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astrophileous · 1 year ago

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Love Bugs (Pt. 07)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female Reader

Synopsis: You and Derek Morgan have an arrangement. At work, your relationship is strictly business. Under the sheets, it's all about pleasure. Nothing more, nothing less. Until, of course, your feelings start to get involved. Your situation is complicated enough without the unexpexted predicament that suddenly befalls upon you. But with a maniac serial killer on the loose, will you ever get the chance to make everything right?

Warning(s): cursing, mentions and/or depictions of death, near death experience, usage of guns, mentions of injuries resulted from physical violence, mentions of strangulation, pregnancy, somewhat religious undertones (very minor), I think that's all?? Pls inform me if I missed any

Word Count: 3200-ish

Tag(s): @marvelousgoldroses @jay-2s-world @whore-of-the-pumpkin-patch @maxinehufflepuffprincess @cat-or-kitten @littleshadow17 @itzz-me-duh @geeksareunique @paisleebubbles @whateverrrrrrrrs @crazyunsexycool @bruher @spiderlillie00 @f1lov3r @louderfortheback @wifeyofeveryone

Author's Note: HI!! I can't believe we're finally at the end of Love Bugs OMG!!! Thank you so much for everyone who has stuck by this series through its ups and downs. I was initially planning to write an additional chapter to close off this story, but I realized that this is the right part to end it. With that said, I am open to taking requests of blurbs/headcannons for Love Bugs if any of you would like to see more from these two. Just send me an ask and I'll make sure to check it out! This story is my very first derek and criminal minds fic altogether, so it's pretty emotional to be saying goodbye to it. Again, thank you so much for reading Love Bugs and I hope you'll be around for any derek/other criminal minds fics I might have in the future ❤️ Don't forget to LIKE+REBLOG+COMMENT 🌹

Love Bugs Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Derek knew that letting Hotch take the wheel was a mistake.

He was already marching towards the driver's side back at the HQ's parking lot when the older man had stopped Derek before he could get in.

"Your head is not in the right place right now. The last thing we need is to get into a car accident when (Y/N) desperately needs our help," Hotch had reasoned.

Derek obviously couldn't argue with that.

But Lord, did he wish that he had actually argued with that. He kept internally cursing his boss for not going fast enough. Never mind if the speedometer was teetering towards 60 miles per hour, it still just wasn't fast enough.

A phone call from Spencer and JJ came in around 5 minutes before Derek and Hotch were supposed to reach their destination.

"His new office is empty," Spencer had said. "She's not here."

That new piece of information meant that you were being held either at the UnSub's home--where Emily and Rossi were heading to right at that moment--or the old office building that, according to Garcia, had once belonged to the UnSub's father.

Derek wished that the office was exactly where the UnSub had been holding you all this time. Not because Derek wished to be the one to find you first--of course not, he couldn't care less about that--but just because Derek would prefer it more if he was the one to face the UnSub and point the barrel of his gun at your abductor's head, watching as the fired bullet penetrated his skull before the scumbag dropped dead onto the ground.

As soon as the SVU pulled up to the driveway of the office building, followed by two police cars, Derek wasted no time climbing off his seat and out of the car. His steps were tenacious as he stomped towards the entrance, purposefully ignoring Hotch's frantic calls of his name.

"Hey, wait a minute, Morgan. Slow down."

Derek pushed past a frowning Hotch, fully intent on closing the twenty feet distance between him and the front doors. But Hotch's hand on his shoulder faltered his steps once more, and Derek couldn't rein his anger when he finally decided to face Hotch.

"What the fuck do you want, man?!"

"You can't just barge in there. We need a plan."

"A plan?" Derek scoffed. "She could be dead by the time we draw up your stupid plan."

"Morgan," Hotch's voice came with a warning. "You're not thinking straight--"

"Hell yeah I'm not! (Y/N) could be inside right now, fighting for her life, and you wanna talk plans?" Derek took a step forward, leveling his burning gaze with Hotch's eyes. "You're the one who caused us this mess, Hotch. Do you really want her blood on your hands, too?"

In the many years of him knowing Derek Morgan, Hotch never witnessed such fury in the man's eyes. These were the eyes of a man who had nothing to lose. A man who was ready to sacrifice everything because his whole world was at stake.

"You're staying behind me," Hotch said at last. "Don't do anything rash, or I'll be forced to have you sit this one out."

As much as Derek wasn't satisfied by those conditions, he knew that it was the best option he could have, so he relented.

Under Hotch's command, the group of six split into three pairs as soon as they stepped inside the treshold. They checked every room in the two story building, but they all came up empty. Once they were back outside, Hotch received a phone call from Emily and Rossi.

"There's no sign of them in the house as well," Hotch said, repeating the exact words that Emily had informed him over the phone.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Maybe he's taken her some place else. I'll call Garcia and see if she can pull up any other potential location."

As Hotch waited for the tech-analyst to answer, Derek began darting his eyes over the entire building once more. None of it made any sense. He knew that it was impossible, but something told him that you were close. You were nearby. Just a sliver away from his reach.

It felt like he had been staring at the building for an eternity when it finally dawned on him.

"Hotch," Derek called out, feet already moving again towards the front door, "this building has a basement."

Derek didn't wait for a response as he barged inside.

Behind him, the other five people scrambled to catch up with his pace. Derek went to recheck all of the rooms in that building, banging on suspicious looking panels on the wall and testing the integrity of the floor beneath him.

A clanking sound in the distance eventually tore his attention away. The mysterious noise was soon followed by a shout from one of the uniformed officers.

"We found this," the officer reported as soon as Hotch and Derek stepped into the furthest room in the building.

On the ground, a rusty metal bookcase lied haphazardly. Right behind it, a wooden panel on the wall was gaping. Derek locked eyes with Hotch, a silent confirmation, before Hotch nudged the panel wider with his shoulder.

The hidden room led to a flight of stairs leading them down towards a dingy basement. Hotch motioned for everyone to follow him as he stealthily moved towards a metal door on the far side of one of the walls. As Hotch grabbed its handle, Derek tightened the hold he had on his gun.

Everything else had transpired in a blur.

Derek only recalled seeing that horrific scene playing out in front of him for less than a split second--the image of that bastard putting his filthy hands on you--before his instinct kicked in. Two bullets from his gun; one to the shoulder and one more to the neck.

Derek barely even registered the gurgling sounds the UnSub was making as he rushed towards you.

Derek's heart was glass as he knelt by the chair, each piece shattering against his insides with every mark, cut, and bruise that he could see littering your skin. He still remembered the feeling of your naked skin under his fingertips. Soft and tender, like frosting on a cake. But now?

Now, it looked dull and lifeless.

With heart in his throat, Derek moved to touch your limp form. "Bug?"

No answer.

"Hey, (Y/N)? It's me. I'm here, Bug, please open your eyes," he pleaded. "Wake up, sweetheart."

The pressure in Derek's chest inflated. His palm felt ice on your face. His fingers around your wrist scrambled for any sign of life he could find, but there was none.

"Hotch! Hotch, she's not breathing!" Derek called out, a sentence made out of nightmares. "Help me get this off!"

It felt like an eternity until Hotch was able to hand Derek the metal cutter, which they then used to free you of your restrains. Your body slumped instantly into Derek's arms the moment they cut off the last metal cuff, and Derek tried not to dwell over the fact that you felt stiff and cold against him.

"You're okay, sweetheart," he murmured as he laid you down on the ground. "Come on, you're okay."

Those words kept repeating themselves over and over again as he started doing compressions on your chest. Prayers towards a God he hadn't spoken to for a while also slipped past his lips. Prayers for a miracle. Prayers for the heavens to allow Derek to take your place instead. Prayers for the universe to please, let him have more time with you, please, please, please.

"Morgan." Hotch's hand fell on his shoulder, but Derek never faltered. He kept on pumping your chest, willing for your heart--his heart--to start beating once more. "Morgan, the paramedics are here."

Reluctantly, Derek let himself be dragged away from you, giving room for the first responders to do their job. As he looked down upon his hands, Derek noticed that they had been shaking. Violently.

"Please be careful," Hotch spoke up. "She's pregnant."

"Clear," one of the paramedics announced before another one pressed the shock button on the defibrillator.

Derek stared helplessly at the flat line shown on the heart monitor.

"Again. Clear."

Every second that passed by was an inch of blade through his chest. Every second you teetered closer towards death was also his life undoing right in front of his eyes.

Derek thought it was over. His world was crumbling to ash all around him, stripping down the colors until all he could see was gray. He was standing on the brink of its wreckage when suddenly, he heard one of the paramedics yell, "We got a pulse!"

And just like that, Derek's knees gave out underneath him.

"Morgan!" Hotch caught Derek's shoulders, keeping him up before the younger man could collapse completely on the floor. "Hey, she's okay. She's gonna be okay."

Derek could only nod his head in response. Words tasted like lead on his tongue as he struggled to catch his breath. Tears streamed down his face like a burst dam after a rainstorm.

For a second there, Derek thought his world was ending.

But as he stared feebly at the paramedics wheeling your body away, Derek couldn't stop thanking the universe for giving him another chance. One more chance to be with you. One more chance to make things right.

This time, Derek was not going to let it go to waste.

Darkness was peaceful.

In the darkness, you were nothing.

But you had always wanted to be something.

With a heavy heart, you made the decision to say goodbye, to come back to the life that had been your constant for the past decades. To a world that, beneath all of the bad things you had witnessed in it, still had some good worth mentioning, too.

Like Derek Morgan, for example.

Despite everything that happened, you could never deny that Derek was a rare example of good in the world. And he was exactly the person who occupied your mind when you gradually regained your consciousness, letting yourself amble further from the promises you had rejected from the darkness.

When you finally opened your eyes, it felt like your body had been dragged through much more than mere mud.

Fluorescent lights blinded you almost instantly. You turned your head in order to escape the onslaught, but the pain radiating through your entire body made you whimper instead.

"(Y/N)." A gentle hand landed on your shoulder. "Hey, you're awake."

You blinked away the fog that had gathered in your vision, trying to make out the silhouette in front of you until it morphed into a recognizable face.

"JJ?"

"Yeah, it's me." She smiled. "How're you feeling?"

"Not particularly great."

JJ breathed out a laugh. "I figured."

You groaned quietly as you shifted yourself to a new position, JJ jumping in to help even before you asked her to.

"What happened, J?" you questioned once you had settled comfortably.

"I think that's a talk for later, (Y/N). For now, you need to rest."

"Please--" you grabbed onto JJ's wrist, "--I want to know. The last thing I remember was... was..."

Being strangled.

That was the last thing you remembered before everything went dark.

JJ's eyes flashed with understanding. "You were barely alive when help arrived. It was a miracle that Hotch and Derek got there when they did."

"Derek?"

The smile JJ gave you was full of hidden meanings. She gestured with her head towards the other end of the room, towards the direction you hadn't even once inspected since you woke up. A worn down couch stood against the wall, and on top of it, cramping himself into a position that was surely not comfortable, was the person you had been hoping to see since you opened your eyes in that dingy basement.

Derek.

He was sleeping with his arm draped over his eyes. He must have been tired, you thought. Or otherwise, he wouldn't have been sleeping so soundly in such an awkward position.

"How long was I out?"

"About two days." You couldn't hide your shock when you looked at JJ. "He never left, (Y/N). He refused to leave your side."

JJ's revelation compelled your eyes to stray towards Derek once more. You missed him. You were still missing him even when he was there, in the same room as you were, safe and sound.

As if she could dissect the content of your head, JJ spoke up again, "Do you want me to wake him up?"

"No, please. He needs the rest."

"Pretty sure he needs to see you more than he needs his sleep, (Y/N)."

Ignoring your protests, JJ circled the bed and approached the run-down couch in the corner. You watched with a drum in your chest as JJ gently shook Derek awake, smiling to yourself when you see him open his eyes blearily.

"Someone wants to see you," JJ informed, nodding her head in your direction.

It was as though a switch had been flipped somewhere inside of him. The moment Derek saw your eyes looking at him, any trace of exhaustion he was previously feeling automatically dissolved in a heartbeat.

"I'll better step outside," JJ announced, already retreating towards the exit. "The others would want to know you're awake."

With JJ's departure, the atmosphere in the room instantly shifted.

Before you could process what was happening, Derek had seemingly transported to your side. Now up close, you finally saw the lines of fatigue etching on his face. His muscular shoulders drooped slightly as if the weight of the universe was forcing him to forfeit his energy little by little.

