#and every night it’s the same thing which is particularly terrifying when it gets dark early | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

koithelittle · 1 year ago

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christmas movies & cuddles

note; my first fic here, yay!! terrified would be an understatement. idk how long it’s taken me to write this but it’s been a while, i was really struggling with being okay and confident with it so if it suck’s, i’m sorry. requests are open tho! for all things, and my inbox just in general so have at it! okay that’s all.

warnings; use of daddy/dada, cutesy pet names, brief mention of alcohol (wils past wif cwistmas), ummmss,,, mark boardman is there! great sitter- okay that’s all i think! not proofread for mistakes so beware!

pairing; cg!wilbur soot x gn!little!reader

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taglist; @jjtheresidentbaby @lillylvjy @wilmaslittleflower @whos-nicooo (ask to be added!)

wilbur always found enjoyment in making you happy, in doing things that would bring a smile to your face or make you laugh and giggle. he loved to be your sun, when all you were surrounded by was darkness.

he's never been fond of holidays if he's honest. he didn't like dressing up for Halloween, and as a guy in his mid-late 20s, he didn't particularly care for the party side of halloween either. when it came to Christmas, it only seemed to remind him how lonely he was. or had been. before he met you, christmas was spent inside, alone with alcohol to numb the loneliness.

but now, with you, he has every reason to celebrate it. christmas decor goes up november 1st, Christmas cookies get made the day after and he already has a list of gifts he plans on getting for you and all of your shared friends. he has plans of activities, and small outings to go on. you go ice skating together, where he holds you to his side and keeps you from falling. he takes you out to get a christmas tree together, bringing it home and setting it up in the corner of the den.

he'll stand on his toes to hang up the garlands, spending hours outside hanging up christmas lights on the porch (you tell him it's not worth the cold he'll endure, but he insists on doing it without you peeking all so it's a surprise). he loves doing things for you, and holding you and keeping you warm during the cold nights. he'll make you tea or cocoa and hold you between his legs as you both watch a christmas movie.

you show him all your favorites, although, elf is his all time favorite. he finds it bizarre and funny at the same time. how silly it is, and campy it feels. he'll rub your stomach and kiss your cheek, holding you close to his chest.

if he's honest, part of why he does all of these things is to help you, to heal you and to make christmas fun for big you and little you (because let's be honest, he does everything he can to bring a smile to your face both big and little).

lately, though, he's wanted to focus more on at home, quiet christmasy adventures. things that you would feel comfortable doing when you're regressed, which meant quiet and cuddly activities that meant being cooped up inside.

he'd seen the whole boo basket trend, and thought it was a neat idea but wanted to have his own twist on it (prior to deciding, he also saw the burr basket posts but those fizzled out before he really got a good idea of what he had planned). he sat down at his desk to list a few stores he'd stop by and what items he planned to get from each one.

the local bookstore was sure to have a santa book, and maybe even a few jellycats (you eyed them all the time, and he almost always sneakily bought the mini ones to hide around the house). after the bookshop, he'd head to another shop, one that he's sure would have a basket and maybe a blanket, some candy and instant cocoa, amongst other things.

once his list was completed, he hurried down the stairs to where you were cooped up in the corner of the couch, wrapped up in one of his blankets with your stuffed bunny held against your chest. you'd been regressed for a few hours now, and needed quiet time so he set you up in the living room awhile ago, your favorite cartoon playing on the TV.

he sat beside you, pulling you into his side as he kisses your cheek and temple. he rubs your arm as he smiles down at you, "hello, baby, you ok?" he whispers as you whine and crawl into his arms, sitting in his lap.

he chuckles softly, nuzzling his nose against your hair as your hands grip onto his shirt. he pulls back to get a look at your face, hand on the side of your head as he pushes hair out of your face.

"love," his voice is a bit more firm, "are you okay?" you shrug as a response, soft frown held on your lips as he sighs and pulls you closer. he presses kisses to the top of your head, running his fingers through your hair as his other hand rubs your back.

he holds you for a while, the TV playing as background noise more or less as he coos and whispers a soft lullaby to soothe you a bit. when your grip on his shirt loosens, and your breathing steadies out, he pulls back to look you in the eye again.

"I've gotta go out for a bit, do you want to go stay with grace or wilma?" he whispers softly, hands on your lower back as he gets you to sit up a bit more.

you shrug, eyes stuck on the wall behind him as you zone out. he rubs your back, bringing your attention to him again, "okay," you mumble, dropping your head to your shoulder.

he kisses the shell of your ear, recognizing that you're most likely nonverbal or at least close to it. he nuzzles his nose against your cheek in a light manner, tickling you. you giggle softly, tensing up before relaxing in his hold when he kisses your temple.

"what if... I called over wilma to keep an eye on you, mm? orrrr maybe joe? ash? mark?" he smirks, pressing a few kisses to your cheek.

"ummm.. mark!" you giggle softly, smiling wide and happy at the thought of getting to see Mark again. you have a few drawings for him, as well!

"mark? okay, well can you give Daddy a few minutes while I call him, yeah?"

you nod softly, scooting out of his lap and settling in front of the TV as you start to play with your stuffies. wilbur sits up, walking over to the foyer as he calls mark, listening as it rings.

mark picks up, "hey, mate! what's up?" his voice is bright and chirpy, always happy.

"hey, I've got a favor to ask," wilbur starts, and you perk up. you sit up, leaning over the back edge of the couch, looking over at him and smiling.

Wilbur smiles over at you, chuckling before he continues, "I need to head into town for a bit and I was wondering if you'd come over and look after y/n for a bit? they're little right now and I just don't want to leave them alone but I can't take them either," Wilbur sighs, pacing a slight bit as he awaits and answer from mark.

you don't bother to listen to the rest, slinking to the corner of the couch and curling up happily. he walks over a moment later, sitting beside you and rubbing your side and arm.

"hey lovebug," wilbur coos, you lift your head and smile sleepily at him. he pulls you up into his lap, holding you close.

"hi, dada," you whisper, head rested on his shoulder as he rubs your back softly, free hand playing with your hair.

"mark will be here soon, yeah?" he smiles sweetly, rubbing your upper arms as he pulls back to look at you.

he holds you close to him, humming a soft tune as you let the time pass quietly. mark soon rings the doorbell and wilbur greets him before giving him a way too detailed run down, as if he'd never been your sitter before. then, wilbur finally leaves.

he hurries out to the car, heading into town. he had the list pulled up on his phone, ready to have things marked off. he started with the book shop, sifting through the various christmas children books and collecting a few in his arms, checking out and walking next door to the children's shops.

he spends the rest of the next two hours, shopping and gathering things of all kinds. your favorite candies, a blanket, a stuffie or two, books, crayons, etc etc. anything that could make you feel better. and so, after he puts everything in the trunk, he gathers it all up into the basket, making it look all pretty before he tucks it into the passengers seat, making his way home.

while wilbur is driving home, you and Mark are set up on the kitchen floor. he made a little sensory box for you, one that he brought from home. youre playing with the toys, making the dinos fly as mark watches you and cheers you on, making you giggle with every question he has.

"what's this dinos name, little one?" mark coos, holding a blue dino up to you.

you giggle softly, taking the dino and placing it on the top of his head, making it jump around before taking it back and putting it in the box, “bluey,” you hum.

“oh, bluey? that’s a nice name, hm?” you nod at mark’s question, quietly playing in the box that holds sand and rice and an assortment of dino toys.

“when’s daddy gettin home?” you mumble quietly, eyes cast down on the dinos you’re playing with.

mark hums, thinking for a moment before he answers, “soon, hun, promise.”

soon didnt come soon enough for you, waiting not so patiently for wilbur to come home. once you hear the door click open, you jump up and hurry to the door, slinging yourself into his chest. you hug him close, babbling incoherently to him as he hugs you back.

"hey, baby, you okay? you miss me?" he croons, pulling you closer against his chest, his arms wrapped around you. you nod, giggling happily.

"missed you, dada!" you squeal as he moves to pick you up, holding you on his hip as mark cleans up in the kitchen.

"I missed you too baby! how about you settle down here, mkay?" he sets you down on the couch, tucking a blanket over you as he moves into the kitchen.

"were they okay?" wilbur kneels down to help clean up the dino toys and what other things get taken out of the box.

mark smiles and nods, "of course! they missed you though, alot."

wilbur hums, smiling to himself at the thought as he and mark bid goodbyes, mark soon leaving through the front door. you peak up over the back of the couch, arms folded and chin resting atop of them.

he chuckles, walking over to you and kissing your forehead, brushing hair out of your face gently, "hi love, I'm gonna go get something, okay? be a good little love while I'm gone. I'll be right back," he places a lingering kiss to your forehead before he turns to leave out the door. you stay there, watching the door like a puppy. he steps back in a few minutes later, a basket covered with his jacket now clad in his arms.

"close your eyes, bunbun," he smiles widely, and you do as told, giggling softly as you shut your eyes. you feel him sitting down next to you and something wicker being placed in your lap.

"open, love," he smiles as you, watching as you excitedly giggle and look up at him.

“all for me?” you whisper in disbelief, eyes wide with joy as you hold the sides of the basket, waiting for the go ahead.

“mhm, just for you, baby. go on, open it. it’s for our evening,” he smiles a bit softer, hand reaching behind your head to rub your hair as he watches you excitedly unwrap it all. your eyes widening with each thing, giggling and squealing happily with each little gift. once it’s all open, you crawl into his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, settling in for a hug.

“thank you, daddy!” you giggle softly, nuzzling your face into his neck as wilbur hugs you close.

“did you like it?” he hums, kissing your temple and cheek as he guides you back so he can look down at your face.

you nod eagerly, “all of it! every bit!” you reach over for the little bunny stuffie he grabbed for you and you show it to him, “it looks like you dada!”

he chuckles, rubbing your cheek and nodding, “oh it does, doesn’t it?” he takes it into his hand, waving it a bit at you as you giggle.

“yeah! ‘s you, dada!”

“well that’s a high compliment, mm?” you nod softly at his words as he hands the bunny back to you, pulling you into his lap as he rubs his thumbs over your soft cheeks, “how does a christmas movie with popcorn and candy and cuddles sound, mm?” his lips curl up in a coy smile, eyes bright with love for you.

you nod in agreement, resting your head on his shoulder as your hands rest on his sides, “mmhm, please?”

he nods, mumbling a quick okay as he kisses your cheek and sets you aside on the couch, “i’m gonna go get stuff from the kitchen, ok? you stay here and rest,” you nod, rubbing your eyes sleepily as you curl up on your side.

he hurries into the kitchen, starting some popcorn as he fills your favorite sippy with some juice, setting that aside as he pours the popcorn in a bowl. he sits beside you, popcorn on the coffee table as he hands you your sippy cup. you hold it, leaning against his side as he sets up a movie, cuddling close with you as you both quietly watch the movie together.

the rest of the evening is spent cuddled up with a christmas movie and candy, no need to talk or chat, and that’s the best part.

#sfw agere #koifics #koimoodboards #wilbur soot #wilbur soot agere #dsmp wilbur agere #cg!wilbur soot #cg!wilbur #cg!wilbur soot x reader #cg!wilbur soot x little!reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x reader agere #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x gn!reader #wilbur soot x gn!reader agere #cg!wilbur soot x gn!little!reader

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spnexploration · 2 years ago

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Collared part 8

Pairing: Dean x Reader eventually

Series summary: Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Episode summary: Dean looks after you by himself

Warnings: Nothing particularly bad in this part

Word count: 1.5k

A/N: Sometimes, her interpretations of situations gets even me :(

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 7 <- -> Part 9

Things were harder for Dean without Sam there.

You were pretty much the same, you followed him around unless he told you not to. You only ate when he told you to, slept when he told you to, went anywhere when he told you to. But without Sam, he couldn't delegate any of those jobs. Didn't have someone to talk to about how ridiculous his life had become. Didn't have someone to talk to at all, all you said was “Yes, sir” to anything he said.

And he worried it was harder for you too. You were slightly more relaxed around Sam, perhaps less worried he was going to be angry with you about every little thing.

He tried to make it easier for you. He'd tried joking with you, which had fallen incredibly flat. He’d tried asking you questions, which you pretty much always answered that everything was his decision and his preferences.

He put on music after that.

---

You weren't sure what being someone's companion entailed, but you were determined to do it well, to make your master happy with you. You estimated that you'd eaten more food over the last 6 days with the brothers than you had in the month prior. You were warm, you had cushions to kneel on, and you hadn't been punished once.

And even though it still terrified you to think like this, you really liked it when your master paid attention to you. You liked it when he touched you gently. You couldn’t remember anyone touching you gently, except to follow up with being rough or punishing you later.

You took your job seriously. You were quick to agree with him, stayed by his side constantly, obeyed his orders even when he didn't quite phrase them as orders so the collar didn't force you to. You so wanted him to like you.

---

“Hey, Y/N. Time for bed,” your master said.

“Yes, sir.” You rose to your feet, standing with your head bowed.

“You go get changed, I'll be there in a minute.”

“Yes, sir.” It had been like this since the first night, one of the brothers would come to check on you when they told you to go to bed. It was very different to just being left alone in your room, waiting for when the next client would appear.

You stood in your room, dressed in the pyjamas Sam had bought you on a trip to the local town, head bowed, waiting for your master’s inspection. You weren't sure what he was looking for, so you made sure to adhere to all of your rules as closely as you could. The room was tidy, your clothes neatly folded. Your body was clean, how he liked it. You kept your expression blank.

“Are you ok? Do you have everything you need?” your master asked.

“Yes, sir.” You weren't sure why he always asked questions like that. Perhaps asking irrelevant questions helped with his loneliness.

“Ok, good night, Y/N,” he said before turning to the door.

“Good night, sir,” you said quietly. You hadn't said that before. His face spread into a grin as he looked at you.

You had made him happy.

---

You woke in the night to sounds of agitation, aggression. You were scared, worried your mistress or one of the handlers was going to come into your room and punish you.

But you weren't in room 14 anymore.

That thought made you more scared. You were used to violence in room 14. You knew what to expect.

What could be happening here?

You huddled in your blanket, until you realised that being caught with luxuries would make things worse for you. But your master had said he wanted you to use them, although he hadn't made it an order. Would he be mad at you if you weren't?

You heard your master yell. Was he in trouble?

You couldn't work out what you were meant to do. Stay in your room? Go to help? How would you help? Would your master be upset with you for leaving your room? He had been very clear that he wasn't ordering you to stay, but this wasn't one of the reasons he’d given that you might want to leave.

Your hands shook with indecision.

Your master wanted you for company. He didn't want to be alone. Perhaps he didn't want to be alone when he was in trouble, either.

You stood up.

You carefully opened your door, still in awe that you could do that. You listened for noises.

Your master was saying something. You followed the sound of his voice to his room.

You stood outside his room. You had never been allowed into your mistress’s room. Your master surely wouldn't want you in his room either. You were a slave, masters did not want their own rooms sullied by your presence.

Your master yelled again. You were torn between thinking you shouldn't go into his room and thinking he was in trouble and would expect you to go to him.

You carefully put your hand on the door handle. You tested it. It was not locked. You turned the handle and opened the door.

Your master was in bed. The sheets were tangled around him. He was tossing and turning in his sleep, grunting, yelling and mumbling things. You didn't know what was happening.

He yelled again which scared you, and you knocked the door fully open. It banged against the wall behind it.

Suddenly, your master’s eyes opened and in one fluid motion, he pulled a gun from underneath his pillow and pointed it at you. You yelped and fell to your knees, crying, “I'm sorry master, I'm sorry master! Please don't hurt me, I can be good! Please, master!”

He hastily put down the gun and came running over to you, “Shit, sorry Y/N!”

He crouched down next to you as you continued to sob and beg. “Hey, hey, I'm sorry,” he said reassuringly. “I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not going to hurt you. It's- it's a habit, I didn't mean to point a gun at you.”

He touched your shoulder and you flinched, but he kept gentle hold of it. His gentle touch made you start to calm down.

“Shh, shh, there we go,” he was saying. “Calm down for me sweetheart, that's a good girl.”

Once your breathing was back to normal, he seemed to relax a bit too.

“I'm so sorry, sweetheart,” he said again. “That must have been scary.” You didn't know what to say or do. It had been terrifying, but you'd been put in many terrifying situations before and no one had ever apologised for it.

After another few moments, he spoke again, “Was there something wrong? Did you need me?”

“You- you were yelling, sir. I didn't know what to do. I'm sorry, sir!”

“Oh, I must have been having a nightmare. That happens to me sometimes. I'm sorry I scared you.” Your master was apologising to you when you were the one who had done the wrong thing. You couldn't believe it.

“I- I did the wrong thing. I shouldn't have entered your room. I'm sorry, sir. I didn't know what you wanted. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, sir!” You started to get worked up again.

“Hey, hey, stop now.” You obeyed. “Oh, shit, sorry, I didn't mean to order you.” Your master made no sense.

He ran his hand down his face. “Ok, I think we’re going in circles here. You did nothing wrong, Y/N. I am so, so sorry I pulled a gun on you, I didn't mean to. You are welcome to come to my room any time. I want you to come to me if there's something wrong, ok?”

“Yes, sir.” You didn't really mean it, but you knew what response was expected of you. Why would you go to your master with your problems? But so that it wasn't a lie, you told yourself if something was incredibly wrong, you would go to him. Just nothing would ever be that bad.

“Let's get you back to bed, hey?” He pulled you to your feet and led you to your room. At your doorway, he hugged you to him and kissed your head. It was incredibly confusing but also made you feel all warm and tingly inside. “I'm sorry I scared you, sweetheart. Get some sleep,” he said.

He gently closed your door behind you.

You went and sat on your blanket on the floor, confused.

Eventually, you curled up and fell asleep again.

---

Dean couldn't believe he'd just pulled a gun on you. Fuck, fuck, fuck! You'd looked so terrified, and he was sure he'd just erased all progress he’d made with getting you to trust him.

He'd take treating you like a loyal puppy 500 times over treating you like a threat.

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural #dean winchester angst #supernatural fanfiction #spn #spn fanfiction #collar #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester saves you #dark fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural x reader #slavery #dean winchester hurt/comfort

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guardianofrivendell · 3 years ago

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I Will Always Be Here

Boromir & gn!reader

Requested: Yes! Anon asked “Hello! I was wondering if I could get a scenario with Boromir? Reader gets startled by loud noises and will usually stick close to him if things get too loud. During a particularly bad thunderstorm they show up at his tent and quietly ask if they could stay with him because they’re scared. Could be platonic or romantic, either way would be fine. Thank you!”

Warnings: astraphobia (fear of thunderstorms), mentions of anxiety and panic attacks, I’d say slightly OOC Boromir but we all know this is how they should’ve portrayed him in the movie

A/N: I changed your request a bit, so they’re not in tents but in a cave, but the plot is kind of the same. Enjoy!

Main Masterlist

This wasn’t good. This wasn’t good at all.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat as you watched the dark clouds looming in the distance. Every now and then the lightning illuminated the depths below and shrouded everything in a mysterious glow for a few seconds.

You probably would’ve enjoyed the scene in front of you, if you weren’t so terrified of thunderstorms. Of any loud noise really, you weren’t picky. But the loud, unpredictable crack of thunder was the worst of them all.

Fortunately for you the storm was still far enough that you couldn’t hear the thunder yet.

But scared or not, you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from the clouds. Who knew, if you stared hard enough, the clouds might change direction or disappear into thin air.

The fellowship had sought shelter in a cave as soon as the night fell, making it too dangerous to continue on the path between the mountains. The long days started to take its toll on the little ones and you were glad a dry place to spend the night was found.

Gimli came out and joined you on the edge of the cliff. He let his arms rest on his axe and whistled. “By Durin’s beard! That looks like a heavy storm comin’. Should be here in an hour or two.”

He grabbed his axe in one hand and leaned over to you. “A good thing too, the rolling of the thunder might be what we need to drown out Legolas’ snoring.”

“I do not snore!” Legolas raised his voice from somewhere in the cave. The both of you looked behind you but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Like a warboar with a mighty cold,” Gimli winked before he made his way back into the cave, and you chuckled. It was better not to argue with the Dwarf, even if you knew Legolas didn’t sleep much in the first place. You rather enjoyed their bickering, it kept your mind off things and made you laugh more often than not.

Your eyes returned to the clouds. Two hours away, that would give you enough time to try and fall asleep. Maybe you were lucky enough to sleep right through it if you placed your bedroll all the way in the back, far away from the entrance of the cave. And close to Boromir.

The Gondorian had become the one you turned to for support and comfort, even though he wasn’t always aware of it. Sometimes the only thing you needed was simply knowing he was there, his presence soothing enough on its own. Other times it was his outstretched hand during a particularly hard climb or a glance over his shoulder to see if you could still keep up. When the Crebain flew over a few days back, you were the first one he pulled to safety before he rushed over to the Hobbits. He liked to pretend he was a tough warrior but underneath the hard layers he truly cared.

As it turned out luck really wasn’t on your side tonight.

Boromir was given first watch, which meant he would be sitting at the entrance of the cave for the first part of the night. The place you were trying to avoid at all costs.

The rest of the Fellowship was in good spirits, happy to be sitting in a dry and warm cave instead of in the cold and windy night outside. Aragorn deemed it unwise to start a fire, but not even the lack of a warm meal could ruin the cheerful moods of the Hobbits. A few weeks ago they were complaining on and off about not having enough meals or breaks and look how well they were doing now. Marvelous little beings indeed.

You decided to focus on them for a while after you made your ‘bed’ in the farthest corner of the cave, just as you had planned before, and watched how they got ready for the night. It turned out it was a lot more hassle than you cared for and your eyes wandered to Boromir.

His figure was silhouetted against the night sky, looking out over the mountains. Not once did he let his eyes stray, ever watchful for any possible threat. You focused on his breathing pattern and tried to match his to calm down enough to be able to sleep. And even with the looming threat of the thunderstorm in the distance and without the soothing crackling of a fire or the feeling of a warm meal in your belly, your eyes became heavy with sleep and you slowly drift away, feeling safe knowing Boromir was the one watching over you.

You startled awake, your ears ringing and you reached for your weapons on instinct. Your eyes darted through the cave looking for the others or whatever it was that woke you up, but everyone else was still sleeping peacefully. Or had their eyes closed at least, you still hadn’t figured out if Legolas even slept at all.

Boromir looked behind him when he heard you were awake, you gave him a small wave, wordlessly telling him you were alright. Always looking out for you, you smiled. You couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more to it.

Since there was no immediate threat, you closed your eyes again and made yourself comfortable, or as comfortable as one could get on a cold, wet, stone underground. The sound of someone snoring caught your attention. Lifting your head, you tried to look for the source, snorting when you saw it was Gimli. Oh, you were definitely going to use this next time he’s complaining about Legolas’ snoring!

Without getting up you moved towards the sleeping Dwarf with the intention to give him a kick to his butt to get him to stop, when the entire cave lit up, followed by the loud rolling clap of thunder.

Your hands flew over your ears and you curled yourself up, all in under two seconds, an instinctive reaction to the loud noise. It only felt like you’d slept for a few minutes, but it must have been much longer for the storm to be in full force.

