#at the moment he is literally watching paint dry outside

[innercircleminiatures]

The seven year old is hard at work on his Terminators. You can see the remains of his first wash spill on the corner of the cardboard there

[itsoutrageouss]

Hey author!

I was wondering if u could do some heavy angst

Of reader getting rejected by simon but uk

We all need a happy ending 😄

Ps: u are amazing, love you ♥️

Angsty simon ‘ghost’ riley rejecting you that turns very cutesy at the end…

──୨ৎ──

He was sending mixed signals just about everyday. Whenever he got injured he would bark at the nurses that he only wanted you to tend his wounds. It would make your mouth dry and your hands clammy, giving the wide eyed nurses an apologetic look before getting to work.

He’d follow your every movement with his eyes, groan purposefully when you prodded the tender skin. You’d blush and he’d chuckle dryly, smiling under the mask at the high he got from watching you squirm.

Then anywhere outside the infirmary he would barely cast you a glance, his affections put aside completely. You’d try to catch his gaze, sit down next to him at dinner but he’d have his back turned, attention diverted to anyone but you. You’d get teary eyed and leave early. He didn’t notice that either.

This time he had been unlucky with a knife, slicing into the skin of his lower abdomen. You were there the second he came in, bed creaking under his weight. “I’m gonna have to get you to take off your shirt, Lieutenant,” you said, eyes cowering from his. His eyes smiled as he stripped down from his gear, letting it thud to the ground before he removed his last layer, muscles rippling with the effort. Even his mask came off- in the privacy behind the curtains. You blinked at the ceiling and only looked down when you had to. The sharp contours of his V-line caught your gaze and you followed it down to the diagonal slash.

“Doll I could really use your help” he mused when you froze up. Your eyes snapped to his, a little wider and glossier than before.

“Yes- yes of course” you stammered, moving around him in a flash as you got to work, cleaning the wound. It made him suck in his stomach, muscles tightening and rippling under your fingers. Your own stomach seemed to do the same and you blinked rapidly, trying to ignore the hard, warm planes of him under your fingertips.

“You’re pretty when you’re flustered. You know that?” His gruff voice said. Your fingers halted, eyes slowly gliding up to his, searching for something. Honesty? Was he being real or was he messing with you?

It ached to know that in a few hours he would treat you with complete indifference. You didn’t reply. He huffed out in amusement, eyes burning into your skull.

“You don’t believe me?” He tilted his head slightly. You put the sedatives down and turned to him, forcing your spine to be straight. The second you really looked at him though, it all fell to pieces. His eyes were hooded, a little bloodshot as they traced you confidently. Skin was taught over his bulky muscles, breathing heavily. He had a happy trail that led down behind his pants- your eyes lingered there for a little too long.

“You think I’m pretty?” You whispered, voice far softer than you would’ve liked. Your nerve system felt like it was being charred, simmering from head to toe.

His eyes, surrounded by dried war paint, creased with a smile. “F’course I do.” He said, all gravel in his voice.

Then you took the leap. Carpe diem or whatever because maybe what it took for him to really notice you was a push. He clearly enjoyed looking at you. That was enough in this moment.

You stepped between his thighs where he sat on the bed, fingers wrapping around his neck as you dragged him closer and pressed your lips to his, sucking in a sharp breath as you closed your eyes so tightly you saw stars. He didn’t move for a second. Then his lips moved in tandem with yours, warm and slightly chapped.

But it was over in a heartbeat. He pulled back, grabbing your shoulders in large hands and pushing you slightly away from him- literally keeping you at arms length.

“Don’t do that, Doll” He said, his expression completely unreadable. Your eyes went wide as they darted rapidly between his.

“What?” Was all you could say, because his expression gave away absolutely nothing and it was driving you insane, your heart beating like a war drum in your chest. So hard it hurt.

“Let’s keep it professional, yeah?”

It ripped into you. You wanted to double over in anger, hurt, mortifying embarrassment. Silence wrecked the little bubble you had created for yourselves.

“You know what? Fuck you. Actually fuck you, Lieutenant.” The words bubbled past your lips with no inhibitions, eyes narrowed but in an entirely different way than before. How dare he use you for his shameless flirting and then- did he think you were some kind of toy to mess with?

“Is it because you’re a lieutenant? Is that why you think you can behave like this?” You whispered, not fuming but genuinely wondering where this audacity came from.

His eyes actually widened and you found satisfaction in being the one to fluster him for once. It made your chin lift itself a littler higher despite the warm tears that prickled at your eyes and blurred his hunky figure.

“No- I-“ he was rendered speechless which was a rare occasion. His shoulders slumped.

“You can fix that wound yourself.” you turned on your heel and scurried off, hiding the tears by looking down as you passed the nurses.

──୨ৎ──

You had avoided him for a week now. Getting other nurses to treat him even when he yelled that he wanted you. Because clearly that wasn’t true.

It had gotten you fairly unpopular in your workplace because now he was impossible to treat. It didn’t matter.

Your body still betrayed you; every time he was there he seemed to reach down your throat and twist your precious heart as tight as he could. He seemed angry. Which you didn’t understand because you were certainly the one who was right to feel that way- not him. But he scowled all day. At you. At anyone. Lost his temper at the most ordinary things.

Today you were asked to accompany their mission, waiting in the medical truck in case things went haywire. You had geared up; bulletproof vest, thick boots, gun at your hip. But that didn’t help much when an explosion went off.

You couldn’t see it, safely (you thought) hidden away in the truck as you followed along on the radio. It was a blast of heat, blast of pressure and a ringing in your ears that was deafening. Your head hit something, taking blunt force that made the sky spin. It took you a long time to recognise him as his shadow eclipsed the rest of the world away.

“Hey- doll can you hear me? Please- fuck-“ Ghosts words were far off, like you were underwater. It felt peaceful in some sick way, everything slowed down.

But for Simon this was anything but fucking peaceful. His precious, precious doll was hurt and he felt like the only one who could help you was you. He’d never felt so vulnerable, weak and useless and it angered him even more than he thought possible as he lifted your body, clutching it too tightly as he ran.

It was a blur to him as well as you. He called out, roared for someone to help. Got into the back of one of the cars, eyes never leaving your face as it rushed off. Your eyes were almost closed, rolling around your skull, dirt clinging to your delicate face.

Delicate. You were so delicate and he was so scared to ruin you. His roughness would overshadow all the softness you possessed and in his own stupid fears he pushed you away. He pushed you away and now you were breaking anyways.

He never left you. The nurses had gotten used to his barking, leaving him to sit by your bedside and clutch your hand in his, engulfing it. His forehead rested against your thigh as he tried to breathe right. He somehow felt this was all his fault. Maybe if he hadn’t been such a dick-

“Lieutenant?” Your voice was hoarse, quiet as a mouse as you slowly blinked down at him, wincing a little at the ache in your body. The chair scraped off the linoleum floor as he stood up and hunched over you, hands covering the sides of your face.

“Doll- you- I’m so sorry” he whispered, a knot in his throat that he wasn’t used to and didn’t know how to speak around. The relief that flooded him was like cool water over his burning body.

You pouted- frowning a little. “Hm?” Was all you could say, trying to gather your bearings as it all slowly came back to you. Your gaze shifted and he noticed the second you remembered.

“Oh.” Your voice was lower and wracked with dull disappointment. He shook his head rapidly.

“I shouldn’t have- I didn’t wanna ruin- I mean you’re so precious and pretty and soft and im-“ he tried to explain, wincing at how stupid he sounded.

“You’re afraid that you’re too harsh for someone like me.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement as you tried piecing it all together.

His heart stuttered because you understood him. Even through his stupid actions and his half said sentences you hit the nail. He blushed. Ripped the mask off.

“Yes.” He nodded slowly, cradling your face as his eyes flickered all over your face, still subtly checking that you were okay. It was the most earnest expression you’d seen from him.

“Stupid. Stupid reason” you mumbled under your breath, still a little dazed as your face scrunched up. He laughed. A real, hearty laugh.

“Yes it is. I didn’t mean to play with you like tha’. It was selfish.“ His calloused thumbs stroked over the softness of your cheeks, wiping away the dirt.

“You’re not being very professional, Lieutenant” you mused, a small smile tugging at your lips. Barely there. But his attention was stolen by you and he noticed every little thing.

“No im not. Don’ wanna be right now” he snickered, but his eyes were still wracked with guilt and concern. His warm breath fanned over your face, you hadn’t noticed how close he was to you.

“If you kiss me you better mean it” I whispered, a sliver of uncertainty lacing into my voice, hooded eyes softening. His jaw ticked. He deserved that. So much. And he didn’t feel like he deserved you but the thought of letting this fall to the ground because of his own fears was unbearable. He wasn’t supposed to fear anything. He sees blood, terror and violence all the time. And it only took one pretty girl for him to falter.

The kiss wasn’t hard or sudden. It was slow, his lips brushing over yours for a torturous amount of time before he licked over your bottom lip, tasting you on his tongue. He pressed his lips to yours. They were warm, wet as you allowed his tongue in, stroking it with precision, licking into your mouth and sucking on your tongue like he had all the time in the world. It warmed you up like a wildfire. His brows scrunched as he nearly whimpered into your mouth, inhaling like it was the first breath he’d taken in a week. That’s what it felt like to him.

You bit his bottom lip slightly before pulling away, giving it a daring second to see if he would push you away. He didn’t. His hands flexed against your cheek, fingers twirling the hair around your ear absentmindedly. “M’ gonna make it up to you.” He said determinedly. You couldn’t smother your smile.

“But for gods sake don’t let any of the nurses treat me again. Only you.” he groaned, dead serious. You responded by tugging on his hair, to get his lips back on yours.

[folkloresthings]

NORTHANGER ABBEY — send a muse + your favourite trope and i’ll write a drabble/blurb.

This with oscar and the best friends to lovers trope because it seems so fitting !

Also congratulations on 1k followers , I recently found your blog and I love your writing so much 🥰

him and this trope??? perfection.

ALWAYS. ❨ oscar piastri x reader ❩

the gods had been on your side the day you met oscar. or, to put it literally, lando norris had. you’d known the english driver a few years, through mutual friends and whatnot. he had been the one to introduce you to oscar, just after his moving from australia to london. his apartment wasn’t far from your own, though his was much nicer than your student—loan rented studio.

fulfilling your promise to show him around the city, the pair of you became inseparable. from picnics on the heath to nights out in soho to sitting on the roof of your apartment counting the stars. you could talk for hours and hours and never run out of things to say. he listened to your rants about school and you listened to his worries about racing.

for a whole year, oscar was your second half. never once did anything other than pure platonic love slip in — hell, you’d even set him up with one or two of your girlfriends. the notion that you and oscar could ever be more hadn’t crossed your mind at all. at least, it hadn’t before.

he was supposed to be in belgium. you were graduating university the same day he was supposed to be racing around a track hours away from you. but the ceremony had just ended and there he was, stood outside the hall waiting for you.

“what the hell are you doing here?” you squealed, gown flowing behind you as you ran towards him. oscar laughed gleefully, arms outstretched and waiting for you to jump into them. he held you tightly, even after spinning you around, strong arms around your waist.

“i couldn’t miss your big day, could i?” he hummed, watching you pull back and grin up at him. you looked so happy, he was sure he’d made the right decision to fly back. “i’m so proud of you.”

“thank you.” you softened, cheeks warming up when he reached behind him to pull a bouquet of tulips from his bag. glancing back to where your friends were stood, you beckoned one of them over. “come on, we need a picture.”

handing the girl your phone, you position yourself by oscar’s side. one arm around his waist, the other cradling your flowers. oscar mimicks your movements, his hand on your hip tugging you closer to his side. for a moment, you feel your heart flutter. it’s a totally new sensation, one you’d never felt for oscar before. you falter, nearly forgetting to smile until your friend reminds you.

ten minutes later, your little photoshoot is over, leaving you to take a quick swipe through the photos with oscar leaning over your shoulder. you find your favourite immediately. your head was leaning on his shoulder, graduation cap comically placed atop his head instead of yours. your smile is wide, but his is soft. he’s not looking at the camera, like you are, but down at your content expression.

you recognise the look on his face in an instant. you’d seen it before, your friends and their boyfriends. lando and luisa. but not on oscar — never on oscar.

“i like that one. send it to me, will you?” oscar murmurs, fixing your cap back on your head. you nod, throat dry and fixated on his hands in your hair. “i have to fly back tomorrow for the race so i’m treating you to a celebratory dinner; that little italian you love near london bridge.”

your chest tightens with fondness, never happier to have to cancel plans with your other friends. he’d come all this way just for you, booked your favourite restaurant just for you, skipped his practice race just for you. he’d brought a whole new bucket of feelings for you to deal with, and you had no idea how to.

“y/n? you okay?” oscar had obviously caught onto your spacing out, concern painting his pretty face. god, he’d never been pretty before.

possessed by this new crush, your body sprung before your mind could and you were kissing him. not kissing, per day. but you were up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips against his and jumping back before either one of you could do any more.

“fuck. shit, sorry,” you ramble out, cheeks burning and hands twitching nervously by your side. “i don’t know why i did that.”

you stare hard at the ground beneath you, desperate for it to open up and eat you whole. the pit in your stomach grows heavier and heavier, the sudden realisation that you may have just ruined the best thing to happen to you in the past year.

oscar’s looking at you in surprise when you finally gather the courage to peek up at him. your face twists, abhorring the quiet that’s gathered over the two of you. all of your classmates are celebrating around you, taking pictures and laughing, unaware of your life falling apart.

“i’ve waited ten months for you to do that,” oscar finally speaks, and he’s smiling. your eyes widen, unsure if the words were hallucinations or not.

“what?”

oscar grins, striding forward to cup his palms around your cheeks, and there’s that look again. that look that, apparently, you’ve been missing for a year. “i’ve been in love with you since the weekend you came to monza last year. lando told me to make a move but i didn’t want to risk losing you. you’re everything to me.”

your stomach twists again, but in the best possible way. pressing your hands to his chest, you pull him down to another kiss. a proper kiss, of course, spilling out everything past soft lips and interrupting giggles. all this time, how could you not know?

“about damn time,” you hear one of your friends jest behind you. you turn red again, burying your embarrassment in the soft fabric of oscar’s shirt. he doesn’t fluster at all, basking in the pride of being able to hold you in his arms without question.

“come back with me to belgium?” he whispers against your hair, unwilling to part with you just yet. you nod against his chest, not caring if your makeup smudges. all you care about is him.

“promise me one thing?” you asks, fingers winding through his. oscar nods, head cocking to the side. “we’ll still be best friends? talk to each other about everything? even if we kiss sometimes.”

oscar laughs, pressing his lips to your temple endearingly. “always.”

[ephemerensis]

Here You’re Safe // Joel Miller x GN! Reader

another platonic gender neutral dad joel moment. TRIGGER WARNING DEATH like of a major character please proceed with caution !!! anyways this took me so long skkshd and the ending is rushed and rlly bad im sorry its 2 am :/ not proofread ALSO!! if i published a poetry book would yall read it :/

—

“Anything bad down there?” Ellie jutted a finger towards an empty hall, lined with lockers.

Outside, the wind screamed its grievances, making the old building creak whenever a particularly cruel gust swept by. It was winter in the middle of the country, and as much as the three of you adored the idea of camping outside, the snow violently pouring from the skies argued otherwise.

Thankfully, Joel found a school building nearby before the storm. A high school, it looked like. On the way in, you saw traces of the treacherous cordyceps roots intertwining through the doorway and walls. But you didn’t have much of a choice with the weather, and they were dry. Hardly anyone lived in the area to get infected anyways, and winter seemed to slow them down; the infected. Not the fungi itself. It grew just fine. Thrived even, in colder climates.

“Just you.” You bit back a chortle as Ellie scrunched her nose, almost peeved.

“You know that joke gets fucking old, Joel. I’m not even in there yet.”

The burly man just shrugged, adjusting his rifle strap as he slowed his steps to a halt, “isn’t a joke.”

“He can’t help it, he’s like eighty. Can’t teach an old dog new tricks,” You shrugged your pack off your shoulders, setting it on the floor to get situated for the time being. The man just grunted in response, glancing around the building before taking a seat at one of the long tables that littered the room. They were askew; clearly a struggle took place there sometime, but judging by the copious amount of dust that coated the place it couldn’t have been all too recent. Joel was sure it was clear, otherwise they would’ve heard you by now. The school wasn’t all that large after all.

“Whatever,” piped Ellie, rolling her eyes. She reached for your sleeve, tugging you towards the hall. “Cmon! I wanna explore a little!” Giggling, you let her lead you off, throwing a glance back to Joel before the two of you rounded the corner. His brows were deep set, almost furrowed above his eyes, as they usually were; but he looked about as relaxed as you imagined the man could manage.

“Hey!” he called after you. “It’s mostly dry, but you watch your step, understand? Haven’t cleared it completely.”

The two of you hardly heard him, though, distracted instead by the rows of little blue locked cabinets you’d only read about in passing. A lot of the world before was a wonder after growing up in the QZ. It felt like rediscovering a myth.

“This is so fucking cool!” Ellie ran her hand along a row of them, rattling the metal doors against their frame. It was a wonder they weren’t rusted after all these years, but they seemed almost untouched if not a little dusty.

“Didn’t you go to high school? In the QZ?” You didn’t get to. Before Joel and Tess you were a well kept secret, and after that didn’t change much either. They’d let you out as you pleased after awhile but you never went to school; ‘don’t need to be feeding you FEDRA propaganda,’ so they homeschooled you instead. Mostly Tess. Joel quipped in every now and then but he didn’t usually have the best wisdom to impart onto you. Aside from bedtime novels, that was always his specialty.

“Yeah but it was tiny. Just a gym and some classrooms.” Ellie had her head under a drinking fountain, staring at the pipes as she mashed the button. “This stuff is so metal, literally. It’s like your own little room at school!” Abandoning the fountain when no water emerged, she turned her attention back to the paint chipped lockers, “you think they left shit in here?”

“Like corny love letters maybe,” you tugged on one of locks to test it. It didn’t budge, as you’d assumed. Thoughts of life before were so enigmatic. They were more scared of the math test next class then when their next meal was gonna be. It almost made you jealous. It would if they weren’t probably dead. Better to grow up in hell then suddenly get thrust into it.

Behind you, metal squeaked as Ellie got one of them open, “Oh shit! Wait wait wait, Y/N check me out!” You turned around, lips pursed together in a crooked smile when you saw her. She’d found someone’s baseball cap and sunnies. Ellie flipped the bill back and slipped the sunglasses on, forcing a deeper voice as she swaggered in your direction. “Yooo what’s up bro, you going to my place tonight? Throwing a huge party!”

She pressed her hand into the locker, beside your head, leaning in. The moment your eyes locked eyes behind her darkened frames you both burst into laughter. Shaking your head, you took on a dumb expression before replicating her tone, “man, is Britney gonna be there? She’s a total babe!”

Ellie snorted, sending you both into another fit of toe curling laughter. It was all so absurd. You pushed off the locker when you’d regained your bearings, walking backwards as you tugged on the locks to see if any would pop.

“Is that really how they talked back then?”

Ellie shrugged, tugging on locks on the opposite wall as the two of you ventured forth. “Gotta be, that’s how it is in books.”

One of the locks you tugged on gave way, making you grin as you pried it open. Pulling out a binder, you thumbed through the pages before a little booklet caught your attention.

“Here, catch!” She caught it with ease as you tossed the comic book over.