Sitting by the bed, Derek looked hesitant as his hand hovered over your own. You eventually took matters into your own hand, tangling your fingers around his until there was no room for escape.

"I've missed you," you confessed.

A watery laugh rumbled past his chest. In his eyes, a cloud of tears had begun to build. He stared at you with such fervent. The person who owned his heart, the one he thought would take it away from him to the grave.

"You scared me," Derek confessed as well. "I thought you were gone for good."

"It takes a lot more than that to get rid of me," you tried to joke, which, judging by the expression on Derek's face, was not something he appreciated very much. "Wait. Derek, the baby--"

"Is fine," he cut you off, preventing you from spiraling any further. "The doctor said they need to monitor both of your conditions for a few days. But for now, the baby is fine. So are you."

You released an appeased breath before dropping your head back on the pillow.

"How long have you known?" Derek suddenly asked.

The question was inevitable. You knew sooner or later it would come up, but that didn't mean you were not still taken back when it did.

"A couple of weeks," you replied. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"I understand why you didn't." Derek smiled ruefully. "After everything I said to you--"

"We both said or did something we regret."

"Yeah. Me more than anyone."

"Derek--"

"No, Bug. You gotta hear me out." Derek took a deep breath, the frown between his eyebrows deepening as he stared straight into your soul. "I want you to know. I want to make sure that you understand how sorry I am for everything. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me. I'm sorry I said all of those horrible things back in Iowa. But most importantly, I'm sorry I was too much of a coward to tell you the truth.

"The truth?"

"I love you, Bug."

Your heart skipped a beat.

"I love you," he emphasized. "I don't know when it started, if it was before or after our arrangement began. I just know that I do. These past few days have been hell for me, Bug. I've watched all kinds of nightmares imaginable in the years I spent on this job, but none of them compare to what I felt when you were gone."

A stray tear escaped from Derek's eye, constricting your chest even further than ever.

It was the first time you had ever seen him cry.

"I understand if you want nothing to do with me after this. But whatever you want, I promise that I'll be there. For both of you." Derek's palm landed on your belly, right on top of the small bump that had just started to grow. "In any capacity you allow me."

Your whole body erupted in goosebumps following Derek's admission. His sincerity rendered you speechless. It seemed like hours later when you could finally find your voice again.

"Did you mean all of that?"

"Every word."

"Good. Because I love you, too."

Derek's expression faltered ever so slightly.

"I want every capacity you have, Derek. I want every part of you, every part you're willing to give because I need you. We both do."

Derek's smile, despite the tear streaks on his face, was the definition of relief and joy. He kissed your knuckles a million little times before leaning forward to claim your lips. It was a breath of fresh air to have his lips on yours after such a long time apart. Even then, Derek was still familiar. He tasted of home.

Hours later, the rest of the team stopped by to check on your condition and to congratulate the two of you over the little life that was soon to become the newest member of the BAU family. Once the crowd had dispersed, your hospital room fell quiet once again.

In the midst of that comfortable silence, you persistently tried to convince Derek to go to sleep in his own bed for the night.

"I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart."

"Derek--"

"Do you really think after what happened, I'm just gonna let you out of my sight? Hell no. I'm sleeping here. End of discussion."

"It's just one night, Derek. I'll be fine," you assured him. "You can't possibly be comfortable on that tiny couch. You should go home and get some decent sleep."

"The only way I can get a decent sleep is by making sure you're safe, Bug. So, please--" he tugged the blanket higher around your body, "--stop your yapping and get some rest."

You eventually yielded into Derek's incessant commands and allowed yourself to relax, not before giving him a very defiant pout that earned you one sweet kiss from the man.

It didn't take long for sleep to take over your body. But even once you had fallen into a very deserved slumber, Derek couldn't find it in himself to close his eyes. After the tornado that these past few days had been, a love confession from you was the best reprieve that someone like him could ever dream of. It still seemed so surreal that a part of him feared going to sleep just for the tiniest bit of chance that everything had, in fact, been a dream.

So, for one night, Derek figured that sleep could definitely wait.

For one night, Derek would spend his time thanking whatever higher power had listened to his prayers and sent you safely back into his arms.

The love of his life. The center of his universe.

His Pretty Bug.

Along with the Little Bug that was still growing life inside of your belly.

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sansaorgana · 9 months ago

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Hi! Can you write a Buck Cleven x female reader where they met and fell in love while he's in England and on one of the missions she's told they think his plane went down and she's really upset but it turns out they just got separated from the rest of the group and she just runs to him as soon as he gets out of the plane? Angst and then fluff?

I loved your other Buck fic!

thank you so much, sweetheart 🍭 this time I've read the request like 10 times before starting to write to make sure I haven't misread anything lol 🤣

my inbox is open for blurb/short fic requests for major cleven 🤗

"You're gonna come back to me, baby, am I right?" you pressed your forehead to Buck's and you closed your eyes to inhale his scent and memorize it. Your fingers played with the hem of his jacket as you were pulling him closer and closer.

"Always," he answered in that deep voice of his that usually made you dizzy.

"That's a promise that a gentleman cannot break," you giggled as you opened your eyes but his expression was as serious as ever. He only smiled gently and it made your heart skip a beat. "What's wrong?" you asked.

"You're pretty, you know that?" Buck raised his hand to fix a reckless hairstrand and get it off of your cheek.

"Yes, sir," you nodded. His seriousness was contagious. It was almost as if he had a bad feeling about the upcoming mission but he didn't want to say it out loud. "Go," you leaned in to kiss his cheek and patted his shoulder. "Go, don't be late."

Buck saluted you and went outside as you followed him. You watched him running up to his boys and getting on the plane. You have watched that many times before but this time it really felt different.

"Everything alright, miss?" Colonel Harding furrowed his brow at the sight of your face.

"I'm fine, Colonel," you took a deep breath in to stop your tears from falling.

"Go, busy yourself with something," he nodded.

"Colonel…" you grabbed his sleeve desperately and very unprofessionally. He looked a little surprised but not angry with you at all. "Please, let me know about him… If something happens… I want to know first."

"That would be against the procedures, miss," he explained and you clenched your fingers even harder.

"You see, I'm going crazy here every time he's up there," you tried to explain.

"We're all going crazy, miss," he was a stubborn man. You gave up and saluted before leaving to find yourself something to do.

You were assigned to copy some official papers in Colonel's office but you were more and more frustrated with each given moment. You spent hours by that typewriter and haven't managed to copy one single document. You kept on doing typos and stupid mistakes that forced you to start all over again.

Colonel Harding walked in nervously all of a sudden and you could see that something had been not right but he was excellent at hiding it.

"Colonel," you greeted him.

"What are you still doing here?!" he snapped.

"I'm copying documents."

"Still?"

"I'm stuck on the first one, sir," you confessed as your bottom lip trembled. "I… I'm sorry, I can't focus."

"Get out of here," he ordered and you nodded before getting up as fast as possible and trying to clean up the desk a little. "Go!"

"Yes, sir," you whispered and left in a hurry. Before you closed the door, you could see that he was reaching for a phone. You took a look at your watch and your heart skipped a beat when you realized that Buck had to be above Germany for some time now.

"You're still here?" Colonel's much softer voice made you turn around and face him.

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't seem to focus on anything today…"

"Here, come here," he put his hand on your arm and guided you back inside before gently helping you to sit down. "There's something I must tell you. I shouldn't but…"

"What is it?" your eyes widened and your heart started to pound in your chest as your hands got sweaty.

"Buck's plane went down. There were no parachutes... we're not sure. We lost him."

His voice was firm and loud but to you it sounded like you were sitting behind a glass as the time slowed down.

"N-No…" you shook your head. "No, this can't be, no… Colonel, you see, he's made me a promise. Gentlemen don't break their promises," you kept shaking your head like a maniac.

He didn't say anything and gave you a while to cry and try to catch a breath. You didn't even know what to feel at that moment, what to think. Your body started to tremble and there was a stinging pain inside your chest but your head was empty. You could only remember the taste of his warm lips on yours, the feel of his leather jacket under your fingertips, the way his hair would tickle your forehead when you kissed, the smell of his aftershave and the depth of his voice. And then you realized that you would never ever experience any of that again…

You stood up immediately and ran out of Colonel's office, straight to the bathroom. You needed a splash of cold water and to stand in front of the mirror, staring at your smudged make up as your hands clutched on the sink.

"The boys are back!" you heard someone shouting after a long while but you didn't even flinch. There was no point to go outside. No point of watching every single one of the boys who had survived and not finding your Buck amongst them. No point of seeing with your own eyes that there was a plane missing on that field.

You sobbed and cried as your hand reached underneath your blouse to find a small chain with Buck's ring hanging from it. He gave it to you a few weeks back when you became more serious. You kept it safe for him every day and kept it warm with your body. The ring was warm now, too, as you played with it. And it was a very physical reminder of the man you loved. Of the man who would not come back to you…

It was loud outside for an hour or so; everyone was busy with the boys coming back. They had to rest, get a proper meal, make reports and the planes needed to be fixed. You kept sitting on the cold bathroom floor with your head hid in your hands. You didn't have any tears left for quite a long time now but you still had troubles breathing and standing still without feeling dizzy. Your body kept shaking uncontrollably as well.

"Buck's back!" someone shouted and at first you didn't even react to that. You thought that your brain made that up. But then someone shouted it again and again and you were sure that it had to be some sort of mishearing. You just wanted to hear this, right? Running outside, looking for him, it would make a fool of you... but who cared… You were desperate.

You pushed the bathroom door open as loud as possible and you ran outside. People you passed on the corridor looked at you like you were crazy. Your hair was a mess, your makeup was all over your face and a few buttons of your blouse were undone with a ring on a small chain hanging from your chest.

Cold outside air made you catch your breath finally as you looked up. Indeed, one of the planes was just preparing to land. Its engines were damaged and it looked poorly but it was there.

"Colonel!" you ran up to Colonel Harding who observed the landing. He looked at you with pity in his eyes. "Is that right? Is he…?"

"It's his plane," he answered. "That's all we know. Maybe they got lost somewehere. We still know nothing, we lost connection with Buck some time ago."

"And now? He's not saying anything through the radio?" you kept asking.

"The connection's been lost, miss," Colonel was slowly trying to explain. Your heart skipped a beat as you watched men jumping out of the plane.

And then you spotted him. You'd spot that golden shade of hair everywhere.

"Buck!!!" you screamed and started running towards him. You had quite a big distance to make but you didn't even feel tired. It felt like flying more than running.

He smiled at the sight of you and despite being exhausted, he started running, too.

"Baby!" he greeted you in the middle as he lifted you up and spinned you around.

"Buck!" you laughed and cupped his face. "Oh, Buck!"

"You look like hell, baby," he chuckled.

"Well, you've given me the worst time of my life, you arse!" you pushed his shoulder. "Where have you been? They told me you were dead!"

"I'm sorry," he leaned in to give you a hungry, loving kiss. You heard some men cheering in the distance but you didn't care at all. You were just happy to have Buck back in your arms. You kissed him back, getting lost in the salty taste of sweat and blood. You tangled your hands in his hair and pulled on it gently, like you were checking if he was real.

"How could you do that to me?!" you sniffed the tears back and he pressed his forehead to yours.

"Hey, hey, shh, hey…" he helped you to calm down and catch a breath again as he held your hands to squeeze them reassuringly. "Always, remember? Always."

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #lovely anons #lilysfiction #gale cleven x reader #*buck #austin butler x reader

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tsunami-of-tears · 4 months ago

Text

The Wolf and the Fox

Tamcien (Alpha Tamlin x Omega Lucien)

Summary: Tamlin is having a rut at the most inconvenient time. Lucien is a cocky shit and not helping the issue.

A/N: My first omegaverse fic!! I’m surprised by how quickly this one came to me, I think this may be the thing that gets me out of my writing slump. Inspired by the prompt “You get a little stupid when you have your rut, it’s cute.” and this request.

Wordcount: 1.3K

Warnings: 18+, smut, omegaverse - A/B/O dynamic, Lucien is a total brat, it's the omegaverse so Lucien has a cunt, PIV, biting, idk it's filthy tell me if I missed anything x

Read it on AO3

Tamlin

Today of all days. The ruts always come at the worst time

Tamin has too much to do, too many meetings. Surely the other Alphas will understand if he has to postpone. Maybe he can hold out until after? Then he can find some meek little Omega to bury his knot in.

