided together. Oh, and the one of the body hitting the floor.

#ellie williams #fiction #tlou

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exhuastedpigeon · 1 year ago

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a dream is a wish your heart makes

Eddie Diaz x Evan Buckley General Audiences 3.3k idea inspired by this tumblr post

Eddie wakes slowly, feeling like he’s forgotten something but can’t quite remember what in his half asleep state. He blinks a couple of times, stretching his legs out in bed before rolling over to look at the alarm clock. It’s already 7:30 which means he has exactly fifteen minutes before he needs to have Chris in the car on the way to school.

He jumps out of bed, not bothering to change and finds Chris’s room empty, bed unmade. He looked into the living room and there’s nothing out of place, but there’s also no Christopher. Panic starts to rise in his throat as he jogs toward the kitchen, where he can hear muffled sounds.

“Eds,” Buck turns toward him, a bright smile on his face. His hair is still sleep rumbled and his smile is a little sleepy, but he looks so beautiful standing in the middle of Eddie’s kitchen that Eddie’s breath catches in his chest. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Gotta get Chris to school,” Eddie says, leaning against the fridge, watching as Buck expertly packs Chris’s lunch, behind him the coffee pot gurgles as it finishes brewing.

“I’ve got it covered,” Buck tucks the sandwich into the lunchbox and rounds the island, brushing a light kiss to Eddie’s lips as he reaches around him for the coffee mugs. “I told you that last night. I have to get the last load of stuff from the loft anyway, so we both don’t need to be awake on our day off.”

“God I love you,” Eddie says, and he’s not sure where the words came from, but as soon as they’re out of his mouth he knows they're true. They might be the truest thing he’s ever said in his life besides every time he’s told Christopher the same thing.

“I know,” Buck says, pouring them both cups of coffee and pressing Eddie’s into his hands with another kiss, this one lingering until Chris makes fake gagging sounds behind them and bursts into a fit of giggles. Buck pulls back and grins as he speaks again. “I love you too, now go lay back in bed until I’m home and you have to help me unpack all of my books.”

“Fine,” Eddie kisses Buck one more time before he walks over to Chris, ruffling his hair and tells him he loves him too before he goes back into the bedroom. He sets his coffee down on his nightstand and flops face first into the pillows. It smells like Buck as he drifts to sleep again.

The sound of Eddie’s alarm wakes him with a start, and he rolls over expecting Buck’s sleeping form next to him or at the very least Buck’s musky, woodsy smell. Instead, he’s met with the gentle vanilla smell and small frame of Marisol.

Marisol.

His girlfriend.

Because he isn’t in a relationship with Buck. He’s never been in a relationship with Buck. He just dreamed it, just dreamed a perfect domestic morning that was so realistic that he forgot it wasn’t real. Eddie took a deep breath before he rolled out of bed to get Chris ready for the day.

Continue reading on Ao3

#buddie #9-1-1 #911 #buddie 911 #eddie diaz #evan buckley #eddie diaz x evan buckley #evan buckley x eddie diaz

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i-literally-cant-with-this · 11 months ago

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A/N ::: This is one of the most fucked up things I have written and posted on here. Yeah, it might not be *gasp* worthy. But for me? It's pretty bad.

MDNI under the cut

C/W ::: Dabi x F!reader. Dabi is an ASSHOLE. Let me say it again, Dabi is an ASSHOLE. Dubcon, smoking/blowing smoke into F face, oral M->F, not the fun kind of hair pulling, unprotected sex P->V, verbal abuse, F! is so hell-bent on fixing this fucking guy that she has no concept of what's good for herself. "I can fix him" mentality. If I missed anything lemme know.

Dabi lights up a smoke and saunters over to where you sit on the edge of his unmade bed.

"Lookin' real pretty in that blanket of lies you're wearin'." He climbs up behind you on the bed and runs his finger down your spine. The shudder that leaves you makes his cock twitch. "You like that, hm? You just love when I touch you so nicely. Well, I ... woke up on the wrong side of the bed. An' I don't think you're going to like what I'm about to do." He says, blowing smoke in your face.

He grabs your hair and tugs it back hard. "And you," he whispers. His mouth pressed hard against your ear, "... are going to right every wrong I have endured today."

Your hands instinctively flew up to save your scalp, though your scalp was soon to be the least of your worries. He was just getting started.

Dabi dragged you to the head of the bed and began to tug at a loose fiber of your tights. His fingers were so deft and precise with their damage that you could only stare as he tore the sheer, stretchy lace from your legs until he had them completely pulled off.

"No pretty little panties f'me today? Now that, that hurts my feelings. It makes me feel ..." He said between gritted teeth while he grabs your waist and lifts you up so you're laying across his lap. "Makes me feel like you don't fucking love me any *spank* more *spank*, baby girl."

You writhed in his lap and tears made their way to your cheeks as your ass absorbed the entirety of his anger. He was not taking it half as easy on you today as he usually does. It made you a little nervous and it made you more than a little sorry you answered his call.

"Dabi! Fuh-huck, please! I'm sorry!" You cried out as he continued to smack your ass.

"Oh? Hm? What are you sorry for, huh?" He asked between kissing the welts that were starting to rise up on the fat of your ass.

"'M sorry for ... hah ... for ..." You couldn't answer him quickly enough.

"Ehhh wrong answer, contestant number 1. Sorry. Time for your punishment." He maneuvered you off of his lap and threw you down onto your back. You laid there, staring at the ceiling. Not even having the presence of mind to pray that he'd stop.

His belt clinked as he removed it from his lean waist. "Fuckin' so pretty. Wrapped up in your ignorance. Silly ... little ... mouse."

Dabi lowered himself down onto his knees at the edge of the bed and dragged your ass to his mouth. He rubbed his thumb against your clit. "This wet already, hm? Can't wait for me to fuck you senseless, is that it?" He didn't wait for an answer. He never did.

He pulled you closer to him and pushed his tongue inside you. Your thighs tightened around his head and your hands flew down to his hair. It was like he was trying to eat you alive. Biting at your thighs. Sucking so hard on your clit that you swear you blacked out for a second. You did everything you could to push his head away. But it wasn't enough.

Much to your chagrin, he just laughed against your cunt as you struggled. The more you struggled, the harder he got.

He was counting on you to give him a reason to show you just how fucked up he could be. And he was doing it so well.

Your eyes rolled back as you felt his tongue flick over your clit in a rhythm that made you buck your hips into his face.

"Fuck ya think you're doing? I say you could fuck yourself on my face? Did I say you could cum yet?" He spread your pussy open farther than was comfortable for anyone and he buried his face into you so deep that you were concerned for his well-being.

That's how fucked up he had you; he had you so wrapped around his finger that you were not only being wrecked by him, but you were worried for his oxygen intake.

You came against his lips and he pulled away from you. "That's my good girl. My sweet baby. But I'm not done with you yet. No, no, no. I need to fuck your brains out. I need to show you just how much I need you. How much you need to fix me. That's what you bitches want anyway, right? You all just want to get into my bed. Stroke my hair. Stroke my cock. And fix me. Like I'm the one that’s broken." He scoffed and sneered at you like you really were the one who'd wronged him so badly.

Dabi lifted you higher up onto the bed and laid you down on your back. He grabbed your ankles and spread your legs open as far as they would go.

"Look at that fuckin' pussy. So wet and tight. Can't wait to fuckin' ruin it." He positioned his cock at your entrance and thrust inside you. Hard.

He started to pump in and out of you, and you could see his eyes roll back. He looked like he was possessed. Or in a trance. Like he was drunk off you.

"God, you're so fuckin' tight. Just for me. You're mine. All mine." He growled. "Say it. Say you're mine." He hissed.

You were barely coherent enough to nod your head in agreement. But that was not enough for him.

"Fucking say it!" He yelled, grabbing you by your neck.

"I'm yours! D-Dabi, 'm ... 'm all yours. I'm sorry!" You managed to choke out through sobs.

He let go of your neck and continued to fuck you. He grabbed your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach.

"I'm gonna make you sorry, bitch. Make you sorry you ever walked into my life. Sorry you ever let me fuck you like this. You wanna fix me? You can't fix what's already been fucked up." He growled as he pumped into you from behind.

"Dabi, please. I didn't mean to hurt you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I just wanted to help. Wanted to make you feel better." You sobbed.

"Who said I wasn't feeling good? Hm? Did you speak to Dear Daddy about me? Told him I was fucked up in the head? Well, I'll show you who's fucked up." He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back until you were looking up at him. His eyes were wild and unfocused. You had never seen him like this.

Dabi fucked you harder than he had ever fucked you before. He was so rough that you knew you would be feeling it for days. But it wasn't just the roughness of his actions that terrified you. It was the look in his eyes. The look of pure unadulterated hatred and rage.

He flipped you back over onto your back and fucked you until you couldn't hold back any longer. Your body shook with pleasure as he pumped in and out of you. His eyes locked onto yours. He wanted you to see him. He wanted you to know that you, too, had hurt him. And that this was your punishment.

He pulled out of you and shot his cum all over your stomach. He grabbed a tissue from the bedside table and wiped himself clean. He was panting and sweating. But he was still so angry.

"Now, get the fuck out. Get the fuck out of here. You're fucking useless." He spat at you as he tucked himself back into his pants and pulled out another cigarette.

You scrambled to grab your clothes and rushed out of his apartment. Tears streaming down your face.

You knew you had crossed a line. But you couldn't help but feel like you had lost him forever. And you weren't sure if you really wanted to get him back.

Things had been heading this way for a while now. But this was the worst night by far.

You were always trying to fix people. And sometimes, that backfired. Sometimes, you made things worse. And you had made things very, very bad with Dabi.

You just had to find a way to fix it.

To make it right.

To make him love you again. If he had in the first place, that is.

He called your name from the window of his 2nd story apartment when he saw you walk out onto the street.

Your heart skipped a beat when you heard him say it.

"Dab? I - what? What do you need?" You whimpered something akin to a question.

He threw your tights out the window and lit them on fire as they floated to the sidewalk.

"You forgot somethin'." He said, flicking his finished cigarette at you.

The tights hit the ground, burning and curling into nothing but ash.

His last words to you as he watched you leave his apartment, broken and defeated, were, "Never bother me again."

Taglist ::: @darkstarlight82 @millennialmagicalgirl @arlerts-angel

#toya todoroki #dabi #mha dabi #bnha dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #touya x reader #toya x reader #touya x y/n #touya x you

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bee-saucee · 10 months ago

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Full of Strawberries | ShinKami Oneshot

summary: ShinKami enjoy a market during strawberries season and relax at home

word count: 376

warnings: eating/food centered content

a/n: This oneshot is one out of three posts based on a request I received from the lovely @jasminesanura. View the longer oneshot and headcanons at the links provided here or at the end of this post!

Strawberry season was arguably the best time of the year. You could almost forget the choking heat with the pinks and reds of limited-time street food delectable enough to follow the tendrils of steam like some cartoon character. This market might as well have been made for Hitoshi so of course Denki was going to spoil the hell out of him.

“Baby, babe, boo. You’ve got strawberry juice on your face,” Denki coos, reaching up to wipe the juice from Shinsou’s chin.

“It’s so good, Denks.”

“I know.”

“Try another one.” Shinsou holds out his foot-long stick of candied strawberry. “This is one of those strawberry experiences I’ll remember for the rest of my life.”

“No cus me too except it’s even bigger for you because you love you some strawberries.”

Denki leans in and slides off the second to last strawberry. Since their first date, he’d learned to never turn down an offer of food from Shinsou after seeing him mope around for the next three days with a cloud over his head because he felt rejected. Never again.

“I wanna try the strawberry daifuku over there,” Hitoshi whispers as if it's some dirty secret.

“Sounds to dai for,” Denki whispers back.

He can’t help to break their quiet back and forth when Shinsou snorts at his stupid joke like he always did.

After making a meal out of strawberry street food, the couple lay sprawled out on Hitoshi’s unmade bed. His aching stomach was the only thing keeping him from melting into a food coma. He’d never sympathized with the gooey and syrupy life of strawberry compote until now.

“Toshi,” Denki says, poking his boyfriend's nose.

“Hm?”

“I have a joke.”

“Hit me.”

He sits up which, yeah, that was a mistake but he’ll do anything for the bit.

“Look at me.”

He loves the way Shinsou’s eyes instantly lock onto him and the utter look of confusion on his face as Denki sticks out his tongue, inevitably getting some spit on Hitoshi as he blows.

“I just blew a raspberry even though I’m full of strawberries!”

Hitoshi turns away from Denki to look at the ceiling with his hands resting on his bloated stomach.

“This might be the best day of my life.”

Check out the other posts based on this request: longer oneshot | headcanons

or see my masterlist for more!