“No way! Batman!” Ellie flipped through the pages with fervor, pausing in her pursuit down the hall. You, however, continued slowly wandering backwards.

You giggled, shaking your head at her glee.

A sickening crunch wiped the smile off your face.

Ellie gasped, staring at you with wide eyes as you muffled a scream. Looking down towards the source of the noise, you see it.

The semblance of a hand disintegrated under your foot. The body it belonged to seemingly dried out long ago, pressed flat against the wall of lockers it clung to.

The both of you stared a moment, as you slowly backed away in relief. Until you saw the tendrils lurking in the undergrowth, reaching towards you. Worse still, the rumbling sound that suddenly emerged from the upper floor made you blood run cold.

Shit.

Ellie saw it too, bolting first but you were quick to follow.

“Joel!” You called, turning the corner, almost colliding with him. “We have to run!”

“Y/N! Ellie! What’s going on?” The man was already ready, bags slung over his shoulder with a look of bewilderment embedded on his features.

Ellie pushed Joel forward, “Not fucking dry!” The three of you ran, making your way back the way you came. The thundering sounds of footsteps hitting hardwood grew nearer. Joel lead the way, rounding every corner with his shotgun raised.

“Why didn’t they hear us when we came in?” You choked out in a panicked whisper. Normally they came bolting at any noise you offered.

“It’s winter, were probably huddled to keep the hosts alive. Mushrooms can take the cold, but the bodies can’t.” Joel whispered back. The timbre in his voice was almost enough to soothe you, he sounded more tired than distressed as he pressed on.

“What do we do?” Ellie piped.

“Gotta get outta here first.” The three of you cleared another corner, sprinting down a hall. A violent thud against one of the classroom doors made you lose your footing, sending you plummeting towards the ground. You gasped as three runners pounded aggressively against the door, piling and clawing at the ancient thing long enough for the rusted hinges to give way.

“Shit!” Somewhere out of the corner of your eye you see Ellie pull out a knife as the three infected tumbled forward. They piled on top of each other, all scrambling to gain their footing and lunge at the nearest person in the room; you. You shuffled panickedly backwards, working to get up and kick the topmost one off your leg.

Ellie stabs one in the head, making the arm fall limp and successively freeing you. You managed to stand upright, the other two still clawing but trapped under the weight of the first. Joel fires a bullet, ceasing another one’s movement as they three of you back away from them.

Before he can shoot the third, the rumbling gets louder.

You’re all sprinting before you can fully gain your bearings. The burn in your lungs was starting to settle in, but the echos of clicks and groans mixed with the pummeling of foot steps filling the halls kept you motivated. Your heart beat so quickly in your chest, you thought it might burst out.

The doors leading out were in sight, though. The wind that bashed against it was less than inviting, but beyond that— the worn mahogany didn’t budge when you shoved. Ellie reached it first, nearly falling as she bodied the double doors. The snow must’ve piled up outside.

A glance and a nod were all you needed before the three of you charged against it unanimously. Once. The doors shook and the sound resounded, seemingly worsening the agitation of the horde heading your way. A second charge made it squeak open, the biting wind flaying your skin as it made contact. The first of the infected rounded the corner, running at you full force before you’d managed a third charge against the doors.

They burst open, giving way to a powerful gust that hit you like a wall. Joel made sure you both got out before he followed, pressing against the wind to get away.

The infected fared worse. Clickers wouldn’t be able to hear with all this noise, and runners couldn’t manage to fight the wind. Most of then fell behind, the few that persisted did so slowly; sinking perpetually deeper in the plush snow in their pursuit.

Fighting against the biting currents of the frigid wind, the three of you paved a way into the tree line. Immersed in forest, the storm felt better. The trees blocked off some of the wind to an extent, and as far as you were concerned no infected seemed to have tagged along thus far.

The ache in your bones was starting to settle as the storm did. You were deep in the woods by then, no sense of direction or time— but with the way the moon hung so high in the sky it couldn’t have been close to daybreak. Joel slowed to a halt, nodding at both of you before you and Ellie breathed a collective sigh.

Ellie dropped her bag to the ground, almost falling over. Your knees felt a surge of weakness too. The snow looked so soft you could sleep in it. You bent forward, heaving, hands on your knees. If you were born before the whole thing went down the cardio alone would’ve been enough to kill you, it was much better to be born into the apocalypse, you decided.

Thankfully you didn’t leave too much behind. A sleeping bag and more cans of food than you would’ve liked were lost, but you’d find more food and you had two sleeping bags still.

Everything settled enough for you to hear again. Between gasps of breath you could hear the crickets chirping. It was almost tranquil.

Ellie seemed the first to recover, standing up and stretching her arms overhead before stilling. She stared ahead at nothing in particular, cogs processing the monstrosity you’d just escaped.

“That was fucking brutal.”

You looked up to offer a laugh. Her dry humor in times like these were enough to send you into orbit sometimes; but that was when you saw it.

The lone stalker that lurched for her before you could yell a warning. Before you could think you reacted. Grabbing Ellie by her collar, you yanked her forward and out of its path.

Instead, if collided with your arms pushing against its chest with all the force you had left in you to muster. It was stronger, of course, knocking you down almost immediately as it clawed at you. You screamed as it opened its mouth, long tendrils extending themselves towards you, wriggling morosely.

Ellie was still in the thralls of scrambling up, but Joel took notice. A well aimed bullet made it collapse. Joel rushed to help haul it off you as you screamed from the pure terror and adrenaline coursing through your veins, clamoring as far away from it as your shaken body could manage.

He looked at you with a concern you hardly recognized, not that you even looked to see it. Everyone was still a moment until Ellie said your name.

“Y/N…” she said it uncharacteristically nervously, a shaky finger pointed towards the shining red that stained the snow beneath your palm.

You raised your hand to your face, barely able to see in the moonlight, but the indentations of teeth on your marred flesh was unmistakable.

Ironically, your veins felt icier than the frost covered leaves as you stared at it; shell shocked.

This was never supposed to happen. You’d always made it through before, why now? Not you. It could never have been you.

Ellie fell to her knees, fists bunching the fabric of your shirt as she shook you, tears in her eyes threatening to fall. “Y/N what the fuck! Why’d you do that!”

“No. No no no,” you murmured.

“I’m immune!” She was screaming at you now. “I’m fucking immune! I would’ve been—“

The older man cut her off, pushing her hands off you but not with more force than was enough to make her release her grip. He looked at you with the same shock that gripped your eyes. His hands hovered you, hesitant, but the gentle movement broke your stupor. Looking up at him you quivered under the weight of it all, “Joel.”

He looked at you with something you couldn’t quite grasp. It was pity and shock and hurt and all of it but none of it. Somewhere in the confines of his empathy and loving was a deep rooted instinct to compartmentalize. What was done was done. But you needed him now. The bullet was shot, but the dust hadn’t settled.

“Joel, I’m so scared.” Tears were already streaming, and you knew he couldn’t do anything about it; both of you knew. But as his weighty arms wrapped taut around your shoulders, it was good enough a cure. You inhaled, letting his familiar burnt wood settle in your lungs as it’d done a thousand times before.

“Shh, shh. I know baby, I know.” His hand pat rhythmically against your spine.

It’s over. It’s really over.

That’s all you could think. Behind Joel, Ellie just stared silently. It wasn’t out of anger or guilt or even pity. None of these things ever seemed real, and the three of you had been doing this together for so long. You’d survived so much of it all, and she was the cure. The hopeless, helpless cure. What else could she do?

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Joel wasn’t one to sugarcoat or lie. So often he said so little, every morsel of information or sentimentality you could pry from him felt more satisfying than a warm shower on a cold day. Maybe it wasn’t because he didn’t know what else to say. You were in hysterics and at the end after all.

But it felt true.

Your hand throbbed, but not more than the feeling of the ache in your bones— something you’d gotten used to after years of running. The air was stiller than it was before, it didn’t hold the bite of bitter wind it had moments earlier. In fact, after all the snow, it felt clear and crisp in your lungs. The birds cooed their grievances to the world overhead, never ceasing their song even in the middle of night. And the stars were so beautifully bright, it was enough to feel enveloped. Here, in this moment, in Joel’s arms, you were okay.

He’d only pulled you closer, almost swaying you with him as he kept the rhythm of his hand against your spine. You could hear how fast his heartbeat, “You remember that toy rabbit you had as a kid? What was his name? Pete? Peter?”

“Percy,” you whispered after a while. Rabbit was a strong word to describe it. It might’ve looked like one before, but by time it got to you it was anything but. Discarded and trampled on as people rampaged out of cities and infectious conjunctions. It was a mottled gray little thing, with an ear and both eyes missing. The other ear consistently found itself, for the better half of five years, securely grasped in your little hands. Regardless, you loved it. You named it the way you would’ve named a real rabbit, if you could’ve had one before all this. You held it the way you would imagine your parents held you, before all this.

“Yeah that’s right,” his chest vibrated against the side of your face as he chuckled. “You used to carry him everywhere, didn’t you? Thought you were gonna kill me when I took him to wash. Would holler bloody murder, it was a wonder the neighbors never complained.”

The wind settled earlier with the storm, and eventually so did the pace of your heartbeat. You smiled at the memory, strangely bashful. It’s almost an insult to Joel and Tess to say Percy was all you had. They gave you food, shelter, company on some days. But for the first few years he was all you had. He was promised and he was yours. Percy was the first you could ever call your own. It felt often like he was all you had. Especially on nights when the two of them were on runs, and the Fireflies would stir fights against FEDRA outside. Percy shielded you from the sounds of gunshot then.

“Course eventually you outgrew him; which was never bad! Used to get jealous of how often you’d hug it and not your old man.” He sounded wistful. You calmed down enough to pull back, now suffering from a bout of hiccups and sniffles as you tried to regain your bearings. Joel didn’t let you go, though. You stayed in his arms. You couldn’t bring yourself to respond, offering a small smile in its place.

How could he be jealous of a silly little rabbit? Percy was all you thought you had then. But you knew better. Joel was all you had ever. He was all you would ever have again.

“Then there was that kid, down the street. Darwin or something?”

Damian. An awkward, lanky, 8 year old boy, with sand colored hair that never lay flat and a tooth that was perpetually missing. Of course, you were 9 at the time and you didn’t want to play with “little kids.”

Joel really sucked with names. You knew that. He was getting on in his years, but even when he was younger— they never stuck for him. People were untrustworthy and irrelevant, it was hard to want to try. So it meant a lot anyways when he halfway blundered the names of your childhood acquaintances. To you what was so fleeting was important enough for him to commit to memory, as cold as he could be. You never thought he’d cared so much.

“Brought you sidewalk daisies for months! Damn near ripped his head off, was about fed up with his yapping and stammering around you.” You smiled at that. Damian’s crush on you was so annoying then, but sometimes on longer days you’d wished someone would love you with the same persistence— even if it was a silly boy a year younger than you. “But you were always pretty, anyone could see it. No one will ever be good enough, though. Or, would be.”

Joel said the last part almost as a whisper. It felt like a death sentence, though you all knew there was no hope for you. A silence settled over your heads, you could feel it in your lungs as you inhaled the air that felt so crisp and clean and clear. Lungs that were still alive and well.

It would be dawn soon. And they had to go. The world was cold and bitter; they needed to get to shelter and then continue to their agenda. They. Joel and Ellie.

And when they went your lungs would still work, and you still breathe in clean crisp air. But they wouldn’t be breathing for you.

So, pulling far enough away from Joel to look him in the eyes you plead wordlessly. They darted between his, begging him to understand their request and praying for him to accept it.

It took a moment, confusion crossed his face before it dawned on him. Though he should’ve known what you wanted.

He shook his head, holding your gaze. It was a cruel thing to ask. To want. How could he when he raised you? When he loved you?

But you just nodded. He had to. It was all you wanted. So the two of you just looked at each other and pleaded. You knew you were going to win. Joel always yielded for you.

Your eyes shifted for a moment to lock with Ellie’s, offering her a small smile. She looked confused, looking between you and Joel as the pieces started to fall into place.

You looked back to Joel again, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him for the last time. Your eyes fell shut and you felt him squeeze you back. It was so warm here.

“Love you, Dad.”

You were safe here.

And that’s the last thing you knew before he pulled the trigger.

—

likes and reblogs appreciated !!

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 616, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication, death of a minor character, injured baby, kidnapped child

WORDS: 1112

“Hihi there mo stór,” I crooned softly as Katie was bought into the room, her bed being locked into place and a nurse adjusting her hanging bags of fluids. “Mommy is here, mommy loves you.”

“And mesies babies!” little girl chirped, toddling up to me and climbing to perch in my lap with a quiet babble. “You cannot forget about mesies babies Mama Wen Wen!”

“Oh you are right!” I frowned at her before enveloping my arms tightly around her and placing my chin on top of her little head. “Mama Wen Wen cannot forget about little girl’s army of babies!”

At that very moment, a quiet knock at the door turned out to be Peter, leading the way for Elizabeth to be brought into the hospital room on a bed.

“Hey there,” Peter greeted me softly, obeying little girl when she threw her arms up with a quiet grumble. “A softball hit Bitty in the jaw, collapsed her teeth in. She had to have the braces surgically removed and have her teeth reassembled back into their proper place and have her jaw wired shut.”

“Poor baby…” I winced at the clear picture that Peter had painted as he took a seat into an uncomfortable hospital chair and was swarmed by the little clan of Ratajczyk babies, all demanding to be picked up and cuddled.

Once Peter had all the babies squished in tightly to his chest, Ryley knocked on the doorframe before entering the room, grabbing the girls’ files from the door.

“Hihi Uncle Pete, Hihi Mary Claire, hihi little girl, hihi Baby Tommy, hihi Baby Noah, hihi Baby Eve, hihi Baby Mattie, hihi Baby Teddy, hihi Baby Jojo, hihi Elizabeth, hihi Elle, hihi Katie, hihi Jing,” Ryley greeted everyone with a smile. “How is everyone doing?”

All the babies gave her double thumbs up, to everyone’s amusement as Ryley pulled up a chair to talk to us.

“Katie’s surgery hit a little snag by the way of her break being more severe than what the X-rays initially said,” she started off with. “Dr. Xi had to use a bigger piece of metal to infuse to help her foot heal itself.”

“Ah,” Peter hummed as Baby Mattie climbed up onto his daddy’s shoulders.

“Elizabeth had to undergo oral surgery for her knocked back teeth and have her jaw wired shut,” she continued speaking. “The oral surgeon on call was able to fix her teeth and she may or may not need to have braces again, depending on how she heals up.”

“Owwie ow ow,” said Baby Tommy as he crammed her hand into his mouth for a good chew.

“But they both will be alright?” Peter demanded to know.

But before Ryley could answer, a groan sounded out from Katie’s bed.

“Mo stór,” I sighed, crossing over to stroke her gentle with gentle fingers. “Mommy is here, mommy loves you.”

Katie dry heaved before rolling over and puking violently over the side of her bed. I was quick to grab Jing and held her out of the danger zone with concerned eyes.

“Ew,” bemoaned Baby Teddy, wrinkling his little nose in disgust.

“I’ll go grab housecleaning,” Ryley announced as Peter brought the trash can over for her to continue being sick into.

“Little girl, can you please go and take the babies outside?” I requested, pointing my lips over to the door that led outside into a little patio. I watched as the five year old ringleader unlocked and opened the door before herding everyone outside.

“Just let it out, just let it all out now,” Peter rumbled gently as a woman came in with a cart of cleaning supplies at the ready.

The woman quickly go to work with cleaning Katie’s sick up from the floor and set a fresh set of bedsheets onto my chair for me to change once she was done being heads over heels sick. I just gently rubbed the puking girl’s back as Peter stood holding the trash can for her.

Katie finished puking and fell backwards into her pillows with a pathetic little groan.

Little girl poked her head in, racing in to stand up on her tiptoes and patting Katie’s hand.

“There, there,” she bubbled adorably with her little dollie tucked in firmly into the crook of her elbow. “There, there.”

Peter burst out into chortles at the little dear being kind to her older sister, who could only let out a soft moan as I came out of the bathroom with a fresh toothbrush and a bottle of water.

“Hey there now mo stór,” I crooned. “Do you want me to brush your teeth or do you want to do it yourself?”

Katie made grabby hands for her toothbrush, which I handed to her after she took a swig of water and spat out into the trash can.

“I��m sorry,” she mumbled before rinsing and spitting into the trash can. “Where is Jing?”

“Right here!” I handed her American Girl dollie back over to her. “Do you want anything to eat?”

“I wan’ sleep…” she mumbled before leaning back into her pillows and conking out almost at once.

“Alright now Katie,” I hummed as Peter collected little girl into his muscular arms. “You go get some sleep now.”

Mo stór, my dear, Irish Gaelic

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@elianafilthyrose

@ch3rry-c01a

@rockstarslutt

@angelxfuckk

[nik-jr-lit]

top 3 favorite books i read in 2023!

3. Mansfield Park by Jane Austen

timid, shy, insecure protagonist who does NOT try to get between her crush and the girl he's going for, has a wonderful relationship with her older brother, and ultimately just wants to be loved and accepted by those around her.

her return to her parents' home is realistically heartbreaking. it isn't that anyone is mean to Fanny - they ignore her.

the entire play fiasco is so juicy and fun to read!!

we get to witness the romantic interest go through his own fall and redemption arc & we as the audience have to sit back and just watch him grow and find himself rather than be alongside him, which is simultaneously frustrating yet a unique experience :)

i honestly thought that henry could have his own redemption arc & was surprised when he instead fell again...this time harder than before...the drama.......

2. Villette by Charlotte Brontë

sad, lonely, traumatized protagonist who is also such a badass. she will not tell us what tragedies she has had to face....so mysterious... i love her

she literally moves to a foreign country where she doesn't speak the language & doesn't have credentials to teach and she just....learns the language and becomes a teacher. she gains respect from the students and staff even if she is still a bit of an outcast

the nun subplot.....so fun and supernatural and the truth of who the nun is was just so damn funny

the graham reveal!!!

the way lucy is treated when she experiences depression, loneliness, and anxiety is so necessary and realistic for her character & all that she's gone through. the way others react to her sucks but is true to the time; it allows us to see how mental health (especially that of women) was treated. no, happiness is not a potato, graham!

the banter & dialogue is so funny and realistic - i love the black cat x delusional vain sunshine dynamic of lucy and ginerva. also the reading shakespeare scene, the 'call me your friend' scene, the whole getting shut up in the attic for hours to practice acting scene, the drug trip, the time she refused to give paul his gift in order to piss him off, and the showdown between lucy and madame beck are such memorable moments that make me laugh out loud or gasp or smile :)

i sobbed at the end. literally sobbed.

1. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

yet another protagonist who is insecure, paranoid, wants so badly to be loved and preferred and noticed, and has a massive inferiority complex.

identity, names, influence, public perception, and reputation are unbelievably important. maxim vs. max, who the "real" or "true" mrs. de winter is, the fact that everything in the house (from meals to portraits to how a desk is arranged) has rebecca's touch all over it, down to the fact that we don't even know the protagonist's first name!

omfg the mystery and suspense and drama and tension is unbelievable. every time she turns a corner, every time she answers the phone, every time she goes outside or visits a family member or talks to a servant or her sister-in-law or even brushes her hair there is so much tension and anxiety and self-consciousness

du maurier's writing is immaculate; i could read her describe paint drying and it would be beautiful

the evening of the costume party is so fucking amazing. the initial rejection and drama is so so good, but i love the rest of the evening even more i think. the way her soul seems to truly die while she keeps a smile on her face and greets her guests, so anxious to be as good of a host as rebecca.....i've never read anything like it. and the morning after...she's so sure that everything is over with maxim & there is no hope and i can feel her despair...

the confession...so incredible. i didn't see it coming and i had no idea what the narrator was going to do, how she'd react. "time and tide wait for no man"...

once the boat is found and there are people suspecting there may be foul play and rebecca's cousin is there and mrs. danvers is suspicious and the narrator faints and they're calling the doctor that rebecca went to - the tension and suspense was so good.

this book got me thinking about perception for days. we are told details that allegedly describe the same story, but many aspects don't line up & we are never given the full, perfect truth. what was rebecca really like? was she really as hedonistic and vain and self-serving as we're told? did maxim ever love her? did she ever love him? did she plan to run away with favell? did strangers think her lovely and wonderful simply because of her beauty or because she actually was a good person? even if she wasn't a good person, did she deserve what happened to her? was maxim justified in getting upset with her and/or putting up with her alleged behavior? who is rebbeca truly?

i'm obsessed.

[lolita-lollipop]

I just had an idea! So think about this we still are in zoom for classes and Aizawa is just teaching his class? And then we come in saying like dad or other things trying to get his attention or help how would us react ??  would they go Yandere?

YANDERE CLASS 1A X READER X YANDERE PARENTS ERASERMIC

The coronavirus had changed many things in the average lives of the 1A students, like the new restrictions on going off-school perimeters, the mask-wearing in public classes, and most drastically, the zoom classes from inside their dorm rooms. The only class that was allowed outside their hero class, and even that was done privately one on one. These kids spent alllllll day locked up in their rooms, it was suitable for more introverted students like Yokoyama or Jiro immensely enjoyed it, they didn’t have to speak to many, and the schoolwork was so much faster. But extroverted students, like Kirishima or mina, or maybe even bakugo, loathed it.

The only human interaction they got was with teachers, or with students through a screen. Bakugo spent all day blasting music, screaming at anyone who knocked on his door, mina was exceptionally irritable, and Kirishima pretty much spent all day watching Spanish soap operas. Not to mention the fourteen other students practically dying in their dorms. They all desperately needed something to cheer them up.

Then they all saw you.

It was small, just a peek. It was around the end of the school day, English with present mic. Or in other words, the worst class of the day. They’d all been crammed onto a zoom call with the oh-so-bubbly blonde, half asleep, longing to go outside and save some child from a pile of burning rubble. Or even get attacked by the LOV! anything- literally anything other than listening to this man ramble on about conjugations and verbs. Bakugo was screaming with his mic muted, Deku was legitimately watching the green paint on his wall dry, and Mina was learning a dance from thirty years ago. Everything was so dull.

Then. You came along.

“To conjugate a word in English you have to first take the subject and place it behind the action, then you-“ Mic rambled on, clicking through a PowerPoint to teach these poor kids English. He was cut off not long after, the door behind him creaking open with a looonnnnggg squeak, mic stopped speaking, expecting it to be his other husband getting home from work. The mic was in quarantine at the moment, working from home, bored. After the loud creak, I showed you, dressed in a pink pajama ensemble, hair pulled back into two low pigtails, a tired look on your face even though it was 3:00 in the afternoon. Probably the aftereffect of the “special tea” you’ve been drinking, the second they all saw you. They. Fell. In. Love.

“Papa? I can’t find my cat- have you seen her?” You peeped out, clearly not recognizing the zoom call, mic whipped his head around at your voice, immediately muting his microphone. All of the students could see how mics face brightened up, how he smiled at you as he spoke a few words. Pointing to the small cat in the corner of the room. Immediately the tiny girl picked it up, turning around to say goodbye to Mic. The class was mesmerized by that far-away look in your eyes. Then you saw the screen and realized what you had done, your face went pale, and your eyes widened. Immediately you ran out of the room and closed the door. Mic let out a chuckle and unmuted, just to be bombarded with questions.

“Who was that?”

“Why is there a girl in your room Mr mic?”

“Is that your daughter?”

“Does she go to ua?”

The smile completely wiped off of his face, realizing what his entire class of students just saw. The girl who went missing not long ago. They all now had witnessed her in person. Oh god oh god oh god. It’s fine, not the end of the world, he can play this off, this call isn’t being filmed, this is just a coincidence, you just happened to be there. No one will know.

“Yes yes that’s just my daughter, I told her not To come in here, sorry for the interruption class, now let’s get back to-“

“What’s her name? How old is she? Does she go to u.a?” Izuku quickly mumbled, taking out his notebook. He had to know who this girl was, she was just- just so amazing. Was this a quirk? This has to be a quirk right? He just asked the questions everyone was thinking about, an obsession clouded every single student's brain at that moment.

“A-ah- invested aren’t we? Her name is y/n, and she’s homeschooled so no. Now back to learning the English literature, because we are in English class”

“Wait but-“ Izuku attempted to continue questioning, but Mic clicked the mute button on all his students. That’s one plus of this miserable pandemic, whenever you don’t want to hear someone, you can just turn them off. that’s enough about you, let’s hope that all the students forget about it, forget about you. Goddamn. So much for letting you walk around without quirk canceling cuffs, your quirk is… special. It makes a sense of protection for anyone who lays eyes on you, makes everyone feel the need to keep you safe. It always works against you though, that’s why your “parents” pulled you out of school. They’ll forget about it. They will.

…

Flashback: they didn’t

days passed by and every single class that Aizawa held with his students, along with Mic, was filled with questions about the young girl they saw in the camera a single time. some students were subtle, and some were not, some would just ask if he had any other children and mix the topic of you in, and some would outright ask to see you (aka our spiky-haired friend bakugo). It worried both of your parents, not only did a large group of hormonally influenced teenagers not only know of your existence, but your quirk has taken over their minds. it was like a parasite.

So, the two would hope for the best and shut down the students every time they asked about you, instead assigning homework to anyone who asked. It wasn't long before they started doing research on you, looking to find you on any platform, every social media app. any google searches, nothing.

it was like nobody knew that the two well-known pro heroes had a daughter, which was quite odd, considering the paparazzi follows them everywhere. While a few of the students gave up hope of finding who you were at least, others took to... less legal ways of research, paying off anyone who would be up to searching the deepest darkest crevices of the web.

Until one night, a month or two after catching glimpse of you, Izuku Midoria was sent the results from his barely legal endeavor. he read through the pages with wide eyes, you would be surprised what someone can do from a computer. Pages upon Pages of info on a screenshot he had taken of this mysterious girl. He didn't understand what it was about her that enthralled him as it did, but oh boy was he caught in this trap.

something that caught his eye though was a specific photo of a newspaper article reading:

"MISSING

reported October 7th 2018

11 year old female missing after going on a walk with her dog (golden retriever), dog was found, child was not. Bearing h/c hair, s/c skin, e/c eyes, and around 5'2 in height. wearing a blue striped sweater and jean shorts, hair tied in short ponytail.

Any information found by civilians should be reported to nearest hero agency, or police organizations"

It was you, it had to be, it was your description exactly, and a photo of you, just younger than what you looked like on camera. this little girl in the newspaper, aged four years, yup, it was you. But why was a missing little girl in his homeroom teacher's house? So, he sent it to Ochoco, and asked for her thoughts, who then sent in to mina and tsuyu and momo, and by the end of the day the information was out for the public of class 1-a to see.

Then a groupchat was made, and theories were shared. Of course, they couldn't go to the police about this, because they would be accusing some of the top heroes of a serious felony, and no one would believe them, but they couldn't just do nothing. After all, you just seemed so helpless, so small, like you didn't know how to protect yourself like you needed them to protect you. And they would.

Bakugo proposed just finding where they live and "storming the fuckin house" to find you, but many objected, they would be fighting top heroes, and their teachers at that, teachers that know how each and every one of these students fight. Maybe they could try to talk to you if you just so happen to show up in the background again? but what is the chance of that happening?

Then The person who started all of this conversation, deku, made the best and most effective proposition.

blackmail.

It was a simple plan, one that no one could mess up, that could guarantee results. They wanted to see you, not for a few seconds, not just a glimpse, no, they all wanted to look at you for hours. so that's what they would get. Each student sent the information on you, the missing child posters, the newspaper articles on the mysterious disappearance, everything.

To say the next zoom class with Aizawa was tense was an... understatement. There Aizawa was, sitting in his leather rolly chair like normal, acting like nothing happened, not saying anything, just staring at his students, and they stared right back.

" I understand you all have made a discovery, and I have a reasonable explanation for it" He started, focusing his camera, nobody spoke up after that they just continued to stare, continued waiting for him to explain with his "reasonable explanation".

"You see, my husband and I adopted y/n over the summer when we were visiting the u.s. No one else was going to because of her quirk, so we took it upon ourselves as heroes to save he-'

"Cut the bullshit, I know what I want, and it is not to hear you drone on for an hour. We could anonymously send this to the press, and you'd be knee-deep in accusations." Bakugo interrupted, being specially fed up with the fact that this man that's supposed to be a law-following hero committed such a crime, and doesn't even have the conscious, to tell the truth once found out.

"If anything is released then you will never see her again, I know what she does to people, what she's done to your minds, and I understand it. We could... agree upon something." Nobody wanted that, they NEEDED to see you, and although they didn't know why they knew they did. and they didn't need an explanation.

"I want to see her, every meeting, every class, in person or not. I. Want. To. See. Her." Mina continued Bakugo's sentence for him,

"As her father, I will warn you all, if you so much as think about her in the wrong way, I don't care if you're my student, I will hang you with my scarf." Everybody looked at Mineta's screen after he said this, knowing damn well you weren't ever going to speak to him, nobody would allow it. Not in a million years.

"We would never hurt her. we swear on it"

And with a sigh, Aizawa huffed and scrunched his eyebrows, looking more than upset, looking more than anxious, he looked terrified.

"class dismissed, see you tommorow"

---

"sweetheart? can you come to talk to me and papa for a few moments, you can go back to reading your book in a second, but we need to tell you something" Your daddy's voice piped in from the living room, you'd been lying in bed and reading one of the only books they'd allowed you to have, it was odd that he sounded so serious, they never had that tone with you. so you made your way down the stairs, only to be met with the sight of your parents, sitting on the couch and looking grim.

"Yeah. uh- what's happening? am I in trouble?" you questioned, it was a very rare occurrence that they looked upset around you unless it was getting angry that you were trying to be grown up when you weren't. that was common.

"no baby, weve just been thinking. About how lonely you seem to be when we're working, all you have is the cats and occasionally the birds by the window. So we decided to enroll you into U.A, the school we work at, as a teachers aid" Aizawa lied through his teeth, immediately a smile lit up on your face, you'd been begging them for ages to let you go to school, even if it was just a little low budget school. this was amazing!

"oh my god! really! thank you thank you thank you! I love you so much! when do I start! what classes am I in? will I get to have real friends?" you spluttered out a multitude of questions, the little sparkle in your eye that had been lost for weeks finally had returned, it was cute, and the parents were glad it made you this happy.

Usually, kids would be VERY upset about having to go back to school, like having summer break end, but you were the opposite, the last instance of freedom you had before you stayed home 24/7 was our little middle school, with no parents hovering, no childish teaching methods, just you and school. and then they even took that away. so regaining that freedom was amazing!

" Hold on sweetheart, it's a big step to go from homeschool to high school, so most of your classes will be with us, you'll be in class 1A, and any times where you arent with us, you will be with one of our trusted friends. do you remember ms? midnight?" The minor inconveniences to your newfound freedom didn't dampen your mood.

"that's okay... but can I have friends?"

"Of course sweetheart. as long as we approve, there are so many good boys and girls in my class, you'll love it" Aizawa replied, thinking about the little bastards making him thrust his daughter into the scary new world. fucking bastards. he and Mic caught eyes for a moment, before continuing.

"You start in two days.

be ready" --------------------------------------------------- I swear im not dead, just been working on my drafts so i can clear out my inbox, if you see any grammer flaws, no you didnt.

anyway, this account has 1,700 followers now, and I'm doing a special. someone give me an idea in the comments plz.

have a wonderful day anon! and all those who read! bye bye!

[thisisarcanereverie]

A Distraction (DARK! Moon Knight x Reader) the Knight and the Pawn Series

A/N: SooooooOooooOOOOooo....This is a long one.

like 11 pages, and a grand total of 4.8k words......I have no self restraint when it comes to smut anymore it's insane.

If you guys caught my posts earlier today you will know that this chapter contains some serious ass smut. Chapter warnings are below, but I just want to take a moment and thank you guys for all the love and support you've shown this series. We're almost through with it about two or three more chapters left before the series is done. I do encourage you guys to interact a lot with this, it gives me more motivation than you think! Each reply or reblog with feedback literally fuels me to write more, so thank you!

MINORS DNI!!

WARNINGS: Dark themes, Smut, P in V sex, choking (m recieving), oral (f recieving), praise kink (m and f) hella hate sex (but also it's kinda tender???) dark smutty marc (he's one hell of a warning) slightly subby Marc (a warning)

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

“God! that was awful!” You said as you grabbed the towel from your friend's hand, stuffing down the butterflies in your stomach as his eyes lit up and the corners of his mouth turned upward as the deep sound of his laughter filled the room. You and Marc had gotten pretty bored and had run out of movies to binge ages ago, so like any other people your age did when there wasn’t any tv to watch and you were with your best friend, you decided to play a stupid game. The game you guys chose happened to be an old favorite of Marc’s. 

Truth or Dare. 

“Well it wasn’t supposed to be pleasant,” Marc said as though he didn’t just dare you to jump into the freezing creek in front of the cabin, “where would the fun be in that.” 

“Haha” You sarcastically laughed, drying your hair with the towel he provided, “So much fun. Now if you excuse me I have to change clothes before I die of hypothermia,” You say as you make your way to your room before you turn back suddenly, “and don’t you dare fall asleep before I’m done it’s my turn pretty boy!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, starlight!” You heard Marc say. You quickly changed out of the freezing wet clothes, dried yourself off a little more before putting on the warmest clothes you had packed. A light hoodie and sweatpants. You gathered the wet clothes to hang outside to air dry. By the time you have completed this task, you notice Marc sitting in the nook by the window. Moonlight in his dark hair and a somber, far off look in his eyes. He looked like something from a painting in an art gallery somewhere, something that people went up to and got feeling from because it reminded them of someone or something or a certain point in their life. You always knew Marc was attractive, but right now to you he was more. He almost looked impossible to touch, otherwise he would evaporate into thin air, a mirage. 

You shake your head of those weird thoughts before joining him by the nook, he didn’t seem to notice you until you let out a sigh as you followed his gaze into the still waters. 

“One day I want to visit the ocean,” Marc said,  you nodded in acknowledgement. 

“That sounds nice,” you replied, “feeling the sand on your feet, watching the moon pull the tide in and out, or even watching the sun set and shine on the waters.”

“I’d like it if you were there with me,” Marc said, “to see the ocean and feel the sand and other crap like that.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, “I’d like that too.” For a while silence settled between you, your gaze shifting occasionally from the waters in front of you to your curly haired best friend. You studied the way his jaw clenched and the tapping of his index finger. You studied each facial feature of his and just admired him. Though you would never admit it, whether that was from denial or fear you were unsure. 

“Truth or Dare,” You say finally, keeping your eyes on him. Marc let out a small sigh after being broken out of his thoughts and he looked at you. 

“Truth.” He answered, not really thinking it through. 

“What were you just thinking about?” You could see the light flush on his cheeks and his eyes darted slightly. 

“Dare.”

“I dare you to tell me what you were thinking about just now.” You insisted. 

“You really want to know?” Marc asked. 

“Wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“You’re going to laugh at me.”

“Probably.” 

There was a few seconds of hesitation before he dropped his shoulders and looked away, attempting to hide the glow of blush rising on his cheeks. 

“I was thinking about how I’m probably going to be the only virgin in the marines.” You could tell from his tone he was trying to play it off as a small joke, something to laugh off. You don’t know what possessed you, you didn’t know if it was because of the moon light in his hair, the reflection of the water in his eyes, the intoxicating smell of cedar, smoke, and rain that always seemed to linger on him., or maybe it was because he was Marc, your Marc and your Marc always made you feel safe with him. But you didn’t laugh and as you slid closer to him, you could feel your pulse raise a little bit.  

“Y’know… it doesn’t have to be that way.”

“What doesn’t have to be that way?”

“You being the only virgin in the marines.” 

“Oh what you’re going to join too?”

“No,” You said simply, suddenly the air became thick as that word lingered in the air, the tension became palpable as Marc’s eyes drifted from the water to your face. You could feel him studying you, looking for any trace of mischief or any indication that you didn’t really mean what you said, that maybe he was reading the situation wrong. But he wasn’t, he could see the serious nature of the question in your eyes. You could see his gaze change from studious to cautious, his eyes darken as he drank you in. 

“Care to elaborate,” Marc said as he placed a hand on your knee tentatively, as though he were testing the waters. Making sure he wasn’t reading the situation wrong and that he wasn’t putting your friendship on the line for something he misread. 

“I’m saying you don’t have to be a virgin,” You said, “That can change.” You feel his hand, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric, travel upward before resting on your mid thigh, “I can change that.” 

“Are you sure?” You could sense the slight tremor in his voice, “wouldn’t this change everything?”

“Not unless we let it,” You said, your hand delicately trailing up his arm, “if I’m honest, I would rather lose it to you rather than some dude who I’ll have nothing to do with in five years. But we don’t have to, if you feel uncomfortable.” 

“I definitely don’t feel uncomfortable,” Marc said, his hand trailing your hip as he leaned in closer to you, “I feel the same way.” 

“Then shut up and kiss me, pretty boy.” 

And with that his lips crashed clumily into yours, however in its own way it was soft and gentle. Later on you would look back on this kiss and pinpoint this was the moment when you knew, deep in your bones you knew as his hands explored you and you explored him, that you loved him. That no matter what he did, no matter how much he had hurt you. 

Some part of you will always love him. 

Even if you don’t always want to. 

—

Today was the day, the day you would attempt to escape. 

Over the course of a few days you tried different, covert methods of knocking Marc unconscious. You tried a blend of various teas that could knock an elephant out. 

You tried working him out to exhaustion under the guise of exercise.  

You tried a combination of both. 

You were running out of time, today was the day and you still had no idea how to knock him flat out. And honestly the fact that the tea nor the rigorous exercise made little to no impact on him worried you, you figured some part of that was just one of the benefits of khnoshu’s avatar. You have to be in pique physical condition in that line of work. 

But Khonshu also depends on his avatar to be a bit of a mess on the inside in order to manipulate them to his whim. Which always unsettled you, but now you might be able to use it to your advantage. 

Only you wanted to save that for a last resort. 

The only time you remembered Marc sleeping deeply was at that cabin that night. When in the afterglow his head was on your chest and he just listened to your heart beat and your hands combed through his hair. That night he was practically comatose for a solid eight hours, you couldn’t wake him if you tried, and you did. You assume it had something to do with the comfort of it all. 

You didn’t want to use that precious memory, however twisted it all was now, and change it into a tool. But what other choice did you have, what choice did he leave you?

At least this is what you told yourself. 

You knew he would probably be suspicious if you just walked up and had your way with him. And you can’t find it in yourself to set up a romantic scene either. 

It was midday and you were thinking of how to go about it, looking out at the city during the rain. It always rained in London. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t notice him come in. 

“Truth or Dare?”