With your eyes squeezed shut and your hands still clasped firmly over your ears, you stayed where you were, trying to get through the storm without waking anyone else up or alerting Boromir. A warrior knew no fear, the last thing you wanted was to appear weak or vulnerable, or worse, be a laughing stock for the rest of your journey.

But it was no use, your hands did nothing to keep the noise out and you felt your panic rising with every thunderclap. You shuffled backwards until your back hit the wall of the cave and kept your eyes shut. You pulled your knees against your chest and made yourself as small as possible, wishing the storm would pass by quickly.

It only got worse... There was almost no time now between the lightning and thunder and you felt your anxiety and panic take over. Flinching and whimpering with every thunderclap or lightning bolt, you constantly tensed your muscles, giving your body no rest at all. Your breathing turned shallow, your lungs constricted with fear as the thunder reverberated against the cave walls again and again and you desperately tried to keep your tears at bay.

How could the others sleep through this?

You were so caught up with trying to hold yourself together that you didn’t hear Boromir calling out to you. He’d heard your whimpers and when he got up thinking you had a nightmare, he spotted you curled up against the back wall. When you didn’t react, he carefully stepped over the others to try and get to you.

He called your name again once he reached you and crouched next to your huddled form.

“Are you alright?”

You jumped when he placed a hand on your shoulder and he quickly muttered an apology.

“You’re shaking!” he gasped. Boromir grabbed his blanket and draped it over your shoulders before you could stop him or explain what was really going on. “These caves could get drafty, especially with this kind of weather.”

You nodded and forced a smile, trying to convince Boromir you were alright now and he could go back to keeping watch. But he wasn’t so easily deceived.

“Are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

Another flash and your actions gave him all the information he needed.

Boromir lifted the blanket you’d hastily thrown over you and studied your face for a few seconds. It wasn’t hard for him to see you were scared to death.

“Hey, you’ll be okay,” he tried to soothe you, “it will be over soon, you’ll see.”

He sat next to you for the remainder of the storm, holding you close so you could focus on his breathing and heartbeat instead of the downpour outside, telling you all about his brother and the beauty and strength of Gondor. He didn’t stop you when you gripped onto his tunic and let you hide your face into the crook of his neck, never once making fun of your fear. Every time you froze when the lightning flashed, bracing yourself for the coming thunder, he spoke soothing words and gently rubbed your back.

By the time the storm finally calmed down, you felt relaxed and perfectly at ease. You sat up, a little embarrassed at how you’d clung onto him and it only got worse when you noticed Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli were awake and watched you closely.

Now they all knew about your childish fears.

“I-I’m sorry,” you stuttered, quick to apologize. You’d kept Boromir from his watch, involuntarily bringing everyone in danger because of it.

“Don’t worry about them, they’re just worried about you,” Boromir said, “they mean well.”

You couldn’t meet his eyes and started plucking at his blanket instead. “I-I’m okay now. I will let you get back to your watch.”

The thunder was still rumbling in the distance and you weren’t entirely convinced you were truly okay but you had been enough of a burden already.

Gimli stood up with a grunt and motioned to the both of you to stay put.

“Eh, you younglings can stay where you are. I’ll take the next watch, can’t sleep from all the snoring anyway,” he grumbled and you couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips when you saw Legolas rolling his eyes.

Everyone went back to sleep, Gimli took post at the entrance of the cave and tried to get his pipe going, which turned out quite the task with the current weather. He started muttering in a language you couldn’t understand but you had no doubt it included a few colourful curses aimed at the wind that kept blowing out the flame.

Boromir however didn’t make any move to get up and return to his own bedroll.

“Will you stay here with me?” you asked with a small voice, before you added, “Please?”

He lifted his arm so you could crawl back into his side, and you let your head rest on his chest like before. The arm thrown around your shoulders made you feel safe and it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, missing his answer.

“I’ll always be here.”

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#Boromir #Boromir x reader #Lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfiction #Lord of the rings imagine #Boromir oneshot #Boromir request #Guardianofrivendell

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heliads · 3 years ago

Text

Crows

Everyone has a symbol on their palm that somehow relates to your soulmate. You have a crow, which led to you joining the Dregs in Ketterdam. Every Dreg has a soulmate symbol that in no way relates to you- except Kaz Brekker, as no one has seen his palm at all.

masterlist

You stare at the crow inked into your palm. It stares back at you.

You hesitate for a second longer, then snap your hand shut, letting the unblinking eyes of the black bird disappear back behind your fingers. This is the price of a soulmate, of wandering too far from your home and never finding the one person you were meant to belong to. This is the price of being a canal rat, a Grisha, of being anybody still foolish enough to believe in a soulmate in the midst of all this darkness.

Soulmates may technically be real, but people only believe in them as much as they do Inej’s Saints, or anybody else’s long-held dreams. Between the wars and Shadow Folds springing up across the world, it’s getting pretty hard for anyone to find their soulmate at all. It’s supposed to be simple- one mark on each person’s palm to designate their soulmate, a mark that will disappear at the first touch of their hand on yours. Sometimes, you wonder what mark would be on your soulmate’s skin: a flame or sparking coal, maybe, for your branch of the Small Science, or a skull, for all the death that seems to shadow your path.

The crow has been on your palm for as long as you can remember, as long as anyone has ever had a soulmate. It was there when you were born, but judging by your trend in luck, it’ll probably be there until the day you die. Soulmates aren’t for girls like you, girls who flee their homes to trade a life amongst the Grisha for a death in the gray-streaked streets of Ketterdam.

You were born an Inferni, that much is true. You witnessed the Ravkan civil war, and you were there to flee it for safer tides. You weren’t sure what cruel twist of fate landed you in Ketterdam, one of the worst places for a Grisha, but you were at least able to keep your identity a secret. You’d seen what happened to the luckless Grisha trapped inside neverending indentures, and you know what tortures would await you if word of your firestarting habit got out. So, you never spoke a word, and pretended you were just another otkazat’sya traveler in need of safe harbors.

You hadn’t been wandering the canals long before your path turned into the Barrel. It wasn’t an intentional choice, just an eventual fate that you would end up in the worst part of the twisting sidestreets. There was no escaping the Barrel, not unless you were a wealthy mercher or some other lucky sap who the Saints blessed with the ability to avoid getting dragged down into the muck like everyone else. You learned the names and locations of all the gangs like everyone else: Black Tips, Dime Lions, and most notably, the Dregs.

Your breath had caught in your chest when you heard of them. They frequented the Crow Club, some were called the crows themselves, their leader had a crow on his cane. Everything seemed to point in a glaringly obvious arrow towards your soulmate mark: a crow for a crow. Where else could you have ended up?

You knew better now. You had met Kaz Brekker, the boy with the crow cane, and you knew that any chance of finding a soulmate among his crew was near impossible. You had been walking home after dark one night when you found yourself set upon by a duo of thugs. Not Dregs, possibly Dime Lions with a bone to pick, angry that the Dregs had such control over the pigeons of Fifth Harbor. They had been expecting an easy mark, somebody they could thunk over the head with a pair of brass knuckles and walk away without a scratch. They weren’t expecting you to beat them into the dust in a matter of seconds.

No matter your status or location, you were still a Grisha, and you’d been trained by Botkin long enough to be able to defend yourself. When the goons were finally laid at your feet, unconscious, you had allowed yourself a moment to smile. It was easy to feel low, a gutter rat in the canals of Ketterdam, but being able to use your fists again almost reminded you of the training halls at the Little Palace.

Enjoying this one brief memory, though, was a slip that you shouldn’t have made. When you looked up, you weren’t alone- a boy stood before you, gloved hands clasped over a crow’s head cane. You didn’t particularly know who he was, or make the connection between him and the Dregs, and moved to get out of the alleyway before he decided to make the same mistake as the thugs. He had slid his cane in front of you, fast as lightning, stopping you in your place. “I think we should speak about your future in Ketterdam.”

You were annoyed at this sudden interruption. “I think you should leave me alone.” You had retorted, using your hand to move his cane back in front of him. You had also been irritated, both by the fight and this boy’s brashness, and slipped your hand into his pocket for just a second to retrieve a newly shined pocketwatch. No one could have possibly seen it, this tiny movement, and the boy certainly didn’t, as he let you pass without another word.

You were still grumbling when you got back to the ramshackle building you called an apartment complex, and your landlady had raised an eyebrow when she saw you. “What, have you finally realized that it was a fool’s errand to come here?” She asked, and you shook your head. “No, just bothered by some guy with a crow’s head cane. Weird prop to carry around.” The woman had blanched, face suddenly seeming to age a decade in a second.

She had bustled over to you, voice low as if terrified that the boy might be able to hear her. “That’s Kaz Brekker, you fool. He runs the Dregs. Saints, he might even run this city.” She had hurried away from you then, forcing herself back to her work. Even then, you had known she was wrong. There was nothing the Saints could know about Kaz Brekker, nothing they could even hope to involve themselves in.

You had shaken the experience away, climbing up the stairs to your apartment. When you pushed open the door, however, you saw that you were not alone. The boy from earlier was back, this time leaning against the far wall. He gestured for you to close the door, which you did, albeit hesitantly. You had no idea how he got in- you had changed the locks when you first arrived at the apartment all those weeks ago, barred the windows, made it impossible for anyone except you to make their way inside. Yet here he stood, with knowledge of both where you lived and how to get there before you. It was impossible. Well, impossible for anyone except Kaz. The Barrel was his home, after all, and you doubt Dirtyhands had ever bothered to knock.

His fingers tapped the crow’s head of his cane. “I don’t think we quite finished our conversation. You could do more than just wash dishes, you know. The Dregs could always use a new member. That, and I’d like you to return what you stole from me. I’m impressed, actually. No one is that good at pickpocketing except me, and no one would try something that daring except for, well, me. I think you’d fit in nicely with my gang.”

You had folded your arms across your chest. “And I’m meant to believe that my pickpocketing was impressive enough to warrant a visit from Dirtyhands himself?” Kaz had shrugged, the movement stiff in the darkness. “You can believe whatever you want. I just want to see if you’ll take a good offer when you see one.” After a while, you had accepted, and Kaz had left, but not before whispering something in your ear. “If you steal from me again, I will cut off both of your hands. I don’t tolerate theft, not from me.”

You had heard enough threats to know that he meant good on this one. As it turned out, however, Kaz would not have to fear theft from you again. You found a home amongst the Dregs, a home you weren’t likely to give up due to the thrill of pickpocketing Kaz Brekker. You had a room at the Slat, a place at the table, a voice in the masses. It was something you weren’t willing to trade away.

Even amongst the many crows of Kaz Brekker’s gang, however, you still couldn’t let the issue of your soulmate go. You can remember one night, late into the night’s bells when you, Inej, Jesper, Matthias, and Nina had all made the journey up to Kaz’s office, slumped against chairs and floorboards and chatting the night away. Kaz was sitting at his desk, apparently doing paperwork, but you did notice that he kept coincidentally chiming into conversations even when he said he wasn’t paying attention.

At some point, Nina steered the conversation to soulmates. She held up her now blank palm, proclaiming that at some point it had held a wolf’s head. She had been terrified, she said, terrified that she would have a drüskelle or some other weirdo for a soulmate. Matthias had acted affronted at that, but if he was feeling particularly charitable he might relent and tell the gathered Crows about how he’d had a heart on his hand, and how frustrated he’d been when it had disappeared the second he’d locked Nina away on that slaver’s ship.

Nina had turned to Kaz then, intent on poking the bear and having some sort of fun that night. “So, Brekker, what’s your soulmate mark? Or do you not do that sort of zealot human thing we call soulmates?” Kaz had raised his eyebrows, looking distinctly bored. Of everyone in the room, you’re pretty sure that only you and Inej would be able to tell that he was holding back a smile.

“I’m not entirely a monster, Zenik. I do have a soulmate.” Nina had leaned forward, intent on clarification. “Then what’s the mark? We can’t just take a gander at your palm, remember? They’re hidden by your gloves.” Kaz had let his papers fall back to the desk with a thunk, turning to her with an expression laced with both exasperation and studied disinterest. “It’s a fire. A small flame. Happy?”

Nina had looked fascinated. “Beatific. I wonder what that means. An Inferni, maybe?” She wiggled her eyebrows at Kaz. “Maybe it’s supposed to show that they’re devilishly attractive. Really hot, get it?” Kaz had made a sound that was either a dry cough or his best attempt at a laugh. “Hilarious, Nina. I see why you’re a Heartrender- you could make a person want to die based on your jokes alone.”

Nina had acted affronted, making sure everybody knew that her jokes were hilarious, thank you very much, but you couldn’t help but think about the repercussions of this. What if Nina’s first guess was right, and Kaz’s soulmate was an Inferni, like you? If your tattoo was of a crow, and Kaz’s was of flames, then surely it was too much to just be a coincidence. You’d never know, anyway, because soulmate marks only disappeared on flesh to flesh contact. Kaz always wore gloves, so you’d never find out the truth. Besides, you remind yourself, the chances of this were superbly unlikely. A crow could mean anything, so could a flame. You need to stop getting your hopes up.

Despite the possibilities and impossibilities, you’ve still been running with the canal rats long enough to know that you can’t dwell forever on what might have been. You’re a Dreg now and you need to focus on that instead. When Kaz announces an upcoming settlement with the Razorgulls, yet another one of the gangs that roam the streets of Ketterdam, you’re eager for a chance at something entertaining after a long while of nothing. Kaz will meet with the leader to negotiate their way through a claim on the various pigeons coming and going from the harbors, and that will be that.

However, this is the Barrel. Negotiations are rarely easy. This is why, when Jesper arrives as Kaz’s second, he’s shunted aside to a separate room to stay out the duration of the meeting. Kaz and the leader of the Razorgulls are on the opposite side of the street in an empty courtyard, far away from any help should they need it. Kaz was prepared for this, as always, and set up a plan. Inej will shadow Jesper, making sure that he’ll have a way out if he needs it, and you’ll be shadowing Kaz himself. You’re not sure why Kaz chose you instead of his faithful Wraith, only that he rarely makes decisions based on nothing and you would do best to follow his judgement. The times he’s let you down are few and far between.

You and Inej split up, staying amongst the rooftops to avoid detection. She follows Jesper and the Razorgulls’ second into a crowded tavern, and you head towards the abandoned courtyard. Ahead of you, Kaz’s cane taps against the crooked cobblestones as he wends through desiccated hedges and marble statues severely lashed by time. The Razorgulls’ leader is waiting for him there, but you can’t follow now. Instead, you stick to the edges, climbing stairs and making your way into the empty buildings that watch over the courtyard like silent sentries.

You’re not sure what trouble you’ll be walking into, only that it will exist in some crooked form. There’s no logical reason the Razorgulls would want the seconds in another building unless they were planning something, and no reason Kaz would agree to this at all if he wasn’t sure you could have his back when he needed it. As you creep along the buildings, keeping a careful eye on the proceedings through the few broken windows, you notice that the two gang leaders have begun to speak. You can’t quite hear what they’re saying, only a few whispers here and there.

You’re just rounding a corner, ready to make your way into a neighbouring building, when the lights flash off, landing you in darkness. Instantly, you panic. Lighting is scarce here, only the moonbeams and a couple of oil lamps, but there’s no reason they should have shut down this quickly. You hear footsteps on the stairs, along with two pairs of voices: Razorgulls, discussing how important it is to stick to the shadows so Brekker can’t see them.

Your heartbeat thuds in the dark as you realize they haven’t spotted you yet. In fact, they have no idea you’re there at all. When Kaz was giving directions for the negotiations, he specifically told you to make sure that you weren’t seen, even if rival gang members showed up. If you want to go along with his plan and make sure he lives to see the end of this shoddy deal, you’ll have to stay in hiding.

This, however, is easier said than done. If the lights were on, you would be able to see the wooden beams of the floor and tell which ones would creak and which wouldn’t, which large shapes of furniture to avoid and which holes in the floorboards you should step over. A chill washes over you as you realize what you’ll have to do. You move your fingers together, quick as scraping flint against steel, and a small flame materializes at the pad of your index finger. It’s small, barely visible to anyone except you, but it’s enough to help you get out of the room before the Razorgulls notice you.

Even as the thrill of using your Grisha power after so long sends a charge of energy through your veins, you can’t help but feel uneasy. The only reason you’ve been able to survive in the Barrel and avoid unwholesome indentures is because you never used your power, not once. Even if it was necessary, this still feels bad.

You’ve found a new hiding place in the corner of the room and move to extinguish your flame now that it’s no longer useful. However, it’s been too long since you last used your powers as an Inferni, and your concentration wavers. The flame grows brighter and you start to panic, eventually clamping down your mind and forcing the fire to disappear.

The disappearance comes too late. The Razorgulls have seen some light in the shadow that wasn’t supposed to be there and are now edging your way, careful not to let you out of their sight. You have no choice but to take them down, standing over their unconscious bodies and feeling a wave of nerves crest over you. Kaz specifically said not to mess with the gangs, but you had no choice. You can only hope that this won’t ruin his plan too much.

Quietly, you step through the room and unlock a window, letting the panes move open in the wind. Now, you can hear the voices echoing up from the courtyard, and your heart sinks as you realize that things aren’t going well. The leader of the Razorgulls has revealed his ace in the hole, that he’s got guns trained on Kaz right now. Kaz just laughs, the sound as cold as rocks scraping against a ship’s hull, ready to damn a hundred men to the depths of the ocean.

“Do you, though? Who are the men you sent up- Dirk Struik and Niels ter Avest? Your coffers may be deep, but mine are more extensive. Gentlemen, take down this man, if you please.” Your stomach twists as you realize Kaz was counting on the men you just knocked out. Without them, he’s alone with a man pointing a gun at his skull. There’s no way around this- you’re going to have to break your most cherished rule again.

You thrust your palms out in front of you, letting tendrils of flame arc out of your hands and cascade onto the leader of the Razorgulls. He twists in agony, burns appearing on his skin. He only suffers for a moment or two, however, until he becomes unconscious due to the pain. Kaz’s head jerks up, staring at you. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Kaz Brekker truly surprised, but he most certainly was not expecting this.

You don’t think there’s anything you can do except try to explain yourself. You jump down from the open window, letting your heels land lightly on the stones of the courtyard. Kaz seems frozen in place for a second, then moves forward until you’re standing only a few feet apart. Your breath comes wild in your chest. Kaz speaks after the longest of moments. “Where were the guards?”

You hold up your hands uselessly. “They saw me. I had to take them out.” Kaz’s eyes dart to your palms, faster than a sharpshooter pulling the trigger. He takes in the smoke still curling around your fingers, then the crow mark in the middle of your hand. When he speaks again, his voice has lost its icy edge. He just sounds like a boy again, young and confused.

“You never told me you were an Inferni.” You sigh. “It was a secret I needed to keep. You know what happens in the Barrel, the indentures and the tortures. If I used my powers, I would have died a long time ago.” Kaz jerks his head in a harsh nod. “I don’t blame you for surviving. We have all committed worse crimes to live” Your voice gains a confidence it didn’t have before. “Then what do you blame me for? You’re upset, anyone could tell that. If it’s not with me keeping my Grisha abilities a secret, then what is it?”

Kaz hesitates, as if pulling himself back from a yawning chasm. “Me.” You stare at him, at the indecision wracking his brow, then at the way he’s pulling at the glove at his palm. His hands almost seem to shake, like he’s still not sure that he’s doing the right thing. He pulls the glove off, inch by inch, seeming to dread every second that his hands aren’t covered by the black leather. At last, you see it- the mark on his palm, the flame sparking into being right there on his hand.

He reaches out tentatively. “I need to know.” He manages, and at last you understand. You move your own hand slowly, stopping when it’s only a few inches away from his. Kaz squares his shoulders, as if preparing to jump from another broken building, then closes the distance and lets his hand rest lightly on yours. As you watch, your soulmate tattoos shimmer for a second and then vanish, erasing from your skin as if they’d never been there at all.

Kaz lets his gaze linger on the empty skin of your palm, and then he seems to come back into himself, snatching his hand away like he’s flinching from a blow. You can see it in his eyes that he regrets this, that he can’t keep his hand there, but you understand. You can understand quite a lot from him.

Kaz’s voice is like the grating of metal. “I’m not somebody you want as a soulmate. It won’t be easy. It won’t be good.” You laugh quietly in the night. “If I wanted something easy, I would have never come to Ketterdam.” Kaz nods at this, something almost like relief in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere.” You manage. Something almost like a smile flits across Kaz’s face. “Good. We have much to discuss.”

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever!

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing?

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…"

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably.

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while…

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable!

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows…

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel.

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die…?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods #obey me scenarios

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angry-geese · 3 years ago

Text

Risotto Nero x Reader

Warnings: nsfw / mdni. shameless smut, shower sex, oral (fem and masc receiving), fingering, handjobs, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, biting. lots of fluff. afab reader. fem pronouns, risotto calls the reader a good girl like once

a/n: a soft, self indulgent smut fic with Risotto

Word Count: 2k

The job went well. It's not often you can say such a thing. It's a rare, but welcome day when nothing goes wrong. Risotto suggested going out to dinner to celebrate. Food sounded nice, but you were far too tired to get ready for a nice restaurant. You settled on takeout.

He insisted on heading straight home. Any paperwork you can get done tomorrow. The hideout isn't going to burn down if left alone for one night. Well, not as long as someone responsible is around. Prosciutto is probably there. If not him, then Sorbet and Gelato are.

Over the past few years, the small apartment is what you two have called home. Rent was cheap, not to mention there weren't many neighbors. While Risotto may have been fine with sleeping at the hideout, you weren't.

You can hardly pull Risotto away from work. This was a rare, but welcome occasion.

The hot water feels nice as it pours over your sore muscles, turning varying shades of red as it rolls off your body, staining the bottom of the tub. It's not yours. Most of it anyway. Baths don't get blood out. Not a lot does. Showers are a bit better, but you’ve gotten used to tossing out a lot of clothes because of the stains.

"Hey Ris," you call out, "you comin' in or not?"

Momentarily the curtain pulls aside. Cold air rushes in, goosebumps raise along your exposed skin. He tosses aside the last of his clothes, joining you.

You give him a once-over for any injuries. Some blood is dried to his hands, though he looks mostly uninjured. He's too tall for the both of you to fit in the tub at the same time, so taking a bath together is out of the question. When you buy a home together—someday—you'll get a tub big enough.

"C'mere." You say. "I feel bad making you stand in the cold."

You take his much larger hands in yours, inspecting them for any wounds. He watches as your eyes scan up and down his body. Aside from a few scrapes, he's unharmed.

He practically has to kneel so you can wash his hair. A few, pleased sounding grunts leave him as you work the shampoo into his scalp. It smells like you, he notes. Your nails are getting a bit long, and feel nice against his skin. His shoulders tense as your hands work lower, working the knots out of his shoulders.

"Lean back so I'm not waterboarding you," you say, carding your fingers through his hair.

He has to duck to fit under the shower head. The one at the hideout isn't nearly as short, but there’s no shower curtain, not to mention Illuso who has little regard for personal space, and a penchant for appearing out of mirrors. Maybe the next hit will give you two enough money to look for a house. He could really use a bigger bathroom. And a bigger bed. There’s nothing wrong with the one you have now, but he wants one where he can sprawl out a bit more.