He needs to stay focused. Limit his distractions. A quick order to his sentinel had the Omegas removed from the manor for the day - to limit the effect of their scents on him.

Working away at his desk, attempting to prep for his meetings, Tamlin is too consumed trying to concentrate that he doesn’t notice the door opening or the male that steps inside the room.

A honeyed scent envelopes Tamlin, the familiar sweetness making him groan and thrust in his seat, the friction of his trousers doing little to sate his needs.

A sharp cough has Tamlin growling deep and low, and raising his gaze to the male standing before him. Tamlin’s bright green eyes meet deep russet.

Lucien. Fuck.

Lucien wasn’t like the other Omegas. It was easy to forget his true nature with his cocky attitude. Tamlin even considered the male a friend and trusted him completely.

Tamlin whined as Lucien’s scent thickened - the natural response to Tamlin’s rut.

“Alpha,” Lucien says hesitantly, “Why did you have the Omegas removed if you’re in a rut?”

The question only earned another low growl from Tamlin as he unbuttoned his trousers, allowing his throbbing cock to spring free from the confines. He starts fisting himself, hard and rough, but still nothing compares to the wet slick of an Omega. Tamlin hopes his hand will be enough to take the edge off, to get him through the day before he can bury himself in some Omega’s warm cunt, before he can pump their belly full of his seed.

Please let this be enough.

Tamlin whines again, his palm only makes him more desperate for release and his cock starts to ache.

Lucien steps closer to the desk as Tamlin’s fist picks up speed.

Smirking, Lucien says, “You get a little stupid when you have your rut, it’s cute”.

“I just have to get through today, you wouldn’t understand.” Tamlin snarls.

“You’re right, I don’t understand. But I can help, since you’ve dismissed all the other Omegas for the day, you’re stuck with me,” Lucien drawls, watching the motions of Tamlin’s hand jerking up and down.

Tamlin growls again. “No, not you.”

“I’m offended, Alpha,” Lucien scoffs, stalking closer. “You know, all cunts feel the same when you’re knotting them. You can even take me from behind, then you can pretend I'm any Omega.”

Tamlin’s fist stops, and he looks up at the male in front of him, the male sporting his famous lazy smile.

“I’ve already had today’s business postponed so we won’t be interrupted. You’re free to pump me full of your seed all day long. Or you can keep trying to impregnate your hand. Doesn’t make much difference to me,” Lucien shrugs. “You must have skipped that sex-ed class though, because I’m afraid that’s not how breeding works. I’d be happy to show you how, Alpha.”

Tamlin closes his eyes, inhaling slowly through his nose. His nostrils flare from Lucien’s rich scent.

“Come. Here.” Tamlin grunts.

Lucien doesn’t move, he only inspects his sharp nails, appearing bored with the interaction. “You should ask me nicely, I am the one doing you a favour.” He looks back at Tamlin with a cunning smirk.

No. He’s not like the other Omegas at all.

“Please,” Tamlin whines. “I can’t take it.”

“Please what?” Lucien asks.

“I need to knot you.”

“Okay,” he says, taking the final step towards Tamlin. “Show me how a pack leader fucks.”

The request has Tamlin unleashing, tearing that final shred of self-control. He stands up, ripping his remaining clothes from his toned body. His cock springs up, the tip is swollen and red, and dripping with arousal. He stalks around the desk, moving closer to Lucien, who’s own scent has deepened, betraying his sinful thoughts.

“Well, are you going to fuck me or what?” Lucien asks.

Tamlin snarls again, lurching for the male, grabbing him by the scruff of his neck and forcing him to brace his hands on the thick oak desk.

“I’m going to ravage you so completely, all other Alphas will be ruined for you,” Tamlin growls, moving his hand to grip Lucien’s long red locks. Tamlin tugs firmly, forcing Lucien’s head back.

Lucien whimpers softly as Tamlin turns his clothing to ribbons with a quick flick of claws.

“That was a nice shirt.”

“I’ll buy you another.” Tamlin snarls, rubbing his cock through Lucien’s pooling slick. “You are like the other Omegas it seems,” Tamlin says, “At least in the ways that matter.” Tamlin finally pushes into Lucien’s cunt. He moans loudly, relishing in the warmth and wetness of the Omega, finally feeding the beast that is his rut.

Tamlin keeps one hand in Lucien’s hair, the other firmly gripping his hip, stabilising the male as Tamlin thrusts into him.

‘Yes, you are just another needy little Omega. Perfectly breedable. I’d like to watch your belly swell with my litter,” Tamlin growls between thrusts.

Lucien moaned again, enjoying the force his Alpha was using on him. He was fulfilling his most primal purpose and he loved it.

“You know I can take it harder than this?” Lucien grunts, his nails digging into the table at every slam of Tamlin’s cock, leaving indents in the wood.

“Be careful, Omega,” Tamlin tuts, picking up his pace as he gets closer and closer to knotting.

Tamlin drops Lucien’s hair and pulls out of Lucien abruptly. Lucien whines at the sudden lack of friction, and the loss of pleasure so close to that edge. “Flip over,” Tamlin orders. “I want to see your face as you take my knot. I want to see the moment you lose yourself to it.”

Lucien turns over, well and truly fucked in submission by Tamlin. He sits on the edge of the desk with his bare legs spread wide. His thighs shine from the mess made by his slick dripping out of his cunt.

Tamlin cocks his head as he asks smugly, “Finally learnt your place?”

Lucien swallows, his throat bobbing before he nods in answer.

“Good.” Tamlin purrs, lifting Lucien’s legs and wrapping them around his waist. He once again sheaths his cock inside Lucien, earning a moan from the Omega.

Tamlin grips Lucien’s neck, angling his gaze to where the two were joined. “Look,” Tamlin orders, “I want you to watch as I rut into your tight hole, watch as my knot fills you and I pump you full of my seed.” Lucien whimpers again, the sight of their bodies merging only causing more slick to run down Lucien’s thighs. “Look at you taking me, like the good Omega you know you are.” Lucien nods, his approaching climax not allowing words to form in his mouth.

Tamlin continues to fuck into Lucien, his knot forming at the base of his cock.

The scent, the heat, Lucien’s golden skin and his face contorted in pleasure, it all had Tamlin unravelling. The urge to mark Lucien, to claim him, comes on strong.

Tamlin tries to fight it but loses the battle. His teeth sink into the flesh where Lucien’s neck meets his shoulder. Claiming Lucien as his, and his alone. The act holds Lucien in place as they both reach their completion. Tamlin’s sharp canines draw blood as his cock spurts his cum deep into Lucien’s cunt.

Lucien moans as Tamlin withdraws his teeth and flicks his tongue over the open wounds. Both climaxes still subsiding, the haze of pleasure slowly fading away.

As Tamlin pulls out, Lucien’s hand rises to his neck and rubs over the tender flesh. “You bit me?” He asks incredulously.

Guilt settles over Tamlin, but he doubles down on his actions. “How could I not?” he exclaims. “You’re mine, and I want all the other Alphas to know it”

Lucien huffs as Tamlin leans forward, holding Lucien's face gently in his hand. The first hint of softness from the male since he started his rut. Lucien leans into the warm touch, sighing softly as Tamlin presses his lips to Lucien’s. “All mine,” Tamlin whispers.

Tags ♡ @ninthcircleofprythian @sarawritestories @nocasdatsgay

Let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist x

#tamcien #tamcien smut #acotar omegaverse #acotar a/b/o #tamcien a/b/o #acotar fanfiction #lucien vanserra smut #tamlin smut #acosf #tamlin acotar #lucien acotar #omegaverse #a/b/o #requests

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inawearyworld · 11 months ago

Text

free if you truly wish to be: chapter iii

plots are half revealed, and willy "mr accidentally steal yo girl" wonka gets his sorry ass saved by a woman wearing one of those "oh no my husband mysteriously floated away died" robes you see all over pinterest. (now there's a sentence i never thought i'd write.)

2023!wonka x oc, this chapter ~2.5k

i would like to thank mr mathew baynton in that one bts interview for those bits and pieces of fickelgruber analysis that will totally now be used here. and also for being generally wonderful. thanks mat ilysm

also i thought it would be sort of funny for at least someone in this world revolving around chocolate to be lactose intolerant and then of course i had to turn it into something sad and poetic bc of Who I Am As A Person

enjoy!! and thank you for all the support on this fic so far!!

part two fic masterlist part four

She had a lot to think about that night.

Felix hadn’t returned home yet, and she started to worry that the fateful flying chocolates weren’t quite as harmless as advertised. The young man who’d made them, too, was swirling about her mind in a haze of schoolgirl blushes and piercing guilt.

Florence Fickelgruber had chosen her lot when she agreed to take on that name. Who was she to imagine a freer life, one of candy-coated dreams and a clear conscience, of gazes and banter with someone her own age, of running her hand through curls that weren’t slick with expensive gel? Who was she to foolishly wish for anything different, when so many people were counting on her?

She missed her home, her family, and it hadn’t been lost on her that Felix had never told her about his own background. Their wedding was attended mainly by those surrounding the Fickelgruber business, as well as another flood of press. She’d had to blink so much that day, unused to being in front of cameras after a youth spent on the stage, but her new husband had preened next to her as if this focus on appearance was where he felt most at home. She remembered the crowd’s polite cheers fading in her mind as he had slowly lifted her chin while she accepted a forkful of the most extraordinarily decadent chocolate cake.

For that day, she had allowed the feeling of his hand on her face to eclipse that of the too-rich frosting stuck in her throat.

Then he came through the door, humming a jaunty tune, and she blinked, torn out of the memory that she felt an entirely different kind of guilt for indulging in.

“Felix? Darling, where have you been?”

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty auburn head, my songbird. The boy’s finished, absolutely finished. No one will be flying about the Galeries Gourmet if the police have anything to say about it.”

“What-what do you mean?”

“He’s disturbed the peace, made a commotion, even encouraged the-the-the unfortunate to disgrace our sacred sanctuary of chocolate. And the Chief is none too happy about it.”

“Is he?” she said suspiciously, stepping in front of him-because, up until this point, he hadn’t looked her in the eye.

Felix was silent for a moment, cacao eyes darting. His wife’s gaze was strong and unyielding-don’t lie to me again, I can’t take it-but her head tilted innocently to the side, a sort of plausible deniability.

A sort of protection.

“Yes,” he breathed with a curt nod, and took her hands in his. “I promise you, it was a solemn thing.”

“Then what were you singing as you came in?”

The chocolatier blinked again, falling into an absolutely done sort of expression, and Florence’s head tilted to the other side.

“You’ve had another musical number without me.”

“I’m terribly sorry, pet.”

“You know you can’t hide from me, Felix,” she said, something that would have been playfully teasing but held an edge of desperation that he refused to pick up on.

“It of course wasn’t the same without you,” he drawled in that ever-dramatic way, bringing her into their living room. “We’ll make it up now. Dance with me, Florence.”

He snapped his fingers, and some unseen yet attentive servant placed a needle on a record. A crooning melody started to crackle and bounce across the high golden ceilings, and Felix spun his wife into him, twirling her about with a smirk that she could only imagine to be the result of a monopoly saved.

She swayed to and fro in his arms, trying desperately to sink into the music, unable to focus on anything but the wrenching pull of her battling guilts.

Florence spent much of the next day in a state of ping-ponging worry. She’d looked intently out of the mansion’s sprawling windows over the town square, wondering whether her forbidden new friend had taken her advice.

“Just…don’t give up.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

And who knows what they’ll do to him now?

The hours had passed in a blur, and then she was laid limp, unable to sleep, and mentally exhausted, next to her husband and his piccolo snore.

She had screwed her eyes shut and burrowed into him, trying to force herself to feel as secure as she did two years ago; then, the slight sound of a little girl’s singing voice lifted itself into her consciousness, followed by the blare of a police car.

Puzzled, Florence carefully got out of bed and went to the window once more. The girl she’d heard was the one with the sweet smile that she’d seen in the Galeria yesterday, and Willy Wonka was next to her, warning her to run. The Chief of Police and Officer Affable faced them, but this wasn’t to last-the former seemed to tell the latter to leave, and the latter obeyed.

It wasn’t as if a switch flipped at that moment.

More like…

An extinguished candle was finally relit.

Before she could overthink herself into inaction, Wren was grabbing her robe and slippers and bolting downstairs, the snore that echoed after her serving as reassurance that she wouldn’t be found out. In her haste, she had the passing realization that this would be the first time she’d leave the house with her hair down and uncoiffed in over two years.