Your mind was thrown back to that night as you whip your head in his direction. He was sitting beside you, his gaze focused outside. When he turns his head that way you can almost see him again, you can almost see your Marc in there, with the light in his hair 

You stuff down those memories and butterflies deep inside you as you huff. 

“That is a game for children.” 

“It was our game.” Marc replied coolly. 

“No,” You said, “it used to be our game.” you paused, “we’re no longer the same people we were when we last played it.” 

“Yes we are,” Marc said, holding onto your hand, “I’m still pining after you like a schoolboy and you’re still trying to convince yourself that you don’t love me.” 

“Will you stop,” you grit through your teeth as you move your head to look at him, your eyes boring holes into him, “Will you stop telling me what I feel and what I don’t.”

“Only when you stop lying to yourself.” 

You got up to leave, you were almost to the door, your mind fogged with emotion when you felt your hand being tugged back firmly, you turned your head to fight back but you were shocked by how close his face was to you. Your breathing stopped for a moment as you took him in, his smell, the way his curls fell over his face framing his eyes, how stubble had begun to grow on him giving his face some newfound dimension. For a moment you stand there, both of you breathing heavily, your heart beating rapidly against your chest and your mind stopped functioning, you were so close to each other your noses brushed against the other. One move would be all it took to close the gap, to connect your lips. A mere half an inch away. 

“Tell me,” Marc said, his voice low and barely above a whisper, “tell me you don’t want me.” Your muddled brain barely registered the sentence, when you didn’t respond quickly he leaned toward your neck, you could feel him inhaling the scent of your perfume and body wash, you moved your neck to give him better access, begging for his lips on your neck but did no such thing as his hand moved to cradle your face in his. “Tell me you don’t want me and I’ll walk away.” 

You said nothing, you tried to justify it by telling yourself you needed him, you needed to let this happen so you could escape. 

You knew it was all lies. 

His fingers gently massaged into your scalp, you practically melted into his touch, every nerve was on fire and he had yet to kiss you. 

The rotten bastard. 

“I hate you,” You say as your hands fists themselves in his shirt and crush his lips on yours. It was all tongue and teeth, you molded your lips against his in this fiery battle of mind and body. 

“I hate you.” You repeat as you pull him against you, his hands moving from your face to grip your hips firmly, You could feel him start to maneuver you, slowly walking you back towards the nearest wall. Without warning, you let out a little yelp as Marc effortlessly lifted you in the air, your legs instinctively wrap around his waist as Marc pinned you against the wall. The coolness of it shocked your ignited skin. His large hands then move, they give your hips a firm squeeze before trailing down your leg and caressing upward. You bite his lip mid kiss as you feel his fingers brush against the bare skin underneath your shirt, igniting a fire within you. 

“I hate you,” You lied, your words meaningless and barely above a growl. You could see it in his dark, half lidded eyes, that he didn’t believe it one bit. 

“No you don’t.” 

And with that he kissed you with much more force than before, his pillow soft lips crash onto yours with enough passion to make you woozy. Your fingers leave the collar of his shirt and move to remove yours, you separated for just a moment to remove the all too thick layer of clothing. You were about to kiss him again when he stopped you. You were about to question him when you saw it, the look of some dark desire in his eyes. A look that seemed to want to devour you piece by piece. His hands made their way up your torso, his skin raising goosebumps in their wake as your head rolled back as you felt him palm your breasts through the material of your bra, a soft moan escaped your lips as his descended on your clavicle, slowly moving down to leave open mouthed kisses on the tops of you breasts. You gripped his shoulders as he removed one hand to unhook the offending material from behind your back. It was so quick and sly you didn’t even know what he was doing until your bra was dropped to the floor below you. You were slightly impressed that he unhooked it with one hand and didn’t require any assistance. 

Honestly speaking you found it hot. 

Before you could make some snide comment, you mouth erupted with a very loud moan as his mouth practically devoured your nipple, sucking, leaving hickies, kissing, you could feel wetness pool itself in between your thighs, completely ruining your underwear as he took the pebbled nipple in between in his teeth and gave a quick tug. Your hands went from his shoulders to clench tightly in his soft curls as he repeated the same actions on your other, neglected breast. As he worked wonders on your breast you felt his hand knead the flesh of your ass and your thighs that by now you had no doubt were crushing him. 

You moved your hips experimentally against, feeling the clothed bulge grind against you had your grip in his hair tighten as a shaky, breathy moan came from you, the slight friction feeling like heaven. Meanwhile you could feel him tense as his grip on you became bruising, not that you minded. 

Experimentally again you grind yourself against him again, this time with more force. The low growl that reverberated off of him could only be described as feral as his lips left your breast as he looked at you in your eyes. His midnight eyes became impossibly darker, as the intense gaze he gave you quaked you right to your core as you became impossibly wetter. You could feel his calloused hands grip the sides of your waist firmly as he thrusted his hips up and dragged your cloth covered cunt over his clothed bulge harshly extracting a feral sound from you as electricity shot up your spine and made your head impossibly light and buzzed. Without realizing one hand went from his hair to curl itself around the base of his throat. You felt him lean into your hand as his lips descended on your neck as he repeated the harsh grinding of his hips against yours. When you felt him bite down on your shoulder, your hand instinctively squeezed around his throat, you could feel his pulse in your palm, it was fast and it quickened as you squeezed. You felt the bobbing of his adams apple and the vibrations of his groan escaped him, his eyes looking up at you as his large hand grabbed your wrist. Instead of removing your hand, he held it in place. 

“Choke me harder,” His deep voice groaned, “make me see stars, starlight.” 

You complied. 

Your hands grip harshly at his throat, squeezing enough for breathing to become more difficult as he hooks his hands under your ass as he carries you to your shared room. His eyes never leave yours and yours don’t leave him. Even as you're leaving kisses and bites along his lips and his jaw he somehow manages to stumble into your room. It’s only then does he let your feet touch the floor. 

He parts from you only a second, you whine at the loss of contact but quickly shut up as you watch as he practically tore his shirt off of him. You take a moment to admire him, the muscles that ripple and move, the way his skin glowed as his dark curls frame his face as his stubble gave his face more structure. It wasn’t until he fell on his knees in front of you, that you thought he looked all too much like a fallen angel. With a sinful glow to his skin and a simple look of repentance in his eyes. 

You felt powerful as Marc fell to his knees in front of you, his touch light and slow, savoring each inch you were willing to give him as his fingers travel up from your calf to the waistband of your pants. His lips leaving a trail of open mouthed kissing from your navel slowly, agonizingly so, downward. His hands made it to the button of your pants when you placed a hand underneath his chin, forcing him to look at you. Your knees nearly gave out at the look of passion, and silent submission to your whims his eyes gave you. The rush you felt as he inflated your ego was addictive. Your thumb brushed against the bottom of his lip, your toes curled as he gave it a small, wet kiss. 

With never breaking eye contact with you he unbuttons your pants, gently lowering them before completely ridding you of them. You suck in a small intake of breath as his eyes left yours as he kissed your pussy over your already ruined panties. 

“All wet like this for me, starlight.” Marc groaned, rubbing your clothed clit with his fingers.

“Go to hell.” You groaned as he played with you, his fingers dancing over to the sides of your underwear. 

“Why would I do that when I have heaven right here?” You felt the elastic give out as he tore your underwear from your body, before you could act too shocked about it, he tore a pleasured scream from you as he dived right in. his mouth working you expertly, your hands wound themselves in his hair. He licked and sucked on that bundle of nerves, and through your haze you can see his eyes close and it looks like he was eating his favorite meal. Like if he had it his way he would be eating your pussy for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Marc guided your legs over his shoulders and before you know it, his hands was supporting your weight as he lifted you in the air once again, you didn’t know if it was because of how easily he seemed to manhandle you or the fact that his tongue was going at your slit with more vigor but you felt a new sense of arousal hit you and the coil started to wind itself up in your core. By now you were a pathetic moaning mess. 

“Fuck,” you groaned, “fuckfuckfuck oh my god right there, fuck me.”  You were barely capable of making a coherent thought let alone a sentence. You almost didn’t notice the soft sheets of your bed hitting you back, but you couldn’t even say anything because if you thought that he was enjoying himself before, he was practically drowning in you now.

Your trembling hands gripped the sheets beside you as Marc lifted your hips upward and he inserted two thick digits into your cunt. No prep, just straight in, filling you and hitting a soft spongy patch in you that made you see white. The combination of him flicking his tongue, his sucking, and the soft graze of teeth on your swollen sensitive bud and his thick, slick covered digits hitting that one spot repeatedly without mercy, and the slight beard burn that his stubble was giving you, it wasn’t long before you were practically convulsing underneath him as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had is ripped right from you. Tears pricked your eyes as you let out the most guttural scream. Your hands practically rip the sheets underneath you as every nerve is sent into overdrive. 

You were still a trembling mess when Marc ripped his fingers from you and licked them clean as though the entire lower half of his face wasn’t glistening with your slick already. 

Right in front of you. 

You could practically hear your heartbeat out your chest as his lips collided with yours, You could taste yourself on his lips and you shuddered. He pressed his forehead against you and merely basked in your afterglow with you. Your hands unclench the sheets as they ghosted downward to where he was still in his pants, you felt the front, a wet patch had developed and yet he was still so painfully hard. Again, this did wonders for your ego as merely eating you had caused him to lose control over himself. You brushed against him when he caught your wrist. Pinning it beside you. 

“You have no idea,” Marc breathed into your neck, “no idea what you do to me.” 

“Then show me,” You said using your free hand to cup his face, “I dare you.” 

The look in his eyes darken as he unpins your other hand before ridding himself of his ruined pants and underwear. Your eyes widened at his size, you don’t remember it ever being that big. But right now it was huge and throbbing, leaking precum,  you weren’t sure if he would fit. 

He rubbed himself against you, gathering whatever slick he hadn’t already lapped up, coating his thick shaft in it. He tapped the swollen head against your over sensitive clit a few times, extracting a choked moan from you before pushing in. Your hands claw at his back, nails leaving bright red streaks against his toned back as he practically bent you in half and split you open. You had never felt so full and your legs were shaking furiously. When he bottomed out he kissed the tears away from your eyes. 

“You’re so good for me starlight,” he praised, “so goddamn good and tight. I fit just right in here, don't I?” You could only dumbly nod as he started slowly thrusting, making each drag and push of his cock in you count. Making you feel the pleasurable burn as you were stretched around him. Then all at once he dragged out, only to slam himself in, you let out the loudest scream you ever have. As he did that repeatedly, his skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat, his curls sticking to his forehead and his hot breath mixing with your own. Soon enough the coil began to wind again in your core, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin and breathy loud moans filled the room. Marc was practically drilling into you with his brutal pace. You could feel him getting closer with you, you knew he wouldn’t last much longer as his pace became more erratic. 

“Cum in me,” you whisper in his ear as the coil threatens to burst at any minute, “cum in me please pretty boy.”

The sound of the nickname you gave him, combined with your hot breath in his ear and your tight wet heat wrapped around brought about his orgasm as he fiercely thrusted and released deep inside you, which only brought on your own electrifying, toe curling orgasm. If you thought the first one was intense, then this made you see the light. 

He collapsed on top of you, his frame shaking and quivering just as much as you. You instinctively brought your hands to gently comb through his hair as he went limp inside you. Your legs were let down from his shoulders as you both basked in the afterglow of what you had just done. You shushed him, and praised him for how good he did, calling him, pretty boy. Like you did the first time, only this time you both were a little more out of breath. You stifled a laugh as you recalled that semi awkward morning after, but then your heart hurt with how much grief you felt. You missed those people you were then. Even though you were going through immense internal turmoil over your newly realized feelings for him then, you would much rather go through that then what storm your mind was brewing. 

As you comb through his hair you can’t help but wish you could forget, forget what he did and who he’s become. Forget the past three years, like they never existed. And you knew, deep down, you couldn’t pretend like they didn’t happen forever. But right now, with how close he was to, listening to your heartbeat like a sacred prayer, you pretended like none of it never happened as you raked through his damp curls and pretended that instead of your gilded prison, you both were back at that cabin.

After all, you were good at pretending. 

—

After a few more rounds Marc was finally out. You hoped that your legs would be able to carry you where you needed to be. You slipped gently away from his grip, the soft snores that came from his figure let you know he was deep into sleep. You had to use the wall for support but you thanked god you were still able to walk well enough. You gathered the clothes you had snuck away in the bathroom, you didn’t want to wake him up, but you also didn't want to smell him when you left. So you gave yourself a small sponge bath, the rag was cool against your skin, and you hissed slightly as you cleaned your combined juices from you, the area still tender. 

You quickly changed clothes and put on your tennis shoes, they were worn but they didn’t squeak against the floor board. With a slight limp you made your way to the open door of the bedroom, you looked back one last time at his sleeping figure. The moon light in his hair gave him a halo and illuminated how peaceful his features were. Some part of you that was broken and loved him wanted to stay. It broke the piece of you that broke the first time you left. You looked at him once more before making your way to the front door.

Your hand felt the coolness of the handle when you froze, panic started to fill you as your mind raced. What if this was a test? What if Jake was lying to you, could you really trust him?

All these thoughts filled you as you held your breath as you turned the handle. Instead of a blaring alarm, a soft click was heard. You let out a shaky exhale as you opened the door just enough to slip through. After gently closing the door as quietly as possible you ran. Or at least attempted to with your limp and all. You raced down the stairwell, not trusting to take the elevator, You were exhausted but you pushed through. You remember Jake’s instructions, go out the back of the building and sure enough once you reached the ground floor the stairwell exit was right next to the back door. You pushed through the door, and for a split moment you relished the feel of the outside air on your skin. How it’s crisp bite felt and you swore you would never wear a jacket or complain about it ever again. 

You only had a few moments of peace before a familiar motorcycle stopped in front of you and handed you a helmet. 

“An old friend will be waiting downstairs to take you to a safehouse.” 

“Layla?”

TAGLIST:

@simonsbluee

@yuki235171

@dopeqff

@themapoftinyperfectthings

@later-gators12

@lovepeaceorelse

[k0kichiimagines]

hi do you write mysme? if so can you write seven x (fem but it doesnt matter that much) reader who self harms? like since hes watching them from the security camera he realizes that theyre literally cutting themself up and then coming to the chatroom like “heyyyy isnt it such an amazing day??” while still looking so down or something .

sorry if you dont write seven or self harm btww thanks already

i do all three of those yes! sorry this took a few days, i usually try do requests like these instantly due to their topic,

nonnie i hope youre doing okay <3 if you, or anyone else here struggles with self harm, recovery is hard but it's possible! been there, done that, almost out the other side - so i can assure you, its rough, its not fun, but it is possible, and it is worth it, so set small goals, and try <3

- mod kokichi

saeyoung [707] x reader

-> self harming reader [c-tting to be exact]

cws : self harm, knives,

for plot pretend there's a camera in the kitchen,, he said theres one outside? and none in, and he had nothing of saeran breaking in, but also he talks about being able to see you - so either you step out often to wave hi, or maybe there is a little one inside? dunno, again just pretend theres one

you hadn't been thinking really. you usually kept this to the bathroom, hidden and away.

today the knives looked especially... appealing. the soft water drops left from the recent wash that fell down the sleek metal, the sunlight that flicked through the window and hit them at a pretty angle. it looked like a painting, it felt like they were whispering to you, teasing you, taunting you. the blade looked too sharp, just a gentle slice would draw blood.

you lay it against your wrist, you pressed it lightly and took a sharp breath, then hissed in pain once you quickly slid it across. bad idea, the blood was instant, pooling out the new wound. one or two more, and then you shoved it under the tap, trying to recall where the bandages were.

your phone dinged your usual notification sound. you glanced over at it, placed on the countertop. the messenger gave you unclear messages, you guessed it was part of its secrecy, so all you saw was 'One direct message'. but it reminded you of something, it reminded you of why exactly you had recently taken to hiding in the bathroom.

because you weren't at home.

and there were cameras here.

you grabbed your phone, rushed into the small room, and locked the door as though someone might burst through. as though, he might burst through. your fingers shook as you ignored the second message, rushing to cover your cuts before any blood fell to the floor, before the stains stayed as evidence, just in case this time you couldn't remove it. you felt sick, your chest ached, your whole body was shaking now.

you didn't want to check the text. you didn't. you hoped it was a coincidence, that even if it was him, he hadn't seen you.

even though he checked every 0.2 seconds.

the longer you ignored it the more obvious it was. maybe you could play it off as a mistake, you were sure the cameras weren't super clear, right?

your hands shook, you stepped out, pacing around the small apartment as you opened the text, just avoiding the camera.

it was him. your throat felt dry. what would he think of you?

"did you accidentally cut yourself while cooking? ahh, that's the worst! there should be plasters in the cabinet, unless they've been moved."

"???" - that must have been in response to you running.

there was then a gap. a moment of time with nothing. then your name. you could feel the serious tone.

"could you call me, please?" he'd worked it out. or maybe he'd checked the footage. you replied, taking forever because trembling fingers led to typos, and typos seemed suspcious.

"don't worry, seven ! i'm fine haha, i won't distract you from work, you said you had a lot, let's call later! ^^"

"i'm not busy. not when it comes to you." the quick reply made you jump, he was clearly waiting. you began to type out a reply, about how it was all just a silly mistake, but your phone screen was replaced by the calling icon instead. you took a deep breath, you didn't trust yourself for long replies, so you answered with a simple "hi".

"i can't come right now, so i can't keep a full eye on you, nor can i force you to stop. but i know what you were doing, and i'm telling you right now, its not worth it. any sort of satisfaction you think it gives you - it's not worth it."

"seven. i..." there goes your voice cracking. "i wasnt.. doing that."

he only sighed. "i'll see you soon. at the party, or maybe sooner if i get a break. it'll be a few days at most, that's a small goal, right? try stay clean for that long, just those few days, see if you can. and if you feel you might not, then call me, and we can talk about something else. i'm good at multitasking, i can talk to you and work, alright? and even if you don't make it, i just want you to try. that's all."

"i... yeah. okay. i'll try." his voice was soothing, he wasn't disgusted, or angry. just caring. worried?

"promise me?"

"i promise."

"good." he sighed again. "did you deal with it? clean it up?"

"um, yeah." you were crying now, something about having someone both know and be trying to help felt... nice. you didn't feel strong enough to recover, and you suspected it would be hard. in fact, maybe you both knew you would do it again. maybe even in an hour. but somehow... with him there, you felt a soft hope that maybe... just maybe... you might be alright.

"don't cry..! don't cry, you'll be okay. i won't tell the others if you don't want me to, but i could tell yoosung you're not feeling well, and to go visit you? ah... but the location is a secret... maybe you could go visit him? the others are busy, he's likely just gaming"

"thank you, seven, but i think i'm okay."

"are you sure?"

"yeah."

"i can stay on the line if you want? we don't have to speak the whole time, but it would like being in the same room."

"that'd be nice. thank you." you wiped your eyes, smiling at the idea.

"anytime."

[rosemary-morgan]

Geralt of Rivia X F.Reader - Fear (Part 2)

(Pictures are not mine! Found on Pinterest/Google - Collage made by myself)

Many thanks to @fangirl-ramblings 🖤 she has been beta reading for me 🌹

Summary: After he finds you, everything seems clear. He just has to bring you back to Edmont and collect the money. But you are stubborn as hell and Geralt's patience reaches its limits...

(OC Edmont Dorian)

I’m sorry for any mistake. English is not my first language.