Though his back is to you, he feels your eyes drift down his body. You look at him in a way nobody has before. It both terrifies, and comforts him. Most eyes fill with fear when they gaze upon him. Yours never did. Even as you first showed up to the hideout, wide-eyed and frightened, telling him you had just been assigned to the hitman team, you never saw him as anything but good.

Each passing job, each day that goes by, he finds himself falling more hopelessly in love.

Your touch drifts across his back, working the soap over his skin. You’re shameless in how you admire the planes of muscle, and his well-toned arms. In public you’re rather reserved, it's only behind closed doors that you let your affections show. Risotto values the peace of solace, and most of all privacy. The two of you become entirely different people when no longer confined to a certain appearance. Very few things fluster him the way you do. He stiffens as your hands work particularly low, your fingers ghosting across the sensitive skin of his thighs.

Your intentions seem innocent enough until your hand wraps around his half-hardened cock.

A noise resembling that of surprise leaves him, followed by a weak: "the food-"

"We've got twenty minutes." You say. "It'll be fine."

His pupils shrink down to pinpricks. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to give him a kiss. Just a quick peck. He pulls you back to deepen the kiss, nibbling on your bottom lip until you allow the slick muscle of his tongue to explore your mouth. A strand of saliva connects your lips when you pull away.

He watches you with wide eyes as you give his cock a few pumps, sinking to your knees. The tiles of the shower can't be comfortable, but they don't seem to bother you. You lick a stripe up the underside of his cock from base to tip. The kitten licks you place against the head only serves to make him stiffen, and let out a few pleased grunts. It becomes a game, trying to get him to unravel entirely.

He’s too big to bottom out in your mouth. The man is quite literally huge, it's only fitting his cock would match. The hairs towards the base are the same silver as his head, and neatly trimmed. You hollow out your cheeks, pumping what you can't fit in your mouth with your hands. A mix of saliva and precum drips down your chin.

“Fuck-” He’s cut off mid-sentence by his own moan. “You feel so good. You’re so beautiful.”

Risotto can't tear his eyes away from the way the suds cling to your form, how the water collects and drips off every curve of your body, how your breasts jiggle with each movement of your head. It's rare he’s so shameless with his affections. Even behind closed doors he was rather reserved. Love such as the way you love is foreign to him. You’re never shy in the way you love him. It's not that he doesn't like it—it's quite the opposite—but in a way he’s terrified.

“There- tesoro,” His hands bury in your hair, tugging gently. “Like that. You take me so well.”

You pick up the pace a bit, pumping his cock faster. One of your hands slips between your legs, toying with your already-wet cunt. He pulls you off, an audible pop echoes through the bathroom as your lips release his cock.

Shower sex is a bit hazardous. He's too worried about you slipping. Still, he falls to his knees, his large hands ghosting down your sides. He leaves a trail of wet, open mouth kisses down your stomach, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. His tongue briefly dips between your folds.

He presses kitten licks to your clit, his touch achingly gentle. You angle your hips to give him better access. He latches onto the bundle of nerves, lapping and sucking desperately, rolling his tongue over the small bud. Your fingers bury in his wet hair, guiding him to where you need him most. The wet, lewd noises of his tongue can barely be heard over the shower and your own moans. Risotto’s name spills past your lips like a prayer. His ring and middle finger press into you. They pump in and out of you slowly at first, hooking and stroking against your g-spot.

His gaze drifts up your body, admiring every dip and curve. He takes you in like a man starved and given his first meal in weeks. You grind down against his face as you near your release. Steam coils off his back in ribbons, floating off and dissipating in the humid bathroom air.

Risotto pulls away, a wet smack echoing through the bathroom. There's a dark, needy look in his eyes, which are already hazy with lust. His cheeks are flushed; either with need, or from the hot air.

“Keep looking at me like that,” he says, running his tongue over his bottom lip, “and you won't be able to walk right for a week, tesoro.”

You let out a squeak as he hauls you into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. Your arms loop around his shoulders, your fingers lacing together behind his back. He mutters a weak "I've got you" into the crook of your neck.

The head of his cock is slick with precum. It presses into you slowly, filling you inch by inch. The stretch stings a bit, though with the prep it hardly hurts at all. He was always terrified of hurting you when you first got together. Sometimes he still is. You constantly have to remind him that you're tough, and you'll survive a little manhandling.

He groans as he bottoms out, muttering a weak "good girl" into your ear. You feel so impossibly full. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs so hard you think they'll bruise. Not that you mind. Risotto gives you a moment to adjust to his size, although it's not needed.

“Please,” you say, your voice weak.

A dark laugh leaves him, coming from low in his chest. “Please what?”

“Fuck me,”

The heat that pools low in your stomach is undeniable. Risotto’s touch leaves you with an aching need you’ve never been able to replicate. Many nights when he was away on a job you would try to recreate his skilled touch. Always to no avail. Your hands never compare to the real thing.

Being so at his mercy is intoxicating. There's an odd, weightless feeling as he fucks into you. His hips meet yours in unrelenting thrusts. The sound of skin slapping on skin echoes through the bathroom, just barely drowned out by your collective moans, and the rushing of the shower. The angle allows him to hit deep, his cock curving in a way that makes your toes curl. His teeth sink into the junction where your neck meets your shoulders, leaving a faint, crescent-shaped indent. Tension builds in your stomach like a coil being wound tight.

You fit around him like a glove, your warm, wet cunt clenching around him in a way that threatens to make him cum on the spot. Nothing feels quite as good as the way you do. Before he never had much of a sex drive. It was something he had gone most of his adult life without. But upon meeting you, finally feeling your touch, he can never seem to get enough.

His own release creeps up on him far sooner than he expected, though you don't look to be far behind him. You're flushed from your forehead to your chest, blush dusting the tips of your nose and ears. Your moans—mixed with various curses and praises—echo through the room. His thrusts grow sloppy as he nears his own orgasm, his hips rocking against you in short, needy thrusts.

What sends him over the edge is the way your nails dig into his back, raking up the hard planes of muscle. Hot ropes of his cum spill into your unprotected womb.

His hand moves down to toy with your clit, working circles around the bundle of nerves. Your skin feels feverishly warm against his. He thrusts until the coil in your stomach snaps and you cry out, your legs tightening around his waist. You ride out your orgasm on his cock, his thrusts slowing.

He pulls out slowly so as to not make too much of a mess. Your arms remain around his shoulders to steady yourself. Shamelessly he leans back to admire his work. The sight of his cum dripping down your thighs is enough to make him want a second round. He likes taking his time with you, but he’ll never pass up on a quickie.

Risotto looks at you with such adoration that it makes your chest swell with affection. The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, but driven by need. His hands move to cup your cheeks, brushing your wet hair out of your face. It's another moment before he’s hauling you into his arms, heading for your shared room.

The moment is only disrupted by a knock on the door.

#jjba x reader #risotto nero x reader #risotto x reader #risotto nero #risotto #jjba part 5 #jjba #golden wind #vento aureo

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disturbedbydesign · 3 years ago

Text

A Night At The Museum

Pairing: Loki x Reader

Length: 4K

Summary: Your job as a museum tour guide was growing tiresome until a mysterious stranger showed up to claim what was his.

Warnings: Dubcon (slight mind control), Violence (mild), Light Bondage, Explicit Sex (oral, vaginal). 18+ only, no minors.

_____________________________________________________________

Your last tour of the day was about to start and all you could think about was getting off work and meeting up with your sister for drinks. You had always dreamed of one day working at the British Museum, but having been a tour guide there for the past year—doing the same thing, so many times a day, every single day—you found yourself growing tired of it and anxious to move on. Much as you loved art history (you did go to school for it, after all), you had grown thoroughly bored with your job. You wanted some excitement in your life. You needed it.

When you first started, you had been one of the museum’s most enthusiastic guides, always trying to engage all the members of your groups and fielding even the strangest of questions with grace and ease. These days, you were just going through the motions, especially for tours this late in the day. Over the course of the year, you had become adept at instantly identifying the one or two people in any given group who actually cared about the subject matter, and you found it simpler to focus on them and ignore everyone else.

As you performed your perfunctory scan of the last group of the day, you saw the usual suspects: a group of unruly children with intentionally oblivious parents; a travel group of obnoxious middle-aged Americans; an older gentleman, alone, who looked like he could be a professor of some sort (he was the one to pay attention to); and a young couple, clearly on one of their first few dates, who would have eyes only for each other.

And then you saw him.

You were immediately taken aback, struck by the fact that, for the first time in a long time, you couldn’t get a read on someone. The man was tall—really tall—with long, black hair slicked back. His skin was almost inhumanly pale and smooth, like he was sculpted of the same marble as the statues surrounding you. Despite the summer heat, the mysterious man wore a black suit and tie, a white dress shirt, and a long black coat with a scarf. He carried an ornately crafted cane, which seemed more an accessory than a walking aid. Compared to the rest of your tour group, he seemed a man out of time.

And then you saw his eyes—his impossibly green eyes. You could see them from across the room, almost glowing and staring at you, unblinking. your breath caught in your throat and all of a sudden you felt very, very cold.

As the hour-long tour progressed, you went through your practiced speeches about each artifact, moving across the room in the pre-established order and fielding questions here and there. As anticipated, the older gentleman was very engaged in the tour and asked intelligent questions, which you happily answered. Also unsurprisingly, one of the loudest Americans (probably trying to impress his friends) kept asking questions that he thought would make him sound smart and cultured but which, in reality, had the opposite effect. After one particularly ridiculous question, you had to turn your head away, pretending to be thinking about the answer but really trying not to laugh. That’s when you got caught in the emerald stare of the mysterious man with the cane.

He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you the entire tour—hadn’t so much as glanced at any of the art that he was ostensibly there to see—and up until then you had done your best to avoid meeting his gaze. Something about him absolutely terrified you, although you couldn’t pinpoint what exactly you were frightened of. He was standing completely still at the back of the group, but he was so tall that he towered over everyone and you could see his face as clear as if he were right in front of you.

His piercing eyes were locked onto you; they moved where you moved. His gaze was intense and menacing, but it was more than that: you could physically feel his eyes on you, penetrating you all over, making you feel naked. You wanted to look away but you felt like some strange power was holding your eyes onto to his. You stood dumbfounded and locked in a silent stare with the dark-haired stranger until the loud American spoke up, demanding an answer to his previous inquiry. You had never in your life been so happy to answer a stupid question.

You managed to make it through the rest of the tour without meeting eyes with the man with the cane, although there wasn’t one second that went by when you didn’t feel his presence in the room. You even went so far as to forgo asking if anyone had any final questions at the end that they wanted to stay after and discuss with you. You ducked out of the exhibit hall as fast as you could, feeling the man’s gaze boring into your backside as you exited the room, and headed for the staff room to gather your things. You didn’t notice until you got to the employee lounge that you had been holding your breath the whole time.

The museum was officially closed for the day, and as you left the staff area you couldn’t help but notice that the usual security guards posted around the building were nowhere to be found. In fact, there was no one around at all. The main lights were dimmed and the place was impossibly silent; the only sound you could hear was the echo of your own footsteps as you quickly made your way across the building to the exit. You were rounding a darkened corner when you felt an ice-cold hand reach around from behind and clamp over your mouth.

“Don’t be afraid,” hissed a smooth voice in the darkness. “You’re going to like what comes next.”

Before you could think to cry out, you were spun around and face to face with the dark-haired man. He wore the devil’s grin as he leaned down to you, his face barely an inch from your own. One hand still clamped firmly across your mouth, he brought his cane up with the other and traced a gentle line down from your temple to your chin. He let the tip rest under your jaw, pressing in on your throat just a little too hard. He put his lips to your ear and whispered, “Come with me, my pet.”

In one swift motion, he swung you up and over his shoulder and held you there with one arm, the other arm brandishing the cane, which clicked rhythmically against the marble floor, keeping time with his long strides. You were still dazed and breathless from the force of the cane’s tip on your throat and before you knew it, you found yourself in some dark recess of the museum basement, on the floor of a room you hadn’t even known existed. It was filled with strange artifacts the likes of which you had never seen in your extensive studies. There were no lights on but the room was bathed in an eerie shade of blue, which seemed to emanate from the relics themselves. You managed to mumble out a few words.

“Where am I?”

You saw the cane flip once in his hand as he strode toward you and then felt only searing pain as it came crashing across the side of your face.

“Did I say you could speak?” he asked.

You brought your hand to your cheek where he’d struck you, expecting to feel a bloodied gash, but when you took your hand away and looked there was nothing. The blow had left no physical mark, only an icy hot streak of pain. He reached down and traced the line of his blow with a long delicate finger, and suddenly the pain was gone and replaced with a pleasurable tingle.

“As you see, I can inflict both pain and pleasure,” he said, his voice like honey. “What happens next is entirely up to you.”

You should have been terrified, screaming, looking for some outlet or escape, but you found yourself completely paralyzed by his gaze. Going against every survival instinct screaming inside of you, you dared speak again.

“Please… please just tell me who you are and what you want.”

You closed your eyes and braced yourself for another blow but it did not come. You glanced up to see him looking at you inquisitively from the corner of the room, resting his long, lean frame on the tip of his cane.

“You are a bold one, I see. Deserving of my punishment, yes, but also worthy of the pleasure I can give you. I am going to ask you three questions and you are going to answer them honestly. If you lie, I will know, and you will suffer for it. Now tell me, do I frighten you?”

“Yes.”

“Do I excite you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to leave? And before you answer this last and most important question, know this: If you say yes, I will let you go. I will not harm you. I will not follow you. You will never see me again. But you will also never know who I am or what I am here for, the memory of this night will haunt your dreams forever, and no one will ever believe your story. Within a week, you will go mad wondering whether I was a dream or reality.”

In one seamless motion, he crossed the room and yanked you to your feet by your shoulders, holding you an inch from his face, which seemed to glow with its own light.

“Now answer the question. Do you want to leave?”

The final answer flew from your lips before you even knew what you were saying. “No,” you whispered, and he eased his harsh grip on your shoulders, a sly smile spreading across his lips.

You stared at him, motionless and feeling almost paralyzed as you waited for permission to speak.

“Well,” he began, “I suppose it’s only fair that I offer you the same courtesy you have allowed me, so you may ask me three questions and I will answer them honestly. Choose your words carefully, because you get only three.”

He released his grip on you and returned to the corner, watching you and waiting.

“Who… who are you?” you stammered.

“Ah, a good question and excellently phrased. Had you asked just my name, that is all you would have received. But who I am is much more complicated.”

He sauntered toward you and lifted his cane, pointing it in a sweeping circle around the room.

“You see these things here? I am not so different—I was just another stolen relic from another world, locked away until someone might have use of me. But I have broken free of my shackles, and I have come to claim what is mine. You as who I am? I am a God. I am your God.”

You should have thought him completely mad, but you believed him. For whatever reason, you believed him.

“What do you want?” you asked.

He shook his head and chuckled low. “That’s far too vague a question, my pet, for I want many things. I could tell you simply that I want a glass of water, and I would not be lying. But since you are such an exquisite creature and so well behaved, I will answer the question you meant to ask, which is what is my purpose here.”

Something was happening to you, something strange and terrifying and wonderful. You were mesmerized by the way he spoke and the way his long, cold fingers brushed your cheek when he had called you exquisite. You hung on his every word and could not take your eyes off of him.

“I am Loki of Asgard and I have come to reclaim what was stolen from me. This room holds all that I need to take my rightful place as your master and overlord—to claim humanity as my own and rule the people of Earth as your king.”

You searched your racing mind for the words needed to get the answer you so desperately wanted, but your brain would not cooperate.

“One last question, my pet. And don’t keep me waiting.”

Finally, the words come to you in the correct order. “Why have you chosen me?”

Loki smiled lasciviously down at you. “I could tell just by looking at you that you crave subjugation,” he said, his voice smooth and so deep you felt it everywhere. “You were made to be ruled, and you will be the first to kneel for me.”

In a flash he was on you, grabbing your hair hard and pulling you into a deep kiss. His lips felt ice cold but his breath was hot and moist as his tongue twined around yours. You raised your hands to run them through his hair when he abruptly pulled back and caught you by the wrists. He spun you around and bound your arms behind your back with his scarf, pushing you to your knees once he had secured you.

“I told you to kneel,” he growled.

He was behind you and you could hear his ragged breathing, the rustling of clothes, and the soft thump of fabric hitting the floor. When he spun you back around, he was completely naked and you drank in the sight of his pale skin and lean, powerful body. His cock was enormous and rock hard.

“Pleasure me, my pet. I know this is what you crave.”

He grabbed you by the hair and shoved the whole length of his shaft down your throat repeatedly, fucking your face until you almost passed out for lack of air. When you thought you could take no more, he yanked you off of him, tilting your head back and looking down at you with glowing green eyes.

“Very good, my pet. Now slower. Worship it as you will worship me.”

He grabbed the base of his cock, holding it at an angle above your face and willing you to lick it. You complied, running your tongue slowly from the base to the tip, feeling his blood throbbing in the veins that ran the length of his massive shaft; the blood was hot but the flesh was icy cold—a very strange sensation, but one that fascinated you. He let out a series of short, carnal grunts as you swirled the tip of your tongue around his head. You took just the tip into your mouth and began to massage it gently with your lips as he ran his hand lightly up and down his shaft. You could taste his leaking juices as you tongued the slit, and the taste of him was like nothing you’d ever experienced before—it was delicious, addictive even, and it made you insatiable and impossibly wet. You moaned onto his cock as you let it drip down your throat, sending vibrations of pleasure running through his entire godly frame and causing him to groan in ecstasy.

Before you knew it, you were on your feet and your wrists were freed from the scarf that bound them. Holding the scarf between gritted teeth, he ripped your blouse open and straight off your body. He cupped and squeezed your breasts in his icy hands, and your already hard nipples became almost unbearably erect against the lace fabric of your bra. He unclasped it and let it fall to the floor next to you as he yanked your skirt down around your ankles. One hand cradled the back of your neck and he let the other trace a line in between your breasts and down your stomach. When he reached the top of your thong, just above your mound, he stopped.

Your breath caught in your throat and you looked at him. He took the scarf from between his teeth.

“Turn around,” Loki commanded.

You did as you were told and he brought the scarf around your head, blindfolding you. You felt his strong arms lift you up and moments later you were bent over a cold metal table, facedown and arms over your head, gripping the steel. You felt his breath on your pebbled skin as he ripped your thong off your body with his teeth, and he pushed your legs wider apart with his knee as he traced down the length of your spine with two fingers. When he found your entrance, you were already soaked for him—an almost unnatural level of wetness that you’d never felt before in your entire life—and he plunged two long fingers deep inside you without ceremony. You cried out your pleasure as he moved them furiously in and out of you before he slowed and found your sweet spot with his middle finger, working it violently until he started to feel your walls tighten around him and your cries faded to jagged breaths. He stopped just before you found release and you whined loudly.

“You are ready,” he said—telling you not asking you. “Now we shall see where your loyalty lies.”

You were left wanting and stranded on the verge, and the absence of sight heightened all your other senses. Every inch of your body was buzzing and the sound of your own heart beating was deafening in the silent room. That’s when you heard the rhythmic clicking of the cane moving slowly toward you and then stop.

“Who is your God?” Loki asked, his voice cold and commanding.

“You,” you wailed. “You are my God.”

He brought the cane down across your bare ass with all the power of Asgard and you screamed out in delicious agony.

“I said, WHO IS YOUR GOD?”

You tried to answer but your mind could not form words. He brought the cane down on you again, three hard lashes in quick succession, and you made a noise that sounded inhuman in your own ears.

“I’ll ask you one more time: who is your God and your King?”

The sensations coursing through your body threatened to put you over the edge of consciousness, but somehow you managed to yell out to him through the haze of pain and pleasure.

“LOKI! Loki of Asgard is my God and my King!”

He laughed maniacally and you could hear the clatter of the cane dropping to the floor. You felt his magic fingers trace a line across the searing flesh of your ass and the white-hot agony turned instantly to a pleasure unlike any you had ever known. You almost achieved release just from his touch. He untied the blindfold and he rolled you over on your back, pulling you up to face him. His eyes seemed warmer as he leaned in and grazed your ear with his lips as he spoke.

“You have proven your loyalty to me, my pet. I know that you will worship me as I deserve. Now you will be rewarded.”

He stood between your legs and cupped your face in his hands as he kissed you slowly and deeply, more passionately than he had before. For the first time, when you went to touch him, he didn’t try to stop you. At last, your hands found his long black hair and you grabbed fistfuls of it as you pulled him down on top of you, the tip of his cock teasing your opening as you devoured each other. He pulled his face away and buried it in between your breasts as he massaged them, taking one nipple in his mouth and nibbling it lightly as he rubbed the other between two fingers. Every flick of his finger or tongue on your body dragged a sound out of you that you didn’t know you could make. You untangled one hand from his hair and found his massive cock, gripping it firmly and stroking it up and down as you rubbed it against your clit.

“Fuck me, my King. I beg you. Take me any way you want me.”

He lifted his mouth from your breast. “Not so fast, my pet. I must taste you first.”

He pulled you down to the edge of the table and threw your legs over his shoulders as he settled between your legs. He licked you slowly up and down a few times before latching onto your clit, holding your hips firm as he swirled the tip of his tongue around and around, faster and faster until you started to cry out and buck against him. He brought a hand down from your hip and teased your slick folds with one long finger as he continued to work your clit with his tongue and his lips. He brought another finger to your entrance, sliding the two fingers together from the top of your folds to the bottom, and when he plunged both fingers inside you, you came so hard you nearly fainted. His touch was godly, and you knew then he had ruined you for all mortal men.

You had barely recovered from your climax when he sat you up and took you all at once, shoving his cock inside you to the hilt, filling you with ice and fire. He grunted like an animal with each forceful thrust and you screamed with pleasure as you clawed at his back. Your hands found his muscular ass and you gripped it tightly as you screamed his name, keeping time with his rhythm.

“Loki… Loki… My God… My King...”

You brought your arms up around his neck as he lifted you off the table, his strong hands gripping your ass as he walked you over to the side of the room. You clung to him with your legs wrapped tightly around his waist and your arms at his neck as he fucked you senseless against the cold basement wall. The light of the otherworldly artifacts tinted his skin an inhuman shade of blue; it was beautiful, he was beautiful. He quickened his pace and then stopped, remaining motionless with the full length of him still throbbing inside of you.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered. “Such a good little pet. I think maybe I’ll keep you.”

He walked you back over to the table and laid himself down on it so that you were straddling him. You moved up and down on his cock slowly, almost teasingly, wanting to feel every inch of him inside of you. As you rocked up and down, he brought his cold thumb to your clit, circling it while you rode him and bringing you close to the edge again. He began to buck underneath you as you fucked him and you knew he was close, too. You leaned in and grabbed the hair at the back of his head as you continued to slam yourself onto on him.

The words fell from your lips—“Fill me with your God seed, my King, I want every last drop you have”—and even as you said them, you had no idea where they came from, almost as if they were planted there and forced from you.