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blackcatruse · 4 months ago

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𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔞𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔰

«prev. ❃ next» ❃ first chapter ❃ m.list ❃ ao3 pairing: r. haitani/fem!reader ↳ she/her, fem descriptors, nickname ❃ chapter synopsis: nothing makes sense anymore. how is everything connected word count: 4.5k chapter cw(s): swearing, possible ooc, death mentions a/n: another post, another fight with tumblr formatting to try and make things pretty

You forgot to text Shika that you’d made it home. In your defense, seeing the bodies of those two boys made every other thought in your head disappear. You’d been laying down and staring at the ceiling, watching as lightning flashed outside your window. You hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes so the lower halves of your calves were dangling off your unmade bed. Thoughts circled around your mind like sharks, waiting to take a bite out of the thin veil of control you had.

Your brooding was interrupted by a fierce knocking on your door. You didn’t really want to get up, but the rapping continued. You hauled yourself up with a sigh and trudged to the door, not bothering to check the peephole because you knew only a certain number of people would come knocking. And if it was your kidnappers, you don’t think you had it in you to care. Instead you came face to face with a very soaked and very unhappy Shika.

“You look like a drowned rat,” you said without thinking.

“Really?” Shika was pissed.

“Sorry,” you mumbled. “I said I would text, but I didn’t.” You didn’t have it in you to try to defend yourself. You just wanted to lay down and forget you existed. Maybe it would be better if you never did.

Shika’s frown softened. “What did Miko need from you? Why did she take you to the morgue?” Her voice was barely a whisper, speaking like you were glass and if she was too loud you’d shatter.

You stepped back and let Shika in before shutting the door softly. Guilt gnawed in your stomach at the thought of admitting the truth, but you also knew if anyone would understand, it was Shika. You couldn’t meet her eyes. You weren’t sure if you could say anything without getting choked up. You were no stranger to failure, but usually it only affected you. Not this time.

The tears in your eyes blurred your vision as you looked up at Shika. The concern in her dark eyes made you want to crawl under a rock.

“Lotus,” she murmured.

“She,” you swallowed thickly, trying to get control of the lump in your throat. “She needed me to identify bodies.”

Shika gasped as she realized who you had to identify. “No way,” she said. “They should have been—”

The anger and frustration at ultimately being helpless boiled over. “I know!” your voice edged on a scream. “They should have been but I should have known better! I knew there was a chance, but I was so sure they’d—”

Shika cut you off with a tight embrace. She let you sob and gently carried your weight down when your legs gave out from under you. She knelt as you collapsed, letting the dam burst. “I know,” she said soothingly. “I’m sorry Miko made you do that. Any of us that were there could have. They should have called out Nezumi or Hato.” Someone who wouldn’t be affected like this. Words that were unspoken, but both you and Shika knew.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you choked out. “I hate feeling on edge all the time. I hate having to worry about anyone involved with me. Nothing good comes out of being associated with me.”

Shika squeezed you again and rested her chin on top of your head. She didn’t try to console you further, she just sat on her knees and let you cry in her arms. Once you had settled enough, your sobs becoming stray hiccups, Shika let you go and you looked at each other. “Good thing I was already soaked from the rain, huh?” she asked.

It earned a little laugh. “Sorry about that,” you said. “If you want to hop in the shower I can throw your clothes in the wash. I’ll bring you something from my closet you can throw on. You can’t be comfortable like that.”

“Good thing your body runs warm, Lotus,” Shika said. “You kept me from freezing to death, but a shower does sound nice. You should probably clean up too.” She looked you up and down and you didn’t have the energy to be offended. She stood up on uneasy legs from being tucked under her body for so long, and you offered a steadying hand. She winced before hobbling off to the bathroom. “I’ll toss my clothes in a pile on the floor and you can leave whatever you find in the meantime on the counter.”

You nodded before scurrying off to dig in your closet. In terms of clothing, you didn’t exactly have a lot. You rotated between the same ripped jeans and orange tank tops underneath your prized leather jacket. You never felt the need to have something else on hand. Searching a little harder, you found a pair of sweatpants and an old shirt you couldn’t remember where you’d gotten it from. It would look terrible on you, but you knew that somehow Shika would make it work.

A wet plop shook you out of your thoughts. Right, you had to go get her clothes and throw them in the wash. You grabbed anything else you thought she needed, including an extra towel, and knocked on the bathroom door before opening it. You left the clothes on the counter and picked up the drenched clothing Shika arrived in.

Your friend always found a way to subvert your bias. You figured Shika would take one of those showers that lasted forever, but you had barely pressed the start button on the washer when you heard the shower cut off. You could also probably do with a shower. You sat down on your living room floor with a grunt and leaned against your coffee table.

When the bathroom door creaked, you turned your head slightly to see Shika emerge with a decent amount of steam. Christ, how hot did she run her showers? Her skin was nearly an angry shade of red, but she didn’t look fazed. Her hair was wrapped in a towel and she’d cuffed the bottom of the sweats. The oversized shirt hid most of her frame. She looked the comfiest you’d ever seen.

“Why do you make everything look good?” you wondered aloud.

Shika looked at you and tilted her head. “Thank you, I think,” she said, moving into the living room. “I didn’t use all your hot water, so you should probably get cleaned up too. Then we can like, I don’t know, hang out? Do girly shit? I don’t know. I’m not good at this whole being normal thing.”

That got a real laugh out of you. “Neither am I,” you said. “We’ll figure it out once I’m out of the shower.”

“Sounds good.” Shika plopped down on the couch. “Can I turn on the TV?”

You looked at the unused box in the corner. You didn’t really watch anything, and it was collecting dust. You weren’t even sure if it still worked, and you told Shika such. Shika just blinked at you like you’d grown another head. “What do you do in your downtime then?”

You shrugged. You worked yourself ragged as a runner so you couldn’t be conscious enough to mull over your feelings. Maybe you’d hang out at a convenience store to grab a prepackaged meal and maybe browse some magazines. You didn’t see a point in watching TV, especially because you only got one channel and you could only handle so much depressing news in one day.

“Oh, right,” you said. “Don’t be disappointed, but I only get the news channel.”

“How can you expect me to not be disappointed by that?” Shika frowned. “Oh well, maybe one of the news anchors is cute or something. I’ll fill in all the riveting things you missed.”

“Knew I could depend on you,” you said with a slight grin. You stood up and headed to the bathroom. The steam was still fogging up the mirror and clung to your skin. You flipped the vent on before running the water. Once it was an acceptable temperature, you shed your clothes and stepped underneath the stream of water. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, letting the water wash away any dirt and grime. It was hopeless, but you wished that the water could also clean you of any of the emotions storming inside you.

The last twenty-four hours had not been kind. Between the job going wrong, Shika interrogating you about your fake boyfriend, and Miko showing you dead bodies, you weren’t actually sure how you were functioning. You let your thoughts wander and remembered what Miko told you. It didn’t sound like she was part of Wuxing’s initial migration, so they found her when they got here. Why would they pick her? You already wondered why Miko was working with Wuxing because she was so kind, but after today you knew that something devastating had left her stone faced and only wore a mask of compassion. You couldn’t really speculate on it much. Could it have had something to do with Kirin’s dead wife? You wanted to ask questions, but you don’t think you’d get nor want them. Maybe you could talk to Shika about it.

Miko also knew that there was another foreign gang that followed Wuxing here because Kirin did the impossible and won something the others thought he’d never win. Why else would the rival offer up something that valuable? The challenge was probably weighted heavily against Kirin, but you knew that the man was slippery in many ways. Japanese law enforcement couldn’t pin anything to Wuxing. Wuxing wasn’t even common knowledge, well, at least until recently. And then there were eyes on you. You weren’t sure what for, but it exposed your existence. You were well known, but only in the circles where you ran. Outside of those circles, there would be stray whispers about your affinity for business. Not to mention you had to fake your arrogance that everyone should know who you were. You probably weren’t even Kirin’s best kept secret.

You winced as shampoo suds dripped into your eye. Alright, that was enough shower time. You gently rinsed your eye and then your hair before the suds attacked you again. You cut off the water with a squeak of the handle and emerged in a wreath of steam that was nothing compared to Shika’s cloud. Wrapping the towel around your body, you made a quick move to your bedroom to change. It wasn’t a long trip, maybe a few steps, but you weren’t going to linger in the open like this.

You threw on your standard night clothes of cotton shorts and a loose fitting shirt. You wrapped your hair up and went to the living room to join Shika. Her eyes were glued to the TV screen. The image was fuzzy and the audio was even worse, but you could gather the gist of what the reporter was talking about. You stood and watched the screen and you caught the word “bodies”.

Involuntarily you gasped and Shika, not knowing you were there, let out a small shriek. “Fucking hell, Lotus!” she snapped, pressing a hand against her chest like it would still her heart. “Tell me you’re there next time, holy shit.”

“Sorry,” you said. “The news caught my eye. More bodies were found?”

Shika looked like she didn’t want to tell you, but you sat down and told her that it was okay. It wasn’t Hifumi or Kichiro, so you had no personal stakes in it. Shika turned down the volume and sighed. “They say it was a bunch of cops,” she said.

You blinked once. “Someone went after law enforcement?” you asked dumbly. “Do they have a death wish? What the hell were they thinking?”

“Don’t know, but these cops didn’t exactly have squeaky clean records. There’s not much of a connection between them because they came from different wards and grew up in different regions.”

“That’s so fucking weird.” A shiver ripped through your body. “Don’t tell me we also have a serial killer on the loose, too. My fragile heart can only take so much.”

Shika shook her head. “They’ve got no clue. The details we know are that the bodies are fresh, they were found near the Port of Tokyo, and some of them have tattoos?”

“That’s—” you paused with a frown. “My job was at the Port of Tokyo.” You sat down next to Shika and squinted at the fuzzy screen. You didn’t get a good look at the people who nearly kidnapped you at the port, but these incidents felt too uncanny to be a coincidence. Especially knowing that your pursuers had a propensity to kill anyone involved so there wasn’t a trail. If your hunch was correct, then the people who attacked you at the port were killed within a twenty-four hour window. That was a lot faster than some of the previous deaths.

An image of an intricate knot flashed on the screen and it looked vaguely familiar. You swear you’d seen it before. Was it on the others you’d encountered? You couldn’t remember, and you couldn’t wade through the sea of your memory to determine why.

Shika had noticed how intently you were staring. “Have you seen it before?”

“I feel like I have, but I can’t place it,” you admitted.

“Are you religious?”

The withering look you gave Shika had her holding up her hands. Given what she knew about you, your expression conveyed a form of you’re kidding, right?

“It’s just a question, Lotus. It’s a common symbol in Buddhism,” Shika said. “The endless knot.”

“Huh, I’m not familiar with it, but I think some dots can be connected,” you said. “The people have left me a message to ‘seek Nirvana’. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to assume they’re related.”

Shika nodded in agreement. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s consolidate the information you know because I can see you trying to wrangle your thoughts.”

“Oh, it’s that obvious?” you laughed. “Yeah, I think organizing my thoughts is gonna help us connect the dots or something. Let me grab some paper and a pen.”

You got up, retrieved your supplies, and sat down on the floor across from Shika. You spread out several sheets of paper and tossed another pen to Shika. She stared at you like you’d grown another head. “Think you can draw that symbol?” you asked.

“Not very well,” Shika said. “But yeah I can draw that.”

She grabbed the piece of power closest to her and got to drawing. You wrote down other things on the remaining papers you had. You sorted them out based on what the Haitanis told you, what you had encountered, and any tidbits that felt relevant. The fake deals Rokuhara Tandai was offered and the fact that the men Ran and Rindou interrogated were found dead later. You didn’t know how much later, but maybe you could ask them. Maybe they’d seen this symbol too.

The next thing was the trap that involved Kichiro and Hifumi. They were blackmailed through a third party, but you remembered that the two boys lost contact with them after you had agreed to run the drugs. Your chest panged and you had to stop writing for a moment, attempting to suffocate the emotions bubbling up inside you.

Given that the communication halted after the job was arranged, you wouldn’t be surprised if the blackmailers were dead. You put a question mark nearby on the page because you didn’t explicitly know their fate. Kiricho and Hifumi were dead and there wasn’t a good estimate of when they were killed. You put the location of where their bodies were found and tapped your bottom lip with your pen.

You continued on, writing details about your first near kidnapping. They knocked you unconscious so you weren’t sure about the man’s appearance and his voice was relatively nondescript. He was one of the men Genbu was responsible for questioning. According to Miko, those men had died while under Genbu’s watch. That was news to you, but it didn’t surprise you. They were undoubtedly connected to the gang after you, and they had no qualms with dying to protect their organization’s identity. But that wasn’t the weirdest part. How did they die? Genbu would never let captives remain unguarded and from what you understood, the men would have been thoroughly checked for any contraband. Was there someone in Genbu’s unit that was a traitor to Wuxing?

You gnawed on your pen cap before scribbling “inside job???” and circled it multiple times. You also made note that the one who spoke to you, the apparent leader, knew you by name. A name you thought you’d abandoned and had died with you the day you were sold. They knew something about your family that you didn’t, and you still didn’t care to know. You’re not sure the information would actually help you. If you knew your father’s identity would it mean anything to you? Of course not. You wanted to stay out of gang politics.