Read Part 1 here 👈

Warning: angst

Fear (Part 2)

The watchful eyes of the Witcher were gliding over the fields of Vermentino. The grapes were bursting with beauty and one could already see that the workers in the field were in the process of filling large baskets with them. A dark cloak covered the face of the white wolf, and partly his swords, which he carried on his back. Humans, elves, and even dwarves frowned at the sight of the white wolf. Usually it was not a good sign when a witcher appeared in a place. The humble estate on Vermentino was to be his final destination. At least that's what Geralt hoped. He brought Roach to a stop and dismounted from his saddle before making his way to the house's terrace. His golden eyes examined the artwork that was set outside to dry. The witcher had to admit that the paintings were very beautiful. Geralt knocked at the door and shortly after, the door was opened and the white wolf was greeted by an elderly lady. "How can I help you?" Geralt eyed the woman, immediately realizing that she could not be his target. Too old and already graying. "The artist who made these paintings. I need to speak to her." The elderly lady thought that the strange man was one of Y/N clients, not even considering that he was here for entirely different reasons. "Y/N!" She left the door open as she went back into the house to fetch Y/N. Geralt sighed soundlessly, barely noticeably shaking his head. The older lady was probably unaware of the dangers of this world. She did not know his intentions, yet she was willing to comply with his request. With a motionless expression, the witcher kept his eyes on the door, his ears pricked. He did not know how the young woman would react to him and he had to expect anything. A moment later, the young woman came through the door and the witcher's eyes narrowed. Geralt's golden eyes moved up and down, taking in the sight of her briefly,  before returning to look into her face. She was lovely and beautiful. Too young for the count...

"I would like to exchange a few words with you", Geralt finally started, "About you. You have not been here for long, you came from the north?" He kept a close eye on her body language. He wanted to make sure she was the right woman before kidnapping her in front of everyone. Y/N saw the golden eyes flashing from under his cape. Immediately she was aware that a witcher was standing in front of her. She instantly became nervous, knowing what he wanted from her. At first, the young woman tried to keep calm and not let on. "I came here a few weeks ago. So?" The young woman was not stupid and if she really had to run away again, she could not let on. She was aware that her husband would have sent for a witcher to bring her back, since no one else had managed it before. And Y/N had heard many stories about witchers. That they were particularly cruel and neither felt pity nor had mercy. From his pants pocket, the witcher pulled out a now dingy note that Edmont had given him. "A few months ago you were in Oxenfurd, disappearing overnight after a mysterious accident with a troop of strange mercenaries, without even paying the innkeeper." The next note fell at her feet. "You were looking for company to get through the mountains. In the direction of Riva. After you left with 2 peasants, you supposedly came back completely distraught, and alone. In the middle of a storm. Unharmed." The witcher looked up from the notes to her again. His golden eyes moved over her expression. He could see it quite clearly. She was growing paler and he could literally smell her fear. Her body shook with fear. She was the woman he had been looking for. Without a doubt. Slowly he stepped closer to her until he was standing half a meter in front of her, looking down at her. "And let's not forget the scar on Count Edmont's face!" Smoothly, the monster hunter took another step back, stuffing the remaining notes back into his pocket before looking at her again. "Dear Countess! Your husband is already looking everywhere for you!" "I don't know what you're talking about, master witcher! That's nonsense!" But Geralt did not believe a word the young woman said. She was the woman he had been looking for. Without a doubt. A mocking smile graced his lips as he took another step in her direction. He held out his hand to her. "Don't make me take you back to your husband in chains!" Instantly, Y/N backed away from the witcher and he could see there was clearly fear in her eyes. She shook her head. "No. I am not the woman you seek, Witcher!" But her body language had betrayed her and she could not get out of this affair. "It will do you no good to deny it!" But countless thoughts were playing in Y/N's mind. Why hadn't she finished it? Why hadn't she killed Edmont? Then she wouldn't be constantly on the run. But the young woman was not a murderer. She was nothing of the sort. Whatever Edmont claimed, she was not a monster. She was a woman who was on the run and needed help. But she didn't get it, because people were only after money and many had tried to trade her for it. She was alone, which was very difficult for a young woman. Especially since it was not entirely safe to travel alone. Especially not for a pretty woman like she was. "I'm not going anywhere, witcher!" And that's when she ran... She ran through brush and sought refuge in the dense forest, but Geralt wasn't far behind. Somewhat annoyed by this woman, he'd grumbled deeply before finally taking up the trail and catching up with her a short time later. Immediately he grabbed the petite figure and she immediately began to struggle. "No, let me go! Please, let me go, witcher!" Y/N knew that a witcher was not to be messed with, and she also knew that she would never escape from him. But she would never voluntarily return to Edmont. She didn't even want to imagine what he would do to her if she was to go back to him. Unpleasant memories of her husband surfaced, causing her to lash out and even scratch the witcher. "Enough!" The Witcher cast a light spell to calm her down and immediately she sank exhausted into his strong arms. He didn't want to hurt the young woman, but he didn't want her to challenge him. "Don't even try to run away! If you know any witchcraft, you'd best make use of it now", he murmured grimly as he first grabbed her left hand, then reached for her right. Her delicate wrists he held together behind her back so that he could better control her and she could not cast any spells. "You can't escape a witcher. Don't make this more complicated!" "Please," she whimpered, frightened and desperate, but Geralt ignored it. He had already had a few encounters with witches who had tried to lead him astray, and he had learned from these mistakes. The witcher pushed Y/N out of the bushes, taking care not to hurt her. Briefly, the Witcher whistled out a high-pitched note, and a moment later, Roach approached, snorting softly as she stopped by the two. "I will tie your hands, M’lady", he told her, taking his hand from her shoulder after a threatening look in her direction, and pulling from a saddlebag a scratchy rope. First he released one of her hands to allow the rope to wrap around the first wrist, before guiding the hand forward to pull the other back beside it with a strong grip. Eventually, he fixed her hands behind her back and without another word, he lifted the young woman onto his horse to immediately sit up behind her. "No games!" "Please, you're making a big mistake, witcher!" But Y/N knew that her story would not interest him in the least. So far, no one had cared that she was on the run and needed help. They all just wanted the generous reward Edmont had promised them. Y/N was nothing more than merchandise. "Go on, Roach!" The witcher ignored Y/N's words and led his horse out of the winery. Of course, it did not go unnoticed that Y/N was being taken by a witcher. "Y/N! What is the meaning of this?" The old landlady could not believe that the young woman was taken by a witcher before her eyes. "Let her go, you monster! Y/N!" But the witcher could not be dissuaded from his intention and thus left Vermentino with the young woman...

The campfire warmed her cold bones. There was enough food, but Y/N would have none of it. Her mind was too much on Edmont and she knew what he would do to her once she was back with him. The white wolf watched the young woman and did not let her out of his sight for a moment. Even now, as he was about to eat his soup. "It will be a long journey. You should eat something, m'lady. Your husband will not want you to starve." "You know nothing of my husband, witcher." For Edmont cared quite little whether she would eat or not. The so-called husband gave the impression of a loving and concerned husband, but he was not. Yet, who was going to believe her? She was just a woman after all. Far too sensitive and whiny. "I'm only interested in the prize. Not who he is," Geralt said, taking the last sip from his bowl, "But apparently he's convinced you're dealing with black magic." "That's a lie! I have nothing to do with magic!" What other lies had Edmont told the witcher? She would like to know. In any case, Geralt seemed to believe everything the count had told him. Admittedly, Geralt's amulet did not react to the young woman. There seemed to be no magic surrounding her, but that could be for a variety of reasons. "Why did you attack your husband? He must have surprised you when you cast spells," Geralt asked calmly, looking at the young woman closely. She did not dare to look the witcher in the eye, because she was about to burst into tears. It would be useless to try to convince the witcher of her innocence. It was her word against Edmont's. And Edmont was an influential man. Escape had been the only way to leave him for good. That her husband would do anything to get her back, she should have expected, but he did not love her and treated her badly. So why didn't he just leave her alone? Y/N asked herself this question every day. "What does it matter? You're only doing it for the money," she said softly, and Geralt finished his questioning that night. Days passed and they were already at the Sodden border. For days, Y/N was looking for an opportunity to start an escape but the witcher kept a very close eye on her and this complicated matters. "It is getting dark. We will rest here and leave early tomorrow morning." Y/N did not answer the witcher. She was very quiet, had made no attempts to escape so far and this behavior Geralt found very strange. Also, nothing unusual had happened so far, yet Geralt did not trust her. He would never let her out of his sight. "Come!" Geralt helped the young woman get off her horse and like the other times, this seemed to disgust Y/N. The witcher didn't mind much, because after all, not everyone wanted to be touched by a mutant. That Y/N had other reasons and it had nothing to do with him in the least, he had no idea. "I'd like to take a bath." The words came quietly from the young woman as she felt the dusty ground beneath her feet. They had been traveling for days and there had not been many opportunities to wash. "I fear you will find only cold water here, M'lady!" The young woman sighed softly and closed her eyes, ignoring his stroppy statement. "Would you please take these shackles off me?" Geralt approached her, stopping directly in front of her before reaching behind her back, touching her upper body with his in the process. The young beauty looked up at him with wide eyes. The words stuck in her throat, her heart raced like crazy. How could the witcher dare to come so close to her? Geralt looked into her eyes with an empty expression as he loosened the bonds and finally took a few steps away from her. "You won’t go alone." Y/N was about to protest when something suddenly occurred to her. Maybe she should use her feminine charms? She feared, however, that the witcher was not so stupid as to fall for it. But she had heard that witchers had a decidedly large sexual appetite. So why shouldn't she give it a try? "You want to come with me?" "Either that, or you'll have to do without bathing for the next few days." "Well, witcher. If that is what you wish." Y/N forced a smile, glanced up at him through her thick, long lashes, and bit her lower lip lightly. "There's nothing I need to hide." He wanted a witch? Good, he could have that one. They were known for their seduction skills, and what a witch could do, Y/N had long been able to do. It might make her very uncomfortable, but she had no choice if she wanted her freedom. Then Y/N walked smoothly past him and led him in the direction where she had spotted the lake. Silently, Geralt followed the beautiful woman, keeping a close eye on her. He sensed her sudden change of mood and this did not please the white wolf. When Y/N reached her destination and stood at the edge of the lake, she unabashedly undressed in front of the witcher's eyes. Turning her back to him, she let the summer dress slide down her slender shoulders while Geralt watched her. The pupils of his eyes dilated, feeling arousal flowing through his veins at this sight,  but the witcher did not let himself notice anything. Y/N left the white undergarment on, for she would not show herself completely naked. The undergarment nevertheless showed a considerable amount of skin. Her slender legs seduced the Witcher. This situation was a kind of torture for Y/N, since she also had to deal with the fact that the witcher might attack her under the open starry sky. She inwardly pleaded to heaven that he would not touch her and that her plan would work. So she carefully dipped her feet into the water and shivered at the cold touching her skin. But Y/N tried to stay calm, not letting the cold wet stop her from carrying on with her intentions. Goosebumps covered her entire body, but she suppressed the unpleasant feeling. Instead, she glanced over her shoulder at the witcher before she went deeper and deeper into the water and finally sank completely into it. Inwardly she screamed at the cold, but she pulled herself together and made no sound. At least not an audible one. The witcher could not see that she grimaced. He saw only the beautiful body of a young woman and was charmed by the sight of her. But he knew the seductive arts of a witch and should therefore beware. But before he could think about it, Y/N had already come out of the water. The last rays of sunlight fell on her skin, making the pearls of water on her body shimmer. The undergarment clung to her like a second skin. The white fabric stretched provocatively against her plump breasts, her rosy nipples standing out. Geralt remained in place with an expressionless look on his face, watching every movement of the beautiful woman, and when she came to a stop directly in front of him, he looked into her eyes. She withstood his gaze even though her heart was hammering madly against her ribcage, a fact that did not escape the witcher's notice. "I know about the witches' seduction rites, M'lady. Don't even try", he growled softly. "No, my dear witcher. It's just been a long time since a man last touched me. A man as special as you are", she replied softly as she placed her delicate hands on his chest. Geralt took a deep breath, carefully reaching for her shoulders, and Y/N tried to hide her fear. She almost had the witcher where she wanted him. "You don't know what you are getting into. The Count will be displeased should I give in to your advances." "My husband will not know. I promise you that", she whispered to him promisingly, her lips almost touching his as she stood on tiptoes, since he was quite a bit taller than she was. Suddenly Geralt grabbed her hips, pulling her body to his, and Y/N made a surprised sound. "You think I'm a fool?" The witcher was truly a tough one and Y/N cursed inwardly. But now was the opportunity to flee from the Witcher. It was now or never and even Geralt was going to be surprised. She slammed her knee full force between his legs, so that the witcher fellto his knees, groaning. The young woman took this opportunity and she immediately took flight. On her way, she gathered her clothes and ran through the dense bushes. Geralt growled, emitting an angry roar. That damned woman! She had actually managed to fool him! "Stubborn woman!" She was probably unaware of the dangers that awaited her in the Forest of Sodden. Geralt quickly recovered from the unexpected attack and immediately took up pursuit of the young woman. She ran and ran through the undergrowth, not looking back, and yet she heard the witcher's footsteps approaching her. Her bare feet ached, little stones bored into her flesh, and yet she was not allowed to care. To make matters worse, she stumbled on the uneven ground and almost lost her balance, but this was enough for the witcher to grab her and he pulled her to the ground. "No! No! Get off me!" She screamed, trying to free herself from the witcher's strong grip. To calm her down, he again manipulated her state of mind with his magic, causing the power to drain from her body. Geralt's anger evaporated when he saw the young woman's tears. She begged him not to hurt her. His face contorted into a pitying expression and for the first time since their encounter, he questioned his client. "Please! Don't hurt me!" "I won't..." His voice was unusually gentle and the young woman noticed it too. Uncertainly she looked into the face of the witcher and she saw regret in his eyes for the first time. "Do you realize the danger you are putting yourself in? To roam the woods of Sodden alone as a woman?" "I'd rather die on the run than have to return to my husband!" Geralt shook his head, and now he really wondered what the hell Edmont had done to cause such hatred in Y/N. "I'm going to let you go now, but if you try to escape again, I will not only tie your hands, but I will strap you to the back of my horse and ride all the way north with you like this! Do you understand?" And there she looked up at the witcher again, and the expression in her eyes made Geralt regret his words. Damn! Why did this situation suddenly become so complicated? With a deep sigh, Geralt rose and patted the dust off his pants before grabbing Y/N by her arm, pulling her to her feet as well. "Tell me, why a young woman would seek death? Is your husband really that bad? What truth is there behind this whole story?" The witcher began to doubt Edmont's story. "I didn't marry him for love", she gave softly and put her arms around her middle, for she began to freeze and her feet became ice cold. The story behind the union of the Count and Y/N, drew a trail of suffering behind it and until today, the young woman had always remained silent. In the end, no one had ever been interested in why she had run away. So why should a witcher care? Someone without feelings and emotions? Y/N knew that witchers were incapable of empathy. "Very well, master witcher. Take me to him. I won't cause you any troubles any more." For she was tired of running. She was tired and exhausted. Geralt thought her change of heart strange, and yet he could see how exhausted she was. "Come, then. Get dressed. Otherwise you will catch a cold."

[eddiemunsonssoulmate]

Bruises and bitemarks say, takes one to bring the pain

Pairing: JJ x Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: You belong to him and he wants everyone to see it

Warnings: Smut, marking kink, possessive!JJ

Available on: AO3

Part of: Passion lies in screams of ecstasytic dreams

A/N: I was thinking about putting some smutty drabbles/shortstories together for JJ x Reader and here we go.

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“I can’t even believe you went to him! That dude is a psychopath, nothing more!”

JJ was fuming and you really didn’t understand why he was so worked up.

Rafe had been threatening the Pogues once again and you were so fed up with his behavior at this point. The two of you had been childhood friends, back when he was still a normal child, so you had hoped that he might listen to you.

He didn’t. Instead he had tried to make good use of the time you had been there with him, flirting with you, trying to win you over, fully aware that you and JJ were a thing.

Rafe hated JJ and ever since he had known that you dated the Pogue, he had tried even more to break you two apart.

“Calm down, JJ. Nothing happened,” you said almost annoyed as you tried to get past him to the Chateau. You had agreed to meet up here later with the rest of the Pogues but for now, it was just the two of you.

“You say that now! What if he would have touched you? Kidnapped you? Killed you? You know what kind of guy he is!” The anger was written on his face and for a moment you wondered if you should take his concern more seriously. Rafe was dangerous indeed, unpredictable but would he really go that far and kill you only because you didn’t want anything from him?

“Babe, it’s fine,” you say and take JJ’s face in your hands. His cheeks were hot, his hair was messy from running his hand through there too many times.

His jaw clenched and you felt it against your skin but his breathing also calmed down a little.

“I don’t want you near him,” he told you and there was possessiveness in his voice, something you didn’t hear very often because everyone knew you were his and he was yours. Sometimes a tourist tried to flirt with you at a beach party but JJ would quickly make sure that they knew where you belonged.

You clenched your legs together a little at the tone of his voice and smiled sweetly at him. His eyes darkened and he grabbed your hips, lifting you up. You instantly wrapped your legs around his waist and let him carry you toward the Chateau. 

Thankfully the others wouldn’t arrive for at least another hour.

“You’re mine,” he almost growled into your ear when he fell down on the couch with you, his hands stopping his own fall so he wouldn’t crush you in the process.

“Am I?” you asked with a teasing tone and he gritted his teeth before sinking them into the crook of your neck.

You yelped briefly at the pain shooting through your skin before his tongue started to swirl on the mark he just left, gently sucking it.

“I’m going to mark you all over. You are mine. All mine.” He sounded almost desperate and feral when he spoke those words next to your ear before moving to the other side of your neck, sinking his teeth into the skin there too.

You wrapped your arms around him, pressing him closer to you, your hips bucking against the bulge that had formed in his pants.

JJ just smirked against your neck and thrusted his hips down, pinning yours against the cushions under you.

“Stay still,” he mumbled before running a hand over your stomach, slipping it under your shirt to push it upward.

Next he bit your stomach. One, two, three times, all over the place. Leaving little bite marks. It was painful but arousing at the same time. 

You really didn’t know what to do with your hands. Sometimes they were wrapped around him, sometimes in his hair but every time he shifted it became slightly awkward.

He picked up on this and took both of your wrist in one hand each to pin them over your head.

“Leave them there, you look beautiful like that,” he said and gave you a quick grin before he pushed your shirt up further, revealing your bra which he moved down carelessly until your tits were spilling out above.

He took one nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before biting down gently. You yelped in pain and looked down at him in surprise but he just grinned at you when he let go of your nipple only to blow cold air on it a moment later.

A shiver ran down your spine and he moved to the other breast to do the same there. Wetness was pooling between your legs now and a whine left your throat.

“Hm? Anything you want?” That bastard knew exactly what you wanted and the grin on his face gave him away.

You huffed in anger and when you opened your mouth to reply, he bit down hard on the top skin of your right breast, causing you to take in a deep breath instead of saying a word. He sucked the spot, harder than the spots on your neck and you gritted your teeth.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said when he let go of the sensitive skin and moved over to repeat the whole process on the other breast. This time you were prepared for the pain to come and when you looked down your body you saw the marks that he covered you in.

“But I’m not done marking my property yet,” he hummed against your skin and you let out a frustrated sigh. 

He was always good at getting you worked up and right now, you really wanted him before the others came over.

JJ opened your pants and you lifted your hips so he could pull your shorts and panties down, leaving them at your ankles.