Through this rush, she heard the plunge of something in the town square’s fountain along with the shouts of the Chief, and she ran faster, throwing open the door just in time to see him about to club a drenched Willy over the head.

“OFFICER!”

Both men turned to her in an instant. She let out the breath she’d been holding since first hearing the girl’s voice, rolled her shoulders back, dropped into the character she’d played for the past two years, and stepped forward.

“What on earth is going on?”

They stared, each with a different kind of shock, as she walked toward the fountain. The Chief returned his nightstick to its holster.

“Mrs. Fickelgruber,” he stammered, “I thought you would have thought-well, I guess he didn’t tell-you aren’t-”

“No, I’m not thrilled about you clobbering this poor young man in the middle of the night,” she said, placing a hand on Willy’s shoulder. He looked at her, still touched with the fear of the past minutes but now grateful, and she tried not to be struck by the freckles she saw behind his water-plastered curls.

“Who said anything about clobbering?” the Chief laughed somewhat nervously. “We were just having a chat. An impactful, memorable chat. Right, Mr. Wonka?”

Willy dragged his eyes to him and held them there, a bit speechless.

What was probably three seconds but felt like an eternity of strange silence passed.

“Memorable indeed.”

“Right, then,” the Chief said. “You’ll do good to continue to remember it. Goodnight, Mrs. Fickelgruber.”

With that, he entered his car and drove away, his tail lights fading in the distance as the remaining pair stood, a little shell-shocked, her hand still on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he said after a while, his gaze still trailing the receding police car.

“You’re welcome,” she replied, giving his shoulder an awkward pat, which made her realize just how cold he was due to the impromptu fountain bath. “Oh, God, you’re freezing. Let me…”

As he turned towards her, she looked up, trying to see through her window in the dark. She could barely make out the shape of a sound-asleep Felix, still in bed.

“Come to the office, I’ve got the key. There’s a fireplace there; you can stay as long as you need to to warm up.”

“Are you sure?”

His eyes moved up the same way, then back to her, and she shook her head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course.”

“Do you want anything to drink? Water, tea? Hot chocolate?”

She hadn’t turned on most of the lights so as not to draw attention, but she’d started a beautiful fire, which Willy sat by in a plush emerald-green chair. She’d rattled off the drinks on habit, but she turned to him upon saying the third, sharing his smile.

“The last one, please. But I’ll make it.”

“No, you need to rest-”

“I insist,” he said, moving to join her by the small bar in the office and searching through ingredients. “Unless that’s some sort of corporate sacrilege.”

“Making chocolate in enemy territory?”

He took a small jar of powder from his sleeve and shook it into two mugs, considering this, and his smile faltered a bit.

“Is it really that bad?” he asked. “That they’d…that they’d send the police after me? That business rivalry is thought of like a war?”

She pursed her lips and nodded solemnly.

“They…feel threatened,” she said slowly, “and, despite how professional they seem, they can’t be mature or rational about it. Apparently, you really do have the best chocolate in town.”

He neither confirmed nor denied, but gave half of a smile as he looked down at the drinks he was stirring.

“And I, for one, am quite looking forward to trying it.”

“Here, then,” he said, pulling something out of a coat pocket that had managed to escape the frozen flush. “Nothing too dangerous about this one. Just some good old Wonka magic.”

He opened his hand to her, revealing a small, wrapped treat, and she sighed.

“I’d love to, but I really shouldn’t. Not even the drinks.”

“Why not?” came the stunned reply, and she nearly laughed at just how sweetly scandalized the boy seemed to be at the idea of anyone denying themselves that pleasure.

“Milk has never really…agreed with me. Bad for the throat, and I’m a singer besides, as you know-I mean, I-well, it’s just…”

PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER.

“I shouldn’t.”

He took a moment, and she watched his eyes widen as he processed the shocking injustice of being genetically predisposed against chocolate.

“Does your husband know about this?”

“He does, but he doesn’t care. Says I’ll ‘grow out of it with time’, which I haven’t.”

“So he’s…”

“Essentially poisoning me, yes.”

They laughed a little, because, surrounded by echoes of Fickelgruber’s power, it was the only thing they could do.

Willy stared at the table for a moment, then pulled another vial, this one containing a liquid, from yet another pocket.

“Lucky for you, then, I’ve got milk made from the product of the finest almond trees on the islands of Seychelles,” he said as he deftly poured the liquid into her glass. “Guaranteed to go down sweetly, both on the taste buds and after.”

“...Thank you,” she murmured, touched by the gesture.

With a final flick of the wrist, he deemed the hot chocolate finished, and they each carried their mug to the fire.

“Wren,” he said thoughtfully as they sat down.

“Hm?”

She was instinctively flooded with warmth in the same way she was yesterday, though whether it was due to the stunningly perfect cocoa or hearing her name in his voice she wasn’t sure.

“Is it a nickname? Songbird, right?”

She saw in the fireglow that his face darkened a bit upon the memory of how Felix had always referred to her in the press, taking that potentially sweet title and spinning it in an almost dehumanizing manner. So someone did notice.

“Well…sort of. That was what my parents intended. They say a wren sang when I was born, so they gave me that name, and I loved it. But Felix assumed it was a nickname and suggested I should expand it; to sound more sophisticated in my performances, he said, but I knew half the reason was to fit with the alliteration. He’s always valued aesthetics above anything else.”

They were silent for a while, and the massive painting seemed to stare down at them, making the Fickelgrubers look almost menacing in the fireglow.

“That’s you?”

A moment passed.

“No. No, that’s not really me.”

Her voice was quiet, but decisive. Willy looked at her, really looked at her, and she felt more seen than she had in years.

“I want to help you,” she said.

“Hm?”

His head tilted to the side, a little stunned, and she nearly giggled as his now-drying curls flopped in front of his face.

How could anyone want to hurt him?

“I don’t know exactly what Felix and the rest have planned against you, but I know there’s something. He never really tells me anything, but I’ll…I’ll try to find out what I can, to distract him when needed. I don’t want you to be alone in this.”

“I’m not,” he said. “The others where I’m staying right now, we’re all in a rather precarious situation together, and I’ve got a few ideas, but…”

She watched the wheels turn in his mind, and after a few moments, he looked back up at her, for once lost for words.

“But thank you. Again. I’d…I appreciate it.”

“Thank you. For bringing some much-needed heart into this place.”

“I think you’ve done that rather well yourself.”

This was news to her often-guilt-wracked brain.

“...Really?”

“Well, of course. You clearly care, Wren…you’re kind, you’re poetic and talented, and far smarter than it seems they give you credit for. It’s in your eyes, too, I think. You can always tell the truth by a person’s eyes.”

Her heart had nearly stopped.

Somehow, though, she could tell that he was unaware of the full effect he had on her.

“Mr. Wonka-ah, Willy, I mean…”

“Forgive me if-I didn’t intend to-”

The clocks around the city chimed the hour, interrupting the two just as they had the day before, and the young man’s expression went from its dazed dawning to a startled realization.

“They’ll need me. Back where I’m staying, I mean.”

“Of-of course,” she said a bit awkwardly as they both stood up.

His hair had dried by now, falling in perfectly imperfect swoops around his face. He’d undone his necktie to keep its cold away from his neck, and his jacket was folded over his arm, and he was looking at her as if he hadn’t had a conversation quite like that with someone in a very, very long time.

And neither had I.

Or…ever, I suppose.

Until now.

“Thank you. Again.”

“You’re welcome. Again.”

She took a breath, let it out, and folded him into a hug, which he returned in an instant.

After two years of jutting angles and sharply possessive grasps, it was remarkable to simply, softly, hold and be held.

They bid a last goodnight before parting ways, and as she took her time walking back to the mansion, the moon seemed brighter than ever before.

#wonka 2023 #wonka movie #wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader #wonka #willy wonka #timothee chalamet #timothée chalamet x reader #timothee x reader #timothee chalamet fic #timothee chalamet fanfiction #timothée chalamet #wonka fanfiction #wonka fanfic #mat baynton #mathew baynton #mathew baynton x reader #mat baynton x reader #fiytwtb

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luckbealincoln · 1 year ago

Note

HIiii I absolutely love BKS! I have been here since day 1 and have fallen in love with it more and more. May I request 62 & 253 please? Basically possessive Din with some degradation

A Little Attention

pairing : din djarin x f!reader

word count : 2.3k

summary : the mandalorian returns from a hunt rather stressed, you know just how to help him out

warnings, etc : smut, established relationship, din djarin consent king, porn with a mere spoonful of plot, dom/sub, dom!din, sub!reader, safe words, sort of pet play??, din calls reader puppy, choking, degradation, humiliation, but also praise, rough rough rough sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spanking, use of a belt, makeshift leash, creampie

a/n : i am so so sorry it's taking me so long to get through requests lmao i'm gonna set myself a reasonably goal of one per week and try and stick with that. i hope you enjoy!! this is uhhhh maybe the rowdiest fic i've written so far but also like i loved this request and i had so much fun writing this <3 now it's time for me to sleep so i hope y'all enjoy and have a good night!!

He’s in a mood when he comes back with the bounty.

He’s always in a mood when it takes more than a week. If the bounties alive they don’t make it known, they aren’t moving when he throws them into the carbonite. Walking in silence as he closes the doors to the Crest before storming off towards the ladder to the cockpit. He doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest as he stomps right past you.

You know Grogu’s in his pod up there napping, thankfully Mando notices and quiets his stomping as you feel the ships engine kick on almost immediately, the familiar hum fills the hull as you continue your knitting.

If he wants to be grumpy, you’ll let him be grumpy.

When he returns he still doesn’t address you as he slams his weapons down, he doesn’t clean any of his blasters as he hangs them up. He carelessly tosses the several belts he wears to the floor. Once he seems satisfied with his little tantrum he looks down to where you’re sitting on the ground. You continue your work on the sweater you’re making for the little green monster.

“How long has he been asleep?” He snaps at you which obviously has you frowning. That’s the first thing he says after eight moons apart?

“I missed you too.” You mumble before setting your needles into the basket where you keep your yarns.

“Don’t do that, I hate it when you do that.”

“So you're the only one who’s allowed to be angry?” You start to stand, leaning against the wall of the ship as you glare at him.

“I had a long week.” He sounds strained but you have no problem pushing his buttons. You know exactly what to do to get out of this mood. He needs to let off some steam. And he won’t do it unless you get him riled up, it’s just how this goes, once he gets all his pent up aggression out he’ll be back to the Mandalorian you know and love. Although you certainly don’t mind dealing with this side of him for now.

“So did I. You act like watching the kid isn’t hard. He gets bored after just a few days stuck on the ship and then he starts throwing things around with the magic and it’s all a mess.” You cross your arms as you continue frowning at him. He’s already clenching and unclenching his fist. Good.

“I didn’t say-.”

“And then you come back and you act like I’m not even here, like I’m nothing more than a pet to you, to look after when you feel like it and ignore otherwise.” You go to push past you but a gloved hand shoves you back against the ship's wall by the throat. All the air is shoved out of your lungs and his grip loosens the second you’re pinned in place.

There it is.

“Color?” His voice has softened around the edges just the tiniest bit.

You can’t help but grin at him.

“Green.” The moment you say it his grip tightens again. Your hands come up to claw at his wrist a bit as you gasp. He moves closer until your nose is poking against Beskar.

“Is this what you wanted? Are you so desperate for my attention that you have to act like a brat the second I return? Maybe you are my pet, you’d probably like it if I kept you as a pet, wouldn’t you?” You’re having a hard time focusing on his words as your vision starts to get blurry around the edges, the natural panic caused by lack of oxygen taking over as you claw more desperately at his wrist. When he releases you, you slump to the floor, he doesn’t give you more than a few seconds to catch your breath before you watch his gloves hit the ground next to you and his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, yanking, your face flushes. “I expect an answer.”

Fuck, what was the question? Kriff you can’t focus on much as you nod, hoping that’s the answer he wants but you feel another sharp tug.

“Words.” He forces you to stare up at him.

“Fuck, yes, sorry.” He seems pleased enough as he drops you back to the floor.

“Tell me your colors, pet.” He picks up one of his belts, one without any attachments, holding the brown leather strap in his hands. You sit on your ankles as you watch him fold it in half, smacking it against his palm gently before turning back to face you.

Stars, that tone. When he wants to be in charge there’s no arguing with that deadly serious tone. That’s the sharp tongue of a killer.