They weren’t the only ones you’d encountered that knew things about you that they weren’t supposed to. The encounter in the alley felt like the catalyst for all of this shit going down. You weren’t sure at that point if someone was trying to take you out, but that incident confirmed it. You were too panicked to glean any useful information, and according to Rindou, the man killed himself with a suicide pill. The dead man knew your brother’s name. Was it possible that they were familiar with your brother’s gambling habits? Even so, how would they have known that you were related? Your bastard of a brother only revealed your existence when it was convenient for him.

Could your brother have tried to sell you to this other gang as well? Is that why they wanted their hands on you so badly? No, that wouldn’t make sense. You’d been with Wuxing for several years and nobody’s been after you until now. There were plenty of times for this gang to nab you. So what happened that made them care about you? The only answers you had were your unknown family history and a trail of dead bodies. And some sort of connection to Buddhism.

You couldn’t recall your mother practicing any sort of religion except alcoholism, which felt like a contradiction to Buddhism. She was never home most nights, leaving you and your brother to fend for yourselves. Sometimes when your brother wasn’t a sack of shit, he’d actually treat you to something. You could never predict his moods or when he was going to be your brother or a complete stranger. You tried to pick up the signs, and you could identify a few staples, but for the most part he was unreadable. In the months before his death, he only had two emotions: anger and fury. This had earned him the moniker of Wrath, but he was the laughingstock of the underground. He couldn’t hide his anger and it would always give him away when he had a bad hand. He was a fucking loser until the end.

Other than what you could recollect of your disappointing youth, there was nothing else to give you any sort of direction. There was a section of time you had blocked out when you were under Byakko’s... “care”. Those were a hellish two years, almost three. Reliving that part of your life was something you refused to do. Any time the repressed memories came back to haunt you, you felt nothing but shame and disgust. Fuck Byakko and everything he worked for. You would set fire to the brothels yourself.

Shika snapped her fingers in front of your face, bringing you out of your spiraling thoughts. She held up her rendition of the endless knot and tilted her head. It wasn’t perfect, but it got the point across. Thank god there was something she was bad at, but it was still better than anything you’d attempt.

“Yeah, that looks good,” you told her. You gestured to all the scattered documents you had, filled with your lacking penmanship. “This is all the information I think was important. If something else comes to mind, I’ll write it down.”

Shika squinted at the scrawl. “Lotus, I mean this in the kindest way, but what the fuck am I supposed to be reading?”

“Listen, not all of us got to go to high school okay? Stop attacking me, you’re supposed to be on my side.” You crossed your arms and pouted. You knew very well that your chicken scratch was only legible to you, and you weren’t sure if you spelled anything correctly either.

“I don’t even know what this is supposed to say,” Shika snorted. “You’re gonna have to read it to me.”

You rolled your eyes. “God it’s gonna be the world’s worst bedtime story,” you whined. “Alright, two heads are better than one, and I need someone else’s perspective so I guess I can read it to you.”

Clearing your throat, you started at the beginning. You left nothing out, because maybe there were details you had missed that Shika would pick up on. By the end of it, you could tell that Shika was trying so hard to not make any sort of face. You waved it off, because you knew that everything was fucked up, and decided to ask, “Did anything stick out to you?”

“No,” Shika said, shaking her head. “The only thing I can think of is if you ask your boyfriend if he saw the symbol”—she tapped the endless knot with her pen—“and if he could know what it means.”

You nearly asked Shika what the hell she meant and then you remembered the lie you were going to have to perpetuate. You really hoped that this charade wouldn’t influence you to actually start falling for the younger Haitani. You already had close calls, but you attributed those moments of weakness to your muddled and tired brain. “It’s possible he may know,” you said slowly, like you were trying to find the right words to not tip off Shika that you and Rindou were anything but lovers. You thought about coming clean, but it was more convenient that Shika believed it to be a romance. You also weren’t sure what was going to happen if she found out you were lying, a delightful remnant from your past life.

“Go get your phone, dummy,” Shika prompted you.

You shook your head and got up. “Right, right,” you said. “Sorry, my thoughts are all over the place.”

Shika looked at you sympathetically. “Yeah, that makes sense. Hopefully we’ll figure something out that makes your brain shut up.”

You walked back to your room and retrieved the burner from under your mattress and returned. You opened your message thread with Rindou and a flutter of anxiety swept over you. Goddammit, you had no reason to be nervous. He was either gonna answer or not, and if he did answer, he’d either know or he won’t. There was literally no other interpretation that could be made of this interaction. Why did you feel like a stupid middle schooler with a crush again? Fucking hell. This was all Shika’s fault, you determined. But that didn’t hide the tiny bout of guilt for fully blaming her for something you decided to entertain.

You took a picture of the drawing, being careful to make sure Shika wasn’t in the shot. That’d bring up a whole slew of problems you didn’t want to address with the Haitani brothers. You sent off the picture with a quick follow-up text:

>|3-xx09-11xx at 0439 Does this look familiar to u?

You flipped your phone shut and stared at the time glaring at you. It was almost five in the morning. You shouldn’t care what he would think about you texting him so late at night, or early in the morning, depending on who you asked. “Ah hell,” you muttered.

“Hmm?” Shika tilted her head as she looked at you.

“I sent him a text at four in the morning,” you groaned, putting your face in your hands. “What is he gonna think of me?”

“Oh, it’s almost five in the morning,” Shika said, glancing at her own phone and ignoring your devastation. “Stop being dramatic,” she told you. “He should be happy you texted him at any time. Also, since when do you care what people think of you?”

You opened your mouth to retort but quickly shut it. Shika was right. You don’t care about how Rindou perceived you. Right? If you disturbed him or anything, that isn’t your problem. This whole act and your exhaustion were not a great combination. You might just fool yourself into thinking you do like the bastard. You put your head down on the table.

“He’s gonna think I’m annoying,” you whined, your arms muffling your voice. It was a partial truth, and you figured Shika would interpret it as the anxiety associated with young love. At least that’s what you hoped.

Shika patted your shoulder. “I’m sure he won’t care. He’s probably not even—”

The buzz of your phone interrupted her. Without looking up, you could feel Shika’s burning gaze. You lifted your head slightly and flipped open your phone.

>| 3-xx06-83xx at 04532 Why the hell are you awake?

>| 3-xx06-83xx at 0454 It looks a little familiar. I’ll ask around.

You stared at the messages Rindou sent to you. What the hell was he doing up? You knew why you were up, but why was he? You typed aggressively and Shika looked over your shoulder.

>|3-xx09-11xx at 0457 I could ask you the same thing.

>|3-xx09-11xx at 0457 Thanks. Let me know what you find.

>| 3-xx06-83xx at 0459 We’re not talking about me. We’re talking about you. Anyway, why do you want to know about that?

>|3-xx09-11xx at 0501 It’s a long story. But I think it’s related to all the weird shit we’ve encountered.

The conversation was left off there. You were pleasantly surprised that he answered so quickly. You figured he’d get back to you by lunchtime or something. Shika nudged you with her elbow. “See? He didn’t seem upset. He even sounded concerned about you being awake.”

“Oh god, Shika stop!” You put your face in your hands. “It’s a text message, there's no way to tell tone.”

“Aww, it’s so cute that you get all flustered still,” Shika cooed. You could only imagine the shit-eating on her face. “Anyway, let’s call it a night, yeah?”

You heard her yawn and stretch out, joints popping. You hummed in agreement, feeling the pull of sleep on your subconscious. You mumbled as you stood up and headed to the linen closet to grab Shika a blanket. Shika was already stretched out like she owned the place. Her eyes were shut, but by her breathing, you could tell she wasn’t asleep yet. You tossed the blanket over Shika and retreated to your room. You barely had time to grab your own covers before you fell into a relatively dreamless sleep.

Please do not reupload, translate, or steal my work! If it isn't here or on my ao3, it's not me! Likes & reblogs appreciated! <3 Dividers courtesy of @/cafekitsune & @/firefly-graphics

#ruse’s ashes #x reader fanfic #rindou haitani x reader #reader insert #tokyo revengers reader insert #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers ocs #rindou x reader

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imamirrorballxoxo · 1 year ago

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I know Taylor doesn’t come on anymore and likely never will, but I still want to do this. At one time Taylor said that she would come onto tumblr to read her fans posts. Seeing her fans talk about normal everyday stuff made her feel like a person so I’m going to do just that. She’ll never see it but I just want to make this a safe space. Not only for her but for all swifties.

My day:

The worst thing about summer?? The bugs!! I live where it seems the bug spray does nothing. It’s like that meme where the mosquito is drinking the spray from the bottle. I am all bit up and itchy. I used spray on my arms and I forgot my legs. So my legs are itchy and my arms smell bad. I mean, love the sun, but the bugs I can do without.

Also I’m considering going back to school for counseling or teaching but I’m nervous. I think I might be autistic but I’ve never been diagnosed and going back to school has a lot of challenges for me. Im just researching right now. Okay and now I am laying on my unmade bed waiting for my sheets to finish drying. I don’t know why I waited so late to clean my sheets. Oh well, have a nice night friend!

#taylor swift #@taylorswift #taylorswift #swifties let’s be chill #let’s be kind to each other #how was your day?

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cjsoldout · 1 year ago

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For couples so eager to call it quits and throw in the towel on your relationship because everything isn't 'perfect'...here is some food for thought.

Lifelong commitment is not what most people think it is. It's not waking up every morning to make breakfast and eat together. It's not cuddling in bed until both of you fall asleep. It's not a clean home filled with laughter and love making every day.

It's someone who steals all the covers, and snores, it's slammed doors and a few harsh words at times.

It's stubbornly disagreeing and giving each other the silent treatment until your hearts heal, and then forgiveness.

It's coming home to the same person every day that you know loves and cares about you in spite of, and because of, who you are.

It's laughing about the one time you accidentally did something stupid.

It's about dirty laundry and unmade beds.

It's about helping each other with the hard work of life.

It's about swallowing the nagging words instead of saying them out loud.

It's about eating the easiest meal you can make and sitting down together at a late hour because you both had a crazy day.

It's when you have an emotional breakdown and your love lays down with you and holds you, and tells you everything is going to be okay. And you believe them.

It's about still loving someone even though sometimes they make you absolutely insane.

Loving someone isn't always easy, sometimes it's hard. But it is amazing and comforting and one of the best things you will ever experience.

If you are blessed to have a wonderful partner in your life, then copy and paste the above, attach a picture of the two of you, and post it! I wanna see couples pictures of all my friends please!!

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seldaryne · 10 months ago

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my formatting got really weird when i went to edit, i had more space but apparently im forbidden from keeping them thanks tumblr

possibly will just make additions to this post as needed, might make new ones?? idk lol

anyway, adjustment:

i actually think over time that she Should & does become more expressive, she just doesn't really realize it?

majority of the emoting is done with her eyes/the brow area, less so other parts of her face. so if you're paying enough attention, you can probably see her working out a thought in real-time before she opens her mouth. possibly you'll even be able to predict what it's going to be too, depending on your powers of observation. in that way, it honestly looks a bit endearing. the lack of conscious awareness keeps it organic, pushing aside the intimidating mask for brief moments.

she does laugh. very quietly, very reserved, but she does. it's not likely you'll hear her over a crowd of people, but she'll draw a hand up to her mouth & her shoulders shake gently. it's unpracticed & clumsy, but even she knows there's a very good chance this is probably the first part of her life where she's had the opportunity to do it. she still wishes her first instinct wasn't to hide and internalize joy, and she tells herself that it should come with time.

astarion very much enjoys that sound. after a while, he learns which words will bring it out & which will earn him an unimpressed gaze, and plays into the former more often than not. he may as well find some use for his internal warehouse of canned lines.

there are also the adored rare smiles. he likes the way they always, always start with a softening in the eyes, dropping a layer of her guard that she never notices she's holding onto still. she needs to glance away when it starts to reach her lips, curving gently up at the corners and perhaps offering a small flash of teeth too. that's very real, and so is the way she becomes nearly bashful (or maybe flustered is the word) if he insists on trying to see more of it. understandably, she's never been properly flirted with before (he honestly wouldn't even count his own early 'attempts'), but it's a shame. bhaal's chosen is painfully cute in these moments, and perhaps there's a small, smug part of him that enjoys knowing he's been the only one able to discover it.

speaking of other small tells--her tail takes on a very, very slight relaxed sway over the course of act 3 if she's feeling particularly content. due to the nature of what's actually happening at the time, this isn't spotted a whole lot, but considering how rigid she usually holds herself (she considers it to be disciplined), it's more obvious to the eye. watching velrith try to relax her posture if she's not laying down for sleep is somewhat amusing; she still doesn't know how to do that, and is, in fact, hyperaware that she resembles a dog attempting to get comfortable at best, which makes the whole act anything but comfortable. perfectly straight posture is her default, and there's no reason to change that (does she slouch?? can she slouch?)