“Hm, so wet for me.” He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your wet center which made you moan. You tried to buck your hips upward, closer to the face he was already pulling back but there was no chance. 

You pouted and watched how he kissed down your inner thighs. Open mouthed kisses, sucking in between and sometimes he bit down hard, leaving a lot of marks on your inner thighs.

It was almost too much, the pain of his bites and the arousal pooling between your legs, dripping down on the cushions below you. You were sure that if he touched your clit only for a few seconds, you would come apart. 

“You really like this, huh?” he asked when he watched the wetness between your legs become more and more.

“Of course I do, you idiot. Can you please fuck me now?” You literally begged him and there was a glint in his eyes that couldn’t hide that he loved it when you did this.

“Why should I?” He licked his bottom lip and looked in your eyes, then between your legs and back up again.

“I want you to mark me on the inside too,” you said with as much confidence as you could muster up and it seemed to do the trick.

It only took him a couple of seconds to completely remove his pants and boxershorts, meanwhile you had kicked away the clothes still around your ankles.

His dick moved inside of you with one, smooth stroke, your wetness coating it enough to be able to do this without any pain or stretching beforehand.

When he was between you, your legs wrapped around him and you hissed in pain when the bite marks on your inner thighs came in contact with his skin. They were more sensitive than you had thought. You almost came from just the feeling of him inside of you but you held back, wanting to wait so you could release together.

“Fuck, you feel so good around me,” he murmured as he thrusted into you, hands between your face, his whole body just towering over you.

He leaned down to kiss you but couldn’t stop himself from biting your bottom lip, pulling on it a little while he kept a ruthless pace up.

Suddenly a noise you both knew very well came up and he stopped for a moment, both your heads going toward the window near the entrance.

The Twinkie had just pulled around, there was no mistake. That old car would make the same stupid noises for the time it would run.

“Shit,” you said and groaned in frustration but then you felt how JJ started moving again.

“What the-?” you were about to complain but his deep thrusts became so intense that you had to swallow any words you were about to say. Instead you had to bite down on your arm to keep yourself from moaning so loud.

“I’m not going to stop now. I’ll mark you from inside, just like you wanted to.” That stupid grin on his face was so big and he was so proud of himself and god, you hated and loved him at the same time.

Muffled voices reached your ears and JJ only sped up more, causing you to moan around the skin of your arm that you were biting so hard you weren’t even sure if you were about to draw blood.

With one last, deep and hard thrust JJ came inside of you and you felt how he was painting your inside with his cum. He growled as he came, louder than expected and you prayed that the people outside didn’t hear it. You weren’t sure who was there, only John B, maybe Sarah too, maybe they had picked up the whole crew. 

As his hot semen was spurting inside of you, you finally let go too, coming with him together. You loved it when the two of you came together and you had trained hard so you would be able to hold back whenever it was needed.

He pulled out of you quickly and grabbed his clothes, putting them on quickly.

“Lovely,” he said when he looked between your legs, watching how his cum dripped out of you. “I wouldn’t let it run out though. They’re almost here and you won’t have enough time to get cleaned up or clean the cushions.”

The blonde boy laughed when he saw your blushed face and you reached over to pull your panties on quickly.

You could clearly hear John B and Sarah approaching now.

JJ walked towards the door and waved at them. “Hey guys!” he called over to them and they greeted him back.

You weren’t sure if you ever got dressed this quickly, running a hand through your hair to make it look less messy.

Without thinking you simply turned the cushion around, hoping no one would notice. It would dry soon enough.

“The two of you are here early,” John B commented as he and Sarah walked inside and JJ just smirked at you behind their backs.

“Yeah, I got off work earlier and JJ lives here anyway,” you said with a nonchalant shrug while you felt JJ’s cum dripping out of you, coating your panties in wetness.

Sarah gave you a look and you groaned while blushing. John B might be oblivious to the amount of times you and JJ had sex at his place but Sarah clearly almost always knew.

When your best friend saw your reaction she just grinned at you and picked the chair to sit on purpose.

[ray-ray-writings]

Could I totally request a small angst of a reader who is dating Technoblade suddenly going missing only for everyone to find her weeks later in Dreams collection room, similar to how Dream has a cage for Skeppy? Cause it’s the one thing the blood god cares about? Like all the angst and grief Techno goes through trying to find her and how he just becomes more unhinged or maybe Dream taunting him once they all found out like “do you want to know exactly how long it took her to stop calling for you? Do you want to know the exact moment she gave up ever seeing you again? Do you want to know the exact second she became mine to control instead of yours to love?”

Ever with love - 🌻

🌻, your brain is so big. I love your ideas so much, they’re always so flipping good.

A Part of the Collection-Technoblade x gn!reader

Techno was going crazy.

No one had heard or seen you for two weeks. You told him you were going to visit the nearby village and that you’d be back in a few days. For the first few days, Techno and you chatted consistently through your communicators. But then you stopped responding to his messages.

After two days with no response, Techno himself made his way to the village to search for you. You’re not there. The villagers tell him that you had got what you went there for but that you had left a few days prior. With this information, Techno calculates that your messages stopped when you got about halfway back home.

He thanks the villagers before heading back out. He heads to the main area of the SMP and asks around. He literally questions everyone as to whether or not they’ve seen you.

It’s no’s at every turn.

It takes everything Techno has to hold himself back. To not storm into each and everyone’s home and property and tear it apart in search of you. He does force his way inside everyone’s home to “talk” to them. Most people just let him in and do what he needs, well aware of the situation and the worries at hand.

Especially with the upcoming plan.

Techno forgot about the plan. Forgot about the help that his younger brother was soon going to need as he and Tubbo came to face Dream in what was being referred to as ‘the final showdown.’ He has to be there to help take down Dream. He’s the best PVPer on the SMP, he knows that, everyone knows that. He’s the Blood God after all. He takes care of those he loves, would go to the ends of the earth to protect them, and Tommy needed protecting.

The choice for him was hard. Techno knew that while everyone was busy with Dream, he could do a more thorough search through everything to try and find you. But he also knew he needed to be there to protect his brother. His baby brother that was on his last cannon life that Techno knew Dream would do anything to take.

It tore him up inside ,which in turn caused him to tear things up. The house looked like a tornado went through it. Techno had been spiraling the night before the final battle. He was angry. Angry at you for not coming home or answering his messages, angry at himself for not being able to find you and make sure you were safe. Angry at not being able to protect you and take care of you. Angry that he let you go by yourself even though you very clearly wanted him to come with you. Angry that he can’t find you and that no one knew where you were. Angry that he had made a promise to his little brother and that he had to be at the final battle instead of out searching for you.

All of that anger built up inside of him and burst. The outcome was his knocking chests over, spilling their contents onto the ground. The paintings on the walls were slightly crooked and torn due to his rampage. The furniture was misplaced and books were strewn about the room.

Heavy breaths racked his chest as his ruby eyes scanned the destroyed rooms. A heavy weight sat in his heart and his stomach. Guilt quickly replaced the anger inside him as he collapsed to his knees. His hands reach out and connect with the ground in order to steady himself. His fingers clutch at a fabric spilled from one of the chests.

It’s your old cape. The one you wore before you stole his cape. It looked better on you anyway. Techno brings the cape up to him and nuzzles his face into the fabric, trying to find a slight bit of comfort in it. It still smells like you. Being tucked away for so long hadn’t let it lose the piece of you that usually clings to the fabrics you wear.

Your scent calmed him, only slightly though. He still felt guilty, but with this small piece of fabric, he could pretend you were here, tucked into him, safe.

It was cold.

Being underground, surrounded by obsidian, trapped in a hole by iron bars made things cold. You were exhausted. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there. Been in Dream’s collection room. Dream had explained it to you when you woke up. You were the most important thing to Techno, the only thing he was attached to.

You tried to call out for him. You first thought you were somewhere near the SMP, hoping either he would hear you or someone else would hear you and tell him… then Dream told you where you were. It didn’t stop you calling out for him though. You called for him until your throat was raw and sore. But even after, you were stubborn in your resolve. Telling Dream that he would never get away with this.

“That’s the thing my dear… I already have. No one has seen you since you left the village. No one knows what happened to you and no one knows where you are. You simply… have disappeared.”

His words hurt you. They worried you. He was right. He had kidnapped you while you were on your way back from the village. He had your communicator. You were gone. No one knew where you were. Did they even care you were gone? You tried to hold up your resolve, but Dream’s words hit your head hard, and he knew it. The blond simply smirked after watching you for a moment before walking away and leaving you to your spiraling thoughts.

You were exhausted. Your mind was tired, your emotions depleted, your body sore. Everything hurt. You missed Techno more than anything. Your heart ached more and more with each passing day. Did they even care or notice you were gone? Did Techno miss you too? Was he looking for you?

A voice broke you out of your thoughts. For a moment you thought it to be Dream, coming back to taunt you more… But it wasn’t. It was a familiar voice, one you hadn’t heard in a while. But you would be able to tell who that voice belonged to anywhere.

It was Tommy.

Why is Tommy here?

You manage to make it to your feet and stumble forward, catching yourself on the iron bars. You pressed your cheek against them and looked out as far as you could. You could make out three bodies there. Tommy, Dream… and… Tubbo. The third seemed to be Tubbo.

Why? Why were they here? What is going on?

The three then turned and began walking toward you. As they drew closer, you could hear Dream giving the boys the same spiel he had given you about the server’s attachments. The things people cared about more than anything.

“Tommy! Tubbo!” You couldn’t help but croak out, your hand reaching out of the cell.

“Y/N!” The boys both scream in unison, racing toward you. Tommy’s hand grabs yours and you almost cry at the warm contact. You’ve been in here for what felt like forever. You hadn’t had any friendly touch, let alone any warmth. It felt nice to be seen as a friend again and to see a friend.

Before any of you can say anything, Dream’s hands clamp on the shoulders of the two boys and rip them away from you. A dry sob escapes your throat at the loss of contact. “No touching.” Dream barks, forcing them back down the hall and away from you.

“Please,” you beg, wanting just a bit longer to be with them. But Dream ignores you and continues to walk away. Tommy and Tubbo try to fight, to turn around and come back to you, but they can’t. Dream’s grip is too tight and too strong.

You’re left all alone yet again. Small tears begin to stream down your cheeks as you back up again, your back hitting the wall, and sliding down to a sitting position. You can vaguely hear what’s going on in the other room, but not very well. Everything seems so far away. To get a glimpse of the outside world through another person only to have it ripped away from you just as you get a taste takes a toll on a person, especially one as exhausted as you.

You’re zoned out for the most part, just hoping Tommy and Tubbo would be okay. You’re suddenly brought back to reality though when a lot of footsteps and voices joined you in the underground. It was hard, but once again you manage to stand up and brace yourself against the iron bars. Pressing your cheek to the cool metal, you let out a gasp as you can see everyone. It’s everyone. Everyone in the SMP was there.

Your eyes scanned the crowd and caught on the familiar pink hair of your boyfriend. You could sob. If you weren’t so exhausted you would be already. He had come for you. He was there. Techno was there.

You couldn’t exactly tell what was going on, but you didn’t care. Your heart soared as mostly everyone turned around to face the collections hall and begin making their way down it.

Puffy led the pack and was the first to see you. A gasp ripped from her throat as her eyes met yours. Heads turn to look toward her and more gasps sounded in the room. “Y/N,” the Captain breathes out just above a whisper.

You’re about to respond when another voice interrupts you. “Y/N?” Techno shoves his way to the front, pushing people out of the way, not caring enough to ask them to move. He comes to a full stop in front of you and stares at you with wide eyes.

“Hi,” you croak out.

Techno takes a step back and you’re hurt. Why is he moving away from you? Does he not want you anymore? Why would he--

Your thoughts are cut off by the sound of iron breaking. Something that would typically take four or five swings, is broken in just one by your boyfriend Techno. The bars are gone. You’re free. Techno tosses the pickaxe back into his inventory and stalks forward. Before you can do or say anything, you’re being pressed into Techno’s chest.

The warmth from him immediately seeps into your skin and floods through your whole body. Techno always tends to run hot, being part piglin does that, but you’ve never been more thankful for it than right now. You nuzzle your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly.

He holds you the same way. Techno is scared that if you were to pull away, you would disappear again. That he would be alone again. He doesn’t want to be without you. Techno presses you close to his chest, and presses his face into the top of your head. His lips give your head sweet kisses as he revels in the fact that you’re safe now. You’re safe with him.

You two are hugging like that for a while, but all too soon it’s time to go. You want to get home, change clothes, get something to eat, and fall asleep next to your lover. Techno lets go of the hug, but immediately grabs your hand and leads you out of the cell. He wraps his arm around you and pulls you tightly to his side. The two of you walk out into the main room together… Just in time to see Dream being led away by Sam.

Dream smirks at the sight of you. “You know… of all of the attachments I gathered, I’ve got to say, collecting them was my favorite. The others didn't know what was happening. Being inanimate or an animal… A pet. But they were your pet. They could talk. And oh boy did they talk.”

Techno’s jaw clenched as Dream spoke. He just wanted the green clad bastard to shut up and go to prison, but he just kept talking. “They called for you. Their screams echoed off of the obsidian, begging for you to come save them but you never showed… Do you want to know?”

Techno knew he shouldn’t get involved, shouldn’t respond and give him what he wanted, but he couldn’t help himself. “Know what?”

“Do you want to know exactly how long it took for them to stop calling for you? Do you want to know the exact moment they gave up ever seeing you again? Do you want to know the exact second they became mine to control instead of yours to love?”

Techno’s jaw clenched even harder. He saw red. Without realizing it, he left your side. His arm unwrapped from around you, causing you to protest and try to hold on to him, but he was too far gone. Techno marched forward, drew his fist back, and punched Dream square in the face. The smirk from Dream’s lips fell as Techno’s punches began rolling in faster and harder.

Techno was livid. Livid that Dream could even think that for a moment that he had any say over you and what you did. That you were anything other than the one he loves and the one that loves him. You were his. No one else’s. His.

Sam was the one to pull Techno off, but he fought it. Dream just lost two cannon lives, Techno wanted to take the third. Techno fought against Sam tooth and nail, trying desperately to continue. It’s not until he feels a gentle hand on his arm does he stop. The touch is familiar, one he’s been missing for weeks now.

It’s yours.

He stops fighting the creeper hybrid and turns to you. Your big, watery eyes meet his and he immediately feels all the anger leave his body. The voices that were screaming to kill a moment ago suddenly switch their tune, telling him to protect you, take care of you, wrap you in his arms and not let go until you got home.

That’s just what he does.

Without another word, Techno scoops you into his arms bridal style. He then walks to the portal and with a small nod to the rest of the group, disappears into the nether. You’re in his arms the entire journey through the nether and the nether portal near your guys’ shared home. The warmth of the hug paired with the warmth of Techno’s body fills your whole body and causes your toes to curl.

The tundra is freezing and immediately depletes a lot of the warmth you had just gained, but Techno is quick to wrap his cape around you and make haste to get you inside. The house is still a mess, you’re about to ask why when you catch sight of the paintings that were torn by his hand, and you immediately understand. So you choose to say nothing and just enjoy when Techno carries you into your room.

He sets you down and helps you change into clean and warm clothes before helping you crawl into bed. Techno wraps the two of you up in the blankets before pulling you close to him. Your head and hands rest on his chest while his arms wrap around you and rest on your back. Soft patterns are traced on your back, lulling you to sleep.

“I love you. I love you so much. You’re not going anywhere without me ever again.”

You know that that’s physically impossible and that there would be times he wouldn’t be able to go with you, but right now that didn’t matter. You nod against his chest. “I love you too. Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, my love. I’m right here.”

You let out a small sigh and sink into him even more at the comforting words. The past couple of weeks exhaustion wash over you and you fall asleep before you know it.

Techno stays awake for longer though. He stays awake and just watches you. His eyes study your face and his arms tighten around you. You’re here. You’re in his arms. You’re safe. He repeats that mantra to himself over and over again as he looks you over.

Finally he decides he’s too tired to stay awake, the past two weeks also having taken a huge toll on his mental and physical health. Techno’s arms wrap around you a bit tighter and hold you a bit closer. He presses a soft kiss to your forehead and then your head before settling in for the night. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath in through his nose, inhaling your scent which makes him relax even more.

“You’re safe. I’ve got you… You’re mine. I’ve got you.”

Ending sucked, but the idea was amazing so praise 🌻 because she deserves it. I hope that I did this justice! Thank you so much for letting me write it!!

[shurisneakers]

miss villain probably says this to jake one time after he gets back from work and he is just Tired.

he grabs some crisps and tells her to bother bucky because he’s had a long day. he probably brings the cat too.

a few days after chapter 18!

Catch up with the rest of the series here!

“Why the fuck did someone just ask me for my social security number outside my own apartment?” 

“Good to see you too, Jake,” you say from the floor. “Come lie down with us. We’re connecting with the earth.”

“Who are these people?” Jake drops his duffel bag to the ground. “Why are you on the floor?”

“Alpine and I totally connected, man. We’re so self aware now.”

Yoga camp was peaceful and calm, and the more time he spends looking at you lying on the floor with Alpine, the more he regrets ever coming back. 

"For the last time- what the fuck is going on?” 

“My kidnappers tried to send me to New Jersey so S.H.I.E.LD. has agents stationed outside the house for protection.” You sigh. “Turns out Alpine’s life was super rough on the streets before we found her, Jake.” 

“You got kidnapped?” Jake screeches.

“Like, months ago. Can we please stick to the topic at hand?” you urge. “Alpine’s different now.”

“When did you fucking get kidnapped-”

"She ate nothing but old spaghetti for days, Jake. Days.”

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N. What do you fucking mean there are secret agents outside my house?”

“Which part of that didn’t you understand, loser? It means there are secret agents outside our house,” you correct. “Look at her. We shared her trauma and she’s literally different now.”

“How-” he pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to pick the thing that seemed easiest to talk about at the moment “-how did you talk to the cat?”

“Like,” you say, “mentally.”

Alright. He’s out. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Jake mumbles to himself. “I’m going to strangle you.” 

“He doesn’t mean that, sweetheart,” you whisper to the cat. “This is a safe space.” 

She stares back at you before stretching her back out and sauntering off. 

“Did you see that?” You shoot up. “Look at her, she’s so chilled out now.”

“She’s a cat.” Jake picks up his duffel bag, planning to grab a bottle of the first alcohol he could find. “Fucking clown to clown communication.” 

“She’s my best friend.”

“Pack your bags, I’m having you evicted tomorrow morning.” 

“Alpine, c’mere.” You twist your body around, snapping your fingers to get her attention. “Lemme take a video of you. I need proof.” 

There’s a crash that comes from Jake’s room, a shriek soon following and unfortunately you know exactly what it is. 

You flinch.

"What the fuck is this?"

“Intruder detected. Attack.” 

“Y/N- ouch, you motherfuc- what the fu-”

“Protect those ankles, Jakey.” You position yourself on the floor, holding your hand out for Alpine to walk towards you. “And welcome home. We missed ya.” 

_____

 Four days into his mission and Bucky receives a video. It’s about three in the morning, he’s got the night shift and so far he’d rather be watching paint dry than be staring at this house for another moment. 

The beginning of the video features Alpine, and Alpine alone. She looks past the camera to someone off screen. There are two snaps and a ‘pspspsps’ but nothing else. 

Three minutes of utter silence.

She lets out a small ‘meow’.

There’s a gasp before the camera angle suddenly shifts. “I fucking told you Jake, I fucking swear to God-” 

The screen goes black. 