“Green means good, yellow means slow, red means stop.” He drags the bend of the belt across your jaw before withdrawing it so quickly you flinch.

“Good. Now, on all fours, like a good puppy.” His voice remains dominant but now there’s a hint of mockery as you obey. Getting on your hands and knees in front of him. He drags the belt across the length of your dress ridiculously slowly, by the time he reaches your ass you're trembling.

He crouches down next to you.

“Scared puppy?” There’s no concern in his tone as he says it.

Not at all.

If anything you’re shaking in anticipation of what’s to come. And you won’t give him the satisfaction of a yes.

“No.” You make sure he sees your smirk but any smugness in your expression is lost when he swings the belt down, a loud snap echos through the hull as it hits your rear. You lurch forward. mouth opening in a silent scream.

He hums. Happy with your reaction as his free hand reaches down to lift your skirt up, bunching the fabric up on your hips so he can admire the faint red mark already blooming on your ass.

“How many do you think you’ve earned, pet?” He traces the mark with his fingertips and you instinctively crawl forward a little bit, he grabs the meat of your ass, squeezing, his nails leaving little crescents in your skin. “Stay still. Don’t make me put you on a leash.”

That certainly isn’t as much of a threat as he makes it seem.

He of course realizes exactly what you're thinking and his hand slips under the fabric of your underwear, his digits slide through the pool of wetness forming and he laughs as he pulls them away to hold them in front of your face.

“Is that what you want? A leash?” He brings his fingers to your lips in silent instruction for you to clean them, which you do. Tasting yourself as you lick them clean. “Well, pets don’t just get treats. You have to earn it.” You do your best not to flinch as you feel the belt rest against the skin of your thighs. “How about ten? You take the belt ten times and I'll put you on a leash?”

It’s a humiliating deal.

You both know that.

But the first hit felt so good. And you crave more of the sting that lingers afterwards.

Besides, you’ve let him do worse to you and he’s let you do worse to him and you’ve always enjoyed it so you nod. He removes his fingers from your mouth and ruffles your hair.

“Good girl.”

It’s all worth it to hear those words.

He kneels next to you, one hand on your chest to keep you from falling forward, the other raises the belt again. You hear the crack before you feel the sting. A small yelp leaving your mouth. He gives you no recovery time as he brings it down again. Alternating between the backs of your thighs and your ass.

After seven he’s holding you up with his free hand. Tears stream down your face and you’ve completely soaked through your panties. He sets the belt down and rubs the welts that are forming, trying to soothe a bit of the pain as you whimper.

“Color?” He asks as he continues to rub circles against your swollen skin.

“Green.” You murmur as you drop your head so you're staring at the floor.

“Good girl.” You hear him pick the belt up again and he’s quick with it, he’s never been one to prolong this sort of thing longer than necessary. He brings the belt down three more times in quick succession, one slap on each thigh and one on your ass. You whine, your back arching slightly as your torso drops to the floor.

As you wipe away the tears falling down your face he begins to gently wrap the belt around your neck, notching it like a collar around your throat so it doesn’t choke you unless he pulls on it. He moves to kneel between your legs as he pulls the belt to bring you back up on your hands. His free hand pulls your panties down to your knees as he kneads the flesh of your ass. Helping to ease the pain that demands your attention.

“Color?” He asks one more time as you sniffle, composing yourself.

You certainly haven’t come this far not to get fucked.

“Green.” When you say it he gently pats your ass.

“You’ve been such a good girl. Such an obedient little pet. Do you want my mouth or my cock?” He continues kneading your ass and you answer immediately, you’re too worked up to not have him inside you right now.

“Cock, please.” His hand leaves your rear and you hear the zippers of his flight suit followed by the head of his cock swiping through your folds.

You’re practically drooling in anticipation but you never feel the stretch, instead he tugs on the belt, you choke a bit and lean back instinctively, impaling yourself on his length. You groan as he sinks just the tip into your dripping cunt.

“Come on. Take it all on your own like a good little pet.” He growls out and you know exactly what he wants. He’s presented this as a reward but you know he expects you to take it yourself.

Which you happily do.

Thankfully he lets you take your time. His hand grips the makeshift leash but he doesn’t rush you as you push your hips back against his. Whining as you rock back and forth, without any prep and over a week without him you aren’t anywhere near ready for him. But his gasps and whispered praises are enough to urge you on as you slowly fuck yourself on his cock.

“Such a good girl. Kriff. Good girl, taking her reward, look so pretty on my cock, does that feel good?” Even through his groans he manages to sound condescending.

“S’good Mando.” Your hips stutter all the back, fully taking him with a yelp and he finally tugs on the leash again.

“What do you say?” He pulls you back completely so you’re flush against his chest, he drops the belt and wraps his arms around your torso to hold you against him. Pushing himself deeper into you.

“T-thank you.”

“Good girl. Take your reward.” You can hear his shit eating grin but you eagerly comply, starting to rock yourself up and down against him. His hand trails down your stomach pressing against you roughly, like he’s trying to feel himself inside of you.

It’s harder in this position but you still manage to ride him, the hand on your stomach moves down to find your clit, there’s nothing gentle about his motions, he’s trying to force your climax out of you as quickly as possible. His fingers draw angry circles over the pearl between your legs making you keen.

Your thrusts are weak, you’re barely getting an inch off of him as you squirm in his arms. But he must be just as pent up as you are because you recognize the grunts behind the helmet, he’s already close, his own hips starting to rut up into you.

“Come on, cum on my cock, show me how good you can be for me.” He groans, pinching your clit sending a jolt through your entire body. Everything tenses up as you clamp down on him, your vision goes dark for a moment as your cunt strangles his cock. The only thing keeping you upright is his hands and after a few messy thrusts you feel him finish inside you.

He holds you against him for a little while, at least until you catch your breath. He hisses as he pulls out of you before his hands find the belt, releasing the clasp and tossing it aside, quickly lifting you up into his arms.

“Thank you.” He mumbles as he pulls your panties back up your hips. Walking you towards the sleeping cubby.

“For what?” You rest your head on his chest as he sits you down on the edge of your shared sleeping mattress.

“For doing that. I’m not an idiot, I know that was for my benefit.” His hands run through your hair, combing through the tangles that he put there. You grin at him.

“Well it’s not entirely for your benefit, you’re in a better mood thanks to me so everyone’s happy.” He hums in response, carefully laying you down onto the bed.

“I’m gonna go check on the kid, make sure we didn’t wake him.” He stands and you pull a blanket up over you, exhausted. Before he leaves he gives your leg a loving squeeze. “Next time you can put the leash on me if I act like that.” He laughs and you hear him climbing the rungs of the ladder.

He sounded like he was joking but you can’t help but smile.

Maybe next time you will.

#din djarin/reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #luckbealincoln #mandalorian smut

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from-memphis-with-love · 11 days ago

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Songbird - Chapter 2 - After Hours

Summary: Valerie meets Elvis again, again by chance. And this time, it's in a far more intimate setting.

Author's notes: Edit alert. I am constantly tooling and retooling my fics. To me, they never seem finished when I reread them. I've been taking the time to hone my craft and take online writing classes (yes, I am that loser who wants to become a better writer so I can regale you all with smutty Elvis fic), so I hope you will indulge. I am actively working on it and I believe I have it right this time. Enjoy!

You know that moment when everything's gone so spectacularly wrong that all you can do is laugh? Well, I wasn't laughing. I was slumped over the International Hotel's bar like a marionette with cut strings, wondering if it was possible to actually die of embarrassment. The doctors would probably call it something fancy, but the death certificate would tell the real story: Here lies Valerie, who bombed her Sinatra audition so bad they stopped her halfway through.

The bartender looked like he'd stepped straight out of a movie about Vegas in its golden age - crisp white jacket, perfectly groomed silver hair, the kind of face that had seen it all and wasn't impressed by any of it anymore. He glided over like smoke.

"What'll it be, miss?"

I'd never ordered a real drink in my life. Back home, the wildest I got was box wine and even that made me giggle. But tonight? Tonight felt like a good time to start.

"Gin and tonic. Make it a double."

The words felt foreign in my mouth, like trying on someone else's clothes. But isn't that what you're supposed to do after you crash and burn? Drown your sorrows in bottom-shelf liquor while the bartender pretends to care about your troubles?

My mind kept rewinding to that awful audition, like a broken record stuck on the worst song ever made. My voice had shook worse than Elvis's hips (and there was a comparison I didn't need in my head right then). The piano player had actually winced. And those other girls, the ones with their perfect hair and professional headshots, they'd smirked like they knew all along I didn't belong there.

The drink appeared in front of me like magic. I took a sip and immediately regretted it. Tasted like Christmas trees. But I kept drinking anyway, because that's what people do in situations like this, right? They sit in dark bars and drink gin and pretend they're in a film noir about beautiful losers.

That's when I saw him.

You ever have one of those moments that feels like fate just reached down and flicked you right between the eyes? There in the mirror behind the bar, I caught a flash of red hair that made my stomach drop like an express elevator. Red, Elvis's mountain of a bodyguard, was heading straight for me with the kind of determined look that meant trouble.

"Well I'll be damned," he boomed, voice carrying across the bar like thunder. "If it ain't that pretty little songbird from the elevator."

My drink tried to go down the wrong pipe. He remembered that? More importantly, he remembered that ridiculous nickname Elvis had given me?

"Uh, hi there," I managed to squeak out. Real smooth, Valerie. Real smooth.

Red's grin could have lit up the Strip. "You clean up real nice. Mr. Burrows know you're here drowning those sorrows all by your lonesome?"

Mr. Burrows. That's what they called Elvis when they were trying to be discreet, though why they bothered was beyond me. As if anyone could mistake him for just another guy named Jon. The memory of our elevator encounter hit me like a shot of whiskey - all heat and dizzy promise. The way his voice had wrapped around my name like silk, how his presence had made the air feel electric...

"Oh, I'm sure he has more important things to worry about than little old me," I said, aiming for breezy and probably landing somewhere around desperate. "I was just about to call it a night."

"That so?" Red's grin turned sly as a cat in a creamery. "Well, it just so happens the boss is having a little private soirée up in his suite right about now. What do you say we head up there and turn that frown upside down?"

My mama always said I had more curiosity than common sense. Standing there in that bar with Red's invitation hanging in the air like cigarette smoke, I knew she was right. The smart play was to finish my drink, go up to my room, and catch the first flight back to Chicago tomorrow morning.

But when did I ever make the smart play?

"Lead the way, Red."

The trip up to Elvis's suite was like ascending to Mount Olympus, if Olympus had shag carpeting and gold-flecked wallpaper. Red kept up a steady stream of chatter, but I barely heard him over the thundering of my own heart. What was I doing? Walking straight into the lion's den like some lamb dressed for dinner.

When we reached the mahogany door - the kind of door that whispered "money" in twelve different languages - a man I'd later learn was Jerry Schilling answered our knock. The wall of sound that hit us was like walking into a beehive: dozens of conversations buzzing, ice cubes clinking against crystal, and somewhere, someone was playing "Great Balls of Fire" on what had to be the most expensive piano I'd ever seen.

The suite itself was pure Elvis - all crushed velvet and religious iconography, like a bordello had a baby with the Vatican. A small crowd milled about: men in sharp suits, women who looked like they'd stepped off magazine covers, all of them moving in invisible orbits around...

And then I saw him.

You know how sometimes a room just seems to shift, like reality hiccups and everything reorganizes itself around a single point? That's what happened when my eyes found Elvis. He was holding court in the center of the room, sprawled in what could only be described as a throne, his long legs stretched out in front of him like he owned not just the chair but the very concept of sitting. A tumbler of amber liquid dangled from those ring-laden fingers, and sweet Jesus, that shirt... black silk unbuttoned just enough to make a good girl think bad thoughts.

Two women flanked him like matching bookends - a blonde who looked like she'd been poured into her dress, and a brunette whose legs went on for days. The brunette was trailing her fingers down his chest, purring something about taking a ride in his Cadillac. The kind of thing that should have been ridiculous but somehow wasn't, not with the way Elvis's lips curled up at the corners, lazy and amused like a cat with a bowlful of cream.

I should have felt invisible. Should have felt like a sparrow in a room full of peacocks. Instead, somehow, impossibly, his gaze found mine across the crowd. Those eyes, blue as a Memphis summer sky, locked onto me like heat-seeking missiles.