she makes herself small when she sleeps. this is another recent change; in another life, sleeping lightly on her back was really the only way to do it. she's still not a heavy sleeper (the idea of having another sleep-murder to wake up to is a reasonably distressing one) but she'll curl up on herself now, facing away from any sources of light. she might even go as far as to put her entire body under the blanket, with the smallest part of a foot or hand sticking out for thermoregulation. she's gotten so good at this, it's possible to mistake the shape under the covers for an unmade bed.

clingy in her sleep. she gets pretty touchy over time in general, but this is more heightened. a lifetime of touch deprivation comes out completely unshielded when she's unconscious. this typically isn't a loose hold either. not suffocating, but it's solid. it doesn't have to be a separate person in her arms, but she's discovered that she needs something there. an extra pillow, a backpack stuffed with clothes, a rolled up blanket--just... something, really. again, kind of sweet, kind of sad. big spoon, little spoon, whatever. she's got no real preference, and is somewhat relieved to find that's normal.

the tail usually ends up on astarion if he's close enough. he still thinks it feels weird as hell & physically startled awake the first few times he felt it on his leg.

there's anxiety that comes with the initial co-sleeping on a more regular basis thing. she's absolutely concerned about the risk she poses just by being who she is, & everything she has still feels so damn breakable. there's no actual solution to this. all the reassurances in the world don't ease her mind or erase the possibility of an incident. she simply has to trust that the people around her will not allow it. (fortunately she's somewhat compact if restraints are needed. still Very strong, but she's not tall or broad by any means & can be folded up & subdued. this is weirdly comforting for her to know.)

haven't finished the durge pt yet (idc about spoiling anything though that has 0 impact on me enjoying the game fdgh) but i've been thinking Thoughts.

edit okay as i was writing this i went ahead and just read up on the backstory so i could continue my thoughts in a coherent manner lmfao

(lots of info here, apparently ive gotten Very attached to her in the last uh. three weeks give or take. kinda sorta chronological?? idk it makes sense to me lmao)

velrith probably definitely only settled on that name in act 2. prior that she was just called whatever people drifted to if they needed her attention. & she didn't really care, having a void for memories will do that to a bitch, but it can make introductions awkward or give them a weird 'im too good to even give you my identity' energy. not super great when paired with someone who doesn't really emote or put a ton of effort into masking tonal inflections. she pointedly allowed other people to do more of the talking as a result for a while & would get roped into conversations that way.

i'd like to go ahead and tie in astarion's frequent use of pet names here to this too. he's got a goal here, and can't just drop a 'hey you' every time he's angling for something. it's easier to fill in the blanks that way & make sure it doesn't come across as cold and calculated as the seduction actually is for a time. of course, the mental gymnastics weren't necessary here. aside from the fact that she's extremely intense about her oath & therefore is legally obligated to send cazador straight to hell on sight, he'd also have the same luck with a low-effort, straightforward 'do you want to have sex?' the lines are... usually fine, never actually crossing boundaries, but she does find a lot of them to be really goddamn weird & unnecessary when the point could be made in less than 10 words.

picture a distraught-looking sighthound & you have the general idea of the face she makes when he lays it on thick. she's giving her best shot at a socially appropriate expression. it's not working.

also on names, she can't say for sure if that's who she was before or if she just pieced together syllables that sounded like Something from memory. again, doesn't really matter either way, since she's not in any hurry to reclaim her former self. it's fine.

ketheric felt straightforward. a tragic figure who she did extend an olive branch towards, but ultimately felt nothing when it came time to bring her blade down (besides, isobel seemed like she knew what she was talking about when velrith confessed [suddenly coming back into her room just to point-blank tell her about the desire to spill her blood] certain thoughts of violence towards the cleric, and it felt like the sort of assurance she should be trusting, right? more than any of her own emotions, anyway.)

gortash gives her the ick. like, there's no other way to describe that one. he actually probably still would even without all the history (and the fact that he needed to repent for what he'd done to karlach), but the slimy over-familiarity was really the nail in the coffin there. velrith isn't smooth nor particularly socially gifted, but she has a certain air of formal pride she carries herself with. acting like you know her better than she does herself (even if it may very well be the truth!) is so beyond an overstep of what she's able to function with. stripping away everything else, if he even tried to touch her casually on the shoulder, he would have been liable to lose that hand.

orin troubles her. for the obvious reasons, but she also just... pities her. almost. pre-tadpole, velrith was honestly relatively similar compared to her current personality. colder and more able to justify slaughter, sure, but still staunchly refusing to compromise her own feelings for social games. she understood how the game pieces moved when she watched other people, even when she was younger, but if asked to copy the same techniques, she was only ever able to bludgeon straight through in a line. consequently, people don't really care how strange you are if you're just that good at your job. orin made a one-sided rivalry out of someone who otherwise just regarded her as a peer in the same arena, and now sees her as someone who wouldn't have been able to take the chance at redemption even if it had been on the table. she was too far gone, unable to stand on her own or cope with the fact that she would always be lesser than someone who genuinely could not have cared less about standings. maybe if velrith had feigned some interest, there wouldn't have been so much hatred. or maybe there would have.

either way, she sees orin in a depressing light. someone who had nothing and no one but the prospect of power, and who crumbled as soon as that chance at power was taken away. to let her live would have been to co-sign on her projecting those emotions outwards. velrith isn't stupid and knows there's a good chance she might have gone the same way if she hadn't been lucky enough to receive her parasite. in another life, she thinks that maybe she could have found a connection, and they might have saved each other (either genuinely or in a twisted version of the word). this isn't a thought she shares with anyone. she thinks about that death and their interactions for a long time afterwards.

her 'normal' childhood sometimes comes to her in fleeting memories that disappear out of her periphery if she focuses too hard. she thinks she liked her parents, and they seemed like nice people from what she can semi-recall. but she can also tell that there's always just been something wrong with her if she compares herself to other people. many of these snippets feature her looking anywhere but at her parents' faces, unable to express herself verbally in a way they could understand (the words were right, they way she used them was... her own, shall we say?). something flipped at some point, and all of the sudden she would stare too much at them, not blinking or looking away at the right moments. they'd seemed to squirm a bit under this. they always seemed a bit sad when they looked at her, as if they'd loved her but she was never quite as they hoped she would be.

she had to be taught what to do during a hug as an older child instead of leaving her arms limp at her sides. she knows that.

she doesn't remember killing them. she doesn't remember how it would have felt to receive her first order or how she was unable to do anything but listen to the violent urges.

there's more guilt for not feeling much towards them than there is for the killing.

the staring hasn't shifted again. she knows she looks at people too hard and/or too long, looks at them dead in the eyes and studies their faces, but she can't help it. one, it's good to be aware and alert. two, looking away doesn't seem to be the answer either. at least this way they know she's paying attention, right?

she thinks she shouldn't care about these things, that it's so ridiculous coming from her blood-soaked past, laughable that she'd wonder what it meant to have people relax in your presence instead of becoming more visibly anxious. but she wants to be good, she really, really does. she wants to be able to join a group like everyone else, slipping seamlessly into their words and laughing how they laugh instead of her own (the faintest of smiles and a soft rush of air running past her lips, blink-and-you'll-miss-it laughter that may as well not exist outside of her head). she doesn't hate herself for these things, because she doesn't know how else to be, but she does wonder. she wants to know what it's like for these things to be easy. bhaal's favourite hadn't been blessed with charisma, apparently.

consequently, she has a very hard time now figuring out how to actually connect with anyone, or what it should feel like to have friends.

it made her somewhat uncomfortable in the beginning to be asked questions by these people on a regular basis. not even personal questions, just things to signal that she existed to them in some capacity. gale remembers when she'd wrinkled her nose at a certain seasoning, and leaves it off her plate when he makes dinner going forward. lae'zel likes how she fights and asks her questions on technique, asking to spar so she could better understand the answers. shadowheart thinks they're alike with similar holes in their memories, and seeks out her company because of it. she doesn't understand, and for a while she even feels a bit suffocated by it. exposure therapy is really the only remedy here.

initially there are some reasonable assumptions on whether she just dislikes them all that much, or if she thinks she's better than them, or some other nasty reason. it takes approximately two conversations with her for everyone to understand that's not the case. it's like speaking to someone who only every studied social behaviour from an incomplete textbook and was visibly struggling to fill in the gaps in real-time. is she scary? yes, a bit. does she stare at you Way too much when you're speaking to her (at her, really, because you will be carrying that conversation until she's gotten her footing)? also yes. but she's really earnestly trying to sort herself out for the sake of the people around her, brain twisting around itself to learn things that were as easy as breathing to most. and it's sort of sweet, in its own way.

over time, she stops simply caring about these people based on her code of ethics. she starts to remember things about them too, her love language starts to show itself through gift-giving at an absolutely glacial pace, but it's noticeable to literally everyone despite that. a small trinket picked up at the market matching shadowheart's usual taste is pressed into her hand with only a nod before velrith is turning on her heel and almost running away. a tome is thrust at wyll with such startling intensity that the kindness actually comes off as a bit of a threat, but she looks visibly relieved when he takes it with a smile. so on and so forth. every incident like this, every blunt display of 'i notice you. i think you would like this. i thought of you today,' is accompanied by a hasty exit. task accomplished, but now the script has run out, so she's doing the same. she also finds it hard to look at people once the exchange has taken place, and is pretty sure this is an affliction only she suffers from.

she's going to push through it anyway, even if it makes her skin feel like its trying to recoil off her bones.

it also comes out in the protection. again, it's expected as a paladin of devotion, but no one is quite prepared for the molten fury that burns in her eyes or the weight of her voice whenever ghosts from the past arise. not only has she sworn her protection to those suffering from harm (and names like orin, gortash, cazador, viconia & more absolutely qualify as those who cause harm), but it feels personal. acting as shield and guillotine is when velrith is truly in her element, standing tall and embodying the virtues laid out in her tenets.

she is fighting internally just as much as externally, pushing back against base instincts to continue her sworn oath. driving her sword through the flesh of the emperor is just as much about defeating him as it is proving to herself that she is still capable of goodness. if she falls here, she can at least die knowing she was dedicated to rebellion until her very last breath.

this does not mean that she actually registers it when people like her, though. in fact, once she pieces together what her true nature is (she hadn't wanted to kick that poor animal, or make a spectacle of that nice bard's corpse, or try to rip out astarion's throat as he slept--but she had done those things, and more, and what's worse, some of them don't even to her like they would anyone else) she's pretty sure that the unanimous, logical choice would be to put her at a distance.

so she braces, prepares, makes peace with returning to the status quo & starts pulling away before staging her little ted talk. jaheira catches her first, though, and it gets to her. she's not spoken much to the woman, but she's... incredibly understanding, actually. so much so that it leaves velrith with a profound ache in her chest when she rolls over and tries to sleep again (jaheira's insistence, and her promise to stand watch all night in case she lost control again). being around jaheira hurts like hell, but she still seeks her out after that incident. she looks at her kindly but doesn't treat her with any more fragility than before. she's good-humoured when answering question after question about bhaalspawn, and stays honest the whole time too. she seeks her out when she isolates as much as she can on the outside of camp, dropping a sack of potatoes at velrith's feet and sitting beside her so that they can peel them in easy silence.

she likes that the most. sometimes it feels like velrith's head is too full; not from the parasite or the echoes of a murderous god, but from--she's not sure, actually, but it makes thinking hard, and speech tends to take a temporary leave as well. no amount of coaxing makes a difference, it'll return when it decides to. that's the bad sort of silence, the type that other people feel like they should fix so that everyone can be comfortable again. except jaheira, who apparently can figure out what she needs before velrith can even process that question. and sometimes, she just needs to peel some potatoes for a bit.

standing before everyone else, she prepares for the logical choice of rejection again. instead, she's greeted with shrugs, support, sympathy, but overall--not much of a change. that's the part that sends her off, only pausing just long enough to take a breath before excusing herself to the surrounding woods. it hurts so damn much, being loved like this. she wonders if any technicalities in her oath actually require her to slay herself at this point, just based on the implications alone. they should be appalled. fearful. cold. and she'd wound herself up so much inside determining this to already be the only end to her confession. bare your soul, lose what you'd only started to ease into, return to your duty.

the other shoe never does drop, though. it's gone so catastrophically well that she can't even make the tears flow properly (she's only done it once before that she remembers, but that should be adequate). instead, her sobs are muffled gasps against her hands, choking on her own confusion as she sinks to the ground, shaking.

of course, this comes out after the "incident", in the underdark, which means astarion has already seen her cry precisely once of something that seemed to her a similar scale. he's got a better handle on it, he'd like to believe, and he can sense that he's being silently volunteered for the 'fetch our bhaalspawn' quest. she's not hard to find either, an ice-white tiefling amongst the greenery with her head hidden in her arms, folded in on herself like she's not worth the weight of her own bones. it's sad, and a little annoying, actually, because if she was to insist that he possessed worth like it was the most obvious fact in the world, like he was strange for not feeling the same way, why shouldn't that same sentiment extend in her direction.