That had Loki’s eyes rolling back in his head and he moaned deep as he sat up, grabbing your hips as you rocked back and forth on his lap. He tightened his grip on you and quickened his pace, pounding into you hard and fast. As the muscles of your tight walls rippled with pleasure and you cried out your reverence in his ear, Loki found his release. He held your squirming body tight against him, your muscles shaking uncontrollably as he came roaring into you. You felt his warmth spread inside of you—such a contrast to the chill of his flesh—and you stayed locked in his embrace, completely limp with exhaustion.

“Thank you, my King,” you whispered, and Loki brought his fingers to your face.

The last thing you remember is two cool fingertips pressed to your temple. When you awoke, you were naked and alone in the basement room. The artifacts that had filled the room were now gone and there was no sign of Loki but for a pile of clothing next to you on the table—new clothes to replace the ones he had destroyed in his lust—and a handwritten note that said only “Fit for a Queen.” You put them on, wondering if he would ever be back for you. You were nothing now without your king. You knew you were made to be ruled.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson x reader #loki fanfiction #loki smut #loki laufeyson #tom hiddleston

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classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years ago

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Meeting and Dating J.D.

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous and @poruchik-logy)

(Sorry about the inactivity lately. With the holidays coming up, I’ve been a bit busy. Plus, I’ve written a post or two on my other blogs which means no post on this one. Anyways, hope you enjoy!)

- You meet J.D. when he transfers to your school. You’re in study hall when you just so happen to look up and make eye contact with the boy while glancing around the room.

- For the rest of the period, you feel like someone's watching you, and lo and behold, every time you sneak a glance his way, his eyes are on you. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he was looking, he just raises an eyebrow at you when you turn and meet his gaze.

- You spot him in the lunchroom later that day and ask your friends about him though they don’t have much information besides his name and where he moved from which they got from one of their teachers forcing him to introduce himself to the class. He was a mystery …and boy were you intrigued.

- You have your first conversation at the local Snappy Snack Shack. You’d just popped in to grab a little junk food, only to find him stalking through the store in his black trench coat. You figured you’d dance around each other until one of you left but before you knew it, he’d sauntered up to you and interjected that you looked familiar.

- Before you knew it, the two of you had introduced yourselves and began a sort of flirtatious conversation. He bought you a slushy and offered you a ride home on his bike which you coyly accepted after a moment of nervous hesitation.

- It was that same night that he returned to your house, rapping at your window and damn near giving you a heart attack. Even though it was terrifying at first, it was also sort of endearing and you soon found yourself joining him outside.

- Now, It’s your choice whether or not you sleep together that night. If you do then consider yourself kissed and claimed from then on. If you don’t, he’ll continue to show up at your house or hang around you at school until he gets what he wants. You.

- You suppose that your first date happened at the Snack Shack so from then on, the two of you were sort of seeing each other. Well, one of his favorite things to do with you is not be at home so the two of you were hanging out in an empty lot.

- The sun went down and you were sitting in the dark, the glow of the moon being the only thing lighting up your date. You were sitting down and he was lingering on his feet somewhere behind him, sorta pacing from what you could hear.

- He knelt down beside you and you turned your head to look at him, only to immediately get pulled into a kiss that all but had you melt into the floor. It was passionate and somewhat rough, exactly what you’d expect from him. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

- Well, he most certainly isn’t letting you go after that. I hope you like him babe because you’re not getting rid of him anytime soon.

- This man is fully willing to makeout with you in public. So yeah, there’s a lot of Pda.

- His hands are pretty much on you at all times.

- Pecks on the lips. He loves when you just give him a kiss for no reason at all.

- Rough, passionate kisses. He asserts his dominance by hooking his arms around you and pulling you into a searing kiss until you can’t breathe.

- He definitely calls you “woman” and a ton of other pet names ranging from cute to just plain annoying.

- He never would have imagined a girl like you would actually put up with him for so long …but boy is he thankful you have.

- He’s a little shit and that’s just something you’ll have to live with. He’s blunt, conniving and sarcastic, but he does care about you.

- He pretends like he doesn’t give a shit a lot of the time but he does, more than he cares to admit.

- Surprisingly enough, JD actually really likes cuddling. You’ll usually lay with your legs intertwined and your head resting against his chest while he wraps his arms tight around you.

- Jason's father sort of ignores him, they aren’t very close and certainly not close enough to be sharing affection besides; maybe, a pat on he back or something similar. So he craves attention and affection.

- He yearns for you to touch and love him but he doesn’t know how to tell you that he wants you to suffocate him with your own body. He’ll just try to repeat whatever it is he did to make you touch him or touch you until you do something to him.

- Hugs from behind.

- Husky whispers in your ear. He does it on purpose because he knows what it does to you.

- Motorcycle rides.

- Trying to get him to quit smoking. It never actually works but he; somewhat, tries to cut down on it for your sake. He thinks the fact that you care is sorta amusing.

- Cutting class together.

- Going shooting with him. The beer bottles and porcelain plates kind of shooting, not the Ram and Kurt kind of shooting.

- Dark humor. Although, sometimes you genuinely don’t know if he’s joking or not.

- He can always seem to make you laugh, even if it makes you feel guilty to laugh at some off the stuff he says.

- Hearing an alarming amount of gun and bomb facts.

- Going to Snappys Snack Shack with him.

- Junk food binges.

- He’s kind of a stalker if I’m being honest. He follows you around without you knowing, finds out everything he can about you, etc. You’re sort of like an obsession of his and that can be good or bad depending on the situation and to what extent you know about his feelings.

- He knows practically everything about you, ranging from your birthday to where you are at pretty much any given time.

- He’s not too great at all that lovey dovey shit but he tries. It might take him a little while to get the hang of it but he eventually will.

- Getting him to play the sax for you.

- Having his hand on your thigh whenever he’s driving.

- Making out.

- Hickeys.

- He likes when you wear his clothes, it’s like marking his territory without getting in trouble for making your neck different colors.

- Listening to morbid music.

- Deep existential conversations. What else do you talk about with your girlfriend besides the meaning of life and why society will ultimately cave in and destroy itself in a violent revolt?

- Late night phone calls from him. Be prepared to rush to your landline at three a.m. so that you don’t wake up your parents. You can’t even really be mad at him because he’ll just immediately launch into either a spiel about how he missed you or ask what your opinion on Manchurian candidates are; successfully silencing you in bewilderment.

- Getting random knocks at your window whenever he decides he just has to see you.

- Your parents either love or hate him, there is no inbetween. He’s generally pretty good at playing the role of the upstanding young man who cares a lot about their daughter; that parts real of course, but occasionally a parent will just get a bad vibe from him and his charade; though convincing, just won’t work on them.

- If that’s the case with your parents then you’ll sort of be forced to sneak out if you want to see him, which he’s particularly good at helping you do.

- Getting kept away from his father. He tries to keep your interactions to a minimum, especially if you have a much different personality than to the man.

- Incredibly jealous though he’ll always try to hide just how upset whatever situation you’re in makes him. He makes jokes and “forgets about it” as soon as you join his side, convincingly acting like nothing happened or that he saw nothing wrong with it but staying up the rest of the night wondering what he can do about it.

- Possessive. You’re each others, aren’t you? He’s yours and you’re his. Everybody belongs to someone and the two of you belong to one another.

- Is he protective? What do you think? If you ever complain about a person bothering you, he’ll almost immediately ask if you want him to kill them. You think it’s a joke. It’s not.

- Although it may seem like he does things just for his own benefit, he would genuinely do anything you ask of him. Sometimes he’ll surprise you with the lengths that he goes to make your life easier and happier.

- He’s hot tempered and kind of an asshole so the two of you are; most likely, almost constantly fighting. You’ll usually be yelling at each other or arguing passionately which is a problem because he thinks you’re hot when you’re angry. He’ll usually wind up trying to kiss you which succeeds in making things worse and having you give him the silent treatment/break up.

- He tries his best to give you your space but the instant you want him back, he’s all over you. He usually never actually apologizes but he doesn’t force you to when you’re in the wrong either so you suppose it’s fair.

- I love you’s are few and far between. He doesn’t really want to make himself seem too vulnerable so you only get them on rare occasions.

- The two of you tend to not talk about the future. He wants to be with you forever; which is obvious, and he wants you to be his; which is also obvious. But you don’t know if you’re entirely sure you can handle him. So, you try to just enjoy the time you’re spending together and not think about how things may end.

- You’re either the Bonnie to his Clyde or his blissfully unaware darling. Pick your poison.

#heathers headcanon #heathers headcanons #heathers imagine #jason dean imagine #jason dean headcanon #jason dean x reader #jason dean headcanons #jd imagine #jd headcanons #JD headcanon #jd x reader #80s movie imagine #80s movie imagines #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon

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sevendeadlymorons · 4 years ago

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Good noon! (Or morning/night) Hope you're doing well! I'd like to ask if you could do the one that was similar with "Brothers don't like MC?" But with the Dateables? 🙏👀 If not though! Then that's perfectly fine! Thank you reading my fair human person<3 pls take care!

Ok this was apparently really popular so here’s another with the lovely Dateables~

Writing Diavolo and Simeon was so hard, and I couldn’t even figure out how to write Luke so uhh I gave up heh sorry...

Brothers + Dateables Just Can’t Seem to Like MC

WARNING: Angst // Possible Emotional Abuse

—————————————

Lucifer

You could never understand the way he looks at you, or rather, how he ignores you after looking at you

His eyes are filled with hatred and you couldn’t understand why, you did nothing wrong yet he looked at you like you were a nuisance and a pain to be around

The way he said your name was cold and harsh and it reminded you of the way you were treated back in the human world, with so little respect, as if you were smaller and more insignificant than him

But little did you know, he hated you for everything you did. Your humour, your manners, the way you followed him around, expecting him to babysit you when he’s already pissed off with his brothers to begin with

He hates the way you loiter around him, waiting for a moment to talk to him only to be rejected and painfully ignored. He always enjoys watching your smile turn into a frown and your eyes slowly begin to water as you without hesitation turn to flee away from him

It tears you up inside, leaves your heart aching and you find yourself breaking down, tears flooding down your face as his cruel words repeat in your head

You’ve always wished that someone in any of these worlds would ever care about a human like you, but perhaps that wish may never come true

Mammon

You knew being around him annoyed him, why wouldn’t it? He was assigned to look after you; stripped of his freedom and privacy to be your new babysitter

You saw the way he looked at you in disgust, tears forming in your eyes as he throws insult after insult at you, not stopping when tears were flooding down your face after being called useless for the hundredth time

You wished he’d treat you nicer but you knew he only saw you as a weak human who’ll eventually be eaten by some lower demon which would rid him of you and his babysitting duties

Why must you always make life difficult for him, why should he deal with your fuck-ups? He wishes you disappeared, honestly

He can’t find a moment of peace with you around, constantly being called to save you from demons or to help you after getting lost, it’s such a hassle

It’s so hard to be there by his side all the time, constantly taking all the abuse he throws at you and being called sensitive when you break down in front of him

Your only wish is to make friends here. You thought maybe they’d care about you here, but perhaps life isn’t always that easy

Leviathan

He would never hold back when it came to you, worse than Mammon when it came to insulting you as you bite your lip to stop it from quivering

You were so insignificant to him and he let you know that, just a stupid normie who enjoyed getting in his way and pissing him off with your humour and your constantly loud personality

He ignores you, pushing you away and rejecting all conversations, and when he wasn’t doing that, he was insulting you until you felt it deep in your heart, your stomach sinking as you realise the Devildom will be no different from the human world

You knew your sadness irritated him as his brow furrowed and his lips crease into a grimace at how pathetic you looked stood in front of a powerful demon like him

It took all of him to not get physical with you as he’s not stupid enough to make Lucifer punish him for it, but in his head, he wants you gone

You never knew what you did wrong with Levi; you shared multiple interests with him yet he would continue to scoff and tease you and brush you off, locking himself back in his room

You sit alone at night in floods of tears, no one to talk to as you realise just how alone you are here and just how desperate you were for someone, anyone to like you

Satan

Nothing you said got his attention, well, not in a positive way anyway

You were a nuisance, he said it himself as he grabs your face, threatening you for the god knows how many times this week

He hates the way you were always around him, following him like some kind of dog and asking him meaningless questions that he had no interest in answering. You would him up, made him so angry sometimes that he wish you would just disappear. He didn’t care where to, as long as you weren’t in his sight

He loves to see you cry after telling you exactly how he feels about you and how every single one of his brothers and friends feel about you. You were nothing to him and you never will be

You’re brainless and clumsy and he doubts you’ll survive down here, not with how naive you were

You wanted so badly to befriend him, or at least for him to see you as a worthy person. You had enough shit thrown at you in the human world and all you wanted was a friend, someone to talk to and laugh with

You’ll forever have to remember that he does not care about you and you’ll forever be stuck alone

Asmodeus

Straight away, Asmo took a disliking to you, grimacing and inching away from you whenever you were near him, like a disease

Every time you tried talking to him, he wouldn’t even let you finish a sentence as he walks away, laughing at your pathetic excuse of a conversation along the way

He made your life Hell as he threw backhanded insults at you, making you feel worse than you already did and causing you to feel disgusting and unwanted

The avatar of Lust didn’t even want you, so you always wondered who ever would

In truth, he hated you for no particular reason. He just saw you as weaker than him and took advantage of that, making you feel worse and worse every day until you eventually decided to leave him alone, as he truly couldn’t stand your face nor your plain personality

You always end up alone in your room after a day of torment, tears flooding down your face as you stare at an empty screen, feeling so alone and unwanted

You wish he had a reason to hate you, you’d change yourself so he’d actually like you then. You just wanted someone to talk to and someone to love you, but perhaps you were just meant to be alone

Beelzebub

He hated how you were so curious, and so small compared to him. Just another human that he could easily devour in seconds

His eyes were always so dull when he looked at you. So emotionless and unbothered by your presence. And it hurt because they immediately lit up when his brothers walked in. Why couldn’t he look at you like that...?

He’d steal your food, snarling at you when you protest and terrifying you if you even went close to his food in the fridge. You knew he had it in for you and you just wish he didn’t

He saw you as lower than him, enjoying the tears that formed in your eyes when he would insult you and call you names, pushing you to limits that would soon break your heart

Some days he would ignore you and those normally hurt the most as you were forced to walk behind him and Belphie whilst they were laughing and having fun, leaving you behind like you weren’t even there

Nothing you could say could ever make him like you and you slowly began to accept that as you distanced yourself, allowing him to take your food and be his punching bag in a hope that maybe he’ll start to like you...

He was always so nice to everybody but you, just like everybody in the human world and you were so sick of it, so sick of the pain and the tears. You just wanted a friend in this dark, scary place

Belphegor

Seeing you just made him hate humans harder as he realised just how pathetic and annoying they all were

He never smiled nor made proper eye contact when you were around, all you got was a snarl, the cold shoulder and an occasional threat when he’s in a particularly bad mood

He reminds you how easily he could kill you; wrap his hands round your neck and suffocate you again like before. He likes to see the terrified look on your face as you back away from him

You were so scared of him, but you just wanted to befriend him because you felt alone and you wanted someone to reassure you that you’d be safe by their side, but he never let you feel that way, not even for a second

You couldn’t go near him whilst he slept without almost being injured and you also couldn’t be near him whilst he was awake because he’d insult you and make you feel sick to your stomach, feeling tears well up quickly

You break down, cradling your knees to your chest as you sob alone in a dark unfamiliar room with no one to turn to

Sometimes you wonder if you’d be better off actually dying by his hands as it’s all the same, wherever you go, everybody around you torments you and makes you feel awful

Diavolo

He loves everyone around him but when it came to you, he wishes he’d never even thought of the exchange program to begin with

You were obnoxious and so different to what he expected any normal human to be like

He kept his composure and mannerisms as royalty but he made it his job to ignore you and avoid you as often as he could

He knew it looked unprofessional on his side but he didn’t care as he continued to dodge you and skip past your questions in group meetings, giving you the cold shoulder when he saw you at RAD or in the castle when you visited

When he had to talk to you, the first thing you noticed was his dull, unentertained eyes and his lack of a cheery smile that he normally showed around Lucifer and his brothers. It made you feel so upset and like you were being treated differently

You thought maybe he would like you, but as the days passed and he kept on avoiding you and scowling at you when you occasionally bump into him, you knew it wouldn’t happen

He was the one who forced you to come here and you couldn’t even leave because who was there to go home to...

Barbatos

The Butler was the first person you saw, and he was also the first person to scowl at you in the Devildom

He normally had a serious look on his face, but when he sees you, it’s like his whole personality changes and he’s suddenly rude and harsh

You did nothing to him, not said one word, but it’s like he held something against you and it broke you. He didn’t even give you a chance and you could do nothing about it

You tried to befriend him because you wanted to so badly. Walking with him when he had free time and asking him questions to start conversation but nothing seemed to work, he just kept ignoring you

He wouldn’t insult you though, he wouldn’t even speak and that made it hurt even more as he stared you down with those dull eyes of his, forever judging you for absolutely nothing

You thought maybe assisting him around the castle would make him like you: cleaning up, helping cook. Just basic things that could make his life easier. But nothing worked, and he just left you to stand alone, heartbroken

You felt overwhelmingly lonely with no one to tell you how to survive this place or how everything worked. You realised you had a place nowhere in this world and that stung you hard as you felt tears finally drip down your cheeks

Simeon

You thought maybe an angel would be your friend, but as you watched him take one look at you and leave, your hope crumbled and your heart sank to your stomach

He walked past you every day, saying nothing as you waved at him to say hello, moving away from you so you didn’t touch him

He knew when he saw a human not worthy of his time. But he wasn’t going to insult you, he’ll spare you that heartache at least. He didn’t have any reason to dislike you, he just didn’t want to involve himself with someone like you. Someone so visibly lonely

Some days he’ll give you a pitied smile and a wave and watch your face light up. He honestly felt sorry for you, so lost in this new world, but he didn’t have the time to babysit a human like you

You’d follow him around, desperate to get his attention but you’d never actually get it. You’d get an excuse to not be there. All the time

You can’t help but cry, breaking down at the thought of being stuck here alone. Even an angel doesn’t like you, so nobody ever will

It’s always been this way though. People would avoid you and make excuses to not hang around you, everybody was the same; you felt foolish to believe anybody would ever see something in you

Solomon

When he heard another human would be here, he never expected someone like you

His first interaction with you was so clearly half arsed as he introduced himself, giving you that little bit of hope that maybe finally you’d found a possible friend only for him to never speak to you again after that

It broke your heart how nobody gave you a chance and just saw you as a weak human who needs demons to fend for them in this terrifying world

He may’ve pitied you though, seeing such a lost human like yourself made him remember how he used to be when he first entered the Devildom. But unlike you, he wasn’t useless

You tried to talk to him but you always got ignored or given a back handed insulted that would give you memories to when you were little in the human world

You thought being a human he’d understand how you may feel and you two may get along, but his eyes were always unbothered and he never smiled at you like he did around the brothers or the angels

Never in your life have you felt more ignored by your own kind and you lie alone in bed, thinking about all the shit he says to you over and over again and how little your importance is in all 3 worlds

Part 1 is here

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #obey me dateables #obey me leviathan #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me satan #obey me mammon #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me angst

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youare-mysonshine · 4 years ago

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heavy || bucky barnes

Summary: reader’s mental health has been taking a decline and bucky is there.

Requested: No

Pairing: TFATWS Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: talks of mental health, depression, anxiety, angst, cussing.

Word Count: 3.2K

A/N: Hey guys, I’m back I guess lmao. I’ve really been struggling with my mental health lately and I guess I kinda just wanted to put it into words, something productive? And I’ve been feeling our angsty emo boy bucky barnes. Most of you might’ve followed me for my Oscar fics but I kinda wanna branch out and I thought this would be a good time to do so. Anyways, I know that some of you have inboxed me or messaged me and I haven’t responded and I’m sorry. But I just want you all to know that if you’re struggling, I’m always here to talk. About anything, always. So, I hope you enjoy this. I might’ve cried while writing this lmao and I also might’ve ended it on such an awkward place but, i’m still getting used to writing again. (Flashbacks are in italics)

————

Bucky didn’t miss the dark circles under your eyes. He didn’t miss the way you sort of slouched as you approached him. He didn’t miss the way that your smile didn’t really meet your eyes.

“Hey,” You said in a breathless voice. “Sorry, I’m late. I got held up.” You said as you took a seat across from him in the booth. Held up. It was better than telling him that you were thinking of just not showing up at all. In the end, you knew that you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t just blow off your new friend who you had so enjoyed spending time with. So, in a rush, you got dressed and made your way to the small, quiet diner that you two had taken to frequenting together. Bucky Barnes was an enigma if you’d ever met one. The way that you had met was rather.. cliche and something straight from a story.

You had been trying to lay off of the caffeine for a while, realizing that you had nearly gone through an entire packet of 32 k-pods that you had just purchased. You realized that you might’ve had a problem. You had been going pretty strong with staying away from caffeine for the time being, until you passed by a coffee shop and got a whiff of coffee. You just couldn’t help yourself; you bought a cup of coffee. It was when you were walking down the street, holding the cup of coffee in one hand, looking down, that you didn’t see someone walking right in your path. You had collided into what seemed like a solid wall and the impact had caused you to squeeze the cup of coffee in surprise, the warm liquid burning your hand, staining your clothes and the other person. You had realized it was another person you had crashed into when you heard them let out a low cuss.

Bucky’s grumpy self had been fully prepared to tell you off for crashing into him, having just left his therapist’s office, but when you looked up at him with those bright eyes of yours, a million apologies spilling from your lips a mile a minute, he swallowed whatever harsh words had nearly sprung forth. He had apologized as well; both of you had been at fault. Bucky had been going over his session with Dr. Raynor that morning, completely lost in his own mind, and you had your eyes trained on the ground, something that was a bad habit of yours. The shock of realizing you had bumped into a man, a really really handsome man with the brightest blue eyes you had ever seen, had made you temporarily forget that you had practically scorched your hand with the coffee, and that you had gotten it on him as well.

“I’m so, so sorry.” You said once again, quickly averting your eyes from the handsome stranger’s face. Instead you focused on the smushed cup in your hand and the stains on his leather jacket. It just made you feel even terrible. “I, I can pay for you to get your jacket cleaned, if you want. Really. I wasn’t paying attention and I just, for whatever reason, squished my cup and.. I’m sorry.” You said, kind of breathlessly.

“It’s.. it’s alright.” His voice was like the coffee that you had been drinking. Smooth and rich. It was deep, something that reverberated deep in your chest and had your stomach fluttering with butterflies. “I wasn’t paying attention either. Really, it’s fine. And don’t worry about my jacket. No harm, no foul.” He said. “You should, uh, you should take care of that hand. Hope you didn’t burn yourself too bad.” He gestured to your hand, still clutching the cup, with one of his own gloved hands.

“Oh, I’ll be fine. It wasn’t that hot. Thank you, though. And again, I’m really, really sorry.” Sparing one, seemingly, last glance at the handsome stranger, you side stepped him and began to walk away, tossing the empty cup of coffee in a trash can on the sidewalk. But you didn’t get very far because that deep voice called out to you, halting you in your tracks.