And just like that, the air changed.

A man who introduced himself as Sonny West materialized at my elbow, drink in hand. His face was all dimples and good humor, the kind of guy who probably never met a stranger. "You look like you could use this more than me," he said, offering me something that smelled strong enough to strip paint.

I took it because, hell, what else was I going to do? Standing there watching Elvis with those two glamazons draped over him like living accessories was enough to drive anyone to drink. The brunette - who I'd mentally dubbed Colette because she looked like a Colette - was doing her best to crawl into his lap without actually moving.

But here's the thing about Elvis Presley that nobody tells you: even when he's looking at someone else, you can feel when he's watching you. It's like standing in the sun with your eyes closed - you just know. And brother, was he watching me.

The Memphis Mafia - that's what they called Elvis's entourage - adopted me like a stray kitten. Before I knew what was happening, I was deep in a heated debate with Lamar about breakfast foods, of all things. These guys were like a bunch of overgrown boys playing in a very expensive sandbox, and somehow they'd decided I belonged there.

"Biscuits," I insisted, probably louder than necessary. The drink Sonny had given me was doing its job. "Fluffy, buttery perfection. Pancakes are just... flat disappointment circles."

Lamar clutched his considerable belly like I'd personally insulted his mama. "Blasphemy! Pancakes are God's own breakfast food!"

"Y'all are both wrong," Jerry chimed in, grinning like he'd just won the lottery. "Waffles. Those little squares? Perfect syrup holders. That's just science."

I was laughing, actually laughing, when I heard it. That voice, smooth as aged whiskey, cutting through the noise like a hot knife through butter.

"Valerie."

Just my name. That's all it was. But the way Elvis said it made it sound like a song he'd been practicing his whole life. I turned, and there he was, standing close enough that I could smell his cologne - something expensive and spicy that probably cost more than my rent.

"Come here, pretty girl," he said, soft enough that only I could hear. "Let's you and me get better acquainted."

Colette the Brunette huffed like someone had punctured her, shooting me a look that could have curdled milk. But Elvis didn't even notice. His eyes were fixed on me like I was the only person in the room, and Lord help me, but I was moving before I realized my feet had gotten the message.

You ever touch an electric fence? That little shock that starts in your fingers and races up your arm? That's what it felt like when Elvis's hand brushed mine, guiding me toward the piano. Every nerve ending suddenly woke up and started singing hallelujah.

"You play?" he asked, those blue eyes twinkling with something that wasn't quite innocence.

I ran my fingers over the keys, smooth as silk under my touch. "A little. My daddy taught me before he passed."

Something shifted in Elvis's expression then - understanding, maybe, or recognition. "Music's in your blood," he said softly. "Like me."

He slid onto the piano bench like liquid grace, patting the space beside him. Now, there's a moment in every girl's life when she knows she's about to make either the best or worst decision of her existence. Sitting down next to Elvis Presley, close enough that our thighs touched through silk and cotton, that was mine.

"You know 'Heart and Soul'?"

I had to laugh. It was like asking if I knew how to breathe. "Who doesn't?"

His fingers found the keys first, and mine followed like they'd been doing it all their lives. The melody rose soft and sweet, barely audible under the party chatter. Then Elvis started to sing, and I swear to God, the air in the room changed. Became thicker, heavier, like honey dripping from a spoon.

"Heart and soul, I fell in love with you..."

He glanced at me, one eyebrow raised in challenge, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth that would have made a saint think sinful thoughts. Well, mama didn't raise no coward. I opened my mouth and let my voice join his.

"Heart and soul, the way a fool would do..."

You know how sometimes two voices just... fit? Like pieces of a puzzle you didn't even know was incomplete? That's what happened when Elvis and I sang together. Our voices twined around each other like lovers' hands, his deep velvet wrapping around my higher notes until you couldn't tell where one ended and the other began.

The room had gone quiet - that special kind of quiet that feels like holding your breath. But I barely noticed. I was lost in the music, in the warmth of Elvis's thigh pressed against mine, in the way his eyes kept finding mine as we sang.

"Madly... Because you held me tight..."

His voice dropped lower, intimate, like he was telling me a secret.

"And stole a kiss in the night..."

Our fingers stilled on the keys. The last note hung in the air between us like a question nobody dared to ask. Elvis turned to face me, and sweet Jesus, the look in his eyes... It was like being caught in a spotlight and wrapped in velvet all at once.

"Valerie," he murmured, my name a prayer on those lips that had made him famous. His hand came up to brush my cheek, and I swear I felt that touch all the way down to my toes.

I couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. The world had narrowed down to just this: Elvis's eyes, dark with something that made my stomach flip, and the whisper of his fingers against my skin.

That's when Colette materialized like a bad penny, slamming her drink down on the piano hard enough to make the strings vibrate. "Elvis, baby," she purred, but there was steel under that sugar. "I'm simply parched. Won't you fix me a drink?"

Now, I expected Elvis to jump at the chance. After all, what was I compared to this goddess in a dress that probably cost more than my car? But Elvis just smiled - not the megawatt grin he was famous for, but something smaller, more polite, more dismissive.

"Not right now, darlin'," he said, never taking his eyes off me. "I'm a bit busy at the moment."

If looks could kill, Colette's glare would have reduced me to a small pile of ash on that piano bench. But Elvis's attention had already shifted back to me, like she was just another piece of furniture in his very expensive suite.

"I gotta say," he murmured, voice low enough that only I could hear, "you sure know how to captivate a man's attention. Ain't too many gals out there who can tear me away from a pretty face batting her lashes my way."

The thing about Elvis - and this is something all those magazines and fan clubs don't tell you - is that when he really looks at you, it's like being the only star in the sky. Like every light in Vegas has suddenly focused on you alone.

We fell back into playing, our hands dancing over the keys like they'd been doing this dance for years instead of minutes. Every now and then, our fingers would brush, and I swear it felt like touching a live wire. The kind of electricity that should come with a warning label.

That's when I spotted them - Red and Sonny, going at it in the corner like two roosters in a barnyard. I nudged Elvis with my elbow, nodding toward the brewing storm. "Looks like trouble in paradise. What's eating them?"

Elvis followed my gaze, and his grin was pure mischief. The kind of grin that probably got him in trouble in grade school. "Those two? Hell, could be anything. Whose turn it is to make the midnight burger run, who's got the better car, whether Kong could take Godzilla in a fair fight..."

"Godzilla," I said without hesitation. "Fire breath beats opposable thumbs any day."

"Now see, that's where you're wrong, darlin'," Elvis countered, eyes sparkling like sunlight on water. "Kong's got the reach advantage."

We watched the argument escalate, Elvis leaning close enough that I could feel his breath on my ear. "Five bucks says Sonny throws his drink in the next minute."

Maybe it was the gin, maybe it was the way his proximity made my skin hum like a tuning fork, but I heard myself say, "You're on. My money's on Red putting him in a headlock first."

The next few seconds played out like a scene from a Three Stooges routine. Sonny's wild gesticulation sent his drink flying straight into Red's face. There was a moment of perfect stillness, like the whole room was holding its breath. Then Red lunged, catching Sonny in a headlock that would have made a wrestling coach proud.

Elvis and I lost it. Complete, total hysteria. The kind of laughter that comes from your toes and takes your whole body with it. I ended up half-collapsed against him, his arm around my shoulders, both of us wheezing like we'd run a marathon.

"Guess... we both... win that bet," Elvis managed between gasps, and I could feel his laughter rumbling through his chest where I was pressed against him.

That's when someone cleared their throat behind us - the kind of throat-clearing that sounds like a period at the end of a sentence. We sprang apart like teenagers caught necking at a drive-in.

Lamar stood there looking like the cat who'd caught both the canary and the cream, fixing us with a knowing smirk that made my cheeks burn. "Hate to interrupt you two, but the natives are getting restless." He jerked his head toward the crowd. "Big Man's here, E."

Even I knew who "Big Man" meant - Kirk Kerkorian, owner of the International Hotel and the man who'd shelled out big money to bring Elvis back to live performing. The kind of man who could make or break careers with a nod.

Elvis dragged a hand down his face, and for just a second, I saw something flicker there - frustration, maybe, or resignation. The mask of the entertainer sliding back into place. But when his fingers found mine under the piano's cover, giving them a quick squeeze, that felt real. That felt like just us.

"Duty calls, I suppose." His eyes met mine, dark with promise. "Don't go anywhere, alright? I'm not done with you yet."

The way he said it made heat pool in my belly, like I'd swallowed a shot of pure sunshine. I could only nod, my voice lost somewhere between my brain and my mouth, as he stood and moved into the crowd.

I watched him work the room like he was born to it - which, let's face it, he was. Elvis Presley in his element was something to see. He had that rare gift of making everyone feel like the most important person in the world, if only for a moment. A group of older women were let in, clutching programs and photos, and he signed every single one with the same megawatt smile.

But every so often, his eyes would find mine across the room, hot enough to melt steel. A reminder that I was still on his mind, even as he played the gracious host.

That's when it hit me - what I was doing, where I was, who I was playing with. This wasn't some local boy at a church social. This was Elvis Presley, and he was married, and I was so far out of my depth I couldn't even see the shore anymore.

I slipped away like smoke, keeping to the edges of the room. Sometimes the smart choice and the right choice are the same thing, even if it feels like ripping off your own skin to do it.

I'd barely made it to my door when I heard footsteps behind me. Fast ones.

"Valerie, wait!"

It was Joe Esposito, Elvis's right-hand man, slightly out of breath like he'd been chasing me down the hallway. He pressed something into my palm - a ticket, but not just any ticket. Front row, VIP access to tomorrow night's show.

"Boss wants you in his private booth," Joe said, grinning like he knew exactly what kind of bomb he was dropping. "Wear something pretty. Elvis likes his girls dolled up nice."

He was gone before I could process what had happened, leaving me standing there with a piece of cardstock that felt heavy as gold in my hand.

I looked down at the ticket, running my thumb over the embossed lettering. Tomorrow night. Elvis wanted me there tomorrow night, in his private booth no less. The kind of invitation that would make those women in the lobby sell their souls.

Standing there in that quiet hallway, I knew I was in trouble. The kind of trouble that starts with a capital T and rhymes with double. But as I got ready for bed, I couldn't stop grinning like a fool.

Only one problem: I didn't have a damn thing pretty enough to wear to an Elvis Presley show.

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#elvis presley #elvis #elvis fans #elvis fanfic #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fanfic #elvis fic #elvis x oc #songbird 1969

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volturilovers · 2 days ago

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Felix is concerned about his mate (fem!reader)

Request: anonymous: Ok! If you don't feel comfy writing this one and would rather not, please don't feel bad. But could I get a Felix x reader (she/her) who self harms? Obviously that sort of thing is hard to hide in a castle full of vampires but she has been able to do pretty well but then Felix walks in on her or just sees the cuts and the reader thinks he'll be mad but he is actually really sweet about it and comforts her?

Warning: somewhat show acts of self harm, dark thoughts, insecurities, trauma (message me if I missed one)

Readers pov:

I as always make sure that no guard is close by.

Felix my mate can’t know. He would be really mad if he found out and I don’t want to be a burden, I don’t want to cause more pain for him. I know what I am doing is considered unhealthy but I can’t stop. The pain from it distracts me from my thoughts and hides my emotional pain that I am desperate to get rid of.

I picked up my hidden razor that I have been using and pulled up my sleeves and started cutting. The pain from the blades cutting into my flesh gave me a temporary relief.

He can’t know. He can’t find out. I can’t handle the disappointment look on his face. I have been careful. Hiding the scent of blood and making sure that any guards hasn’t been close enough to smell it until the scent disappears. Sometimes I can’t even understand why I was mated to him, the unlovable human. I can’t let him find out, he will realise that what he had seen was just a fake version of who I truly was. Unlovable. He would be concerned but understand that soon enough, that my baggage and myself wasn’t worth it and he would abandon me as many have done before. And I would once again be left heartbroken.

“Y/N, Love are everything okay, I could smell your blood from outside as did Palesa, did you accidentally hurt yourself?” I heard my mate’s voice through the bathroom door.

I froze midcut as I heard the sound of the door open to our shared quarters and heard my mate’s concerned voice. I felt horror creeping up on me this time as I forgot to lock it before doing it. How can I have been so careless? enough to be detected apparently.

My heartbeat started beating faster and it felt like a lump was stuck in my throat. He probably heard my increase in heart rate and it would just spur him on to find out what was bothering me.