of course, there's little he can say to soothe in a way that matters, he's not going to make that mistake again, but he's at least able to bring her up for air. yes my love, perhaps it is foolish and unwise for any of us to stay around something so dangerous, but that argument can be made in many directions, not just yours. you would be the first among us to dismiss those very notions if they were coming from someone else, and have done so--multiple times, may i add--as bhaalspawn. if there's upset about the reveal, i'm confident that it's more to do with how you feel than anything else.

and really, what's she supposed to do with that aside from break even more (from relief, maybe? tension and fear of rejection that she hadn't known how to recognize, hadn't known she was holding onto? the understanding that this is not just from him, but on behalf of everyone else too?) and crumble into him.

against all odds, she is worthy of loving. despite her bloodline and her personal shortcomings, she is worthy of that much.

nothing in half-measures, as most paladins tend to be. does she remember when or why or even how she took the oath? not even a bit. but it's the only thing in her head when she wakes up on the mind flayer ship, the sole thing she's sure of, the only guiding direction she has. it should be enough to understand right and wrong, but it isn't for her. following the oath is a choice, something she can steady herself on when nothing else makes sense. devotion to her cause of protection, restoring some of the balance in the world that she lost before orin killed her. maybe that was why she lived; something needed her to right some of her sins before death arrived. or maybe a divine power was looking for someone who wouldn't be missed if they were lost in stopping the ithilids.

whatever it is, she does everything in her power to stick to it. until, of course, life happens (as it tends to) and she does something in the underdark. what did she do? she doesn't know, because she thought she was helping--that myconid was going to betray the colony that took him in when he lost all others. she raised her sword when it was clear a scolding wouldn't change his mind. and then... the sinking feeling that something was wrong.

something was missing. the only part of her that felt like it was anything was gone, and for the first time (maybe ever?) she gets emotional. there's no anchor anymore, no calming guide of tenets to follow.

the oathbreaker knight will find her later, she knows. at camp, she's distraught, and the little bit she dared interact goes out the window entirely. there's nothing anyone could actually say that would help, anyway. this does not stop astarion from trying.

glib as ever, were she in a more normal headspace she would have seen the dismissive comment for the hand-waving attempt at comfort it was. he probably knows there's nothing he can actually say to bring her down, but surely a joke (meant to reassure that she would be fine regardless, whether the oath stayed broken or was re-taken, she was competent on the field and he at least trusted her that much) would be alright?

it was not.

for all that he carried, he could not--did not--understand. of course he could be cavalier about it; despite all that was taken from him, he still had his own gods-damned name. he knew who he was, wasn't scrambling to put together fragments of his own ghost just to make some unimpressive small talk like she was. she has not yet chosen her name at this point, and that oath is where she begins & ends as a person.

he's silent when she snaps, unexpected. like a cornered animal about to tear its own leg out of a trap, daring anyone to come closer to 'help' so that they too can be maimed. a total loss for words, even when she stalks off to keep herself from acting out even further (who knows how prone she would be to violence now? not her!), raising her voice for the first time at him in pure grief.

he doesn't really get it, but he understand more in the middle of all that. the pieces click together in his mind, working themselves out during the berating. the gods never answered his cries, and so his outlook remained fairly bleak on the whole pantheon. paladins occupied a space at the opposite end of the spectrum, and he'd assumed that her more uptight habits were an offshoot from that (it's not like she gave him a ton to work with, either. he did his best from what he was allowed to see). for her, there may as well have been no gods involved in any capacity. it was simply the thing that kept her from fracturing entirely, now gone thanks to a misunderstood line in the agreement.

she still refuses to speak to him, even after she's begged for the oath back--she'll be good this time, really, she'll be good, she promises, it won't happen again, please--and received it successfully. she's not talking much to anyone, feeling both too exhausted and over-sensitive to even contemplate that. his apology isn't... good, exactly. but it's honest and that's really all she gives a shit about. things are still weird and cold for a bit, manifesting in a physical distance & reinforcing just how off his initial read on her was. but it's her first real brush with interpersonal conflict, so learning curves are expected. time and circumstance eventually help things settle, with there being bigger things to worry about.

she's quiet during sex. responsive and hyper-aware of her body, definitely, but still restrained. she enjoys the act, however, despite the lack of volume, and this shows through a readiness to explore and feel things. the ability to feel physical pleasure is something that at least seems to be something she has in common with most people. but she's overly permissive too, sometimes uncomfortably so; she's simply not attached enough to her body to have real concerns or strong preferences. at first glance, this seems to be deference, the need to be agreeable in every situation lest she tip the scales too much in her own direction.

he puts his finger on that after the third encounter, and finds himself taking a break from her for a while after as a result (once again, an act that she's absolutely fine with--god, has the thought of challenging him ever even crossed her mind in this department?). Further observation, however, reveals something else. her actions are exploratory. experimental. there's no frame of reference, she needs to establish preferences all over again for this version of herself. in fact, he sees that this extends to other tasks people ask of her as well. every action or accompaniment is met with the same reserved curiosity, considering what's being asked of her before ultimately deciding to try something new. perhaps that was why he felt like he was being intensely studied if he squints.

there's no doubt that she does see him. but she only sees enough to know that she lacks the connections to actually do anything with that. an unbalanced, vexing sort of safety net. (still, there was probably no one better for him to glue himself to than a paladin, and he tells himself that's why he spends so long trying to figure her out. because surely, her motivations can't be as obviously honest as they come across--can they?)

it's only after she tells him on the name she's privately decided to give herself (private for now, since everyone else will be informed in the morning) that he starts to realize just how much he enjoys kissing her. she's not nearly as practiced as he is, but gods, there's such a single-mindedness to the kisses it actually leaves him dizzy. her focus is so all-encompassing, the world around them may as well have been unravelling at its seams and she still wouldn't break contact. chasing pleasure but holding back just enough to keep her head above the water, prolonging the act as much as she can. he's been kissed before. many times, actually, but not like this.

there is... so much disappointment when rejecting bhaal doesn't actually change anything fundamental in her. on one hand, that really does mean that it's been her personality the entire time. that the good choices she made were hers, and they were worth fighting for.

on the other hand, fostering even that small seed of hope that she might become less of herself and more like other people had been a dangerous game. the distance remains, along with the lack of understanding and knowledge that some things would always be more hard-won for her, while others would simply be entirely beyond her reach. knowing this logically is one thing. accepting it is... entirely different. it will take time, and she will at least allow herself as much so as to properly grieve a version of herself whose body knew how to laugh freely.

she'll be okay.

#oc tag #velrith

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confetti-critter · 4 years ago

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O no aaaaa its 3am I need to make my bed and then sleep asap! *lays on the ground and watches a silverfish run around in the kitchen for 10 min*

#*lays on my unmade bed to make this post*#i kniw theyre pests but theyre so cute aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa #ive seen 3 in this house in the past couple of years n they were all pretty big hopefully they dont get to be a problem #i love them 🥺 i need to finish sewing my stuffed silverfish someday...#flat fucks.....lil stinkers #they zoom along and wiggle their big antennae and its cute how they walk past the gaps between tiles. they just dip down it looks silly #i put my arm out n he snimffed me :^) hee hoo #i need to find that one video i posted here #hold on #personable

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indigoh4ze · 3 years ago

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use your words || t.n & d.m

warning- SMUT // face riding, blowjobs, mommy kink, d/s dynamic, a lot of praise, lmk what else

sub!draco x dom!theo x switch!fem!reader

a/n- i've never wrote for theo but this idea came to mind cuz i've been seeing alot of him sooo here it is! enjoy and send in some theo requests if you have any. also i tagged my draco taglist for now since i only just added theo

taglist | << add yourself to the theo taglist | turn on notifs on @slvt4fakerealities-library to be notified when i post

looking to your right, draco’s feet were draped over the arm of the couch, his head on your lap like your thighs were his own personal cushions.

theo, who sat on the left, was playing with the strings of his joggers mindlessly, and your head laid limp against his shoulder, fingers raking through the blond hair on your lap.

draco was beginning to get whiny, squirming as he turned to nose at your thighs, almost hitting your crotch- causing you to tense mildly and inhale sharply.

“dray, y’alright?” you questioned with a knowing gaze, coaxing him to look at you, which he did, though a pout was drawn onto his lips.

“wanna go t’bed, mommy,” theo now put his attention on draco, cocking his head and scanning his eyes over the boys state, a mess with glossy eyes and flushed cheeks.

you looked over at theo for permission, wasting no time in bringing draco to his feet with the gentle touch of your hand on his bicep. once you all made your way over to draco’s private dorm, theo guided the both of you to the unmade bed.

draco immediately found shelter by your side, nuzzling into your neck and leaving wet kisses along your jawline, pulling quiet and breathy moans from your throat.

“how about you tell mommy what you want, dray, use your words like a good boy,” theo gently purred, now squatted in front of draco, two hands placed soundly on the boys knees, the pad of his thumb soothing circles.

draco seemed to hesitate, awfully flushed in this headspace, distracted by the intense whirling in his core. “w-wanna feel good,” he mumbled, though he was nudging so close to you that his words came out muffled.

it took theos strong grip on his jaw to steer him away from you, and you placed a hand on his thigh to relax his nerves. “c’mon now, be a good boy and then we can help you, alright?”

nodding, draco slowly parted his lips, “want you to touch me, please?”

“with what, baby?” now it was your turn to question, and draco looked up at you, gulping.

“dunno, mommy.”

but it was evident he did know, because he looked down and bit his lip, feeling even more nervous as all the eye were on him.

so you ran tender fingers through his hair and placed a kiss on his cheek, bringing him to lay back. the boy followed without question, then scrambled to meet your requests of discarding his shirt.

theo stood, doing the same and then moving onto his buckle, the metal clacking together and filling both you and draco with suspense of what’s to come.

“doll, wanna be a good girl and get on your knees?” theo insisted, and you practically fell to the floor, urgently doing as he asked, in return gaining a proud smile from the boy.

the brunet walked over, stroking a piece of hair behind your ears and then looking back at draco, who was sat up on his elbows and awaiting attention. “dray, how about you ask nicely, and y/n/n will make you feel really good?”

“p-please, wanna feel your mouth around my cock, waited all day f’you, please?” draco hastily blurted, a glimmer of lust molded into his gray eyes.

“good boy,” with the praise, draco’s heart swelled, and theo leaned down, tilting the boys chin up and placing a lingering kiss on his lips. draco melted into the kiss, desperately using his tongue and making theo grin slightly into the kiss before moving away.

you were simply watching from your knees, a pout constructing its way onto your lips at the lack of attention. as if reading your mind, theo spoke, “go on, bunny, suck him off like a good girl and then i’ll make that little ache in your tummy go away, how does that sound?” his soft spoken words and vibrant visage had you nodding eagerly. as a reward for your obedience, theo mirrored his previous actions, leaving a kiss on your lips and pecking them once more for extra effect.

theo aides draco in taking off his undergarments, and now it was your turn to comply to theos requests, signaling draco to move closer to the edge of the bed so you could get the perfect angle of his cock from your kneeled position. he was gripping the silk sheets with a strong hand, watching the way you took his cock in your hand and began to set a rhythm around it. your simple actions drew soft whimpers from the boy, and theo watched from where he was leaning against the wall, cock straining against the material of his boxers.

“does that feel good, dray?” you inquired, and draco nodded quickly.

“words, dray,” theo reminded the boy from the side.

“y-yeah, feels really g-good mommy,” his sentence ended with a yelp as you brought the tip of his cock between your lips, the warm muscle stroking it before fully submerging it inside the warmth of your mouth.

draco released a lewd moan, and in the corner of your eye you saw the licentious smirk drawn on theos lips, which had your cunt throbbing through your panties even more. the boy in front of you had his eyes closed, though he couldn’t keep them shut for long as he wanted to watch how well you took him.

pre-cum dribbled from his tip, and you gagged lightly around him as theo padded over to assist you - holding back your hair in a makeshift pony tail and guiding your head so his cock slid gingerly through your swollen lips. a few bucks of his hips was all it took for him to become a moaning mess, whines spilling freely off his tongue with less shame, eyes unable to keep off the sight of theos lips attaching themselves to the flesh behind your ear every now and then.

soon, draco was emptying inside your mouth, cock driving into you one last time before he dissolved into pleasure. you dragged the climax out as long as you could before gasping for air, licking your lips and lulling your tongue out for theo to show him you swallowed everything.

theo gave you a pleased smile and an affectionate kiss on your temple before standing to sit by draco. “feelin’ better?” theo queried with a lopsided grin.

“much,” draco nodded, kissing theos cheek and then looking down at you. “thank you, mommy.”

“of course, love,” you were standing now, giving the silver haired boy a kiss and then looking at theo expectantly.

“i want you to ride my face now, angel, sound good?”

“yes please.” you said with eager eyes.