“Can I buy you another cup of coffee?” Bucky’s mouth had opened and spoken the words long before his brain could even catch up. He didn’t know why he had asked you that, but something in his gut was just telling him too.

“What?” A look of total bewilderment had crossed your face and he had seen it.

“I just, well I thought that, since I bumped into you, I could make it up to you by buying you a new cup of coffee. If you wanted, I mean. You don’t have to say yes if you don’t want to. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable or anything.” Bucky clarified, hand stuffed in his pocket, waiting for your answer. For a few seconds, you simply stood there, unsure of what to say because surely this wasn’t happening? The last time that you had gone out with a guy was.. well, shit, you didn’t even remember the last time. The little voice in the back of your head, that anxious, paranoid little voice, was telling you not to go off with a stranger. You’d watched too many episodes of Criminal Minds and other true crime shows and documentaries to know that situations like this never turned out well. However, you didn’t get a bad feeling from this particular man. He seemed just as awkward and slightly frazzled as you felt. So you agreed.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

That had happened about two months ago. Ever since then, you and Bucky had formed a strong friendship. Your first time getting coffee with him had been awkward, as were the next few times that you had seen one another. But things got easier. Becoming friends was easy. You kind of fell into this routine, almost as if you two had known each other your whole lives. That was why Bucky telling you who he really was had been terrifying for him. He carried around guilt and shame and just contempt for everything he’d done. Everything The Winter Soldier represented, and when he told you, he figured that you would think the same. He had asked you meet him at the diner that had now become your spot and and you remember how he nervously wrung his gloved hands together. You remember when you asked him what was wrong and he didn’t verbally respond but he took off his gloves; the right one first and then the left, revealing a shiny black metal hand, golden lines intricately placed.

He told you then. Maybe he didn’t tell you everything but he told you who he was and he had braced himself for you to get up and storm out. Or, to yell at him and tell him how much of a monster he was. But, it never came. Instead, you reached out and placed your hand on top his. Not his real hand, but the metal one. You didn’t say anything. You just gave him that smile that was quickly becoming his favorite. Sometimes, silence spoke a thousand words. To Bucky, you had become kind of a respite for him. Even in the late nights or mornings when he woke up after a nightmare. Or after a particularly hard session with Dr. Raynor. He had closed himself off from other people except you.

Bucky might not have known it, but he gave you the same level of comfort as you gave him. You found yourself craving his presence. Every time you were around him, you couldn’t help but to smile or laugh. In the time that you spent together, your mind was clear and free from all your worries. It all evaporated into thin air. Your mind, usually so active with all sorts of thoughts and worries, could finally rest when you were with Bucky. You could sleep. You could get up in the morning without that stress and anxiety drowning you. It was okay. It was great.

Until it wasn’t.

“No problem, doll.” He said, gloved hands clasped under the table on his lap. “I already ordered. Got your usual. Hope that was alright.” He added, to which you nodded absentmindedly.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s fine. Thanks Buck.” You said, mustering up a half hearted smile that didn’t reach your eyes. It was like even smiling drained the energy from you. You were exhausted. Not even just physically but mentally and emotionally. You had been having such good days for a while now, since meeting Bucky. You felt like maybe you would finally be alright but.. this feeling of hopelessness, the feeling that nothing was quite right, it was heavy. It weighed you down. It suffocated you. You wanted to be alone, but you also couldn’t stand to be alone because when you were alone, you were just stuck in your head and being in your head was the absolute worst place to be.

The intrusive thoughts had started. They told you that you would do nothing but weigh Bucky down. That he didn’t need someone like you in his life, someone with clear problems of their own, when he was going to therapy trying to better himself. Even if it had been mandatory for him to go. You wanted to push him away, save him from yourself, but you also couldn’t stand the thought of losing him.

Bucky noticed the shift in you. Normally when you two met up, whether it was at the diner or anywhere else, you would usually talk his ear off. Not that he minded, he was content to just sit back and listen to you. Sometimes, you’d tell him about a new book that you had started reading. You had just started reading the fifth Harry Potter book and you were trying to get him to read them. You’d tell him about your day. You’d ask him how his day went, how it went with Dr. Raynor, though you never pushed for more information. You always let him share if he was comfortable with it and he appreciated that. Sometimes you teased him for being such an old man.

The food came soon after you had arrived and sure enough, Bucky had ordered your usual. It sent a pang through your heart when you realized that he had memorized your order, down to the extra syrup and whipped cream on the pancakes. Bucky always liked to make fun of you for ordering the same thing when you came to the diner. No matter what time it was, you always ordered the pancakes with extra syrup and extra whip cream, with the strawberries on the side. Secretly, though he found it adorable.

Today, you had barely even taken more than a few bites and that was what really let Bucky know that something wasn’t right. You kept your head down, eyes on the pancakes and you cut them up, bringing a few up to your mouth and chewing slowly, but you mostly just moved them around your plate with the fork in your hand. Bucky himself had barely taken only a few bites of the food he’d ordered for himself, but it wasn’t for lack of appetite, it was because of the growing concern. His bright blue eyes were now a stormy grey, kind of like the clouds that you see during a heavy storm. His brows were furrowed, giving him an appearance almost as if he were angry.

“You alright, Y/N? You’ve barely eaten your food and normally you finish before I do.” He attempted to joke, to bring about that smile that seemed to always fill him with warmth. He half expected you to look up at him with that cheeky little smile, a mischievous look in your eyes and say “You know, I would be offended by that, but I know why you eat so slow, Buck. I completely understand. You don’t want your dentures to fall out.” But it never came.

You don’t know what it was. Bucky asking you if you were alright or if it was simply all the pressure of just.. everything, finally breaking, but you could feel the hot tears in your eyes. They blurred your vision until you couldn’t really see the plate of the pancakes in focus. The dam had finally come apart and you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You set the fork down and buried your face in your hands, your shoulders lightly shaking as you began to cry. All Bucky could do was stare for a few seconds, alarm written all over his face. Alarm and distress because he had no idea what just happened and if he had done something to upset you.

“Woah woah, hey. Sweetheart, hey. What’s wrong?” In seconds, Bucky was out of his side of the booth and scooting in beside you. You felt the comfort of his warmth, you felt his arm tentatively, almost hesitantly, slide around your shoulders and anchor you to him. You shook your head, attempting to calm down, to stop the tears but the more you tried, the more they seemed to come.

“I-I’m sorry, Bucky.. I.. I’m sorry.. I-I’m fine. Really.” You said, sniffling. It was apparent to you both that you were not alright and he really just wanted to get to the bottom of it. Or at least attempt to comfort you. But doing that in the middle of a diner with other people around wasn’t ideal.

“Hey, my apartment is only a short walk away. Come on, let’s get you out of here and somewhere more quiet.” You didn’t protest. You just nodded and slid out of the booth after he did. Bucky took out his wallet and placed a few bills on the table, paying for the uneaten food, and then quickly led you out of the establishment. He kept his hand on you, almost like an anchor. Whether it was to reassure you or himself, he didn’t know and you didn’t mind either. It was probably the only thing that kept you from retreating inside of your mind and giving in to the panic that so desperately wanted out.

You didn’t even realize that you had reached his apartment until he had led you up the stairs and you were standing behind him as he unlocked the door. He allowed you to step in first and then quickly followed behind you, shutting the door as he did so. You didn’t really get the chance to take in his apartment because he had ushered you to sit on his couch while he knelt in front of you.

“Alright, you’re scarin’ me here, doll. What’s wrong? Did someone hurt you?” The sheer look of concern and slight panic in his face and those pretty eyes of his made the waterworks come back again. You shook your head, your face scrunched up in anguish. Hot bullet tears fell from your eyes and left a wet path in their wake down your cheeks. Bucky wasn’t one to pry; he hated it when people tried to pry into his life and he didn’t do it to you, but he couldn’t stand the sight of seeing you cry. He couldn’t stand the sight of your once bright eyes and cheery smile just.. gone. You eyes were sad and your lips were pulled into a frown. “Talk to me, baby.” He practically pleaded.

“I just.. I don’t.. I don’t know how to explain it, Buck.” You cried. “I-I.. I just feel like..” You let out a frustrated cry when you couldn’t find the right words but Bucky was patient. He reached a hand up, cupping your cheek and wiping away the tears that kept falling. “I don’t feel.. happy. Everyday I wake up and I just, I feel fine for like a few seconds and then everything just comes crashing down on me. I can’t ever stop thinking. I can’t sleep at night. I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like this, Bucky. And I feel fucking crazy. Sometimes I feel like you don’t even really like me. I feel.. hopeless, like nothing is ever going to be okay. I might feel okay for a few seconds but then it just goes away.” You explained, though you were sure that you probably sounded like a raving and ranting lunatic. “Before I met you, I liked being alone but I also hated it because when I was alone, I would just overthink and overthink and overthink about every fucking thing. If it wasn’t one thing it was another just giving me such bad anxiety and.. I don’t know what to do anymore, Bucky. I’m just tired of feeling like this. Feeling like nothing is ever going to be okay, like I’m never going to be okay. I just feel.. alone.”

His heart was well and truly broken. In the two months that he’d known you, he hadn’t known how badly you had struggled with your mental health. He hadn’t known the war that you fought within your mind, and how bad it had become. You were such saving grace for Bucky; you saved him from the wars inside of his mind. The constant feeling of guilt that he fought with on a daily basis, and now.. he just wanted to do the same for you. He wanted to shoulder some of the pain that you carried, the pain that seemed to be weighing you down. Both of his hands now cupped your cheeks so delicately, as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. His blue eyes were shining, looking at you with not pity, but something like.. understanding. If anyone knew what you were feeling, it was Bucky.

“You’re not alone.” His smooth and rich voice was so soft, so gentle that it brought on a new set of tears. “You’re not alone, sweetheart. Not anymore. You know why? Cause you got me.” He said. “I know what it’s like to feel hopeless. To feel stuck in your head. To feel like nothing is ever gonna get better. I felt like that in Wakanda. Sometimes.. sometimes, we need help. And I know I’m not one to be talking considering that I don’t really like talking to my therapist or even going,” That roused the smallest of smiles from you. “I’m here. You know that, right? I’m here. You got me and I’m not going anywhere. I promise. I don’t care if you have a million bad days. I don’t care if you feel like you’re bothering me. I’ll be there every time.” You two have gradually gravitated close to one another until your foreheads were pressed together. Bucky was still knelt in front of you on the couch, his hands still holding your cheeks. Your eyes were closed and you could feel his warm breath fanning your face. The tears had stopped falling but you were still sniffling softly. “You’ve helped me. Even if you don’t know it. You’ve helped me.” He was whispering. There was no one but you two in his apartment but he was still whispering the words meant for only you to hear. “Now, let me help you. Please.”

“Okay. I trust you, Bucky.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fic #james buchanan barnes #sebastian stan #tfatws #mcu #bucky barnes angst #bucky barnes fluff

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sirenascales · 4 years ago

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-> double black [part six] 18+

-> Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai

-> Who knew getting fired from work could lead to this?

-> Content: SMUT, slight angst, violence, murder, swearing

The case is concluded and Chuuya collects his prize. [Chuuya x 1stPOV!F!Reader x Dazai]

3,461 words

warning: mentions of violence, murder, nsfw, smut, slight voyeurism

note: so i lied, there is one more part, which will be nothing but smut so be excited for that hehe

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Final || Masterlist

My ability is called Hell Hath No Fury and it gives me the ability to make a perfect clone of myself that is fueled by the anger, rage, pain and despair that dwells inside of me, and has been inside of me since I was small. The anger isn't something that's just there, I've been through a lot of things in my life that left my weary soul full of the negative emotions that powers my clone. I don't particularly like using my clone, as she could be quite scary. Like anger and hatred, she could be very hard to control sometimes.

"She is quite scary, huh?" Dazai hummed, voice full of humor as I told him about my ability, us now back at the ADA. I sat at my desk, shoulders slumped. "Took me by surprise~"

I laughed softly at him, shaking my head as I read the official report that was written at the conclusion of the Taichi investigation. There was an unreadable look on my face as I read through the text, Dazai swaying his chair from side to side beside me.

"It says that Taichi was killed by the drug dealer..." I repeated, grimacing as I recalled Chuuya shooting the same man right in his head. "I don't... know how to feel about this."

I was the one who killed Taichi, yet here I was, sitting at my desk in the ADA office with no consequences coming my way. Further reports say that the drug dealer soon met his own demise due to the retribution from the Port Mafia, which wasn't an exact lie.

"Just go along with it, Bella. The only ones who know the truth are-"

"I can't believe you would do something so... incredibly stupid." I winced as soon as Kunikida started barreling down on me, sighing as he continued to lecture me.

Of course, we had to tell Fukuzawa, as well as the rest of the core members of the ADA what happened. It was only fair, considering we had to make sure the story was solid. It was rather nerve wracking to say the least, and in total me fashion, I had cried right in front of the President.

I thought I would get fired, but all I got was a week's suspension. "Get some rest," Fukuzawa said to me, leaning back in his chair. "You're going to need it." I nodded my head, standing up and bowing to him quickly before I left his office.

"I guess I'll see you guys soon," I said to the others, holding my bag full of belongings in my hands. I gave them all one last wave before walking out of the office, aware of Dazai following behind me. As always, I chose to walk down the stairs, only going down two flights before I turned on my heel, dropping my bag and wrapping my arms tight around the taller man.

"Oof," Dazai gasped out before he wrapped his arms around me, chuckling a bit as he gave me a squeeze. "It's not like you'll be gone forever."

I sighed, keeping my face pressed against his chest. "I know. I think all the adrenaline from... everything finally left and now I honestly feel like shit. I'm so tired, Osamu."

"... would you like me to come with you?" Dazai asked and I shook my head, giving him a playful, scolding look.

"You need to finish that report, you lazy bastard," I replied, Dazai already whining and I rolled my eyes. "Call me later?"

Dazai stopped whining, gently cupping my face with his hand. He leaned in and kissed me, stealing my breath away as he always had. He smirked at my flushed face, stepping back. "Yeah. Now go."

I left him by the stairs, making my way back to my apartment. Now that I had a week off, I wasn't sure what I should do. I guess doing was Fukuzawa said and just resting would be a good thing, seeing as I was tired, both physically and emotionally.

But even as I try to sleep, I find myself tossing and turning, waking up every hour. I slumped on my back, letting out a frustrated breath as I stared at the ceiling.

"You know, bella... you're disrupting my beauty sleep," Dazai spoke from beside me and I rolled my eyes, huffing out a breath. Dazai chuckled softly, laying one arm under his head while the other rested over his tummy. "This will pass in time."

I sighed softly. "It's weird... I don't regret it."

"But you still took a life."

"Did you feel this way when you first killed someone?"

"... I honestly don't remember. When you're surrounded by nothing but darkness and carnage for a long time, stuff like that is nothing to be concerned about."

I frowned. "When you were in the Port Mafia... you were partners with Chuuya, right?"

"Like I said, we were the best~" Dazai sang and I smiled softly.

"Just imagining the two of you fighting together is kinda scary..."

"Well, when you have someone like Chuuya and the youngest executive in Port Mafia history, yeah, we were pretty scary!"

I choked. "You were an executive?!" I exclaimed in shock. I thought about Chuuya, and how he worked alongside the Leader of the Port Mafia himself. Dazai was that powerful? And with someone like Chuuya...?

"That's..."

"Terrifying?"

"Hot."

Dazai sputtered, bursting out into a fit of laughter. "You like dangerous men?"

I grinned widely, finally turning to cuddle against him. "Blame it on the daddy issues," I answered, making him snort. "Why did you leave?"

"You should try to get some sleep," Dazai replied, changing the subject and I shrugged my shoulders.

"Yeah, though I won't be surprised if I can't," I mumbled unhappily, shifting a bit to get comfortable. I closed my eyes, hearing Dazai chuckled softly as I started to doze off.

Unsurprisingly, I slept like shit that night, my eyes were sore, the bags under my eyes puffy and dark. I groaned, waving Dazai goodbye tiredly as he left in the morning, heading to work after I scolded him for trying to sleep in and skip work.

The door closed behind him and I let myself fall back on my couch, just staring into nothing for a while before I grabbed my phone, pressing on Keiko's contact and calling her. She didn't answer.

After pressing the button on the side of her phone to end the incoming call, Keiko sighed nervously as she approached the man sitting in the desk before her, hands shaking as she placed down a large, thick envelope.

"Here you go. That's all of it," she said softly, quickly withdrawing her hands away and clasping them together against her chest.

Chuuya watched her carefully, noticing just how scared and timid Keiko was acting, and he honestly didn't blame her, not after what she's been through, and especially how Taichi continued to throw her under the bus, even after his death.

"I swear... I had nothing to do with what he was doing..." her voice trembled and Chuuya sighed deeply. He dug into his drawer, producing a cigarette for both himself and Keiko. She allowed him to light hers for her and there was a silence as they each took a drag.

"I believe you," Chuuya started, leaning back in his seat. "He used your name to open that offshore account and the safety deposit box, making sure not to have this all trail back to him." Keiko hung her head and Chuuya thought back to when he first saw her. She was way more outgoing and cheerful, and admittingly had a very sensual, attractive aura that even he himself would be into if she hadn't been with Taichi.

It was a shame to see that all gone, all because of one coward. It pissed Chuuya off immensely. She was essentially betrayed by someone she trusted, and Chuuya could relate to that all too well.

"But, everything is finally coming to a close with all the money Taichi stole from us coming back. Don't worry, Keiko, our investigation makes it more than clear that you are innocent in this. You have nothing to worry about," Chuuya said, but Keiko still looked troubled. She said my name softly and he looked at her questionably.

"What about her...?" she asked softly. "Is she clear?"

"You did see the official report, right?" Chuuya replied in turn, taking another drag from his cigarette. Keiko nodded silently. "It wasn't that hard to form the story. There was at least some truth to it. The drug dealer was as good as dead... as well as Taichi. She just beat us to it. We can let this slide."

Keiko sighed in relief, taking another drag from her own cigarette. "That's a relief... I was worried about what would happen to her."

"Nothing," Chuuya answered. "And we will be keeping an eye on her for a while too."

Keiko nodded in understanding. "I'm still worried about her, though. She's been having a hard time sleeping and I'm sure it's just... everything finally getting to her..." Keiko sighed deeply, rubbing her eyebrows. "But I don't know what to do... she's in this mess because of me, I wanna help her but I don't even know how to help myself!"

"And that should be your main focus right now," Chuuya spoke, crossing his arms over his chest. "Don't worry about her. I'll take care of her."

"But why?" Keiko questioned. "It's not like you care about her. Or love her."

Chuuya rolled his eyes. "There's no love there, but she's... fun."

Keiko snorted at that. "She's not one for love and relationships. I guess that's why she's involved with you, and Dazai. There's a mutual understanding there, and I guess if it works for you guys, then it's okay. But-"

Chuuya quirked an eyebrow. "But?"

"She's still sensitive. She wears her heart on her sleeve, so even if there really is no love here, I'm sure she still cares for you guys. That's just how she is. So I ask... just don't hurt her. That's all. If it all ends... just make sure she doesn't get hurt." Keiko clenched her fists. "I don't know what I'll do to you if she does."

Chuuya just stared at her, pleasantly surprised. He let out a short laugh. "Are you threatening me?"

"Yes."

Chuuya grinned, laughing again as he shook his head. The loyalty in this friendship was honestly a sight to see. It was refreshing. "I don't usually respond well to threats, so I'll let this slide. You've done all you can do, so you can head on home if you want. If you're lucky, we won't see each other again."

"Well, if you're still seeing my best friend, we probably will," Keiko said, standing up, feeling a little less nervous. "Goodbye, Chuuya. Stay safe out there."

Chuuya nodded. "I hope you can heal and become your old self again. It's sad to not see that pretty smile on your face."

Keiko blushed brightly. "Shameless flirt," she shot at him playfully, turning away from him to leave. Chuuya laughed loudly from his desk.

"So, are you okay now?" I asked Keiko over the phone, her telling me about her meeting with Chuuya. She first apologized for ignoring my call, but it didn't bother me that much. I was only glad that she was doing okay.

"Yeah, I'm alright. Gonna spend the rest of the day home and figure out what to do."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Well... I'm thinking of going away for a while. Maybe for six months... just to heal and find myself again."

"Six months?! What about your job?"

"I quit. I want to start my life over again, but I love Yokohama, so I figured... I can get another job when I come back! I'm gonna sell my condo too!"

I was stunned. "I... but where do you plan on even going?!"

"Hm... maybe Europe? I'm not sure yet. Are you... okay with me leaving?"

"Of course! I support you with everything you do in your life. I just want you to be safe and okay..."

"I'm glad. I'm pretty determined, but don't worry! I will always come home!"

Keiko and I talked for a while after that, a smile on my face as we ended the call. I was happy to see that Keiko was trying to turn her life around, proud of her for being so strong. It was rather inspiring, and helped me to gain my own strength to get my shit together as well.

The day went on, and I was in the kitchen making an early dinner when there was a knock on my door. I was annoyed, thinking it was Dazai flaking out on work again, but as I opened my door, I was surprised to see a certain red head at my door.

"Chuuya?"

"Wow. You look like shit."

I rolled my eyes and scoffed, turning and walking back into my kitchen, Chuuya following behind me.

"Gee, thanks."

"What are you doing?"

"Cooking an early dinner. You want some?"

"Yeah, sure."

It wasn't long until Chuuya and I sat across from each other, chowing down on some food and filling our bellies.

"So, what's up?" I asked him, drinking some water. Chuuya was still stuffing his face, almost choking at one point before he downed his glass of water to save himself.

"Well," Chuuya coughed. "I came here to collect my prize."

I blinked. "Your prize? What are- oh," I rolled my eyes, shaking my head. That stupid race Dazai proposed. Chuuya was the one who figured it all out first, and I was the prize for the lucky winner. "So, you wanna have sex later then? I'm cool with that."

Chuuya scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest. "No. Well, yes, but no. Not yet. I'm taking you somewhere."

I raised my eyebrows. "Where?"

"Shut up and don't worry about it. You'll see when you get there."

I narrowed my eyes at him, just wondering what the fuck he was up to. What could it possibly be that he wouldn't tell me what his plan was? It was rather suspicious and I began to grow wary.

But we finished eating and Chuuya didn't even give me a chance to pack before he dragged me out of my apartment. I managed to get my keys, phone and purse, and I gave him the stink eye the entire time I was stuck in the backseat of a fancy car with him.

"Are you having me killed?"

"I will if you don't shut up."

I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest as Chuuya took me to my supposed doom. But we arrived at our destination, and I was extremely confused as I looked up at the rather luxurious hotel. I didn't get the chance to question it, Chuuya leading me inside. We were immediately greeted by the hotel attendants, and led to the elevator. We rode it all the way to the top floor, the attendant leaving us alone as the doors opened and we walked out into the hallway.

"Chuuya..." I let out a small breath as he led me inside the penthouse, my jaw dropping as I took my first look at the very luxurious space. "What is this?"