“I-I am fine” I told him with a shaky voice, silently cursing myself as this would just raise more of his suspicion.

I barely got away with it before. I started thinking about the event.

Flashback(summary of the event)

I was in the bathroom in front of the mirror fixing my makeup. I was wearing my full sleeved sweater that I always wore and talked to my mate. We were talking about our date night. Somehow the sweater sleeve fell down a little when I applied mascara and he noticed the fairly new scars. However we were early into the relationship and when he confronted me about them I could explain it away. Since then I had been extra careful with what I wear, when, were and how I do it and hide the evidence.

Present time

“Y/N. I can hear something is wrong, please talk to me and don’t lie. I know something is wrong.” he said in a steady fast, determined voice yet at the same time his voice also sounded gentle and concerned.

His voice brought me out of my thoughts and back to reality.I could hear Felix footsteps come closer and closer to the bathroom door. Tears from my eyes started falling. I thought I was cautious. Clearly not enough since he, and the other guard could smell the blood even if I turned on the shower to tone it down. When he would see the razor marks he would know. I don’t know what to do anymore with my life if he react as I expect.

Would he still love me as I am? I don´t think so. everybody who have has just been mad at me.

I closed my eyes and prepared for the worst. When I heard him open the bathroom door.

"y/n" I heard him call out gently, his voice surprisingly concerned. Not what I expected yet i couldn't give myself the hope that he wouldn't be mad once he realised so I refused to open my eyes, to scared to answer. I heard footsteps getting closer and then felt two strong arms envelop me in a hug.

"I am not mad y/n I am just concerned, how long has this been going on? Why did you feel the need to do this? come here, we need to get some medical attention to this" he said meanwhile he lifted her up and took her to the bathroom where he put her on the toilet seat.

she heard him look where first aid kit and once found started cleaning and patching up the wound, to stop the bleeding. As a vampire he did it with surgical accuracy and precision in his movements.

I couldn't truly answer his question, partially ashamed to be found out and still scared but his voice reassured me enough for me to face him.

He, my gentle giant kneeled in front of me, face full of concern but no trace of anger. He was just purely focused on his mission which he did with gentleness and care.

She felt herself being carried to her bed then tucked in and soon after the bed dipped besides her from the pressure of another body, felix's. his soft murmurs and praises feel from his lips when he cuddled her.

"everything will be okay"

and for the first time, I believed it

--------

Hey lovelies, I am back and this request took longer than planned.. WAY longer because of a lot of things going on. I plan on doing one from felix's point of view to.

#the volturi #the volturi coven #felix volturi #felix volturi x reader #Felix volturi imagine #requests

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fakesimp · 2 years ago

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The Sorcerer & The Demon

Warning !

Fluff ; Comfort ; Mentions of Physical Affection ; Mentions of Anxiety, Frustration, Desperation ; Mentions of Marking ; Established Relationship

A/n !

Okay (⁠｡⁠•̀⁠ᴗ⁠-⁠)⁠✧ last part as I promised ! Thank you for the Reblogs and Likes (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

Also decided to post this on Shu's birthday since I don't think I got the chance to write anything for his b-day (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠), anyways,

Happy Birthday my Beloved Sorcerer, Shu Yamino (⁠*⁠˘⁠︶⁠˘⁠*⁠)⁠.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡

<- Part II ||

➶◜◝➴

How long has it been?

It's dark, and cold. Again.

You should've bought the Shikigamis with you, it would've made them find you much quicker.

But what if they couldn't find you? What if they decided to let you be here? All alone inside this kidnapper's household.

Dark thoughts slowly flooding in, you were just started to live with them for like for 2 months.

They've taken care of you ever since your first meeting, it was nice. It made you feel alive again. You missed their voice now, there's not a day goes without hearing their voice. Vox's flirty remarks, Shu's identic smile.

Why do you miss them so much? You've only been with them for 2 months, it is still a short span of time. At least that's what you thought. You slowly pull your knees up to your chest, slowly hugging it as you close your eyes, silently praying for them to save you.

. . .

"It has been a week Shu, is there no sign of them yet?" The Demon asked, a week is way too long for comfort. They're getting more anxious each second pass by, Shu who Constantly not taking any rest trying to find you, sending his shikigamis out to trace your essence.

"I am trying Vox, I know it has been a week, I haven't go take a rest ever since their disappearance. I am trying my best here Vox" Shu replied, sounded a bit desperate also frustrated, Vox could only glare down at the tatami floor under him. Not because he's mad at The Sorcerer he's mad at himself not being able to go out find you.

"Then, Let me, go find them, Shu." Vox finally voiced out his suggestion, Shu looked up at him, he frowned for a moment. Before letting out a sigh, "Okay, ..I let you go out from my range, but return before the sunset tomorrow." He ordered, and then right after he said that, the magic golden chains that's wrapped around his wrists and ankles breaks into pieces. "But, if I have found their whereabouts, I am catching up to you." he continued as he look at The Demon.

Vox kneeled before Shu, summoning his katana, "I shall now take my departure, I will return soon." With that Vox disappeared, leaving only a mist behind.

Shu sighed once more as he ran his fingers through his bangs, he's not going to rest, definitely not, he's still going to find you, at least, your essence to know where you are.

. . .

One, two, three, four, .. hours have passed ever since Vox's departure, one of the Shikigamis he sent out returned in a hurry, bringing the expected good news.

"Good job, now lead Vox and I to where they are."

Shu stood up and walked away, the moment he stepped out of the room, he teleported away. Only leaving behind bits of his purple pink fire behind.

"We're going to find you."

. . .

Does your life story really ends here? Do you really have no choice? You're now chained up. Nowhere to go now. You're stuck here.

The kidnapper is not a human, it is a yokai, there's no way you can fight them, you're just a human, if you decided to fight them, you're definitely digging your own grave.

The sliding door that slowly opened up awakened you back to reality, you look up at the door. Seeing the Yokai smiling down at you, they coo as they approached you. "There There.. Do you know who you're living together with?" The Yokai whispered at you as they crouched down in front of you, "The Mysterious, yet Strongest Sorcerer. And The last Akuma blood line, now turned into the strongest Demon." They explained as they stared at you no emotions. Eyes empty, void of life.

"And Seeing you living with those two so casually, when you're just a mere human? Do you know how many Yokais out there want to be friended those two?" You shook your head as you stared back into the Yokai's dead eyes, "There are thousands, yet here you are. A mere human manage to catch their attention and live together with them even." The Yokai grabbed your face so aggressively that you let out a whine from it, "L-Let go!" You struggled as you tried to push their hands away, only for them to tighten their grip.

"Know your place Hum-"

"Hands off."

A familiar low voice rings through your ear, your eyes widen up at the voice, "V-Vox!" He let out a chuckle as he heard you calling his name. "I'm sorry little human, It took us this long to find you.." he apologized as he walk up to the Yokai and You, his golden eyes glows as he approached you.

The Yokai who was so confident now shaking in fear, facing Vox Shaking as he kneeled down to the floor, their forehead are on the floor. You look down at the Yokai in front of you, then up at Vox. His eyes staring down at the Yokai before him, and then you felt something tugging at your arm behind you.

It was the Shikigamis, it took a bit while before they manage to release you free. "Go out little human, Shu is outside waiting for you" The Demon said and glances at you, a smile slowly appeared, "Don't look back and just keep walking." He said as he saw you slowly standing up, slowly walking pass him.

Oh how shocked you were when you saw the footstep coming from the door leaded to Vox's, and the moment you stepped out, you saw Shu burning the last dead body. His face looked so gloomy. But it soon disappeared and his violet eyes glows slightly when he sees you, "You're okay-!" He said as you both walk up to each other.

The Sorcerer reach out his hand to your cheek, gently rubbing his gloved thumb along your cheek, his eyes soften up, "I'm sorry it took us a whole week for us to find you.." he whispered. He sounded so regretful, disappointed.

"I'm glad we manage to find you, seeing you still in one piece. If not.." Shu stopped he then pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging, "Oh look at you two, being all sweet and stuff without me" Vox said as he swing his katana to the side with a bit of force to let the blood off from his katana.

Vox sheathed his katana as he walk up to you and Shu, Vox's hand soon reach out to you placing his hand at the left side of your cheek, gently rubbing his thumb along your cheek. "I'm glad you're okay." He sounded so soft, you blinked slowly as you look up at him. And then Vox pulled his hand away, smiling towards you "Let's go home now shall we?"

. . .

"I believe we need to do something about you.." Shu said as he frowned a bit, thinking of something.

You, Vox and Shu are in Shu's room, thinking of a way about how to prevent the uneventful things to happen in the future. "Well, There is, a way.." Shu whispered, bit his voice are a bit hesitant. "And that is?" You asked him, but the way Shu glances at Vox, making Vox frowned too.

"Are you sure it's the only way?" Vox asked, knowing what Shu meant, "Do you have any other ways?" Shu asked, they both continue discussing leaving you completely clueless at the discussion.

After awhile, both of them then looked at you, "Let us hold your hands" Shu requested as both him and Vox extended their hands to you. You tilt your head a bit confused, but you reached out both of your hands anyway.

The both of them held your hand gently, and the moment they leaned their faces close to your palms your eyes widen up. The next second you felt both of their lips on your palms, your body shivered a bit at the sensation.

After a few seconds, they both leaned away and gently rub their thumbs along your palms. They then released your hand, you look down to see what did they do.

There was nothing at first, but then slowly red markings started to appeared on your palms. You look back up at them, "Personal marking of protection for our Little human" Vox replied as he smiled at you, then the smile slowly turn into a smirk. "Or you could say that it is a marking of ownership-" he teased making your face went hot, The Demon let out a chuckle when he sees your reaction.

"But it is something to let other Yokais know, you belong to someone.. or certain, .. people" Shu said, whispering the last part as he closed his eyes, clearing out his throat before letting outa soft chuckle.

You look down on your palms once more, oh, now where did you see that mark again?

You frowned for a bit, slightly tilting your head. But then it clicked, you shot your head up and see the same exact mark on Shu and Vox's foreheads. "..no wonder it looks familiar" you said as you then look back down at your palms.

"Don't worry, little human. You're now safe. We will not let anything. Bad happened to you." ...

Ever since they put the marks on your palms, no Yokais dared to approach you, whenever they see you they'll back away from you, with a bit of intimidated look on their faces.

. . .

That was 5 years ago, your encounter with the two men have changed your life entirely, they're now your lovers. You've decided to gave up your life as a Shikigami, now living an eternal life. Together with the two.

Waking up from the sound of birds chirping at the window, you slowly opened your eyes, you tilt your head down slightly to see a glimpse of a familiar raven haired male snuggled to your chest. A soft breathing behind you, you then look over your shoulder to see Vox's face. Sleeping peacefully behind you as he draped over his arms over your waist and Shu's arms.

Oh right, last night these two were drinking.

"Shu.. Vox.. wake up.." you gently pat Shu's head and then Vox's, making the two shifted in their sleep a bit before slowly opening their eyes. Shu slightly looking up at you, kissing your collarbone, humming in Satisfaction, "Good morning.." he whispered.

Vox at the other hand started kissing your shoulders, "..Morning to both of you.." he greeted you and Shu, "Is your head okay?" You asked them both, Shu went quiet, "..It is hurting quite bad" Vox replied as he snuggled his face at your shoulder. "Indulge me will you, hm?" He said as his hands started roaming on your body under the futon. "..I could just make this headache gone, but I don't think my mind will let me register the magic" Shu said and let out a chuckle.

"Come on, let's get up, I'll cook up some soup for you two" You said as you tried to get up from the futon, only for you to be pulled back down again, Vox who was laying on the futon now are on his sides, resting his head on his palms, while Shu at the other hand are snuggling into you from the side. "..Is this how we're going to start our day?"

"Hahah, come on now, it's still early anyway.. you can cook us the soup later, love"

"Yeah.. my head is throbbing, let me at least hug you a bit longer"

Both of them didn't let you go, you're stuck in between them, you could only sigh lovingly as you rise both of your hands and gently pat their faces. "Fine, just a bit longer okay?"

"Thank you my dear, Love you"

".. Mm, Love you.."

You're so glad that you can spend the rest of your life with them, you let out a small chuckle, "Love you too"

A/n !