He has no idea what he just saw. 

[writefightandflightclub]

Trial by Fire (Part 1/3) Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN reader

Summary: You’re finally introducing your new boyfriend to The Boys. It must be intimidating for your guy because, hello? Not only are they literally lethal, as well as infeasibly handsome, but they’re hella protective of you to boot. They want the best for you so, naturally, they make your guy run the gauntlet the whole evening. Santiago, though? Well. Given that he is secretly in love with you? Let’s just say he doesn’t handle the situation very well at all.

Genre / tropes: angst, friends to lovers, love confession.

Author’s note: I wasn’t planning on writing this (in fact I’m writing the opposite, where “Santi has a new girlfriend and you don’t take it well” as a series, loosely based around the 7 deadly sins); but, in the meatime, I wrote this to get back into the swing of things after a lil break. It’s just a quick one, but there will be a second and final part, if you want it! Let me know!

Word count: somehow, 4.4k.

Warnings: language, angst, best friends arguing, Santi being an asshole.

Rating: T

The boys aren’t being as awful as you had anticipated, at least. For the most part, they’re actually being pretty friendly, and although they’ve transitioned into grilling Dean about every aspect of his life, they are at least listening intently and smiling at his answers. All except for one fucker, of course; and, naturally, surprising no-one, the fucker misbehaving is one (1) Santiago “Pope” Garcia. 

The group - the boys, yourself, and Dean- are huddled comfortably around the blazing warmth of the fire pit in Frankie’s yard. The dancing, oranged flames cut through the dark and cold of the crisp night, as you sit upwind of the smoke on scattered, mis-matched camp chairs.

Whilst the others are evidently enjoying the evening -faces painted with smiles, body language open and leaning-in to chat to Dean- that fucker Santi is leaning back in his chair, his jaw twitching in seeming aggravation, his arms folded, and his intense eyes needling your beau. In this dim light, with the firelight licking over the sharp planes of his face, he looks every bit like a trained killer about to leap out of the shadows and garotte someone. Well… a very petulant trained killer. His call sign should have been Mr. Grumpy Pants, you think idly.

What’s up with him this time?! you wonder.

He gets these moods sometimes. And, when it strikes him, he can be a little bit hostile - despite the fact he’s a puppy underneath it all. You had hoped that for once, maybe he would suck it up, and yet, your hopes had been in vain, it seems.

Every time Dean speaks, or touches you, or even laughs at another of the guys’ stories, Santi’s expression sinks further and further through layers of distaste; and, by this point, he’s eyeing Dean as though he’s a war criminal the squad have been sent to take-out. You half expect him to leap up and take down Frankie any second for fraternizing with “the enemy”, if you’re honest.

Truth be told, you’ve had just about enough of this. Your friend had better buck his ideas up, sharpish, or he’d be reminded very swiftly that you were Delta Force too.  

For now, trying to ignore the bastard, you look back at Dean, and the sight of him in animated conversation with your buddies causes at least some of your aggravation to fall away. Things have been going well between you and Dean, even if you do say so yourself. Originally from Michigan, he now worked as a lecturer at a nearby music school. He was also a banjo musician in a bluegrass / synth power-pop mash-up of a band, which (sort of) explained his retro-inspired mop of brown hair and his thick dark moustache - majestic enough to rival Frankie’s. True, he wasn’t your usual type, but he was honest, and sweet and kind... Plus, he’d never killed anyone with his bare hands, which was rather refreshing too, if you were honest.

Safe to say, so far, things were working out. So well, in fact, that you’d recently met his parents for the first time while they were in town. So well, in fact, that -after keeping him purposefully away from the boys for as long as you feasibly could- you’d now brought him to meet your family. That’s what this squad was to you, after all. Your family.

Remembering sporadic moments from the past few months together, you smile gently as you listen to Dean talk. You watch him seamlessly integrate some tailored conversation starters you’d fed him ahead of time, and you gently squeeze his thigh in an act of reassurance and appreciation. He is feeling the pressure, you can tell, although he is handling it well. To be fair, you think, who wouldn’t feel the pressure? You’d been nervous enough to meet his parents, but this? A bunch of Delta Force guys and an MMA champion? This squad was lethal; literally -you’ve lost track of your combined kill count, though Will probably hasn’t, you are sure.

Aside from that though, most of all, they are your family. You need them to like Dean and vice versa, and you know that isn’t necessarily a given. You are a tight-knit group, with little hope of outsiders grasping the full extent of your decade’s old in-jokes, or the intense camaraderie instilled by facing a hail of bullets together. Plus, as the baby of the group, they were protective as all hell of you.

It came from a good place, you knew: they wanted what was best for you. But, there was a reason you’d delayed this meeting... It’s not as though they were threatening or anything. They didn’t do the whole “if you hurt our buddy, I’ll kill you” thing, for example (at least, not while you were present – you couldn’t vouch for what happened when you were out of earshot).  However, after introducing a succession of boyfriends to them over the years, the squad had developed a well-rehearsed system for sizing-up your new squeeze. In the past, not all of your squeezes had made it through the gauntlet. It was a trial by fire, to be sure, and you were pleased that Dean has not yet been burned.

Of course, whilst the boys’ approval didn’t mean everything to you, you couldn’t deny it was important; perhaps especially this time, with this guy. And, out of all of the group, Santi’s approval meant the most to you. Always had. Probably because Santi meant the most to you, full stop. You simply couldn’t imagine having someone in your life that didn’t get on with your best friend. And, so, you are not overly thrilled at the reception Santi is giving Dean right now. The reception he had been giving him all evening, in fact. And the more you dwell on it, the more an anger bubbles forth from you. Even though you try to push it down, and focus on Dean, that fucker in the corner of your eye sends you.

“What’s wrong with you tonight, Garcia?” you blurt out, a little louder than intended, causing the amiable chat and giggles to stall, all eyes turning to you - then, in turn, following the direction of your fiery gaze over to Santi, who shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

Now, he leans forward. Looks back at you with a rare venom in his eyes. With a smug curl of his mouth, he dips to pick up his beer from the floor and takes a swig - buying himself some time. Trying to brush you off. Still, your gaze does not relent as he rests his elbows on his thighs, bridging his fingers together in the space between, thumbs sticking in the air.

Now, he engages, and he looks directly at Dean, his eyes sweeping dismissively over the entirety of his form. Now, he speaks, his voice filled with far more bitterness than the situation merits. “Nothing at all. I’m fucking peachy. So, Dean. You play the motherfuckin’ banjo?” he offers, and yet, it sounds far more like an accusation than a question.

What the fuck is up with him?

Wilting a little beneath Santi’s stare, as the ex-operative squints his eyes in his direction, Dean casts a helpless, sideward glance at you from his place in the circle, and yet, you are so stupefied by anger that you can do little to help.

“I think what my dear friend means to say -” Frankie dips in valiantly, smacking Santi pointedly on the thigh, likely hoping to smack some sense into him too “- is why don’t you tell us more about your music, Dean?”

Frankie’s eyes and smile are soft when he looks at you, surreptitiously exchanging a pointed look -what’s up with that pendejo?- and you are grateful that at least some of the evident tension is diffused when he picks up the slack in the conversation.

Santi and his mood swings be damned, and, feeling bolstered, Dean continues on.  

“Actually, it’s going pretty frickin’ well with the band. It’s a side-gig to my lecturing job, but we’re planning a tour during summer vacation. The States -east coast- and Western Europe for now. Maybe headlining a couple of small festivals, if that pans out, who knows.” Dean relates, humbly.

“That’s great, man,” Will chips in, helping Frankie get things back on track. “We’ll have to come down to a gig soon, hear you play.”

“Actually, we have something to tell you about the tour, don’t we, babe?” Dean says bashfully, and he looks at you expectantly, waiting for you to pick-up the thread. You’d talked about it before coming today, and it had seemed like a great idea at the time, but suddenly, now that the announcement is imminent, your mouth is dry - as if filled with cotton. Still, you force a smile, and you’re not sure why, but you look anywhere else but at Santi as your lips form the words. “Yeah – kinda big news, fellas. I’m going to join Dean on the Europe leg of the tour. I’ll be leaving you losers behind for a few months.”

Dean’s face cracks into a smile and he reaches for your hand, looking made-up at the prospect. Still, while you will yourself to be fully present in the moment, you find yourself focussed on looking anywhere but at Santi, sure that his stare must be boring into the side of your head. You hadn’t told him yet. Unfortunately, at Santi is where just about everyone else ends up looking, as the fucker abruptly pushes his camp chair back and stands, storming indoors before anyone can hope to fathom it.

You exchange glances with Frankie, Will, and Benny, with Benny thankfully stepping-in this time to distract Dean from the obvious, and asking him which stops you two will be making, and which sights you plan to see.

“Look, man, don’t mind that tool. Got any sightseeing plans?”

What is Santi’s problem? Why can’t he give Dean a chance? Yes, you’ve made some mistakes in the past- been hurt, and Santi had helped you pick up the pieces -every time- but you had a good feeling about Dean. A really good feeling. Can’t he see that too?

Frankie throws a concerned glance back towards the house and motions as if to stand, but you beat him to it, wanting to get to the bottom of this. “I’ll go,” you insist, motioning for Frankie to stay put, and with a quick promise to Dean that you’ll be back soon (and a silent plea to your boys to take care of him in your absence), you do just that, walk-jogging across the grass.

When you step inside to the kitchen, you find Santi stood, hunched over the counter, his palms clasping the surface tight enough that his knuckles pale, and his head hung low, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes in exaggerated breaths.

“Well?” you ask pointedly, with zero tolerance for his bullshit. “What’s going on with you? Wanna explain why you’re being an ass to my boyfriend?” you challenge to the back of him, and he instantly whips around at the sound of your voice. 

“I’m being an ass?” he asks indignantly, his eyebrows shooting towards the top of his head. 

“Yes. In a nutshell. Yes,” you hiss, any other interpretation feeling impossible. You fold your arms and purse your lips, making it plainly evident that you are waiting for some explanation. And, oh boy, it had better be good.

Instead of explaining though, Santi simply huffs out breath, gesturing angrily out of the window. “That guy, really? That’s the guy you’re gonna go all in for? Go to fucking Europe for?”

That guy, you mouth silently, completely stupefied for a moment. You’re not sure exactly what your so-called friend is insinuating, but you are clear that you don’t like it one bit.

“What is your fucking problem?” you ask, punctuating your words with motions of your hands, as if you are trying to strangle the air in-between you in lieu of his neck. “Dean’s a catch. He’s hot, he’s sweet, he’s a nice guy. He’s there for me. He takes care of me.”

“Like I don’t take care of you?!” Santi exclaims, his voice rising and abrasive; and then, immediately after the words tumble forth from his lips, he steps back imperceptibly, as if startled by his own outburst, his hand rasping over the stubble on his chin.

“What in the...? This isn’t about you, you ass!” you bite back, face scrunching up in confusion. Your fingers come to your temples as you grow increasingly lost-off and perplexed, and seemingly, your riposte only makes Santi double down on whatever the hell he is complaining about.

“Who’s the one who’s always been there for you, hmm? Who picks up the pieces every time you make yet another dumb shitty choice with another shitty guy?” he rambles, gesturing his hand towards you dismissively.

You step back from him this time, just a little, tears spiking instantaneously in your eyes at such an unnecessarily cruel blow. He’s right, in a sense: you had always relied on Santi to heal you, not to hurt you - and yet here he was dealing these painful, incoherent blows out of nowhere.

“Shit, Garcia. If it’s that much trouble to be there for me don’t bother next time,” you snap, your voice breaking as the swell of anger and hurt and adrenalin sends tears spilling over your cheeks. “Don’t worry though, I don’t think I’ll need you again. In fact, I have a feeling this guy might stick. So, maybe? Maybe you should think about the fact that the only shitty guy around here is you.” 

“You really think he’s good enough for you, hmm? He’s really who you want to end up with?”

You listen, aghast, as his tirade keeps coming. However, as Santi’s voice breaks with emotion part-way through his second question, you can’t explain it, but you feel an intolerable sadness in the pit of you. Even though you’re not sure what’s causing all this, what you’re barrelling toward, you want to thrust this sadness away from you. Push him away from you.  You want to push away the knot in your stomach for fear that if you tug at that thread, you might arrive at an answer to his question.

Exasperated, overwhelmed, you roughly paw tears from your cheeks, not knowing where all of these feelings are coming from, in either direction. “Fuck, I... I don’t understand what this is. I don’t get it!” you say, waving your hands, palms-up, through the air. “Is this some macho bullshit? Have I pissed you off somehow?”

At that, the wave of Santi’s anger crests and breaks; as you wonder if you annoyed him. Then, as suddenly as his anger came it is waning, his eyes pooling with rare tears now. With a huff of breath he tears off his damn cap, tossing it aside to run a hand through his grizzled hair. 

“No. No,” he backtracks a little, palms up in surrender. “You haven’t... I.... I just...” He pinches his lips in-between his teeth and looks up at the ceiling as his words trail off, perhaps trying to steady his voice before continuing. Or, perhaps he has nothing else to say to you. Perhaps he’s said enough.

You examine him. Still pissed as all hell, but worried now too, and ultimately, your love for your best friend slightly edging-out the anger. It’s rare that anything affects him like this, and you can’t help the sudden rush of concern.

Cresting too, you exhale a tightly held breath into the now silent, taut space between you, and your body sags - just a little. You chew over your words a moment, but when your voice comes back the volume is lower, your tone softer - and, although it cannot be considered friendly, by any stretch, it’s the best you can do right now.

“You know what,” you offer, generously, wrapping your arms around your own middle, stroking your forearms with your own fingertips. “I’m giving you a pass. You don’t even want to give Dean a chance? Then just leave, Santi. Just go. I’ll give the guys some bullshit excuse that doesn’t leave you looking like a total ass, because I’m not a dick to my friends. So just go, okay?” You pump your eyebrow at him indignantly and await a response, your manner stiff and unyielding.

Santi closes his eyes and knits his brow together, something like regret finally passing over his face and he shuffles guiltily from foot-to-foot.

You puff out air through your teeth and shake your head, as you observe this Delta Force hero; the bravest man you know in many ways, but still too cowardly to tell it like it is. To admit that he’s in the wrong. You are afraid to say that even as his gaze comes back to you, misty-eyed, you have little sympathy for his plight. You are sure it is of his own doing. You are almost as sure that he won’t open-up.

“You know,” you begin, breaking from your position and gathering up a fresh cooler of beers from the fridge, turned away from him as you speak. “I brought Dean to meet my family. Do you understand that? I didn’t have parents and siblings for him to meet. I have you guys. You’re my family.”

Still nothing. Nothing but silence greets you. Nothing but a pained expression on his face, his brows drown together and the artificial light of the kitchen highlighting the harsh planes of his face as you look over your shoulder at him, waiting for some reaction. Some admission of guilt. None comes. He simply slots his hands into his jean pockets, looking sheepish.

“So,” you continue, greeted with a brick wall, “fuck knows why you don’t want me to be happy, but I am. I’m happy with him. Thanks a ton for shitting all over that.”

You don’t even bother to look towards him this time, instead placing the last of the clinking, condensation-adorned bottles into the carrier, resigned to head back out without him, and without any apology.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, and your head whips towards him in surprise.

He looks it - sorry. He looks apologetic. Deeply so. He looks sorry for this, for every way he’s ever slighted you, for every time he’s hurt you, even in ways and moments you never knew about. He looks sorry down to the pit of him, and it catches you off-guard when you see it freely offered there in his eyes.

Even so, this is a stubborn man. There’s an apology, but there’s no explanation. Nothing to explain his behaviour. So, even though it seems genuine, it also doesn’t seem like enough.

It doesn’t appease you, and yet, all you can bring yourself to do is sigh deeply.

You know Santi better than anyone, but there’s always been a part of him that has seemed out of reach, even to you. You’re not sure -never have been- whether to be scared or excited by those unknown parts of him. Not sure whether the impasse hints at buried secrets too dark and deep to bear, or whether it hints of a possibility of something more. Something deeper or something better you could have together, if only he would let you in. You don’t know, and you never have, but all you are sure of is that you have constantly teetered on the edge of that abyss, too much left unknown to know all of him, however much you may have wished to. He’s entitled to his secrets, of course, but you hate how they hurt him. 

With a little sympathy now, you examine his watery eyes, and when your voice comes back this time, it is softer and slower than you intended. More tired than you expected.

“You know, Dean wants to be with me. And he tells me so.” You casually dip down to pick-up the cooler handle, eyes still fixed on your best friend. “He might not be Delta Force… he might be a banjo player from Michigan… but even he’s brave enough for that.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Santi says, bristling all over again, his hand rasping angrily over his stubbled jaw, and yet, you decline him an explanation. Instead, keeping your own secrets now, holding back, you head towards the door, beers in hand.

Still, you turn back to him. You might be angry, but you still care for him -more than you could say. 

“If you figure out what’s up with you, let me know, and I’ll be there for you. Whatever you’ve got going on, you know that, right? But this? This isn’t okay, Garcia. You might think that I make dumb choices -you ass, by the way- but I’ve watched you hit self-destruct so many times instead of dealing with your feelings. Maybe you should look at your own life, huh, instead of shitting all over me for trying to be happy? Shit, at least I fucking try.”

His eyes shift from side to side in the room, the muscles in his jaw twitching, chin jutting forward, and his thumbs locked in his belt loops. He can’t quite bring himself to meet your gaze; at least not until you are disappearing through the threshold; until it’s almost too late. Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

“Wait!” he pleads, but you cut him off, before he can speak. Even though, truth be told, you’re not sure he would muster anything to say at all, even if you gave him a chance. He’s so used to holding back.

“No,” you say firmly. “Forget it, I’m done. I still love you- you’re my best friend. But, fuck, just go home, and get out of my sight, Santiago. I’m so pissed with you right now.”

And so, you turn away, and when his words finally do come, they are spoken to the back of your head. They are spoken without you ever seeing his lips move, and you wonder if he ever said them at all, or if this might be some cruel trick of the night. Some witching hour spell. That is, until you turn towards him and you see the words painted clearly on his face too.

“Fuck it. I’m in love with you.”

I’m in love with you.

Why can’t he ever manage anything unless it’s too late?

You’re not sure what reaction he was expecting, but you almost choke on the sudden lump in your throat. You feel a taste of bile rising-up into your mouth. An intense, resurgent anger fills you, which near makes the room spin, and makes your hands and your legs tremble.

Even if a hidden, unconscious part of you has been waiting, hoping for these words all these years, when they finally come all you can feel is... royally pissed off.

“Oh. No. No. No,” you repeat, words gradually increasing in volume, looking at Santi as if he has mortally wounded you, rather than offered that confession. “You do not get to do this to me.”

You see a hard swallow bob down his throat, a near-instant regret on his face, and your heart pounds in your chest as you reel with the implications of his words.

The coward. The fucking asshole. He waited until now? All the times things had gone to shit, and he waited until you were happy?

“All the times...” you accuse, your tone as bitter as the taste in your mouth, the metallic tang of blood as you feel a rushing in your ears. “All the fucking times. All the chances, Santi, and you do this now?” you continue, your finger sawing through the air, wagging accusations at him, even as your voice wavers, as your hands notceably tremble. “No. Fuck you, Garcia. Fuck you.”

You want to cry, or scream, but you are too angry. So angry, that it eclipses anything else which might come to light. So angry that you almost come full circle again, beginning to stabilise out at eerily calm.