"Keiko told me you were having a rough time," Chuuya spoke, taking off his hat and then his jacket, hanging them up carefully. "I figured this would help you. Full body massages, jacuzzi, anything you could ever want to just... relax. It's all here."

"But... Chuuya, you didn't have to," I whispered, still in awe with my face heated up.

"Well, just deal with it," Chuuya huffed.

"Isn't this expensive though?"

"It's nothing. Just... think about this as my prize. Taking care of you."

Now my face was burning hot, Chuuya's own flushed red. I gave him a look, his words making me smile a bit despite how flustered they made me.

"You sound like a sugar daddy."

He didn't respond. That made me giggle. "How long will we be here."

"For the week, until you get back to work."

"But how did you..." I trailed off, gasping when Chuuya gave me a light push further into the penthouse.

It was an amazing, large open area space with a full kitchen, all the top appliances, a flat screen and a huge king size bed. The bathroom was just as fabulous, the large soaker tub calling my name.

"Oh, I need to get in that," I declared, making Chuuya laugh lightly. He watched as I looked around the bathroom, taking it upon himself to start filling up the tub. I turned to him and smirked. "Will you join me?"

"Like you have to ask that."

After finding a nice smelling bath bomb to put in the tub, Chuuya and I undressed and carefully climbed inside, sighing blissfully as the hot water immediately began to relax our muscles. I sat between Chuuya's legs, my back against his chest and my head resting against his shoulder. My eyes were closed, Chuuya's strong hands roaming all over my body.

"Tired?" Chuuya asked me softly and I sighed, nodding my head.

"Yeah... like Keiko said, I've been having a shit time sleeping," I answered, turning my head to lightly kiss Chuuya's jaw lightly. "But maybe a relaxing massage would help. Oh, but it's kinda late, huh? The masseuse would be gone by now."

Chuuya's hands continue to roam my body, one moving south. I let out a deep sigh when he began to rub circles on my clit.

"Yeah... but I can think of other ways to make you sleep," Chuuya whispered in my ear before he bit into my earlobe. I sigh again, Chuuya then capturing my lips with his own.

After making me cum on his fingers in the tub, we finished up in there before we found ourselves tangled up in the sheets of the king sized bed. Chuuya had my legs thrown over his shoulders, his cock plunging deep into me with every thrust he made.

"You're mine..." Chuuya breathed out, hissing and moaning from the pleasure. "... for the entire week... gonna make sure the only name you know is mine." He growled, clenching the sheets on either side of me tightly in his fists.

"Oh, yes, yes yes!" I cried out, back arching off my bed, eyes going wide as a voice that was not Chuuya's spoke up.

"Oh, that's just cute."

Whipping our heads around, we were shocked to see a certain detective standing at the foot of the bed, lecherous grin on his pretty face. We froze, Chuuya's cock still inside me, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Dazai?!" I shrieked.

"How the fuck did you get in here?!" Chuuya followed, glaring at the man. "What the hell?!"

"You can't hide things from me~" Dazai sang, not even hiding the fact that he was enjoying what he was seeing, his eyes slowly trailing over both of our naked bodies. "I was wondering why you called me to ask about her schedule... so I did some digging."

Chuuya hung his head, gritting his teeth in annoyance. "I am going to kill you."

Dazai laughed heartily, waving his hand dismissively. "No, no! Don't let me disturb you! I can watch! You guys were having so much fun!"

Before Chuuya could even react, he ended up groaning, his wide blue eyes finding mine. "Did you... fucking like that?" he asked and I stuttered a bit. "Do you want him to watch us?"

Another chill went down my spine at the thought and Chuuya groaned again as I clenched tightly around him. Chuuya cursed, feeling his cock twitch inside of me. He cursed again, becoming more overcome with arousal.

"Interesting," he breathed out, small puffs of air hitting my face. He smirked slightly, glancing back at Dazai. "This brings back memories."

"Fond memories," Dazai hummed and I looked back and forth between the two of them questionably.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Both of their eyes were now on me, and the intensity of their gazes made me gasp sharply, another chill going down my spine.

"Why have him just watch," Chuuya began, nuzzling his face against my neck. "When he can join us? Oh, fuck, you squeezed me so tightly just now..."

I trembled, heart hammering in my chest at the mere idea. A threesome? With Chuuya and Dazai. Looking over, I catch Dazai slipping off his tan jacket, gulping as he started to work on getting his shirt off.

"We have a week, right? Oh, this is going to be so much fun."

-End

#bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya smut #dazai smut #bsd smut #yeehaw were finally on the home stretch

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 302: As the Todoroki Turns

Previously on BnHA:

Today on BnHA: We have a very fun chapter in which (1) Shouto grows up lonely on account of his parents being worried that his siblings will literally try to kill him, (2) Natsu and Fuyu grow up neglected on account of not being special and/or self-destructive enough to attract attention, (3) we get to revisit all of that exciting spousal abuse from chapter 39, and (4) Touya burns to death right on cue, pretty much exactly like we expected it to happen. Thankfully since this is a shounen manga, Horikoshi finds some hope in all this misery as the Todoroki family rallies together, with Shouto getting his long-overdue credit for being a perfect sweet angel who put up with all of this shit for sixteen years and somehow came out of it strong and kind and empathetic and determined. Anyway, so that flashback was a barrel of laughs. But now that it’s over, we can put all of that angst behind us, and move on to... well I guess, probably, more angst. Look, we’re short on variety at the moment. Bear with it.

ouch. we knew this was coming, but still

A+ parenting move there. “ho boy, our eldest just tried to murder our youngest, now what? hmm how about we isolate our youngest from all human contact”

though in their defense, we probably shouldn’t have expected this rabidly strength-obsessed fire man and his wife who was groomed since childhood to obey her family’s whims to have any idea of how to raise stable, well-adjusted offspring

SERIOUSLY YOU GUYS

this is a perfect example of Enji’s tragically self-revolving viewpoint right here. just because being a hero is your entire world doesn’t mean you can just excuse yourself from anything outside of that and act like it’s out of your control. “alas, all I care about is hero stuff and my son can’t be a hero, we are doomed to inhabit two different worlds” no you jackass, it’s called having more than one hobby?? figuring out how to spend some time with your son that doesn’t involve training?? the same exact thing you were telling him to do last week, while ignoring that you’ve never done that yourself in your life??

that said, yet again we have that complexity though because it’s obvious that Enji at least on some level is aware of his own flaws, even though he seems unwilling or unable to confront them. honestly, from what we’ve seen so far, Enji’s obsession with surpassing All Might might be more accurately called an addiction. he literally can’t let go of it even though he’s fully aware of how it’s slowly destroying his life. and so in the same way that a lifelong smoker or alcoholic might tell their child to stay away from cigarettes and booze, Enji tells Touya not to follow down the same path as him, even though he himself doesn’t know how to leave that path. so yes, it’s hypocritical as fuck, but there’s also an element of helplessness there as well because Enji literally doesn’t know how not to be like this

though all the same he sure could stand to put in more than just a token effort. but it is what it is, and we already know how much he’ll come to regret it

and meanwhile Baby Shouto has frozen his sleep bubble with his quirk lmao. so I guess his quirk did come in early. that’s a recipe for chaos right there

once again Shouto is ruining every single dramatic panel in this flashback

this was so dark and intense... and then I spotted the lil bubs in the corner. Horikoshi please control yourself

“some hero you are, running away” and then all of a sudden, “FIVE YEARS LATER” lol what. OKAY THEN

(ETA: love the confirmation that eight-year-old Natsu comes from the Iida school of puberty and is basically a fully grown man, and meanwhile Touya comes from the hobbit school of puberty and has been perpetually eight for the past five years.)

“HEY BIG BRO WANNA COME RECREATE AN ICONIC FLASHBACK SCENE WITH US. WE’VE GOT THE SOCCER BALL RIGHT HERE, BUT HURRY UP OR WE’LL BE TOO LATE FOR SHOUTO TO WALK ON BY AND STOP TO LOOK”

lol and that’s literally the next three panels. but Horikoshi did add this extra bit after Endeavor starts to drag Shouto away

seriously Enji what the hell did you expect was going to happen here. “Touya went nuts and tried to kill his little brother out of jealousy, so let’s make it clearer than ever that Shouto is the important child and all the other children are just rejects. this will definitely not make the problem 100x worse, and will surely lead to Touya giving up and living a happy life, having been emotionally abandoned by the person he admired more than anyone.” good for you pal you figured it all out. no need for that plan b, “we all just go to therapy”

anyway so he’s telling Shouto he can’t play because he needs more endurance training. and meanwhile Touya’s patented Todoroki Drama Genes are going through puberty as well

definitely the face of a happy, emotionally stable child who’s not still plotting to murder his younger brother in his sleep

“WELL ACTUALLY MAKESTE” lol I stand corrected??

apparently during the five year interim Touya actually stopped blaming Shouto and realized Enji was the one at fault. good for him! a bit inconsistent, given what we know happens later, but I assume we’ll get to that in good time

anyway. “yeah man I agree that dad sucks, but it’s the middle of the night and I’m only eight and you’ve been monologuing for the past two hours bro”

LMAO

the manga is making my jokes for me, only better. fine then

looks like someone’s still miffed about that disagreement he had with his baby sister back when she was like four

“Fuyu doesn’t get properly riled up like I want her to so ranting to her is annoying.” okay but having been in Fuyu’s shoes, it really is just a different way of coping, and I can guarantee she’s not as fine with the whole situation as Touya might think. but making your peace with something is often a decision that’s made for emotional self-preservation reasons. and I sure as hell don’t fault her for trying to shut out a situation that she had no control over, and trying to make the best of it, and scrape together as normal a childhood as she could manage

and now in Touya’s defense as well, that is of course easier said than done, and I’m sure if there was a “push this button and instantly get over all of the trauma in your life” switch readily available for Touya then he would have pushed it too. unfortunately it’s not always that simple

so now Rei is pleading with Touya not to go train up on his little emo hill again, but it doesn’t seem like much has changed since he was eight

I don’t think he gives two figs about being a hero; he just wants his father to look at him again with pride. fucking hell, stop doing this to me you damn Todorokis

guh, they keep telling him the same thing over and over again

even if we hadn’t already known he was gonna go melt his jawbone off soon, I wouldn’t have expected a line like that to go over well

yep. fuck

that Todoroki puberty angst, though. nothing else quite like it

“you have a part in this too, Mom” ooooooh man

okay but look, he’s not entirely wrong. like, I’m not saying any of this is Rei’s fault at all! she’s in an impossible situation where she’s afraid to stand up to Enji (who by this point has shown that he’s willing to physically attack her if things get too heated, which is terrifying), and doesn’t really have anywhere to turn for support. her parents aren’t helping much if at all, and Japan in general is just a terrible country to be in when you’re in a domestic abuse situation. everyone’s expected to put on a brave face and deal with their problems all on their own in private. Rei is basically completely isolated at this point, and she doesn’t know what else to do, and so she’s just trying to keep the situation as stable as possible for the kids

but on the other hand, “for the kids” is also where that argument starts to break down a bit, because at this point Shouto is also being physically abused by his father, and the other kids are continuing to be neglected (emotionally if not physically), as they have been for years. so the situation really isn’t stable at all for them. and as a kid, what you end up learning in that type of situation is that you can’t rely on either parent. not the abusive one, certainly, but also not the other one who can’t protect you from any of it. even if they love you and they’re trying, they’re just as helpless as you. Rei is struggling to deal with all of this with one hand tied behind her back, and I get it, and I’m not blaming her at all. but all the same, particularly given that she’s (understandably) putting almost all her focus on Shouto, the end result is that the other kids have basically been left to fend for themselves

so yeah! a shitty situation all around. and one of those cases where it’s not really anyone’s fault (aside from Enji’s), but I can understand the resentment Touya is feeling all the same. and I’m so glad Horikoshi is acknowledging this, because it’s something I probably would have been too uncomfortable to bring up otherwise. as it is it’s still an incredibly heavy subject, and one that I probably have too many personal feelings about

anyway, so once again the whole “we’ll try talking to him and then just shrug our shoulders when it doesn’t work” parenting strategy doesn’t really pan out for the Todoroki fam

sob this boy is Anakin Skywalkering before our very eyes. all that’s missing is AFO to come and start whispering in his ear. any minute now...

“anyway so then he got taller and his fire changed from red to blue”

guess we’re getting pretty close then huh. this is the part of the flashback that I really don’t want to see, but also unfortunately the part that I’m most curious about :/

oh for fuck’s --

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IGNORING HIM FOR FIVE YEARS DIDN’T ACTUALLY DO ANYTHING TO SOLVE THE PROBLEM” sob. back to the drawing board I guess

I thought he got taller, why is he still only like a third of Enji’s height here

oh fuck me these are armor-piercing feels. this is the heavy artillery right here

ENJI I’M BEGGING YOU PLEASE STOP AND THINK FOR ONE MOMENT IN YOUR LIFE BEFORE DOING SOMETHING YOU’LL REGRET FOR THE REST OF ALL TIME. your child just told you that he still thinks beating All Might is the only thing you care about, and that he believes his existence is a mistake unless he finds some way of doing that for you. please stop for a moment to contemplate that and choose your next words with care and grace and oh who the hell am I kidding

-- OR WE COULD JUST BLAME REI

go on and blame everyone but yourself then!! that’s a great solution!! jesus christ man I know this is Endeavor at his literal worst but still this is fucking hard to watch

POOR BABY SHOUTO IS YELLING AT HIS DAD NOT TO HIT HIS MOMMY THIS LITTLE BRAVE BOY NEEDS SO MANY HUGS OH MY GOD

AND MEANWHILE THE OTHERS ARE HUDDLED IN THE NEXT ROOM TRYING NOT TO CRY AH FUCK

(ETA: Fuyu covering Natsu’s ears cuts RIGHT TO THE CORE OF ME. Horikoshi if you’re really not gonna get these kids some therapy then at least consider giving your readers some. what is this.)

you know it’s bad when you’re starting to think the part where the kid burns to death might actually be a less traumatic thing to cut to right now

holy shit, actual Rei thoughts

“I was the one who ultimately made that choice” well there we go, wonder if that’ll put that whole argument to bed at last. I doubt it, but you never know. actually who am I kidding it’s not gonna settle jack shit lol

oh thank god, they decided it was getting too intense and cut away back to the present to narrate this next (final?) part

get ready to cue up that Alicia Keys. THIS BOY IS ON FIREEEEEEE

yeah I think that’s one thing we can mostly all agree on. neither of them had any clue what the fuck they were doing pretty much at any point. though I will say that the hypocrisy of him being all “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HIM” followed by him IMMEDIATELY DOING THE EXACT SAME THING is a bit rich

(ETA: and he still has this problem, doesn’t he? he froze up when Ending snatched Natsuo, and again when Dabi was attacking Shouto. he’s so afraid of doing the wrong thing that he ends up not doing anything, which of course is exactly what led to Touya’s death. damn Enji I guess you’ve still got some additional character development to unlock.)

and of course neither of them could possibly have known how badly it was going to turn out. like, the consequences here were WAY disproportionate even for the shittiest of parenting. no one expects “I didn’t know how to talk to my son” to snowball into “my son burned to death and then somehow came back as a villain and murdered thirty people”

ohhhhhhhh fuck me

LITERALLY INCINERATED THE ENTIRE HILLSIDE. fuck. and I am so not ready for the scene of Enji finding the remains of his jawbone afterwards. at least we were spared anything super-graphic (for now at least)

I feel like the timeline here is off, btw?? wasn’t Touya’s death supposed to happen after Rei got hospitalized? this might be the first actual retcon of the entire flashback. although I think it makes more sense this way tbh

I do appreciate that ten years later Enji is finally reflecting on the fact that if he’d just given up his stupid obsession he could have stopped his family from crumbling apart. that probably sounds sarcastic as fuck, but it’s not. there are countless jerks out there who would have still managed to find a way to blame literally everyone and everything under the sun except for themselves. at least he finally figured out how to take responsibility, even if it came too late to stop his son from dying and being radicalized into a villain terrorist organization

and speaking of, it seems to me we’re missing a third and final part to this little tale of woe, and one which only Touya himself will be able to shed any light on. so we’ll see how that goes

oh man seeing the other kids blaming themselves even though none of it was their fault hits hard af. Rei wasn’t kidding when she said they’d been bearing that burden of guilt far longer than Enji

SHOUTO I SWEAR TO GOD IF THE NEXT PANEL IS YOU APOLOGIZING FOR BEING BORN, I WILL... WELL I’LL BE VERY SAD, I GUESS. SO DON’T DO IT

oh good he’s just being quiet. good. it absolutely is not your fault lil bean. it’s not theirs either, but feeling guilty about things that aren’t your fault is a time-honored shounen tradition

goddammit I braced myself for the angsty Shouto panel a page too early. gotta do it all over again now lol. okay here goes

;_;

well well well would you look at that

imagine that. talking things out with your child before they make a rash decision. looks like the Todorokis’ parenting skills are finally leveling up

OH MY GOD

holy shit. this is the most quintessential moment of father/son Todoroki bonding in the entire series. for me it even tops the “nice scar” scene lol. Enji sobbing at the fact that he still has a chance to set things right. and Shouto offering his hand in what is actually the most mature and selfless gesture I’ve ever seen, and being all “we’ll stop him together” to his dad who he hates, but also doesn’t really entirely hate anymore. and all of that is incredibly moving... BUT ALSO HE STILL REFUSES TO MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH HIM AND HE WOULD LIKE HIM TO STOP BEING SO FUCKING DRAMATIC ALREADY IF YOU DON’T MIND. “WHEN YOU’RE DONE CRYING...” fkjldsk

OH MY FUCKING LORD

(ETA: wouldn’t be a Todoroki drama fest if there wasn’t somebody listening in on the whole thing in secret just around the corner lmao.)

“you think we should have waited somewhere else?” “yeah, probably.” “are you feeling a lot of secondhand embarrassment too?” “god, you have no idea.” STFU HAWKS IT’S NOT EMBARASSING TO BE MOVED TO TEARS BY YOUR FAMILY ALL COMING TOGETHER IN YOUR DARKEST HOUR TO GIVE YOU HOPE THAT YOU PROBABLY DON’T DESERVE BUT ARE NONETHELESS INDESCRIBABLY GRATEFUL FOR

and anyway you chose these guys as your found family, bucko. too late to back out now. next time go get yourself adopted by the Iidas then

AND MEANWHILE NO WORD ON THE WHOLE “HOW DID A THIRTEEN-YEAR-OLD SURVIVE A FIRE THAT COVERED HIS BODY WITH HORRIFIC SCARS AND MELTED HIS JAW OFF, AND HOW DID HE SOMEHOW THEN MANAGE TO GO INTO HIDING FOR TEN WHOLE YEARS, AND WHAT HAPPENED IN THAT INTERIM TO CHANGE HIS GOAL FROM ‘SURPASS ALL MIGHT TO IMPRESS MY DAD’ TO ‘KILL ALL HEROES TO MAKE MY DAD SUFFER’.” as if we don’t know the answer to that. but still, would it kill Horikoshi to just confirm AFO’s involvement in all of this already. at this point it’s basically just a formality

so here’s hoping next week we’ll either get that, or more Hawks action, or (DARE I EVEN SUGGEST, I’M AFRAID TO JINX IT) finally cut back to Bakugou and Deku and All Might omg. either way I’m hyped

#bnha 302 #todoroki touya #dabi #todoroki enji #endeavor #todoroki rei #todoroki shouto #todoroki natsuo #todoroki fuyumi #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha #my sincerest apologies for this absurdly long recap which is barely funny at all!#THERE WAS VERY LITTLE HUMOROUS CONTENT IN THIS CHAPTER #congratulations horikoshi you win this round

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lucyintheskywithxanax · 3 years ago

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Baby Broke Down In My Bed Again

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: this came to be because 1. I wanted to try and write a more sanguine, less patient reader 2. @minaslittleone do you remember a long time ago when we agreed that someone with as much self-hatred as Wilhemina probably had moments when sex wasn’t bearable, or something like that? Well, I decided to write a fic about it. Reader x W’s relationship has been going on for quite a while in this one, because I wanted a less guarded, more trusting and forgiving Wilhemina.

Word count: ≈ 8 700

You collapsed on the bed with a groan and let your body sink into the mattress. It had been such a long, boring and yet incredibly busy day, that had made you feel way older than your years. All you wanted now was to forget about it entirely and let warmth and content take over.

Wilhemina was tucked in on her side of the bed, reading a book. She had been particularly quiet this evening, seemingly lost in her head, had played with her food and answered your questions with short, annoyed sentences. You had let her be, given her space, regularly glancing at her for any sign of pain, but her back didn’t seem to be the trouble. She had helped you clear the table, and the soft brush of her hand against your arm had felt like a silent apology.

Now you snuggled up to her side, curling your body to fill all the gaps between you and her, and planting soft kisses on the bare skin between her collarbones.

“What are you reading?” you whispered, draping one arm over her stomach to pull her closer.

“Still the same book,” she answered, rather curtly.

You peered up at her, planted more kisses along her collarbone, then buried your face in her neck. Your eyes fluttered closed. She was so warm, so incredibly soft and safe, your safe place; you felt the tension slowly leave your body, and be replaced with sweet, happy content that nestled cozily in your stomach.

Home. In the past year you and her had built your home together. You had painted your walls in her colors and she had filled her rooms with your laughter. By now you knew by heart which parts of her floor creaked when you put your foot on it, which parts of her body to press your fingers on to make her moan.

“Will you read to me?” you whispered against her skin.

It came out too muffled for her to understand. She made a questioning noise, but it bore so much annoyance you decided against repeating your question. Instead, you slipped your fingers under her night shirt and started stroking slow circles on her stomach, the softness of her skin sparking a low fire where there had been only warmth.

You snuggled closer to her still, nudging her neck with your nose and breathing her in. She was intoxicating, you thought, as you planted soft, lazy kisses that lingered longer on her skin as your brain slowly awoke to a growing need, so ridiculously intoxicating; you pushed yourself up on one elbow for better access as you trailed kisses up her neck, your other hand sliding up to caress the swell of her right breast.

Wilhemina set her book aside, which made you smirk victoriously. You sucked on the skin over her pulse point just as she lay one hand on your shoulder, and was about to flick your thumb over her nipple when she gently pushed you away.

There was surprise in your eyes when you met hers. Wilhemina was so incredibly hungry for affection she rarely rejected it when you so eagerly offered it to her.

You scanned her face, your breathing quick and expectant.

Wilhemina held your gaze and shook her head. “Not tonight, Y/N.”

She didn’t look annoyed anymore, just sad. It was this sadness that silenced the protestations tingling on your tongue.

You swallowed down disappointment and planted one last kiss on her collarbone before lying down again, with your face mere inches from her shoulder. You closed your eyes, forced yourself to take a few deep breaths till the heat in your head and in-between your legs was back under control.

“Are you okay?” you whispered.

“Of course I am,” she retorted, but the tone of her voice betrayed her.

Her voice was always softer in the evening. There was a warm fondness to it that let giggles and chuckles and secrets go through almost unimpeded. Four months or so into your relationship, she had allowed herself to take off parts of her armor and hang them next to her coat after she had closed the front door to her place or yours. Weapons were set on the floor, and the weight of them replaced with the weight of your body on top of hers.