“good,” theo breathily chuckled, “and draco, you’re gonna be a good boy and suck me off, yeah?”

once draco had responded with just as much eagerness- enthusiastic at any chance to pleasure his boyfriend- it had begun.

theo’s on his back, your flimsy panties discarded along with your shirt, and draco between theos legs and in front of his now exposed cock. slight hesitation came over you before you managed to maneuver yourself above theo’s face. the heat of his breath fanned against your cunt and you shivered from that alone, non stop blood rushing through your body.

finally, theo’s lips connected with your folds, already soaked from your arousal. his tongue worked deliciously against them, opening your lips and gaining access to your bundle of nerves, suctioning the nub with fervor. draco began his ministrations on theo’s cock, which had the brunet groaning into your pussy.

moans were pouring out of your mouth, fingers intertwining with the strings of hair at theo’s scalp, your free hand gripping the top of the bed frame as you slightly rolled your hips against his mouth. draco was speeding up, which meant theo was gaining more and more pleasure, resulting in you shivering from the stimulation.

“fuck— theo, right there!” you gasped as his tongue flicked the perfect spot repeatedly, swirling and sucking as wet noises echoed throughout the room, along with other sounds of groans and moans.

lifting your hips from theo’s grasp for a second, the boy peered up at you through half lidded eyes, rosy cheeks and disheveled hair making your thighs quiver. “c’mon, love, ‘m not finished tasting your sweet pussy,” he rasped, digging his fingertips into the fat of your ass before pulling you back towards him, this time not letting you escape his clutch.

theo’s tongue worked rapidly against your cunt, eventually sheathing it into your fluttering walls, and drawing a lewd whimper from the pit of your chest, “i’m coming— theo fuck, fuck please,” you were begging and blabbering as arousal dripped from your cunt and smeared itself around theo’s mouth. your orgasm took over, your body going limp as you held onto the headboard firmly and threw your head back in ecstasy.

just as you did so, draco swirled his skillful tongue around theo’s length, taking all of him and getting theo to his peak. his moans into your overworked cunt were heaven and hell, sensitivity and pleasure swirling within you as you panted above him.

eventually removing your cunt from his mouth, you sat on his bare stomach, soaking the outline of his abs with your slick, your lips puffy and achy against him.

draco lift his head up, kissing your hip from behind and then sitting up fully. theo released a sigh before sitting up, grabbing your by your underarms and pulling you down into a sloppy kiss- the taste of your juices still on his tongue- then settled you onto his chest. he outstretched an arm for draco to join- the boy crawling towards you and snuggling close to theo’s chest as well, your faces turned towards eachother.

you looked up at theo, dotting a kiss near his chin and doing the same to draco’s forehead, then settling back onto the boys comforting warmth and allowing your eyes to flutter shut from exhaustion. the last thought that went through your head before sleep fully overtook you was,

i’ll worry about the mess later.

@arcaneslut @ayaosk @kollirium @marrymetheonott @pbnjami @malfoysbiitch @shabeebaby @scentedtimemachinesheep @spaceconstellationss @fleursbabe @malfoyxxdraco23 @desiredmalfoy @fredshufflepuff @littlemissnoname13 @whaddyam3an @abigailmalfoy @cherylm @malfoybws @trashyvicks @sw33tgirl @malfoyswhxre @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dracomalfoyisminez @justaplainfangirl @narcissacore @bby-gxrnet @honky-karl @houseofhufflepuff @fredandgeorgeweasleywhore @lunar0se10 @yumicloudshp @wh0re4blaise @bella-lxhp @4kweasley @riddleswh0r3crux @sapphicprinc3ss @dracomalfoyswifeee @dawnmalfoy @1800-shutup @petitfruitmarocains @emma67 @drxsbvttrbr @jdrlia @turn-to-page-394-please @spencervera @savagelysarcasticslytherin @sluttylea @dlmmdl @blowing-mikey @methblinds @draysslytherclaw @silverdelirium @etherealdm @Imtryingbutithurts @Jbus3888 @dracomalfoysfavoritewhore @oliv-005 @alyxa07 @dracosbaibe @justasmolballofstress @mrsmalfoy @louweasleymalfoy @microwavedhampster

#theodore nott #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore x draco x reader #theodore nott smut #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader smut #theodore nott x reader smut #theodore x reader smut #draco x reader smut #harry potter universe #theo nott x reader #theo nott x reader smut #theo nott smut #theo smut

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starlightval · 3 years ago

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bad feeling || thomas shelby

pairing: thomas shelby x reader

synopsis: Tommy isn’t home yet and you have a bad feeling you can’t shake.

warnings: none

Request: N/A

Note: Hope you all enjoy this! I haven't written for peaky blinders and posted since 2018, thought I’d try my hand at it again.

masterlist

It was night time, around ten or so, and you were tucked inside the bed you shared with your husband. Though currently you were the only one occupying it. It wasn’t unusual for Tommy to work into all hours of the night and sometimes morning, tying up whatever loose ends there were or even undoing a few.

Nevertheless you never failed to be worried, especially when you hadn’t heard from him or any news about his whereabouts from anyone. He usually did his best to get word to you somehow, especially if he was to be late. Which is why you laid in the giant comfortable bed unable to sleep. That, and you had a sickening feeling in the pit of your stomach that something was very wrong.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you tried to figure out where or what it was directed to. This felt more than your usual concern for Tommy’s well being. It took a moment but your heart dropped when you finally connected it causing you to quickly shoot up in bed, grab your discarded dressing robe from the floor and exit the room as fast as humanly possible.

Yes, the bad feeling was directed at Tommy but a part of it was to your son. You didn’t care if you were acting like a crazy person, all that mattered was your boys were safe and if you couldn’t get to Thomas then you were sure as hell going to get to Charlie.

The house was quiet, as it always was, but in that moment it made the hair raise up on the back of your neck. The only noise heard was the sound of your bare feet slapping against the polished wood floors as you ran. Luckily Charlie’s room was on the same level, as you had requested it to be and the closest to your’s and Thomas's room.

You practically flew into his bedroom, which didn’t contain a door per Thomas’s paranoia. He didn’t like the idea of anyone, even the maids being able to go into their son's room and shut the door or the idea of someone shutting him in there. You paused at the doorway, breathing heavily, hair wild. You stared at him for a moment, as if to convince yourself that he was fine before he started to fuss as if sensing his mother’s presence in the room.

You were across the room to his wooden crib in seconds, grabbing him out of it. You hushed him, pulling his tiny body closer to your own. As if you were a shield between him and the outside world and everything in it that could hurt him.

You quickly decided that there wasn’t any way you were going to be able to sleep without at least one of the Shelby boys that resided in the home and grabbed Charlie’s teddy bear that Tommy had gifted him upon his birth before making your way back to the room you came from. This time not running.

Once you arrived at the heavy oak wood doors, you grasped the door handle with one hand and pushed the door open with your hip walking inside making sure it shut after her. You walked towards the unmade bed and sat Charlie down on it before ridding yourself of your robe, climbing in after him.

You originally laid down on your own side of the bed, which was furthest away from the door. Again Tommy’s paranoia getting the best of him and demanding he sleep on the side closest to the door in case of danger, but ended up in the middle curled up more on your husband's side where Charlie lay.

The young boy, laid between numerous pillows, so he wouldn’t fall off the bed, and his mother, had quickly drifted back off to sleep encased in both his mother and father’s scent. It took Y/N Shelby a little longer to fall asleep, your stomach feeling a little better but still turning from the fear that something had happened to Thomas. However exhaustion quickly caught up with you, after tucking your nose in your son's hair you fell asleep to the sweet baby smell that belonged to your child.

It wasn’t much later that Thomas Shelby himself came bursting through the front door of the house rushing up the stairs to their son's room after being threatened and released by Russians. He had been threatened more times than he could count and it never phased him until they threatened his son. So imagine his panic when he came running through the door of the nursery only to find the crib empty.

His eyes were wild, as he searched the room trying to see if there were obvious signs of a break in or anything of the sort. His mind was whirling, trying to figure out if someone had taken his son and if so how he was going to explain it to his wife. He quickly went to the crib and reached under the pillow, afraid of what he might find, only to pull out a business card.

Clenching his fist around it, breathing heavily he then remembered that Y/N was in the house as well and if Charlie was missing, she could be too. Not to mention they had also informed him they could get to his wife if they very well pleased, causing him to race out of his son's room in even more panic than he had earlier bursting through his bedroom door the same way he had a few moments ago. However, he stopped short upon the sight in front of him.

There they were, the two most important people in his world laying in his bed together on his side sleeping soundly, seeming to not be disrupted by the noise at all.

He could feel his body physically relax, his breathing slow some as he gazed upon his wife and child. With shaking legs, he approached the side of the bed running his hand over his wife’s head who only moved closer as if realizing it was him even in her sleep. Squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth together he took a few calming breaths trying to slow his heartbeat which almost proved impossible.

Not being able to stand it any longer, he stripped himself of his coat and suit jacket, kicking off his shoes while throwing his hat off at the same time, he unbuttoned his white shirt and shed himself of the white undershirt quickly leaving him in just his trousers. Wasting no time he slid into the bed, next to his son coming to rest on his side. He wrapped his arms around both his child and wife, pulling them tightly to him causing Charlie to be sandwiched in between his parents chests.

Tommy pulled the only women he had ever loved closer until their heads were just barely touching, his arm going around to her back while making sure Charlie was still comfortable. The movement however had woken you up, your Y/E/C eyes fluttering open to connect with a pair of bright blue ones.

“Tommy.” You breathed, as if you couldn’t believe he was right there in front of you.

“Everythin’s alright love, go back to sleep.”

At your husband's words, you went silent, choosing to examine his face which told you that everything was not alright like he was trying to convince you. You had known him practically all your life, he should know better than to lie to you. You watched as his eyes shifted down to Charlie, your eyes never leaving him.

“I had a bad feelin’ I couldn’t shake.” You explained, looking down at Charlie for a moment before looking back at Tommy. “Pathetic isn’t it? I’m his mum. I should be comforting him, not the other way ‘round.”

“It’s not pathetic. It’s your job as his mother to protect him, that’s what you were doing.”

You looked at Tommy, trying to figure out what he was thinking by his eyes but Thomas Shelby was a master at concealing things. Even from the women he’s loved for years. He could feel your gaze on him, causing him to look back at you.

“You’ll tell me what’s going on in the morning?”

“I’ll tell you what’s going on in the morning.” He agreed, rubbing circles into your back with his thumb. “For now, sleep.”

You stared at him for a few more seconds, as if searching for something before you let out a sigh as you nodded and then shut your eyes.

“If you ever worry me like that again I’ll burn the fuckin’ ‘ouse down.”

“Yes love.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders imagines #peaky fucking blinders #shelby family #imagine #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby x you #charlie shelby #arthur shelby #tommy shelby one shot #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinder imagine

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hobbitual-psychick-art-stuff · 2 years ago

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Suptober22 Day 13: Morning After

(Feeling a little lazy today so todays art and exert comes from chapter 31 of my current WIP, “Don’t Feed After Midnight.”)

Dean didn’t stop, or listen to any more of the invisible little assholes smartass comments. He covered the distance to Kevin’s room at a trot and kicked the door open.

It banged open hitting the wall behind with a loud thump.

And revealed Kevin, sprawled on his back across the unmade bed, asleep. His hag stone dangeled out of his shirt and across his chest; rising and falling with each open mouthed breath he took.

An empty hip flask lay by Kevin’s open hand. Making it plain. Reason why he hadn’t responded, or woken yet, was ‘cause he’d been into the hunters helper.

Kid had obviously gotten himself sauced with Dutch courage and used Crowley as his own personal Wing-Chun dummy. Went all LaRusso on his ass. Well, more power to him.

“Little punks fine.” Dean breathed to himself, relieved.

Stood there watching the steady rise and fall of Kevin’s chest a moment longer, while his heart rate steadied. Wondered if he ought to chuck a bucket of cold water over the kid and chew him out; for stealing his hooch and getting blackout drunk, the way Dad would have done.

But figured, that wasn’t his job, and he really couldn’t talk. Boys would be boys after all, and the gremlin was right about one thing. Kev’ didn’t get enough sleep.

Instead, he grabbed a book of post-it notes off the desk and scrawled a quick note; saying they were home, there was chicken and prune juice in the fridge, and that Kevin could REALLY do with a shower.

He stuck the note on the boy’s forehead. Then backed out of the room and shut the door.

“He really isn’t, fine. Neither are you, or your brother.”

Dean whipped round to face the disembodied voice, a prickling tightness between his shoulder blades.

“What d’ you mean? What’s wrong with Sam?”

“With the damage to his body — and soul— Your brother should be dead, add to that, he’s walking around possessed by an Angel.”

“The hell you say, Sammy’s gonna be fine!”

“He isn’t. And he won’t be if he knows what you did. Which is why you’re afraid to tell him, isn’t it. His biggest nightmare is being possessed, again, after what Queen Mab’s favourite archangel did to him, for all that time…”

#suptober22 #kevin tran #art post #fanfic #my work in progress #morning after #dean winchester #supernatural #fanart

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parkers-gal · 4 years ago

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I have an idea for another tomxreader story. So in this one Tom, reader, brothers and Harrison just finished a scary movie night, and they all decided to prank Tom by doing to tik tok trend where they hand under the bed and throw stuff and like touch them.

i can just so see this happening😭

｡☆✼★━━ requests are closed ━━★✼☆｡

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Tom yells, scrunching up into a ball and squeezing his eyes shut, gripping your shoulder in fear.