Santi looks down at the floor, and exhales air, chuckling disbelievingly to himself, then lightly nodding his head, lips pressed tightly together. His feet shift agitatedly below him as he brings his endlessly familiar eyes back up to meet yours. This time when he looks at you, it hurts. You remember bullet wounds, and you swear that was nothing compared to this.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say to me, hmm? Fuck you, Garcia?”

“What the fuck were you expecting?” you say, launching your words before you realise the implications of them. Yes, you know fine well that your boyfriend is sitting outside, likely wondering where you have got to. But, if you had the wherewithall to have thought about it, you would know exactly what Santi was expecting, despite all of that. You would know that a part of him must be expecting, hoping, that when he told you, you might reciprocate. That you might love him back.

And, would that be so outside of the realms of possibility? Would it be so hard to imagine that the deep, magnetic, and unshakeable friendship you shared could be something else? Something more? That you could tip over the edge you had long been teetering on? Maybe it could, or maybe it could have, but right now, you can’t see past the flashbang he has just dropped over your life, and it is clouding your vision.

You were happy. You are happy. Fuck him for doing this now.

Why would you fall into the unknown for him, if you never knew whether he would catch you? If you never knew whether ruin or safety awaited you if you let yourself tip? He always held back.

What the fuck were you expecting?

Your words linger in the space between you, and in lieu of any other lifeline, realisation dawns on Santi’s face. Realisation that, although he jumped, you are not intending to catch him either. But how could you catch him, with your arms already full?

And, so, he slowly nods his head once again, his eyes beading with glassy tears and his hand grazing over his chin in a self-soothing gesture. Wordlessly, he sets his jaw and he abruptly replaces his baseball cap on his head, padding a few steps forward to stand opposite you, sucking all of the breath from your lungs. This time, when he looks at you, you see all of your past, but you still can’t see beyond that. The abyss still scares you too much.

Like this, facing each other down, eye-to-eye, the silence in the room grows sharp as a knife, refined to a point. So, when Santi abruptly turns to leave in a sharp, determined trajectory, without so much as looking at you, it is as if he has dragged the blade across your skin in an equally swift motion. As if he has left you open and bleeding-out, having delivered a mortal wound with the act of his exit. You’ve felt like this on the battelfield before, and in life, yet he was always there for you. Always there to patch you. To pick up the pieces.

Instead of screaming open-mouthed for help, this time, you simply watch him go, and now you are the wordless one, mustering nothing but a gasped inhale of breath before your vision blurs with tears - as you watch his hazy form disappear along the hall and out of your sight.

“Santi,” you call pathetically, your voice small and weak and teary, barely making it past your throat, and he doesn’t hear you. He doesn’t hear you but even if he had, you’re not sure anymore if he would have stopped.

When Santi slams the front door behind him, you shudder with it in its frame, your hand coming to your chest as if to hold your heart inside your opened-up ribs, and you close your eyes against the jarring sound, tears spilling down your cheeks, your face screwing-up into a shined, contorted grimace.

Entirely lost, now alone, you bizarrely wish for the room to be filled with anger again, instead of the intolerable sadness - which all too suddenly takes hold of you as your emotions crest and break. It is all you can do to stumble forward a few paces and hunch over the countertop, finding yourself in the exact position you had discovered Santi in. You stand, bracing yourself with your arms, fingers clutching the edge of the worktop, and your head slumped forward, tears freely spilling out of you as your chest heaves.

You wonder whether he’d held himself in this same position because he had felt an intolerable sadness too. An intolerable sadness at seeing you happy.

Suddenly you could understand it.

That fucker. Santiago “Pope” Garcia.

I’m in love with you.

I’m in love with you.

The words echo in your mind, but this time, if you’re honest, you’re not wholly sure if they’re his, or yours.

PART TWO IS HERE

[blossom-hwa]

I don't generally request stuff and the reason why I am doing this is because I absolutely love your work, especially the Kingdom Series and the Mermaid!Younghoon and I am a little embarassed to put out my little imagination request out

But I would like to request

Sunwoo + colour lavender but could you make it best friends to lovers au too? (It is okay if you can only work on one part too!!! Whatever you are comfortable with)

Thank you so much! Congrats on your 4 years, and thanking for alllllll the amazing work you have put out!!!!! Really big appreciation for you and your writing!!! Ly❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

hi love! there's no need to be embarrassed at all about this - it's a lovely idea, and thank you so much for your kind words and the request! I hope you enjoy this token of my thanks for your support <3

4 year anniversary drabble game: send me a Stray Kids/The Boyz/Golden Child/Ateez member + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

~

Title: Palette

Pairing: Sunwoo x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.8k

Triggers: none

~

"What color am I?"

The question comes on a hot day spent on the couch with the air conditioner broken, when everything feels like it's melting under the heat of the sun baking your apartment to a crisp. Somewhere in the building, a repairman is trying to figure out what's wrong.

You and Sunwoo, however, are melting into puddles on the sticky hardwood floor.

"What?" You shake yourself out of the blank state you’ve slipped into, staring at the empty ceiling. You've never spent much time looking at the ceiling. It's off white, maybe eggshell, a little cracked and blemished but not enough for you to say to no to the cheaper rent. Looking at it now, though, it's kind of ugly.

"You said Juyeon is yellow, like sunflowers.” He pauses. “Eric’s... green, I think. Sangyeon was red, Changmin was also green, but brighter than Eric. Right?”

Something tugs at the back of your mind, a memory of using your paints to describe some of your friends. Your eyes drift to the abandoned easel in the corner of the muggy room. You can almost feel the canvas melting off of it into a paint-splattered puddle on the floor. “Right,” you reply, wiping a bead of sweat off of your head. 

“You didn’t give me a color,” Sunwoo says. You can’t spare the energy to look in his direction even though he’s literally right next to you, but you imagine he looks about as wiped out as you feel. “So I wondered.”

Colors. Yes, colors like the off-white eggshell of your ceiling, the blue of the sky outside... 

What color is Sunwoo?

Orange is the first one that comes to mind, orange like a sunset, burning as it slowly dips under the horizon. Its rays wisp into the sky, fading in some places, intensifying in others, turning it into a mural of oranges and pinks and yellows, burning like the passion that fuels Sunwoo’s soul...

Oh, but yellow. Yellow exists - maybe not as golden as Juyeon’s yellow, maybe not as bright as the burning sun, but darker, deeper, like marigolds - orange mixed in, perhaps, but still yellow in abundance, like flower petals bursting into bloom. 

You frown. Sweat drips down the side of your face, but this time, you don’t even notice. Orange and yellow - they’re right, but not quite right. Not exactly. Not yet...

Sunwoo’s voice interrupts your thoughts. “Still thinking?” 

“Shut up.” You flail around a limp arm, smiling with satisfaction when it hits his stomach with an audible thump. “Rome wasn’t built in a day.”

“You’re thinking about a color.”

“How long do you think it takes me to mix the exact right shade for each part of a painting?” You turn just enough to let him see your raised eyebrow. “Thinking about colors takes a lot of work.”

He grumbles but shuts up, eyes closing as he settles back onto the floor. You keep watching him though, follow the curve of his jaw down to his chin, tanned skin shiny with the sheen of moisture that seems to have covered everything in this tiny apartment...

Bronze comes to mind, warm, metallic, rich like the color of his skin. They made weapons out of bronze in the past - strong, steady, unyielding, like Sunwoo’s will to push past obstacles no matter how hard they seem at a glance. He could be a bronze statue, for all you know - he’s handsome enough for that, certainly some sculptor from the past would have been taken with Sunwoo’s looks if he’d been around and created a statue that would have lasted for centuries afterward. 

But it’s warm. Too warm. And maybe it’s just because of the hot sun pouring into the room even with the shades drawn, but thinking about metal, about bronze, makes you feel like you’re touching a burning hot stove on a day like this. There have to be other colors, right? Other colors that aren’t bronze, green, pink, maybe blue - 

Blue. You latch onto the thought. Not the color of the relentless sky, but maybe like the ocean - cool, deep, ceaseless in its flow but not overbearing until a storm comes, whipping the waves into a chaos of whirling water that slashes and swipes across the beach. Sunwoo’s a little bit of both, you think, the part of the ocean that goes with the flow, but also the part that gets a little angry, a little passionate, a little too worked up about some things sometimes. 

But his anger isn’t quite blue. Not really. Sunwoo is quick to anger but also quick to calm when dealt with correctly. The storm builds up its rage and lashes out as long as it wants, but Sunwoo... no. He’s not that way. Not quite. 

You stifle a groan. Is there any color that fits Sunwoo perfectly, then? Any single color on the stained palette next to your easel, any single color in the world? He’s too complex, too much of everything all at once - he could be blue, could be bronze, could be orange or yellow or pink, of all things - you could find a way to justify every single one but none of them would be enough - 

Your gaze rises from his chin to his lips, and your mouth goes dry. 

Maybe he’s red, like the first time you ever noticed the fullness of his lips. 

No, don’t think about that. You squeeze your eyes shut tight before opening them as though that’ll erase the image of his lips from your mind. It was in high school - you’d handed him his water bottle after ten minutes of running laps and you’d watched him tip it against his lips so full and soft, and for a moment, you had let yourself imagine what it’d be like to have those lips against yours. 

You force yourself to look somewhere else, anywhere, just away from the lips and the shade of red beginning to shimmer before your eyes. Red, right - your mind scrambles to turn its thoughts away - red - colors - that’s what you were supposed to be thinking of - not lips, colors - 

Your gaze rises above the lips to Sunwoo’s closed eyes. 

Only they aren’t closed anymore. 

You can’t breathe. You literally can’t breathe - how long have his eyes been open? How long did he see you watching him like some stupid creepy stalker?

Did he realize you were looking at his lips?

“Done yet?” he asks, breaking the silence. Is it just your imagination, or do his eyes flicker down to your lips too?

Just your imagination. “Shut up.” Even the jab comes out weaker than you’d like to. You want to look away, but you can’t seem to do it - something’s rooting you where you are, eyes fixed upon his. “Give me a minute.”

“How many minutes has it been?” It’s just your imagination, just your imagination... “Is it really that hard? You thought of Eric’s in, like, a second.”

You’re too much, you think. Too many colors all at once. But instead of saying that aloud, you just swallow, like the idiot you are. “Let me think,” you say. Your voice almost cracks. 

Red. Shades of red, beautiful red, the color of his lips, the core of the sun burning at sunset, smoldering embers on a dying fire splashed across the canvas of your vision. And yes, it’s almost perfect, almost there - you have his flaring temper caught in a color, now, but it needs something to cool it off - 

Blue. Blue, like you thought before, the ocean and its ceaseless flow. Blue and red, blue and red, blue and red...

“Purple,” you whisper, too close to his lips. Rich, royal, the coolness of blue and the fire of red... “Some shade of purple.”

“Purple.” Sunwoo repeats the word with curiosity on his lips, almost like he’s tasting the color on his tongue. “Why purple?”

“I -” You swallow when the soft puff of his breath hits your face. When exactly did you two get this close? It wouldn’t take more than a few inches to close the gap between your lips. “I couldn’t choose between blue and red,” you say honestly. “You’re both. In fact, it feels like you’re a bit of every color. But purple... that’s the closest I can get without giving you a specific shade.”

“Which shade?”

Something clicks into place in your mind, and it is definitely not your imagination this time when Sunwoo’s eyes fall down to your lips. 

The dryness in your mouth makes it difficult to swallow. You try anyway. “Give me a moment,” you murmur, heart beating unnecessarily quickly. 

Think. Shades of purple. Do you go darker or lighter? Warmer or cooler? Is he magenta? Mauve? Violet? Your mind flicks as quickly as it can through the catalogue of colors in your mind. Cooler, probably - he’s more the ocean than the fire, more embers than a full flame - lighter, too, like a breath of fresh air - 

A blast of cool wind gusts down from the vent. It’s gone almost as quickly as it comes, but it stays with you in the name of the color forming on your lips. 

Your voice comes out like a whisper. It feels wrong to speak any louder. “I’ve got it.”

Sunwoo blinks. His lashes look so lovely, framing his eyes. “Really?” he asks, and you have wonder if he closed the distance slightly since the last time you spoke - the few inches that separated you before seem to have decreased to a mere centimeter or two. “So what color am I?”

There’s another blast of cool air. Neither of you reacts to it. Instead, as blissfully cold air begins to filter through the vents, impulse drives you to lean forward, to close the entire distance at last -

Sunwoo’s lips are softer than you ever thought they’d be. They feel cool and warm all at once, purple as a base but lighter, cooler, a breath of fresh air on your face after a horribly hot day spent in the sun.

“Lavender,” you whisper against his lips. “You’re lavender.”

You don’t offer an explanation, but he doesn’t ask you to elaborate, like he did with purple. It’s okay. You think he knows it. Feels it, at least, when you kiss him once more, fresh air washing over your bodies, painting the canvas of your skin in cool, blissfully cool strokes. 

Lavender. 

[thedeathdoctor]

Kinktober Day 1: Voyeurism

The Boy: Brahms Heelshire x Reader

Peephole

Your first few days at the Heelshire manor passed smoothly enough. Sure, the day-to-day routine differed from what you expected it to be when you accepted the position, but it didn’t bother you too much. 

After your five years in college, you had earned your degree, as well as a newfound difficulty with regular sleeping, eating, and sometimes bathing. The days consisted of you rushing to class and office hours and meetings, assignments barely completed in your remaining free time, and in the margins you kept yourself alive. Graduation came and went and then you were alone, degree in hand, a shell of yourself. You felt like the human shaped doll you cared for, hollow and fragile. 

You followed the schedule the Heelshires had given you. Despite being an adult, you felt that it was a good routine for you to stick to as well. It was a hell of a lot better than being in the mental hospital anyway, where they literally did treat you like a preschooler, complete with requiring you to ask them to fill your water bottle. Here, Brahms was your child and your companion. Doing things together helped you; caring for Brahms allowed you to care for yourself by extension. 

Outside of the schedule, you found yourself reading more, painting more, creating more. You found yourself daydreaming out loud to Brahms frequently. You would wax on about places you have seen and have yet to see, your old friends, the family you still talked to on occasion. All of it, including the pain, the divorce of your parents that never went through but should have, how you only made it through highschool because your ex promised he would make the family you always wanted only after you both graduated, the breakup after you realized that he wasn’t putting in any work into the future that he said he wanted, and the miscarriage you told no one about.  Brahms was a good listener, and honestly, that was really all that you needed lately. Someone to be there while you work things out, out loud. 

After putting Brahms to bed, you usually took some time to yourself to unwind and relax. It took a bit to allow yourself to enjoy such a luxury, but regular bubble baths in their fancy, claw-footed porcelain tub became an integral part of your self care routine. Firstly, you found it convenient that you could wash yourself without having to towel dry your hair afterward every time. 

And then you discovered what wonders the handheld water faucet held.

-------

You were unaware of the large, virile man lurking in the walls of the manor, and of the discreet peepholes scattered about the house. Invisibly, the living Brahms spent nearly every moment of the day with you, admiring how you cared for the doll, and longing to one day take its place in your arms. When you spilled your heart and soul out loud to your silent audience of one, he listened intently, hanging onto every word you shared. The mask he wore weighed especially heavily on him those times, a reminder that no matter how perfect he was for you, he was still too irredeemably broken to deserve you. And so, he graciously shielded you from his presence by continuing to exist in the walls, a shameful thing that wanted to live freely in the house - not as a part of it but as its resident, together, with you. 

Trapped in a constant state of yearning. 

The closest he could get to you was by watching you, and holding the clothes that he had stolen from the bottom of your dirty laundry bin. They smelled of you the most, and when he couldn’t find your scent on them anymore, he would carefully place them back in the bin, at the bottom. He soon realized that it was much easier for him to steal your panties - you had a colorful variety of them that you chose to wear at random. Truthfully, you had no idea how many you had, only that you had enough of them. 

And so, as you slipped into the steaming, bubble filled tub, hungry eyes followed you from the unremarkable gap in the bathroom wall. Brahms held up a pair of your worn, lacy panties to the mask and breathed in your scent. His right hand palmed the crotch of his wrinkled trousers, massaging his cock through the fabric as it grew and stiffened. You took a large yellow sponge and began to gently wash up your arms, first your left, and then your right, leaving a trail of bubbles running and dripping up to your shoulders. You moved onto washing your shoulders, and his body shuddered involuntarily as he imagined gently wrapping his bulky hands around your graceful neck and pressing kisses from your shoulders to your jawline. 

The sponge dipped below the layer of bubbles, giving him a moment to pry his eyes away from your body and work on freeing his straining cock. His fingertips frantically fumbled with his pants opening - mentally cursing his large hands for their clumsiness - and letting them fall around his thighs. Cradling the shaft in one hand, he grew into his full length with only a minimal amount of slow massaging. When he held it at the base, over half of it cantilevered from his grasp, two throbbing veins on either side led down his erection to his deep pink head. Precum drooled from the tip, beading up and spilling down in generously viscous strands. He wasn’t sure if it was adequate enough for your standards, and more so felt that you would find it just as grotesque and repulsive as the rest of his body.

Returning his attention to you as you washed the rest of your body, he stroked himself lazily, anticipating what you usually did next. You drained the bath and carefully washed the remaining bubbles off with the hand faucet, making sure that you wouldn’t find dried soap clinging to your skin in the morning. Water ran down your exposed body as you rinsed yourself, before propping your elbow up on the edge of the tub and letting the stream of water find its way between your thighs. You let it trace your vulva in large circles, all the sensitivity in your body migrating towards it and leaving the rest of your body in a soft, blissful paralysis. The circles slowly tightened until it settled on your clitoris, the water pressure teasing it gently, methodically as you coaxed your first orgasm out of your tightly wound body. 

Brahms stroked himself faster with you, trying to pleasure himself at your pace. His movements jerkily slowed, however, as you came. The first time he had watched you, he had spent himself entirely, and afterward could only listen from his resting position as he reclined sleepily against the wall as you worked yourself over and over. From then on he had forced himself into a form of restraint in order to last longer alongside you. He studied your routine attentively, as he did with all other aspects of your life. You would orgasm clitorally a few times, then finish by adding your fingers as well. 

Dizzy and lightheaded with the past few orgasms now settling down into your body, your free hand wandered past your hipbones and cheekily massaged your clit before parting your labia with a gentle finger. Brahms’ movement hitched, imagining his fingers replacing yours, feeling the sensitive, soft skin as it slicked his fingers with your warm juices. A thought crossed his mind - what your taste would be, and if it could possibly be better than your scent - as he held your panties up to his mask once more. He found himself adrift in his fantasies, the feeling of pressing you down into his mattress, feeling your lithe body squirm beneath him as his thick fingers worked themselves into you, your sighs and screams echoing throughout the estate, your taste on his lips, his other hand firmly holding your hips as he teased a cascade of orgasms from you, surrounded by your sweet, dizzying smell, you, you, you it was always you, who I ever needed in my life, please stay here with me and be mine forever- bonding you all to himself forever, entwining the two of you physically, emotionally, spiritually, biologically for all eternity. 

In the bath, you tipped yourself over into the rush of your final orgasm, letting a breathy moan rise from your lips, the sound bringing Brahms to a climax so overwhelming, the first spurt of his thick, milky cum hit the slatted boards inside the wall before he remembered to catch the rest with a cloth. Behind his mask, his mouth fell open as he let out a faint, deep moan, and fell to his knees. The sound startled you out of your comedown, and half cognizant, you froze up and called out to the house you knew to be empty. 

“Hello??”