But tonight, she was using the voice which to your ears sounded like the low, threatening growl of faraway thunder. Meant to warn, to intimidate, to make you duck your head and run away.

For a few minutes you lay in silence, watching her.

“Do you want to keep on reading?” you asked eventually.

“No.”

“Should we turn off the light, then?”

“Don’t you need to get off first?”

The spite and harshness of her voice had you reeling for a second. You pretended it didn’t hurt.

“Excuse me?”

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours, dark and glazed. “Don’t you need to get off first?”

This time, her voice wasn’t spiteful but mocking, condescending. That made it even worse.

“No,” you answered, gaze boring into hers, “I don’t need to get off first.” You paused. “Did something happen today?”

“Nothing happened today,” Wilhemina snapped.

You swallowed back anger, forced your voice to stay calm. “Then what is it?”

“What is what?”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what?”

With a groan you closed your eyes and rolled away from her, reaching out to turn off the bedside lamp.

The darkness only increased your anger. You lay fuming with your back to her, curled in on yourself and cursing that brain of hers that was so ridiculously stubborn and scared and hurt. There was no talking to her when she was behaving like this and yet it was killing you, not knowing how to help her even after a whole year of loving her.

And what troubled you was, she had opened up to you before. Not enough times that you couldn’t count them on the fingers of one hand, but still. And you couldn’t begin to understand why tonight she had decided to shut you out.

You heard her shift behind you. Before you knew what you were doing, you were turning on the light again and sitting up.

“Talk to me,” you said – maybe a bit too harshly, but you couldn’t do better.

Wilhemina slowly opened her eyes to meet your gaze.

“I have nothing to tell you,” she said slowly and quietly, “except that if you need to get off, the bathroom –”

“What happened today?” you cut her off.

Wilhemina’s face hardened. “I told you before,” - voice slower still, and mocking, mocking so cruelly as if she were talking to a moron -, “nothing happened today.”

“I’m not turning off the light until you’ve talked to me.”

She smirked. “Suit yourself. I can sleep just fine with the light on.” And with that, she closed her eyes.

You huffed, staring down at her disbelievingly. For a minute you waited, refusing to believe she was going to end the conversation like this. But she didn’t move, didn’t make a noise. You watched the slow, regular rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, almost mesmerized, then groaned.

Hot-tempered, your parents had always called you. You knew they were right, and you had been successfully working on it. But tonight, something in you snapped.

You had been so patient with Wilhemina. Taken one step forward, two backwards. Braved the storm, kneeled down and extended one hand toward the terrified and the abandoned shivering in the rain. But tonight, you let the anger win.

So, with your heart pumping fire instead of blood and its smoke filling your head, you lay down on your back, spread your legs open and touched yourself.

And you started to moan. Loud, exaggerated moans, and you made a show of moving your hips so hard the bed creaked.

“Fuck,” you cried, moving your wrist in fast circles that brought you no pleasure at all, “hmm,” biting your lower lip and closing your eyes; you slipped your hand lower down, and forced a finger inside. “Fuck,” you screamed, “I haven’t been fucked so good in months!”

Stop it, a voice pleaded somewhere deep inside your head. You ignored it. You bucked your hips against your hand, slid your other hand up your body to tease your nipple. As you forced another exaggerated moan out of your mouth, you increased the pace between your legs, anger making you desperate for release and increasing with every second you were denied it.

You pushed another finger inside, wincing at the pain, and rubbed harder at your clit, demanding pleasure. You tensed your muscles to help your body reach its climax; and then, finally, finally, felt pleasure build and build and sweep over you. As your body gave a few weak shakes you remembered to arch your back and to cry out, “Yes! God! I haven’t felt so good in so long!”

With a dramatic sigh you let your body fall back on the mattress and brought one hand up to your forehead. There was a drumming in your ears, and something unpleasant that nudged in your chest. You closed your eyes, feigning exhaustion, forcing your chest to heave, and waited a few seconds before you stole a glance at Wilhemina.

She hadn’t made a single noise, nor moved an inch, during your little show. She was still lying on her back, barely breathing, eyes wide open and unblinking. The only thing that proved she was still alive was the tension in her shoulders and the tightness in her jaw.

In the following silence, the smoke in your head cleared. The drumming in your ears slowed down, the tingling between your legs disappeared; but the thing in your chest grew. It grew and crushed your heart till it became hard to breathe.

You were about to say Wilhemina’s name when she slowly sat up in bed. She paused, her back to you, and reached out for her cane. Her hand was shaking.

You closed your eyes and listened to her footsteps as she fumbled about the room for a while, dropped something, picked it up; walked out. Her footsteps receded down the corridor; heels; and then, you heard the front door close.

Your flat was empty and silent when you got up at dawn the next morning. For a long moment you stood still in the middle of the room, not looking at anything in particular, dread gnawing at your insides.

You weren’t sure you could remember what had happened the night before. The pictures were too blurry. There were memories, but could they be real? You didn’t want them to be. Everything you could remember had anger and cruelty woven into it, things that had ugly faces and smiled ugly, selfish smiles.

The side of your bed where Wilhemina usually slept was unmade. You picked up her pillow, pressed it to your nose and breathed in her scent. Then you walked into your bathroom and saw with relief that her things were still there, the toothbrush and makeup products she always left at your place and whose sight you cherished every morning more than you cherished that of the rising sun.

You turned, walked into your living room. Her coat was gone, so were her shoes. There was no note on the table. In the sink still lay the two mugs you had been too lazy to wash the evening before.

On the verge of panic you picked up your phone and dialed Mutt’s number. He was a friend of a friend, and it had been thanks to him that you had first met Wilhemina all those years ago. Mutt’s idiocy and complete lack of maturity had, strangely, grown on you. You two sometimes spent drunken evenings together, watching movies and screaming at the screen every time something happened that was scientifically impossible. In the company of Mutt it was easy to be stupid, and gross, and mean. So, you thought, as you listened to the ringing tone, Mutt was the kind of person you needed right now: someone to confess your sin to without fear of being judged, for without a doubt he had, at one point in his life, done worse; someone that would give you such ridiculously bad advice you could, if you were lucky, withdraw a few crumbs of wisdom from the madness.

“The fuck, asshole,” Mutt barked into the phone, “have you seen the time?”

You closed your eyes, wincing. You could almost smell the alcohol in his voice. “Sorry, Mutt. I really need to talk to you.”

Mutt yawned, groaned, fell silent. All you could hear was the quick beating of your heart. The clamminess of your hand made the phone slippery, and your eyes were starting to sting.

“I, um,” you started. Took a breath, released it shakily. “So, possibly, I fucked up.”

There was a noise like another distorted yawn. “Babe, why am I not surprised.”

“Did something happen at work yesterday?” you asked.

“Yeah, Lily spilled her Starbucks on Jeff’s laptop and it made all the arms go ballistic –”

“I mean,” you cut him off, sniffling, “I mean with Wilhemina.”

Silence. A noise, as if Mutt was moving.

“Mutt?”

“Gimme a sec, I’m thinking. No, nothing that I can remember. Hey, did you know that –”

“Are you sure, Mutt?” you insisted. You felt the hot, wet lick of a tear as it trailed down your cheek. “Nothing that someone said that made her snap? Are you sure nothing –”

“She snaps at everyone 24/7, how am I supposed to know,” Mutt grumbled.

“I fucked up,” you sobbed into the receiver. Your body bent forward with the force of the guilt that finally washed over you. “Mutt,” you whined, “when she comes to work, could you tell her to call me?”

“You’re scaring me, Y/N,” Mutt said.

“Tell her to call me. Lock her up in her office or something until she agrees, Mutt, please. I can’t lose her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Y/N, and it’s too early for this shit. But yes, yes, ok, I will. Not the lock her up thing. I don’t want to be caned.” There was a pause, as you sniffed and sobbed, not even caring to wipe your cheeks and nose, then Mutt added tentatively: “There’s a football game tonight if you want to come over and watch it with me. Don’t call, just barge in. Goodnight.” And with that he hung up.

You called in sick at work. You spent the day pacing up and down in your flat, occasionally throwing yourself on your bed or couch to sob.

Your phone never rang. Not that y ou really expected it to. But still – you had hope.

When the hands on your clock announced 3pm, you decided you couldn’t wait anymore, and drove to Kineros. You parked your car on the sidewalk. Somehow you managed to reach Mutt and Jeff’s office before security caught up with you. They narrowed their eyes at you, but sent the security guard off.

“When I said barge in,” Mutt started, “I meant my place.”

“I’m here to see Wilhemina,” you panted. “Is she in her office?”

“Yeah, but she warned her assistant not to let anyone bother her and I think –”

“I won’t be long,” you cut him off, rushing out of the room. One second later you were back. “Show me the way?”

Wilhemina didn’t look up as Mutt and you walked down the long corridor that led to her office. You scanned her figure worriedly, noting the vacant look in her eyes, the tension in her shoulders and the tight line that was her mouth as she typed quickly on her laptop.

“Babe,” Mutt started, “there’s –”

Wilhemina cut him off, slowly raising her head. “Do not let yourself think for a second that just because you –”

Her eyes fell on you.

Slowly, her mouth closed. You almost stopped in your tracks at the rage that ignited in her eyes.

“I’ll let you two lovebirds deal with your things, then,” Mutt said with a nervous laugh, before turning on his heels. You barely registered his departure.

For a few, long, painful seconds, you stood frozen in front of Wilhemina’s desk, your hands clutching the hem of your shirt, holding Wilhemina’s burning gaze and your whole body vibrating with love and fear and regret; and then, something in your chest burst, and you lurched forward.

“Mina I –”

“I told Lily to wait for you in the room next door,” she cut you off, voice low and so terribly slow.

You blinked. “Who’s Lily?”

“Mutt and Jeff’s favorite pleasure giver. Just the kind of human scum you need, as you made very clear last night.”

“You pushed me to it,” you mumbled half-heartedly.

Unfortunately, Wilhemina heard you.

Slowly, performing the precise balance exercise she had rehearsed thousands of times before, she stood up.

“Because you refused to speak to me,” you were quick to add. “You’re a human being, Mina, not an oyster –”

“You’re so fucking eloquent,” Wilhemina taunted. “If only you could control your emotions as well as you can express yourself.”

You took yet another step forward, your stomach pressing against the edge of her desk, as you felt the familiar hot tingle which meant anger had fought its way through the crowd of all the other emotions battling inside you, and had now reached the stage.

“If only you could actually express yourself,” you spat back, refusing to lower or avert your eyes no matter how painful it was becoming to hold her gaze. It was too intense, too furious and too dark. “Why are you doing this? Why are you shutting me out all of a sudden? I feel like we’re back on day one.” You leaned towards her in exasperation – and in hope, that maybe you could still reach her. Your eyes widened in a plea, your hands closed around the edge of her desk. “What’s going on? I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

Wilhemina’s face closed up even more at your words. The anger in her eyes disappeared under a thick veil.

“I don’t need your help,” she said, still as terribly, terribly slowly.

“I’ll go find Lily, then,” you fumed.

“You do that.”

Wilhemina’s eyes still expressed nothing at all, and it broke your heart, for that nothing wasn’t here to hide her anger. She had no problem letting anger show. That nothing was here to hide how badly she was hurting.

It made you want to break something. Anything, but mostly the walls around her heart. To hit your fists against them and to tear them down brick by brick and to crash your way into her.

And above all the rest rose a sense of helplessness, for you had no idea how to fix this. You had shot a perfect shot, hit the center of the target, the arrow’s head tearing through the heart. And as the hunter bends over their kill, you held Wilhemina’s blank, glazed eyes, and caught a glimpse of the damage you had done.

And then, a wave of revolt. For she had hurt you, too. Had refused to let you in and spat bitter words at you.

There were just too many things happening inside of you, too big a crowd of emotions. You were boiling and you didn’t know how to cool down.

You turned on your heel and were about to storm off when the crowd suddenly held its breath. Anger had bent down and helped frustration up onto the stage.

You turned around, fists clenched and eyes stinging. “I’m sure Lily will tell me more about herself in five minutes than you ever will in five years!” you burst out.

“Then why are you still here?” Wilhemina growled lowly. “Or are you too stupid to understand how one walks? One foot aft-”

“Because I love you!” you burst out. “This past year with you has been the best in my whole goddamn life and it kills me, that you won’t let me in.” You shook your head, briefly closing your eyes against the emotion that you could feel bubbling out of you. “I want to love you but you won’t let me,” you whined.

Wilhemina didn’t reply. She turned a shade pinker, but her lips stayed tightly shut and her eyes stayed veiled as she processed your words. When finally she spoke, her voice was laced with bitterness.

“You seem to think of yourself as the victim,” she said slowly, and a flicker of anger made its way out and shone in her eyes. ”I don’t know much about being loved,” spitting out the words as if they could kill her, “but I’m pretty sure it’s not supposed to hurt like this.”

At first you thought the words had slipped unbidden from her lips. It still surprised you when she would confess to being in pain, physically or mentally. Of course there were signs you had learnt to recognise, a clenched jaw, glazed eyes, wanton snapping, but Wilhemina rarely gave her pain a voice. Pain was shameful. It had to be ignored and never, never to be processed.

But then, as you watched her, stunned, and her body hunched up as if she wished she could disappear, and her eyes turned vulnerable, the certainty settled inside you, painful but incredibly warm. It hadn’t been an accidental push, but a voluntary jump.

There was no uprising. Anger, frustration, the stage, suddenly vanished.

Without thinking you stepped around her desk, but stopped when Wilhemina took several steps backward.

Her name left your mouth in a broken plea, but she shook her head and then all of a sudden her façade shattered.

The quiver in her voice when she spoke next made your heart ache.

“I know I cannot ask for much but I thought – I thought in a relationship at least the most basic respect –”

She trailed off, jaw and mouth still working to form words her voice refused to carry.

You shook your head, blinking back tears. All the fight in you had disappeared; all that was left was a terrible sense of dread and guilt.

“No no no, Mina I… sweetheart of course you can ask for everything, I…”

Tentatively you took a step forward. This time, Wilhemina didn’t move. She was peering at you, chin uncharacteristically tilted downward, eyes getting shinier by the second.

You held up both hands in front of you.

“I didn’t mean it,” you heard yourself say. “You’re not inadequate, I – I didn’t mean any of it, Mina. Look at me,” you added forcefully, as her eyes moved to some random thing over your shoulder and threatened to glaze over again. “I swear I didn’t mean it. I got mad, and I fucked up, and I’m so, so sorry.”

Certainly your last few words were what Wilhemina had been dying to hear, for her shoulders suddenly slumped. Tears pooled in her eyes that she harshly wiped away before they had time to stain, and she let out a long, trembling sigh that seemed to take her strength away with it.

A strangled, mirthless laugh burst from your lips. Your arms fell limply to your sides.

You were too scared to even dare breathe properly. Scared that Wilhemina would order you away and refuse to ever see you again, or, more likely, that she would shut you out and retreat behind her walls, pretend she was alright, that nothing had happened and that she hadn’t even felt the prickle of the needle. But her face stayed open, her eyes vulnerable as she wiped at them repeatedly in an attempt to maintain her composure.

“Will you, uh.” You shifted your weight on your feet, unable to stay still for the sight of her so unguarded made you desperate to reach out and hug her. Gather up the pieces and glue them back together. “Will you let me pick you up from work tonight? I can drive you back to your place, and we can, if you want, talk.” Your chest hurt. You leaned towards her, your voice breaking on a sob. “I can make it right, Mina, I know I can. Please let me in – I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina bit down on her lower lip to stop it from quivering. She nodded, and when her hand came up again to wipe her eyes, tears rolled between her fingers and down her cheeks.

Without thinking you extended your hand towards her, and briefly brushed her wrist with your fingertips.

“Okay,” she breathed, nodding, fingers still swiping at her face.

You peered up at her hopefully. “Okay?”

She nodded.

“Okay,” you laughed, so incredibly relieved you felt like bursting into tears.

A laugh left Wilhemina’s lips, too, sad and half-strangled. She moved her arm until it met your hand. Your fingers automatically wrapped around her wrist, thumb gently stroking her skin as she swiped at her eyes.

She looked smaller, and so much younger, a little girl who felt too much and had been unwillingly shoved into an adult’s body. You wondered if this was her with her soul stripped completely naked.

You had expected high walls built higher and stronger, defensive armies gone mad with wrath at the blow you had dealt - not an open gate. What had you done to deserve it? This was so unhoped for, so dearly cherished, whatever had triggered it, be it trust or love or both.

You weren’t sure how to express your gratitude. Weren’t sure you were worthy of such a precious thing as her trust. Your hands had never held a baby bird that fragile before.

You gave her wrist a squeeze. “I’ll leave you alone now,” you whispered, “and –”

“Actually would you mind –” She cut herself short. Her gaze searched yours for a second, pleadingly, begging you to understand without her having to resort to words.

“Yes?” you breathed, body leaning closer to hers so there was no more than one inch between her and you.

Her eyes met yours again, dark and sad and something in your chest like a string attached to your heart pulled towards her, desperate to hold with healing hands and soothing warmth.

“Could you –”

Again, she bit her lip against the words she wouldn’t allow herself to utter. You searched her eyes to try and understand as frustration flicked across her face, nails digging into flesh, lips twisting; until finally she released a breath and with it burst out, terrified and angry and shaking, “Would you mind just holding me for a second?”

She winced at her own words, her nails digging deeper into her skin in disgust as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. With your heart in your throat you wrapped your arms around her shoulders and pulled her close.

How easy it would have been to burst into tears and wail pitifully in her arms. God knew how badly you wanted to. But Wilhemina was being so brave, and you had to make it up to her for the way you had behaved, so you swallowed back your tears and forced yourself to take a deep breath to ease the ache in your chest.

You buried your face in Wilhemina’s hair, squeezing her so tight in your arms part of you was terrified you were hurting her - the other part didn’t care. Your fingers dug into her shoulders, and hers clutched the back of your shirt, her lips grazing the skin of your neck but not daring to press a kiss.

Her eyes were red and puffy when you met her gaze again. Gently you cupped her face, and dropped a kiss on each of her burning cheeks – then, tentatively, brushed your lips against hers.

A noise that was half a sob, half laughter pushed out of Wilhemina’s mouth and then her lips pressed against yours, hot and wet and needy but with a shyness to them, so hesitant, as if this was your first kiss and she was expecting rejection. You pressed your chest against hers to show her you were not going anywhere, slid your hand up her back and pushed your palm against her spine, a silent I want you, all of you. So Wilhemina nipped your lower lip, and only let herself relax when you hummed appreciatively.

You held her hand as she fought to regain her composure; straightened her shoulders, veiled her eyes, and shielded her heart. You accompanied her to the nearest bathroom, and gave her hand one last squeeze before you let go of it.

Mutt and Jeff peered up at you as you stomped into their office, collapsed into Mutt’s arms and finally let yourself burst into tears.

Mutt gave your back several awkward pats as you sobbed, clinging to him and wiping your eyes and nose on his shirt. Jeff’s awkwardness was almost palpable, and when you pulled away from Mutt, still sobbing, all he could think of was to offer you some coke, and then a drink when you refused.

“No,” you whined, “no, I need to stay sober. I need to make it right.”

“Jeez, did you kill someone?” Mutt asked, with a glance in Jeff’s direction and a guffaw to hide his nervousness.

“I thought about what you asked me,” Mutt went on after a few seconds. “Sorry, babe, but I can’t think of anything out of the ordinary that happened yesterday.”

To kill time you went on a walk, and ended up buying a huge bouquet of roses and dahlias for Wilhemina, as well as two boxes of fancy dark chocolates, a very fluffy lilac blanket, and two bottles of Wilhemina’s favorite wine. You stacked all those gifts in the backseat of your car, and walked back into Kineros at 6:30pm sharp.

Wilhemina was waiting for you in the lobby, sitting very straight on a chair, both hands tightly wrapped around the head of her cane.

“Oh shit,” you whined, “was it 6 today?”

She nodded. You poured out apologies, which she didn’t seem to hear as she slowly pushed herself up from her chair. You fell silent when you realised she had waited half an hour for you, despite it all. Something nice fluttered in your chest.

In the car Wilhemina’s eyes fell on her gifts, then shifted to you, questioningly, and her cheeks reddened when you explained it was all for her.

The drive was awkward. You turned the radio on to fill in the silence, opened your window because the air felt too hot, fidgeted on your seat and drummed on the wheel every time you had to stop at a red light. Several times you opened your mouth to speak, only to close it again.

Wilhemina’s hand was shaking when she opened her front door. You dumped all the gifts you had bought her on the sofa and hurried to help her out of her coat, and did she want you to make her some tea? Was she hungry? Would she rather you ran her a bath? You could make her dinner, her favorite dish, and if an ingredient was lacking you would run to the store so if she needed anything else you could buy it too, and -

“I don’t need anything, Y/N,” she cut you off, not meanly, but with a firmness to her voice and an absence of warmth that effectively made you shut up.

You stood still in the middle of her living room, not knowing what to do and mind running a mile a minute. While Wilhemina tended to the flowers, you decided to fluff and rearrange the pillows on her couch, and when you were done and couldn’t find anything else to do, you hurried to her and planted yourself at a safe distance behind her as you blurted out, “Mina, I’m so sorry.”

Wilhemina’s fingers stilled for a second over the flowers. She didn’t speak, didn’t nod, didn’t acknowledge your apology.

“What I did yesterday was terrible and I don’t know how to make it up to you,” you pushed on, voice quivering but still loud, for you were determined to mend whatever you could still mend. “I - I don’t know how to apologize properly to you, and I’m terrified I’m going to lose you.”

Silence. Your body felt hot suddenly, as if someone had sparked a fire within you. You ran one hand over your forehead nervously, heart drumming in your ears, peering at Wilhemina’s shoulders. Her ponytail fell neatly down her back, red frizz grazing the pale skin of her neck just below her hairline.

Silence lingered. Your eyes fell hopelessly to the floor.

“The gifts were a nice touch,” Wilhemina said.

You looked up at her, automatically took a step forward.

“Were they really? I’m so glad. I didn’t know if -”

“Nothing happened yesterday.”

You cut yourself short, mouth still open as you stared at her in surprise. From where you were standing behind her, you could only see the sharp lines of her left jaw, cheekbone and brow. She was staring fixedly at a rose, hands resting on the table on either side of the vase and supporting most of her weight.

“I passed a couple on the sidewalk and they laughed, and I couldn’t help but –” Her voice faltered, eyes closing in frustration. “I thought they were laughing at me.”

Quickly you closed the distance between her and you and leaned forward to take a better look at her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you breathed.

“Because it’s so stupid,” she spat, eyes still closed, anger making her voice tremble. “It’s so fucking stupid, Y/N. I know they could have been laughing at anything, but my stupid, stupid…”A hiss, one hand coming up to press her palm against her forehead.

“It’s not stupid,” you heard yourself say. Your fingers brushed her arm, a silent question, hopeful, tentative, your skin drawn to her warmth always. And just as she had done a few hours ago, she leaned into your touch, and your fingers wrapped around her wrist.