You share a laugh with the boys around you. “C’mon, Tom. This isn’t too bad.”

“Not too bad?!” Tom repeats dramatically. “There’s literally a clown! On screen! In an old abandoned house! That’s the worst kind of horror movie!”

“What could possibly have expected from Stephen King?” Harrison chuckles, eating a handful of popcorn from the bowl in his lap.

“You said he was a good writer! I didn’t think that was equivalent to scary!”

“Oh no, Tom,” you chuckle, “He’s quite the man when it comes to scary stuff.”

“Just watch the ending, Tom,” Harry suggests calmly, sipping the rest of his soda. “It’s almost over, anyways.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, sitting straight so he can view the television. The movie ends not twenty minutes later, and while Tom says something about cleaning up in the kitchen, Harry leans over to whisper something to you and Harrison, and Sam.

“You guys wanna pull some pranks?” he grins, and Harrison mirrors his smirks.

“What are you guys on?” Sam chuckles. “You’re going to give Tom a heart attack.”

“Awesome, then!” Harry says, before going on. “C’mon, it’s the perfect opportunity.”

“Oh!” You sit up, “I saw this thing on tiktok that’d be perfect for right now.”

“Really? What was it?”

You hum, “But we’d have to go upstairs right now.”

“Go, go, go!” Harry ushers you out, and you whisper the plan into his ear. “I’ll film it, just go!”

The three of you clamber your ways up the stairs, taking refuge in yours & Tom’s bedroom. You pull Sam under the bed with you, grabbing a number of things on your way down, things you can throw out at Tom. Sam found his glove from his Jeepers Creepers halloween costume , so he put it on his right hand for the occasion. You have to hold back a chuckle when you realize how mischievous you’re being.

Harrison, on the other hand, stays put in the closet. You don’t know how, but somehow he’d gotten a hold of the controls for the lighting in this room — Tom wanted to control the lights with his phone, something about proving to you that he’s not an old man with technology — so he’s got the app opened on his phone, and he’s ready to rattle some things around to make noises. He’s safely tucked away in the corner, though, so Tom won’t be able to see him, especially not if he’s too scared to even look.

“I don’t know why we couldn’t just watch that new Benedict Cumberbatch movie,” you hear Tom’s voice from behind the door, and it’s getting louder which means him and Harry are approaching.

“God, Tom. You’re such a wimp,” Harry’s looking down at your phone, discreetly recording on your tiktok.

“Clowns are not for the weak,” Tom defends. “They are for the severely advanced fearless citizens.”

“And you’re in that category?”

“Yes!” Tom exclaims while grabbing his shirt, which lays in the center of the unmade bed. As he steps closer, you reach out and delicately caress his ankle. Tom shoots back immediately, frightened.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” Harry shoots back.

Looking around the room, Tom doesn’t want to make himself look even stupider, so he lets it go. “Nothing, never mind.”

“Whatever you say, mate.”

“Alright, well, g’night,” Harry says, holding back his laughter. You have to bite your lip to do the same.

“Goodnight,” Tom says, back still turned to his brother. It gives Harry the opportunity to prop your phone up against the wall, getting a clear view of everything that’s going on. When the door shuts, Tom turns around, back now to the bed, and you throw a plastic water bottle out, the noise crinkling as it thuds on the ground. Tom gasps in surprise, running away from the bed and leaning against the other wall, the one by the closet.

Realizing where Tom stands, Harrison rattles the closet door, and it shakes and pounds. The noise is so startling that Tom lets out a small “fuck!” and he moves towards the window. Sam faces this way, and as Tom steps closer, slightly letting his guard down, Sam reaches out with his right hand and grabs at Tom’s ankle, securing his tough grip.

Tom looks down only for a split second, to see an abnormally looking hand pulling at his ankle and tugging him under the bed. Harrison plays with the lights, making them flicker and brighten. Tom screams, wholeheartedly and purely out of fear, and he attempts to lose the grip of whatever monster wants him — the monster that happens to be his brother’s hand.

In a haste to run away, Tom hops on one foot before losing his balance and tumbling to the ground. He crawls a bit of the way, and as Sam loses his grip, Tom comes into your view. You’ve acquired a clown mask, from last year’s Halloween party, and you shine a creepy flashlight on yourself.

Tom screams again when he sees what’s under the bed, and he runs for the exit. He moves too fast, though, because he runs right smack into the door, and as Harry comes in from all the commotion, he finds his brother on his back beside the door.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“There’s- there’s-” Tom stands quickly. “There’s a bloody monster under the bed!”

That’s when the laughter rings through the air, and Tom’s eyebrows pull together in confusion. Harry leans on his knees to contain his laughter, and you clutch your stomach while crawling out from under the bed. Harrison emerges from the closet not a second later, and as the final person — Sam — comes out with those costume gloves, it all comes together in Tom’s head.

“Y/N! You guys!” Tom groans. “You guys are so mean!”

“You have to admit, mate,” Harrison says between laughs. “That that was pretty fucking hilarious.”

“You screamed like a little girl!” You hold your stomach again, leaning on your knees just like Harry.

“Oh my god,” Sam giggles. “Did you run into the door?”

Tom rubs his elbow and his forehead, slightly bruised from the collision. “Shut up. You guys scared me!”

“That was kinda the point,” Harry rasps out. You pad over to the wall that your phone is against, and as you pick it up and press the video, the boys gather around to watch it. Immediately, you cower back in laughter, heads shooting back at how hilarious the result is.

“Stoppp!” Tom says from his place, whining. “That was so brutal.”

“That was literally the best thing I’ve ever done in my entire life.” You post the video and click your phone off.

“Just you wait, love,” Tom says “I’ll get you back. I’ll get you back real good.”

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ontheblock · 4 years ago

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i know that i‘m a little behind with my inbox requests but i will come around to finish them soon !! i just to be a little selfish with this self indulgent fic of sal<3 enjoy, fuckers. the next post will hopefully be henry bowers once i get to finish it-

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•warning: gore, angst

Sal never imagined that he would be scared to see her. The steady dripping and the weight in his hand made him uneasy as he stared at the door for a moment - probably not more than ten seconds or maybe it was twenty minutes, he didn’t know. He barely remembered stumbling out of Room whichever-the-fuck. Sawwy Face. I’m proud of you, Sal. Fuck.

Sal‘s hand hovered over the door knob. She probably left it unlocked again. Sal always told her to lock up at night but he knew her too well. She would stay up way too late just to pass out on top of her covers or tangled up in it from her determination to find the best position to lay in. He knew because of course he did. Sal would be the one to come over more often than not when his bed was just too cold and his night terrors just too real at night. He would slip under her covers, holding her against his chest and whisper sweet nothings into the dark room if it made her stir. No matter how bad it was, he didn’t like to wake her up - no matter how much he wanted to be the one to be held and caressed, soothed and lulled into sleep. Eventually he settled with her presence alone, lying on the rough carpet next to her bed, tracing her hand hanging off the bed with his eye. The carpet usually hurt his tender side if he rolled over in his sleep and he woke up with a rash too many times. It made his prosthetic sit on his face uncomfortably for days. She would scold him for sleeping on the cold floor but he was giddy for her kisses and they always followed immediately after - the softest butterfly kisses on his scars and they were better than any cream she bought him for the rash but he let her apply it on his face anyway. Sal never told her how gross a moist face felt under the prosthetic. It made her happy so it was ok.

He stared at the bad paint job on the door. The shadow he casted on the room number plate taunted him as he turned the knob. A wave of her scent faintly hit him under the ever lingering smell of copper as soon as the door creaked open. The shitty hallway lights barely lit up the room. He shuffled the knife handle in his clammy hands as he entered the apartment. He knew that her bedroom was the first brown door. He could find his way to her blind and he knew that if he didn’t go now he would never go. It was so quiet as he approached the closed door. So quiet as he pushed the door open. The janky blinds were only half closed, letting the moon cast its light into the room. It was so dull now. Everything in Nockfell was dull now or maybe it always was this way. Maybe the bright moments were only so bright because they were moments he shared with her. Sal’s foot nudged against a soft pile of her clothing as he stepped foot into the familiar room, a room they would jokingly call their detached house when they were in their late teens, sharing a cigarette on her unmade bed surrounded by each other’s clothes until he promised her that one day he will give her exactly that but real. Not some run down apartment with wet walls. She told him that anything was fine but he chased that pipe dream anyway.

His blood caked shoe kicked a stray sock back into the pile, smearing blood on it along the way. Whose blood? But it was fine because she only piled her clothes by her door if the next day was laundry day. Tomorrow was laundry day, it was going to be ok. He slowly lifted his head back up to look at her, tangled up in her favorite blanket. He didn’t understand what made the blanket so special. He never liked the way the fabric felt on his skin until Ash told him that the blanket matched his hair color perfectly and she just missed Sal after he moved in with Todd, missed the way he would drape his arm over her, missed the way he would stay up until she was sound asleep even though he was the one who saw nothing but death when he finally closed his eyes. It made his chest ache a little and he made sure to send her a SMS almost every night. But now she looked so peaceful - as if he could just lay down next to her and wake up to a normal day. A day before he killed 12 people that watched him grow from the 5’2 kid with pigtails in the 5’6 man with hair hanging loosely over his shoulders because he liked how she would sit behind him to brush his hair while he drowned himself in his college classes.

He didn’t lay down, didn‘t have the chance to dwell on that thought as her phone gave a shrill pinging sound into the dusty air. His head snapped to the small nightstand. It was cluttered with a lamp and some stray pieces of paper and sticker packs ranging with designs for kids like hello kitty and sanrio characters - no, he didn’t care that hello kitty already was a sanrio character, no matter how often she would tell him - to band logos like korn and sanity falls. She would randomly ask Sal to stick them on his mask. He would say no because it was hell to get the residue off afterwards. She would pout like she always did, and he would cave like he always did. In the middle of a paper pile sat her phone, blinking with a notification.

Anniversary <3

Fuck. Sal swallowed hard. His prosthetic clung to the sweat layer on his face. Or was it just the tears? Both? Was it blood? Maybe it was all but the rusteling of fabric made him painfully aware that it was the least important worry right now. She was stirring and as soon as he got a good look of her face he saw the tell tale sign of her waking up - the scrunch of the nose and the fluttering lashes. Ah fuck.

“Sal?“ Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck. “Sal? What is it?“

He opened his mouth just to close it again. Not that she saw it anyway. Slowly, she pushed her upper body up onto her elbows, finally blinking up at him. It was dark but her breath caught in her throat when she finally took in the man looming over her bed. “Is- Is that blood?“ He didn’t know when but he stopped breathing, just holding everything inside to ground himself but was it worth it when the oxygen felt like acid slowly corroding everything it touched - every square inch from what lining was left inside his nose to his throat all the way inside his lungs? The corruption would split him open again again again again and eat her whole the second his fingertips grazed her familiar skin. Skin he painted with his own, skin he kissed, skin he was about to split before it split him. If he just didn’t touch her would it be ok? If his skin wouldn’t touch her this time would she still be there tomorrow? Sal finally released the air trapped inside him against his mask as she sat up, sucking more air in as she clutched the blue blanket.

There was a moment of silence, of nothing, of her exhaling shakily with a fear in her features that rendered him completely still, of him just staring at her wide eyed and breathing erratically now. A silent moment for her to consider any possibility to get the fuck out this room and for him to find it in himself to finish the job. He couldn’t but funnily enough she gave him the final shove by kicking her legs out of the blanket and throwing herself off the creaking mattress past Sal - or trying to. He saw it coming the moment her hands twitched and shoved the frayed hem away. Sal just had to extend his right arm for her to fall into it with a yelp. He slung it around her waist tightly, afraid it would bruise her, and slammed her back into the mattress. It knocked the wind out of her for just long enough to straddle her body, arms pressed up against her sides by his thighs and it left her kicking wildly. It was just like the times they would wrestle on the bed because it made her laugh. She wasn’t laughing this time. She was yelling. He knew because he saw her mouth hung open, tense and afraid. But he only heard noise and he felt bad that he couldn’t make out her words, if they even were words. Sal swallowed. Would he make it worse if he told her that he loved her now? Would she just thrash out his grip if he held her with blood coating his hair, blood dripping from his fake chin and nose, blood making the knife handle a little too slick to hold properly? He didn’t want to find out so he settled with wiping the back of his hand on his jeans and putting his other hand on her stomach to catch himself from the way the room spun around him. She flinched. She never flinched from his touch before.

His hand yanked up the tank top covering her stomach, all the way up to her ribs. She was breathing so hard that her skin kept stretching and shrinking to make room for her expanding ribcage. Was she still screaming? She was. His hand flew up to her face by instinct, pressing against her mouth to muffle her screams to throaty groans and whimpers as she struggled to focuse her eyes on him. He knew she was trying to slip out his name. He didn’t know how, he just knew.

Sal didn’t look at her as he brought the knife closer but he felt the way she tensed and pressed backwards into the mattress, away from the knife, away from her murder boyfriend on their anniversary. He wanted to guide her through but there really wasn’t a way around it. It would definitely be worse if he confessed his undying love to her like he wasn’t about to scratch out the undying part, like she wasn’t already dead meat. He would have to be quick like with Soda. He wanted to throw up. It was so easy to just plunge the knife through the ribs but where was that sweet spot on an adult woman? Fuck. He let her shirt fall back down, clutching her left shoulder instead to push her deeper into the mattress. He didn’t mean to but he automatically looked into her eyes. She was crying, pleading with him the way he didn‘t let her plead with her words. Nothing but fear, confusion and adrenaline pooled in her eyes, overflowing as tears down her temples. Her eyes never held so much resentment against him. His were bloodshot, hollow, wet with old tears, staring back at her without any expression like a void opened behind the only good eye he had left to shield his pain.

Sal thought about the time Ash told him how to pierce an ear. “Breathe in, hold it and push it through while exhaling. Won‘t feel a thing.“ Maybe he was stupid, delusional. Maybe he was clutching the last straws. But he filled his lungs and held his breath for just a few seconds before exhaling and shakily pressing the tip of the blade down. God, she was screaming so loud, it pierced through every static in his head, heaving and twitching as blood soaked her shirt, soaked her blanket and sheet. His hand slipped off the wet handle, leaving the blade buried in her chest about six inches deep with two sticking out. Why was she still thrashing? Why wasn‘t she fucking dead yet? Sal panicked as he yanked the blade back out, making her blood coat his mask as it sprayed out from the force. His heart was beating in his throat in an attempt to finally stop hers. Her blood felt like it was scorching his skin off his flesh, his flesh off his bones and he thrusted his knife back inside all the way, dragging it down, tearing her chest in two as he finally reduced her screaming to gargling chokes, sobs and broken calls that he sometimes identified as variations of his name.

“You killed her, bud.“ I know. “Her mother told her to leave your sorry ass, yknow? But she offered you her pinky and you cut it clean off, fucker.“ Yeah. She should have done that. “You’re going to die, rotting in a cell to live with the guilt.“ I deserve it.

Sal watched the light drain from her eyes while the blood drained from her gaping chest. His home he was longing for since 1984, it crumbled like her mother predicted, maybe not under for the reasons she expected. The static in his ears left, offering a moment of silence until there were too many voices screaming behind him.

“You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us. You killed us.“

“I loved you. You killed me, Sal.“

He clenched his eyes shut. The voices whispered, cried, screamed. Her voice was the loudest by just calling his name with a smile on her face and their hands intertwined - calling his name with fear in her eyes and his fingers curled around the knife sticking out of her chest. He finally shuffled off of her, dropping onto the blood soaked mattress next to her, staring. She was screaming. Not his name, just screaming so loud it made his ears ring until he couldn’t bare it anymore. Sal pulled her close like her used to do on the nights approaching August 16th. He laid her head against his chest, draped an arm over her back and rested the other on her hair. It felt wet. The knife handle uncomfortably dug into his stomach but he rested his chin on her soft hair. Sal always thought it was his prosthetic that made him whole. He felt lost without it, bare and incomplete. The nightmares manifested into real life fears. Nightmares like his scars just opening back up, ripping him apart all over again. But now she was gone and the mask did nothing to stop the feeling of falling apart under her weight on his chest. He felt like splitting apart inside the shell that was him, Sally Face, filling his prosthetic with gore until it started to seep out the eyeholes like it was seeping out her open chest. But right now he wasn’t Sally Face. He was Sal Fisher, assailant and guilty for the mass murder of 13 tenants in Addison Apartments.

Sal studied the top of her head in silence, watching her own blood drip from the tip of the mask‘s nose to be soaked up by her hair. She always took relatively good care of it and scolded him for not doing the same until they fell into the routine of her brushing his days old knots out of his hair as he let his fingertips ghost over his guitar. He was always so relaxed as she searched his hair for split ends to cut off every few months. He loved it but now he wasn’t sure if he would ever get a hair cut again. He mindlessly leaned against the headboard. His prosthetic started to itch from the sweat that stuck it to his skin. His prosthetic that scared her at first. They were 15 and she just moved in five months after Sal arrived with his dad. He wasn’t offended when she would quickly walk past him in the hallways. It was fine to just be strangers until Ash brought her along at school and she laughed at everything he said. It was a week of this until Larry decided to be the best wingman ever. He made it his mission to get them together before gradation. And like a true Johnson he stuck to his plan because Lisa didn’t raise her son to be a quitter. True to his promise, he convinced Sal after eight months of pining to finally make his move on her. They were 16, bordering onto 17, when Sal very awkwardly asked her on a little trip to Lake Wendigo.

“Would you go to the lake with me? Not- Not as a date, yknow. I mean, unless you wanted that. It’s not a date though.“ - “Yeah, I’d like to go, Sal.“

It was absolutely a date. Larry tried to tickle a high five out of Sal after hearing the news but god, he was so embarrassed, pressing his clammy palm against his prosthetic to will away the heat in the mask.

“So“, Sal started as they sat on the edge of the water, tossing pebbles into the large lake. “So“, she mirrored, digging her shoe into the mud. “I asked you to come here because Larry told me to.“ He quickly shook his head probably because Larry told him that he should leave that detail out. “I mean- I mean, it was my idea. Yeah, it was. I wanted to tell you something. You know how Ash told you about how I‘m weird about touching and hugging as a heads up to not freak me out? Yeah, I don‘t really like that usually. But- But I don‘t care about the way you touch me.“ She saw the way his throat bobbed once he realised how mean that sounded. “Not that I don‘t care, uh, I just don‘t mind. I dont mind when we ride in the back of that shitty cramped car that Ash lends from her aunt.“ Sal started to fiddle with his sleeve. “And it was kinda sweet how Larry taught you how to inhale smoke. You were, like, really excited about getting cancer but it was- cute. How you were proud when you got it. Sometimes you do these small things and they just make it really hard to breathe. And it‘s not your fault or anything. I- Larry said I would know what to say when the time is right. But I guess there is no right time.“ He rubbed his neck nervously. “Say it, Fisher“, she said, much too quiet but his head snapped towards her. Her face was blank of any expression but her eyes glimmered and gleamed like those gemstones she told him about before. He didn‘t know the name. “I can‘t- I don‘t know how.“ He couldn‘t look away as she put her weight on one arm, leaning towards him. She was scooting closer and Sal felt his heart beat behind his face. “Go out with me“, he suddenly blurted out, stopping her dead in her tracks. “Please“, he added breathlessly before she took his hand, intertwining their fingers. She loved how his long fingers rode up her hand, how cool his touch was.

“Sal, please. I know Larry has seen it before.“ She trailed behind her boyfriend of roughly one month on their way to the buildings elevator. “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped off.“ His voice was so distant as he pressed the button, watching the number close in to the 1st floor. “Do you not want to?“ There was a brief silence as she stood behind him, sounding so small and it made his heart ache. “That’s not it, love“, he tried to offer but she didn’t answer as the elevator doors slid open. She pushed past him into the empty space, he followed. She waited for him to press their respective floor numbers but didn’t say anything else. The doors closed again when Sal faced his girlfriend. “Listen. It’s not- easy.“ She didn’t reply, only shuffled in place a little as her sole scratched across the elevator floor. “I do want to. I want to kiss you but-“ He cut himself off. They both knew how he felt about his face. They both knew she was being unreasonable but could he blame her? He held her hand in public after two weeks of dating because he was anxious. He held her in private a week later while watching a movie with her. But he refused to kiss her. She resorted to kissing the lips of his prosthetic and it made his stomach flutter but she just wanted more. She wanted real. On the rare occasion that he slept over he slept in his mask, taking the pain of the hard shell pressing into his tender side all night instead of sharing the most private moment with her by showing her his everything. He felt like an asshole, sure. But the thought made him want to vomit into the small space.

“I said that I would let you go at your own pace but at this point, you’re in parking on the side of the road, Sal. You can‘t hide from me forever.“ Her words stung like daggers. “I’m not hiding. This is my face. I will show you my past, I promise.“ He stepped closer, offering her his pinky. He found it silly when she first brought up pinky swears but it became their way of showing they were serious. “Really?“ She searched for something in his one functioning eye, a lie. But there was only warmth for her so she curled her pinky around his. “Really. You aren’t my past but you’re my present and will be my future.“

She flushed at that. He knew how this sappy shit fucked with her head and they held onto each other’s pinky when they reached her floor. Sal walked her to her door in silence but his heart was lighter than when he stepped into the elevator. “So“, she started. “See you tomorrow, Sally.“ She turned around only to feel his lips on hers and his hands gripping her shoulders to keep her in place.

The punch was horrible sugar water, the snacks went stale an hour ago, the jocks snuck in booze so a good amount of soon to be graduating kids were drunk off their ass, Larry was high and sharing his spliff with Ash and holy fuck, the music was ass. But it was the best night of Sal’s life - their prom. Him and Larry always said how stupid prom was, how they wouldn’t dress up and how they wouldn’t go in the first place. And now here he was in dark blue dress pants and a button up, holding two cups of the most disgusting juice he ever got to taste. And he loved every second because she kissed the gap between his mask and his ear, whispering a little “thank you“ for holding onto her drink while she used the bathroom. And god, his heart jumped in shapes that weren’t even known to man yet at how utterly, completely, deeply and horrifyingly pretty his girl looked. His throat ran dry everytime he had the chance to look at her in that dress. He knew that she went shopping for it with Ash, he needed to thank her for that some other time.

“You‘re pretty.“ She could barely hear him over the music and it was the eleventh time he said it that night. She still giggled, taking his hand to lead him to the crowd of students. “Will you dance with me?“ His knees felt weak at her question, how she held his hands, how she looked at him with the love he never thought he would be able to receive. “Anytime“, he croaked as they both found the rhythm of some badly mixed song they already played last year but he would never get the song out of his head again as he lost himself in her movements.

The night went beautifully until it didn‘t. The moment the beats got heavier and the crowd got louder Sal found himself get bolder until his mask had no more grip and the buckle just gave up. Suddenly everything was silent around him with his mask on the floor and seconds felt like minutes before his hands flew up to cover himself. He heard how she called out to him, felt how she lead him out of the gym to escape into the much less crowded hallway.

“Sal? Honey, look at me.“ Sal wasn’t sure if she was whispering or yelling. Everything was muffled by the intense nausea building in his stomach. He was too scared to reply because the bile was threatening to boil over and just spill onto her shoes and the skirt of her dress. His already impaired vision swam with tears as he felt fingertips gently trace the back of his hands. Sal swallowed a sob as he allowed her to pull his hands away but he didn’t pick his head up. His wild hair dropped over his face like a curtain and it was the only thing blocking the tears from just pouring until he reached the privacy of his room. “Please, love. Please. Let’s leave, please“, he choked out with a thick voice. A voice that deep had no business sounding that small. Sal felt a familiar comfort on his face as she gently pressed his prosthetic to his skin. He let her buckle it onto his head before finally looking at her. “It’s ok. Let’s go home.“ Sal nodded, taking her hand and letting her guide them outside into the pouring rain.

“Ah shit“, they said almost at the same time. He stayed under the roof for a moment, unsure if she wanted to ruin her look in the rain but she already stepped into the rain and pulled him along. She was still so beautiful, it made him ache. “I’m sorry“, he breathed into the droplets hitting his mask. “You can’t control the weather. It’s ok, I don’t-“ He tightened his grip on her hand. “I ruined your prom night“, he blurted out, making anything she wanted to say die on her tongue before she could discover what it was. Sal felt a little resistance as she stood still but held his hand tight enough to make him stop too. “What is-?“

“Sal, will you finally dance with me?“ His breath caught in his throat. She looked like she was sculpted from the image of a goddess, dripping in rain with mascara running down her face and her dress clinging to her skin. His first response was to close the gap between them, pulling her close. They didn‘t mind the cars driving by because tonight the world belonged to them even if it was only for a few hours.

“Anytime.“ She was warm despite the steady rain prickling her like needles. It was like she was his source of light and warmth that refused to let him go cold again. She was so warm.

She was so cold. Sal pressed her harder into his chest, digging the knife’s blade in her squelching flesh and the handle just above his ribs. He didn’t mind. He wasn’t the one facing the sharp end after all.

Flashes of red and blue dully lit the room’s walls from the outside, siren’s pierced the aching silence. The room never felt this cold before. He never told her about the building being haunted. He never told her about the cult. He never told her that he wasn’t mauled by a real dog. He wanted something normal for once. And it was the best thing he ever had because she was his only pilar that no man, no ghost, no freaky demon could bend or chip until Sal crushed his Eden.

When the cops busted the door off its hinges he realised he never got the chance to show her his notebook full of songs he wrote for her.

#tw gore #angst #sally face #sal fisher #sally face x reader #sal fisher x reader

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