“It made me so incredibly…There was so much…” Her palm hit her forehead as a sob pushed out of her mouth. “It shouldn’t have affected me like that. I shouldn’t have let it. But there was so much… I couldn’t even bear you touching me like that,” she breathed.

“So much what?” you whispered, grazing your lips over her shoulder.

A long, shaky breath. You could almost hear the words screaming in Wilhemina’s head, pushing against the dam in her throat but not strong enough to break through it. Instead, she removed her hand from your grip, reached into her pocket, and slipped a small piece of paper into your hand.

“What’s this?” you asked.

You unfolded the piece of paper to find a phone number in Wilhemina’s handwriting.

Wilhemina sniffed, took a breath to speak. “It’s Lily’s.”

You looked up at her confusedly.

“For the days like yesterday,” Wilhemina explained. Her gaze fled yours, sad and ashamed, before meeting it again. The hand that had been touching yours mere seconds ago now wrapped around the head of her cane and dug into it. “For the nights I can’t satisfy you.”

For a moment you stared at her, unable or unwilling to process her words, while she shrank back further away from you. For a moment there was only white noise in your head.

And then something hot rose inside you, familiar and hated and too strong.

So, hold on – hold on.

“Is that what you want?” you said – too angry. You were losing control again, brain filled with smoke and it felt like you were listening to yourself speak instead of thinking the words. “You want me to fuck somebody else?”

The words boomed through the room. Louder and scarier than thunder. Wilhemina and you were left staring at each other, too small and too helpless to face something that big and that powerful.

You watched as Wilhemina’s face hardened by the second, drawbridge being raised against the assault. “Of course not,” she said.

“Then why the hell would you give this to me?” you spat, waving the piece of paper in her face.

Wilhemina fought for a second more, before her face crumpled and her gaze dropped to the floor. “I told you,” she whispered, arm coming up to hug herself.

The gesture made something break in you. Some of the smoke in your brain cleared out through the crack.

“You’re a blithering idiot,” you heard yourself hiss. It sounded half-convinced, but it made Wilhemina wince anyway. “If you think I’d want that,” you added.

“And you’re as stupid as you look,” Wilhemina hissed back weakly, “if you get mad at me for trying to help you.”

“I’m mad because you seem to have such a low opinion of me,” you grumbled, crossing your arms against your chest.

“I know there are human needs, which one who is in a relationship is expected to-”

“My ‘human needs’ do not control me.”

A faint, mirthless laugh. “Of course they don’t.”

“They don’t.”

“Right.”

“Yes, right.”

Silence.

The last of your anger was fizzling out. You could still feel it crackling faintly in your upper body, but the last embers were being stifled by something colder and heavier.

The silence buzzed in your ears.

Stubbornly you held Wilhemina’s gaze, trying to look mad, but your fists were unclenching, and it was sadness – it was sadness, taking over. And with it came a sudden sense of exhaustion.

You didn’t want to fight anymore. You wanted to pretend everything was alright, close your eyes and go to sleep. And in the morning the sunshine would have driven out past mistakes, selfishness and hurt, and you would get up with a happy heart and music in your head.

Your gaze wavered. You pretended to examine the piece of paper in your hand, but your vision was swimming, and the clamminess of your palm had smudged the ink. There was a shape that must have been a zero but now looked like a battered eight, and the last two numbers you couldn’t venture to guess what they had been.

You ran your thumb over those broken remnants of Wilhemina’s neat handwriting. Wondered what she had been feeling, when she had pressed the nib of her pen on paper, and had her hand shaken at all? Some people talked with their hands, Wilhemina’s had a language of their own. They would fidget and brush and grab and claw, and they would shake – and you would hold.

Always, dear Lord, always – you had promised.

You glanced up at Wilhemina again, to find her looking back at you, tears flickering their way down her cheeks.

“Should we, er.” You paused, looking down at the floor again. “Should we have dinner?”

You weren’t sure Wilhemina would play along. But when you gathered enough courage to glance up at her, she was wiping her cheeks, and she nodded.

Wilhemina disappeared into the bathroom while you cooked pasta. Your hands moved on auto-pilot, your brain too numb and too tired to think. You were dumping bits of butter into the pasta when Wilhemina emerged, hair down and body wrapped in a long-sleeved, loose-fitting, thin periwinkle nightdress you had bought her a few months ago.

The fact that she had chosen this nightdress in particular made fresh tears pool in your eyes. It felt like a peace offering, an extended hand you were only too eager to hold. You placed a plate on the table in front of her, and whispered something about her looking very nice. Wilhemina acknowledged the compliment with a nod.

She played with her food until you coaxed her into actually eating some of it, and then you took your turn in the bathroom while she did the dishes.

In front of the bed you hesitated. You didn’t know whether Wilhemina wanted you in there with her, or if she’d rather you slept on the couch, or worse, if she wanted you to drive back to your place. Would she play by the rules? You eyed her as she walked around the room rearranging things and closing the shutters, and planted herself across the bed from you.

Your gazes met. You were trying your best not to chew on your lower lip. Wilhemina’s fingers were fidgeting with the hem of her nightdress. For a few, painfully long seconds it went on like this, until Wilhemina lifted the sheet and lay down underneath it.

You waited for her to settle and then, deciding her silence was an invitation, slipped under the sheet yourself.

Wilhemina reached out and turned off the bedside light.

Hoping you could fall asleep was stupid. Every inch of you was thrumming with nervousness. You wondered if Wilhemina could feel the quick beating of your heart, so loud it seemed to make the whole bed shake.

What time was it? You had no idea. You forced yourself to lie as still as possible, with your hands folded on your chest and your eyes fixed on the ceiling. When you couldn’t stop yourself anymore, you turned on your side, facing Wilhemina.

Blue light seeped through the shutters behind her. So the sun had barely set. What had Wilhemina been thinking, when she had closed the shutters and seen the light still clinging to the sky? Had she ignored it, resigned on playing pretend, that this was a happy night with bright twinkling stars in the sky and on her left the pale halo heralding the rising of the moon? That she wasn’t bleeding inside but warm, and that sleep would find her and press a kiss to her eyelids like a gentle lover.

Wilhemina’s eyes were wide open, shining in the dark. You raised a hand, hesitated.

“Can I touch you?” you breathed.

Something growled. You were not playing by the rules. In this ideal world you and Wilhemina had silently agreed to live in, there was no need for asking. Permission was always granted. Your fingers were to press against her skin freely and there was no need for checking because everything was always fine. This was how you were supposed to play. Cheaters would be kicked out of the room.

Wilhemina shifted, settled on her side, facing you. The distance between you two was small, less than the length of your hand.

She nodded.

Your fingers grazed her shoulder first, a safe place, before moving until they reached the edge of her nightdress. They jumped over her neck to land on her chin, and then spread out, cupping her cheek.

Wilhemina leaned into your touch and let out a sigh at the familiar softness and warmth of you. She made a movement as if to shift closer to you, stopped herself. For a moment you simply stroked her cheek, and then you continued your exploration of her, hand slipping down her chin to brush past her collarbone and down between her breasts.

There had been nothing sexual about your caress, but Wilhemina reached for your hand anyway and kept it still over her heart. Her eyes met yours, sad and ashamed.

“I know, baby,” you breathed. You offered her a smile you weren’t sure she could see in the dark. Laced your fingers with hers, gave her hand a squeeze. “I won’t, I promise.”

Wilhemina bit her lower lip to stop it from quivering. You pressed a gentle kiss on her cheek. “You’re okay, baby, you’re okay,” you breathed against her skin, before pressing another kiss on it.

The thing growled again. In the ideal world you had agreed to live in, it scolded, your hand should have slipped lower and moans should already be filling the room. But in this ideal world, one more piece of Wilhemina would be breaking, and one piece of you would start to rot.

Wilhemina draped one arm over your waist, and when you felt her tentatively nudge your collarbone with her nose, before nestling her face in the crook of your neck, when you felt her shift so that her thigh pressed against yours, nightdress riding up and her skin warm and soft, you closed your eyes to block out anything that wasn’t her and you, and the space your bodies occupied.

And how it made your heart swell, the trust her actions told of. Pressing herself against you like that, and trusting that you would be true to your words, and not seek to take it further. Or was her need for affection so strong she was willing to take the risk? You decided to believe in the former.

Your hand that had been on her heart slid up her chest and underneath her nightdress to feel more of her. You buried your face in her hair.

“I don’t mind whether we make love or not,” you whispered. You cleared your throat and said it louder, in case she hadn’t heard the first time, or had refused to hear. “I really don’t. What matters to me is that you’re happy – or at least, that you feel safe.”

Your hand started tracing lazy circles on her skin. Wilhemina’s lips pushed against the skin of your neck, nose blowing hot air on it.

“If I reacted the way I did yesterday,” you pushed on, “it was only because I got mad at what you said, and because I knew you were holding something back from me.” You swallowed, drew a nervous shape across her shoulder. “Sometimes… sometimes it gets so hard for me to control my anger. It’s not an excuse, I’m just telling you so you understand what happened. I know I never should have reacted the way I did.”

You pulled away then, determined to have her look at you before you uttered the next words. You had forgotten it was very likely she wouldn’t be able to see your expression in the dark. It seemed to you honesty shone of its own light.

Slowly, her eyes opened to meet yours. You cupped her cheek and offered her a smile. It was quivering, burdened by guilt and remorse, but it was there still.

“I’m so sorry,” you said, loudly, because you felt a whisper wouldn’t be enough. You wanted to scream the words out.

Wilhemina nodded, made to hide, to bury her face in your chest but you gently held her head up so she could look at the honesty in your eyes. Her teeth sank into her lower lip in a vain attempt to stop herself from breaking down, but her chin was trembling in your palm, and soon enough you felt tears slip down between your fingers.

Angrily you pushed your forehead against hers. “You’re not inadequate,” you breathed. “You’re not inadequate. Do you hear me?” She nodded, a sob pushing out of her just as her lips caught yours so it petered out in your mouth. You kissed her back, spoke the next words between her teeth. “I don’t think I’d ever been made love to before you. It felt nice, but you… every time you as much as touch me I feel a thousand raptures. Do you hear me?”

Her tongue pushed inside your mouth, despair making her too brutal, and she was still choking on tears and sobbing into your mouth as her hands grabbed at every part of you that she could reach. You kissed her back, hands holding her waist, until she had bit and nipped your lips swollen and stolen all the air from you and you had stolen all the air from her, and you both pulled away at the same time, breathless.

You both stayed silent as you caught your breath, blowing air into each other’s mouth. One of your hands let go of her hip to swipe at her cheeks and stroke across her brow. Wilhemina sniffed, pressed her forehead against yours again, and let go of a long, hot, moist breath.

And then, because you had agreed to tell her your failing, she agreed to share her secret with you.

She held your face in her hands and tilted it so her mouth was brushing your ear, and you reached for the sheet and pulled it over your heads to hide from the game masters and because it had always been easier for Wilhemina to communicate in complete darkness. When no one could see her and her failure, and she could stop performing for there was no one to intimidate.

She described harmless things first, the color of the dress the woman had been wearing, how the man’s arm had been wrapped around her waist. He’d been wearing glasses and her hair had been tied up.

Then she said how, when she had looked up at them, they had been laughing, their heads almost touching, and how the woman’s eyes had scanned her face first, and then the man’s. And how the woman had nodded at something the man had whispered in her ear, her lips twitching with amusement.

They had passed her and they had walked on and out of her life. And she had walked on and out, too, but her steps had faltered.

And she shouldn’t have let it, she whispered in your ear, as the air beneath the sheet grew warmer, she really shouldn’t have let it, but the laughter had sunk into her and crawled all the way up and down her, hurting everywhere – except her heart. Her heart had gone numb to protect itself.

She’d carried the weight of the laughter crawling and hurting inside her and she’d carried on her day, completing all the tasks she had had to do, and then she’d driven home, taken off her coat and accepted the cup of tea you had slipped into her hands. The laughter had still been weighing her down when you’d told her about your day and she’d tried but failed to listen, and later when she’d helped you cook dinner, forced her food to stay down, let you neglect the dishes and fled to the bathroom where she’d locked the door behind her.

She had locked the door behind her, she confessed in a small voice. Because she had been craving for solitude, because your fond smiles and worried looks and tender touches had hurt her as much as the laughter had.

And then in bed you had pressed yourself against her with a renewed promise of love and tenderness and her heart had roared back to life, crying out that this was too much, that it couldn’t handle any more. It revolted against love and desired to burn itself out. It shall step through fire and burn down to ashes and it would not allow anyone to save it.

You let her speak. Your throat was too tight to let out words anyway. Until Wilhemina sniffed and said she knew there would be more nights and days like this, and that was why she had given you Lily’s phone number – at that, your voice forced its way out to growl that you would never, it would kill you and even if you could bear it, it would kill her too and that you would never allow.

Wilhemina lowered her head and sobbed.

After you two had emerged from under the sheet, you got up to get her and you some water, and opened the window to air the room. Outside it was finally night. You looked at the dark, silent street and wondered if tonight could still be saved, after all; if it could still be made into something Wilhemina and you wouldn’t be afraid or ashamed to remember.

But then, as you lingered at the window and Wilhemina called out your name, sleepy and soft, and you turned to see her lying on her side with her arms opened, you realized tonight had already been saved. So you quickly closed the window and crossed the room to her, and breathed a “Thank you” into her hair as her arms closed around you and pulled you close.

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#sarah paulson #sarah paulson x reader #wilhemina venable x reader #wilhemina venable #ahs #ahs imagines #fics

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depressedacadamia · 3 years ago

Text

Dimples

Summary: Apparently Nico has dimples and Will did not know.

A/N: Heheheee, motherfuckers my exams are in a week and a half and I haven't revised shit. Instead, I'm writing these. Wish me luck, this might be the only fic I post for the next 2 weeks but if you're lucky, I might post pt 2 for 'How to passive aggressively say Fuck you in flower'. Toodle pip and <3 from mee!

Extra edit: I forgot it was solangelo week, woops.

Read on A03

Nico Di Angelo was not known for smiling. He was not known for grinning or laughing. He was however, known for snarling, sarcastic, outdated remarks and terrifying people to the point where they’d rather face death itself than face him and his wrath.

So of course, Percy and every logical being would avoid him at all costs when he was in one of his ‘moods’. These so-called ‘moods’ referred to when Nico seemed particularly dangerous, like when his eyes had a dangerous glower to them that hinted he enjoyed threatening others a tad too much- in fact, so much so that Leo had suggested that Nico may be a sadist (That hadn’t gone well for Leo, to say the very least).

But of course, William Andrew Solace was in no way a logical being nor was he very fearful of Nico’s alternating and very much violent auras. Now, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing necessarily, in fact, it was the very thing that had started their relationship and while everybody thought Will was insensitive with his historical jokes he made towards Nico, Nico greatly appreciated being able to understand something from his time.

Will, on several occasions, related him to Captain America in Marvel's Avengers.

So when Nico, in his terrifying rage, stormed into the infirmary, Percy wasn’t sure what he was about to witness. Were these two having an argument? Nico looked like he was going to set the infirmary ablaze or perhaps bury it 6 feet under- it was truly the unpredictability that created the suspense and fear.

“Where are they?” Nico’s voice was calm, cold but sharp. His words felt like the gentle, smooth slant of a knife, apply pressure and you get cut. Nobody dared to answer. The infirmary’s silence seemed like one of lambs, too scared to speak out until another leader did. Whether they expected Nico to simply leave if no one answered, they certainly did not expect him to ask again.

“Where. Are. They?” He punctuated his words, his voice combined with a deadly hunger that could only be satisfied with death.

The room felt like a cave. The only words being echoed back were Nico’s own words, bouncing off the smooth walls of the infirmary. The corners seemed dark, the white presence of the infirmary slowly being poisoned. It seemed like fate sealed their hands- they were like lambs to the slaughter: helpless.

“WHERE ARE THEY!” Nico roared. This time, he did not wait for a response. He took a small glimpse at the camper in front of him, who was obviously avoiding his gaze, and the next thing the kid knew was that he was pinned to the wall with a metre of stygian iron under his neck. The kid hyperventilated and in a moment of sheer panic and pure fear, blurted,

“I don’t know where they are! “

Nico, holding the camper up with one hand, shoved him into the wall again. “ But you hurt them anyway?”

The camper was completely clueless but he wasn’t stupid. Simply denying whatever Nico was accusing him of would increase Nico’s rage and that could lead everyone down a very dark road.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to hurt them! I swear...” He started to sob. “ I swear it was an accident!”

“You hurt them! That isn’t an accident. You will pay for your crimes. I swear I will-”

“-Dear god, Nico what the hell?” A voice of pure confusion entered the infirmary. Nico, on recognising the voice, felt his head snap backwards-trying to find the course of the voice. There on the other side of the infirmary, with his leg in a cast, stood Will solace, still as unfashionable as ever.

Nico almost teleported to Will, considering how fast he appeared by his side. “ Are you okay? It’s okay, I found out who did it and-”

“-Jesus, Stalin, calm down there.” Will looked at the terrified boy who was in tears. “This kid knows nothing. He wasn’t even there. Were you just putting on some show trials?”

Nico had to resist the twitch in his lips at the communism jokes. Ever since Will had found out that Nico’s weakness was communism jokes, he had been exploiting it, just like the working class were exploited, and using it to his own advantage.

“Wait, this kid wasn’t involved?” Nico looked at all the terrified people in the infirmary, still frozen to their spots, waiting for the go sign for them to continue with their lives.

Will waved his hand. “Go ahead, continue with your business. He will be on his best behaviour now that I’m here.”

“Uh, says who?”

“Says my broken leg.”

On the mention of a broken leg, Nico’s worry instantly returned. His hand reached out to touch Will’s face, in a gesture of affection before quickly snatching it away. Will reached for his hand, took it in his own and intertwined their fingers as in to say It’s okay, they support us. It’s okay, I love you and you love me. It’s okay, I’m not ashamed of being in love with you.

Nico appreciated the gesture and once again, fought the urge to give in to the overwhelming desire to smile at his perfect boyfriend.

“Are you okay? Can you show me your leg? What happened? Why can’t you heal it?” The words began flying out of Nico’s mouth, the concern on his face unhideable. His eyebrows were cutely creased together and he kept on placing his hands all over Will- it was driving him crazy.

“Calm down there, communist. This is my injury, not yours.” Will joked, trying to hide his blush- truth be told, he did not want to tell Nico the real reason behind how he broke his leg because it was honestly the most ridiculous reason one may ever hear in their entire life.

Nico let out a little snort of laughter after hearing another communist joke but was careful to keep it on the downlow. He noticed that Will was being quite indirect and avoiding his gaze: he knew that could only mean one thing.

“What did you do to break your leg?” Nico smirked wickedly, understanding that Will had, once again, been quite idiotic.

Will, gasping in mock offense but also quite embarrassed by how well his own boyfriend knew him, let out a bubble of nervous daughter. “ Hahaa, what do you mean? I broke my leg the same way everyone else does...”

“... which is?”

Due to the vast amount of broken legs he had healed, Will actually knew how to answer this question. “ Through sports.”

“Sports?” Nico snorted. “ You? Sports? Have you ever even run in your entire life? I swear the only thing you do is heal and read. Maybe sleep on the offhand you listen to me.”

“You can’t talk over there!”

“Just tell me how you broke your leg, for the love of the Gods!”

“I was having a competition with Percy for who could heal faster.”

“You were doing what?”

“A competition Nico, have you ever heard of one? Normally the losers forget they exist so I wouldn't be surprised that you had never heard of one-”

“No, I know what a competition is, you idiot. What I don't know is, why on earth you were having a regeneration competition with Percy of all the demigods you could have chosen, you chose the one with the ability to heal themselves as well?”

Will pouted slightly, his eyebrows making a small frown. “I would have thought you would be halfway through murdering Percy right about now.”

“If Percy managed to win, then honestly, you kinda deserved it.”

“I thought you liked me!”

“I thought my boyfriend wasn’t an idiot!”

“Technically I won because Percy was too baby-ish to break his own leg!”

Nico took a very long pause. Slowly, he began shaking his head, from side to side. The expression on his face was illegible but eventually it morphed into one of laughter. His laugh was rich and so was the expression on his face. His lips were curled upwards, his eyes were creasing, with long beautiful dimples on both sides of his face- as clear as the moon on a clear night.

The infirmary was silent. They simply stared at the beautiful angel who graced the place with their voice. They were horrified and in awe. Nico Di Angelo was capable of smiling! He was capable of laughing!

It was a fucking miracle.

“What did I tell you!” Percy yelled, throwing his arm over Annabeth who simply sighed. “I fucking told you! I knew he had dimples!”

Will, slightly stunned, simply took Nico’s face in both his hands. His crystal blue eyes were wide open and to Nico it looked like the ocean was inviting him to take a dive into int’s complex and unknown depths.

Into the unknooooowwwwwnnnnnn.

He cursed himself for that being his first thought. He then cursed Will for making him watch Frozen because it was apparently culturally inappropriate to not have seen it. Then he cursed himself again for cursing Will.

“Holy shit,” Will whispered as he stared into his boyfriends grinning face. “Holy fuck Nico, you never told me you had dimples.”

“Language.”

“Holy shit, holy fucking hell. You cannot smile at me like that Nicolo Di Angelo and expect me to keep my language appropriate. Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror?”

“Calm down,” Nico groaned, throwing his head backwards. He could feel his palms getting sweaty from Will’s words- what could he say, he was slightly embarrassed.

“Wait!” Will cried. “ Do it again. Smile again!”

Nico gave a sultry smirk and Will whacked his arm. “ I asked you to smile at me, not seduce me. Smile!”

“Who wouldn't be happy to be seduced by me?”

“Just smile, please!”

Nico sighed before looking at his gorgeous boyfriend. His eyes darted down at the cast around the leg and immediately Nico remembered the cause of injury. He started laughing, his lips stretching into a genuine smile and his dimples flashing all across his face. Will, still holding his boyfriend's face, couldn’t help himself as he brought their lips together.

Will was so used to feeling Nico’s smile when they kissed so when he brought their lips together, he didn't know what he was expecting. It felt different for some reason, it felt more.. It felt better, it felt like he was getting a new piece of Nico. Feeling Nico smile and seeing him smile were two different things and now that he could picture Nico’s smile as he kissed his smiling lips, Will thought he’d explode from happiness.

Will pulled away quickly, his hand still cemented to Nico’s grinning face. He had pulled away just so he could see Nico’s smile and more importantly his dimples again.

“What?” Nico’s innocent voice and grin combined confirmed for Will that if he died on that very spot, he would have died a happy man.

“Holy shit, you’re the cutest person ever.”

And with that, he brought their lips together again.

Neither of them noticed Thalia and Annabeth sulking as they paid up their debts to Percy from losing the bet.

#will solace #nico di angelo #solangelo #will solace fanfic #nico di angelo fanfic #solangelo fanfic #solangelo week #solangeloweek2021 #will x nico #nico x will #Nico x will fluff #Nico x Will fanfiction #nico x will fanfic #percy jackson #pjo #thalia grace #annabeth chase #hoo #percy jackson fanfic

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