There ! That is all for The Sorcerer or The Demon fic ! I hope you enjoyed this, fufu~

Also I'm sorry, this have been sitting in my drafts ever since i uploaded the second part.. so I still have that, color exaggeration.. I'm sorry

#nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #luxiem x reader #luxiem #shu yamino x reader #shu yamino #vox akuma x reader #vox akuma #➴ fakesimp writing for you #fakesimp writing

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lskisms · 2 years ago

Text

DEATH RESEMBLED YOU, J. FAHEY

synopsis — you’ve been beating around your feelings towards a certain zemeni durast for months now, but so it seems, has he.

genres &&. warnings — angst, hurt/comfort &&. mutual pining, confessions, canon-typical violence, discussions of loss and grief, spoilers for shadow and bone season 2/crooked kingdom regarding jesper’s history.

word count — 3k

note — in my “writing for shadow and bone” era. will be posting more joel miller content soon, i am just incredibly busy with school and working on a series for tlou rather than any one-shots. i hope you enjoy.

there’s not much you remember right now, which should be scary, losing your memory and all. but how can it be when you’re here, under a sea of stars and cradled in the warm embrace of the boy you’ve loved for years? jesper is so close in a way you’ve never had him, his personal scent of spices and gunsmoke, comforting and familiar, grounding you as he holds you to him.

your ears ring, locking you away from the audible world, but you can see and feel. jesper’s face wavers above you, dark eyebrows drawn together and darker eyes glassy with tears. you can feel the confusion ghost over your features and the words get stuck in your throat: why are you crying, jes? what’s wrong? how could anything be wrong when you’re pressed into his chest and one of his hands, trembling like a leaf in autumnal winds, cradles your cheek? all around you is warmth and you swear you’ve never felt so comfortable, so cozy. when your eyes begin to slip closed, it felt like the most natural thing to do; the darkness was coaxing you into its own embrace, away and further away from jesper. you don’t want to lose the feeling of the boy’s stable chest tight against your shoulder, but you feel so tired, nothing a nice slumber can’t fix.

as you’re allowing that dark tide to drift you out to sea, the ringing in your ears starts to fade, jesper’s voice slowly taking its place. your name sounds so desperate on his lips, each syllable quivering sonically the way his hand does physically. your eyes slide open, struggling to stay open all the way but trying, just to take in jesper’s face for a little while longer.

“hey, hey, hey.” you can hear the tears in his voice now and you’re still missing the reason why. “you’ve gotta stay awake, okay? keep your eyes open.”

you start to form his name on your own tongue, but he shakes his head, effectively keeping you quiet. you’re starting to come to, mind catching up with body, and you realize that jesper’s tears aren’t for nothing. every part of you aches something fierce, but there is a certain kind of sting in your stomach that you recognize is the source of your fatigue: you’ve been stabbed. the dizziness, the way your eyes threaten to slip closed, the full spectrum exhaustion.

“i told kaz i had a bad feeling, sending you off without a partner,” jesper mumbles to himself. you register his free hand at your stomach, pressing his scarf tightly against the wound. when you groan, he looks up, a poignant and solid kind of sorrow written across his face that morphs immediately into worry again when you start to feel that hypnotic pull of darkness once again.

he gasps out another series of “hey” and drags you back into consciousness, letting out a breathy laugh of relief, anything to keep you focused on him, on staying awake. but you’re losing that battle and quickly, something he realizes when your eyes are glossing over and looking through him at something he can’t see. you vaguely register his call of “nina! inej! anyone!” before he bends back over you, forehead dangerously close to yours.

you’d never admit it to anyone, but if you have to die now, you’re glad it’s in the arms of one of the only people who has ever made you feel welcome and worthy. maybe it’s because the crows are their own little family or maybe it’s because jesper knows what it’s like to be on the outskirts of something, not quite part of that ingroup, and never wanted you to feel the same, but ever since joining the group, jesper has been your self-appointed everything: friend, confidante, errand boy. and, like a popular fairytale, you fell for him.

jesper has always been everything you aren’t, filled in every gap that you have. he’s done more than fit seamlessly into your life; he has complemented you in ways that nobody else ever has. with someone like kaz, the relationship is a balancing act, too far in one direction and it’s off-kilter, but jesper, things are perfectly in sync. they always have been. with the way he transitioned into your life and made it feel like he’d always been there, like he’d been meant to come into your life, how could you not fall for him? whether he knows it or not, he’s shown you how to love and how to be loved, a lesson unintentionally taught yet learned eagerly.

so yeah, if you’re dying right now, jesper so close that the tip of his nose brushes yours and his breath fans hot and soft over your face, his arms wrapped tight around you, how could you not be okay with leaving the world like this? in the arms of the first and only boy you’ve ever loved, you can’t imagine a better way to go, though it’s saddening that dying is the only way you’d gotten him to hold you in the way you’ve been dreaming of for months. you make your peace with it. he has to know now, as you lean your weight into his body, cheek pressed to his shoulder, eyes finding purchase on his face, that you love him most ardently, that you have longed to be in this position for so many moons.

and you’re losing it again, that battle with being, and he’s rocking now, taking you with him as he buries his face in your hair, tears seeping through to the scalp. at least when you go, you’ll have a piece of him with you. his chest rumbles under you, his words warm against your skin, a steady plea of “come on. stay with me,” even though you know you can’t. you’ve never been meant to.

the darkness is familiar and comforting, all cinnamon and clove and gunpowder. and it’s soft, too. warm, like you’re pinned under the gaze of someone longing and silent. if this is what death feels like, you ponder why you were ever afraid of it in the first place because this seems like your personal heaven.

but then the darkness begins to break apart, all soft golden light and consciousness. your senses are coming back to you.

not dead, you think. i’m not dead. saints, i didn’t die in that alleyway.

you start taking stock of the senses you do have (sound, scent, touch), but you fixate on the weight on your hand, the dip in the mattress beside you. hand, warm, soft, uncalloused, nimble. breath hot against your fingers. and then there’s the allspice and gunsmoke, secrets of a zemeni upbringing that had been divulged to you in the quiet late night hours of private crow club bedrooms.

jesper.

you say his name this time, barely a whisper, and though you haven’t opened your eyes yet, you can tell that the boy stirs. because you know him the way he knows you, the way neither of you know anyone else. you can picture the way he squeezes his eyes shut, presses his shoulders back to release tension and sleep, things that only you know that he does as he wakes up. only when he shoots up, letting out some unintelligible sound of surprise, do you finally let your eyes slide open, squinting against early morning sunlight.

your name falls from him, soft and reverential, as if treating your name so delicately will ensure that you are alive, will speak your life into existence, coaxing you away from death. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him look so relieved as he does now, eyes shining as he looks down at you. his leg closest to the door keeps shifting, as if he’s warring between letting your friends know that you’re awake and not, though you’re not quite so sure of the implications of the second option.

finally, though, after glancing at the bedroom door, he settles back beside your bed, riding the very edge of the chair as though he can’t bear to put any semblance of distance between you.

“how do you feel?” he asks, shoving his hands between his thighs; it’s a habit of his, you realized months ago, something he does when his hands feel restless, but he doesn’t want to annoy others.

that’s right; you hadn’t finished taking inventory of yourself after you’d woken him up. besides the residual aches and the persistent pulsing of the knife wound in your side, you feel… okay. whoever it was that healed you (likely one of the many grisha in hiding here in ketterdam) deserves a million thanks because they did amazing work.

“i feel alright,” you answer, pulling yourself into a sitting position. “how long was i out?”

jesper shrugs, eyes falling to a fraying thread on the blanket. “a couple of days. which were miserable, might i add. inej and nina spent hours pacing the first few hours after we got you back here and while the healer was working on you.” he pauses for a moment, lips pursed as he turns something over in his head. you almost don’t think he’s going to say anything else until he opens his mouth and continues.

“the silence was almost unbearable after everyone left. i was the only one who stayed.”

you look at him, study the way he is making a point to not look at you. your heart aches: why doesn’t he want to look at me? did i read that night all wrong? it was possible, seeing as you’d been in the clutches of death and entirely delirious. you start to open your mouth to respond when the boy looks up, fresh tears in those clear eyes of his.

“i thought i was going to lose you.”

and there it is, that sharp knife of regret for something you couldn’t control. he wasn’t accusing you for what happened — he knew full well that it hadn’t been your fault. but there were other things, other people he could place blame on: kaz, who hadn’t thought there’d be a need for you to have a partner; himself because he hadn’t fought harder to convince kaz, because he hadn’t gotten there fast enough; the person who’d done this to you (long disposed of by now, if kaz had any say in the matter) because they considered you an enemy, hadn’t known the sweet feeling of being loved by you, of knowing that you were in their corner.

but under all of that, you know that it’s not why that sentence cuts so deep. he’d lost his mother through no fault of his own. and he’d abandoned his father on that jurda farm back in novyi zem under the impression that he was going to university in kerch. he’d lost nearly everyone who meant anything to him. maybe you’d severely underestimated how much value he placed in you, in your presence in his life.

“i’m sorry. i-“

jesper shakes his head, a sad kind of smile ghosting that perfect, plush mouth of his. “saints, it’s so cliche and childish of me, but…” he laughs, a sound thick with tears and dry humor. “i don’t care. i thought i was going to lose you without getting to tell you how i really feel about you. i’m not good with words the way you are, not when it comes to things like this, but you have to know now that i…”

the world around you falls away, the way it had when you’d been on your deathbed in some random alley in the city. there’s no steady hum of patrons filing out after an all-nighter, no street noise from outside the windows, not even a creak in the hall that denotes kaz or some other crow club member. right now, it is just you and jesper and the faint sounds of your breaths mingling in the silence as his words settle in.

“i knew something was wrong that night, but i gave you the benefit of the doubt because i know you can take care of yourself. but it wasn’t even twenty minutes before that feeling was too much. kaz didn’t want me leaving, but i just knew. i knew something had happened to you and then i found you just off one of the straats, bleeding to death.”

the breath he takes is trembling almost violently and your body moves faster than your mind; you can’t stop yourself from reaching out and taking the hand of his that fidgets with that damned loose thread. but you know what he means, that strange, otherworldly connection the two of you share, like some kind of telepathy; you could anticipate things, could sense when something bad had happened, even something great. you knew him inside and out, and vice versa.

“i didn’t know what to do. you were just laying there, not moving. you didn’t even react when i picked you up. it was like you were already gone. and the first thought i had after i need to get help was that i was going to lose you before i ever had the chance to tell you that i…”

he goes quiet, letting his voice trail off right before he gets to the words that you want to hear the most. but he’s looking at you and his eyes are glistening in that flaxen sunlight and he’s smiling that smile that is reserved for you and you alone, something akin to a secret, something earnest and warm and everything else that ketterdam so often seeks out and destroys.

and you realize that you don’t even need him to say it because it’s already there in spades without being vocalized. it’s there in the way he’s looking at you right now, in the way he refused to leave you alone when you were lost in the darkness, in the way he treats you with a safeguarded softness. it’s always been there; you were just too daft to notice it until now.

“jes…”

you’re not sure where you’re going, just that saying his name feels right, but when you trail off and his face drops, his shoulders tensing for a rejection that will never come, you do the only thing that’s reeling through your mind right now.

you cradle his face in your hands and meet him halfway, mouths soft and warm and tasting like sunlight. in his haste to get closer and comfortable, he nearly tips his chair over when he stands, towering over you. his own hands mimic yours, cradling your cheeks in those miraculously soft palms of his, fingertips pressing into skin. it’s not a heated kiss by any means, just something to test the waters, but it’s almost impossible to pull away. this is something you’ve dreamed about for months on end, the one thing you allow yourself to fantasize about as you fall asleep, knowing that it would never happen.

but it is. you are kissing jesper fahey and he is kissing you back. he is holding onto you like if he lets go, the whole moment will fall apart, disappear like a dream. he presses his lips impossible closer to yours, trying to close all the gaps between you, and it is his enthusiasm that finally causes the break away because you’re giggling breathlessly against his mouth.

of course, in typical jesper fashion, he doesn’t even move back entirely. yes, your mouths are no longer connected, but his nose brushes yours, there is a ghost of a touch between your foreheads. he remains so close that when you open your eyes and study his, you can see that the deep brown is not as consistent as you thought; rather, there are small flecks of gold and bronze that interrupt it. you think you could get lost in them forever if he’d let you.

“you’ve no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do that,” he says, the words fanning across your face in warmth exhale.

“i’ve no idea? you have no idea,” you respond, looking at him with complete bewilderment.

there’s no way he’s been wanting this for as long as you have, but he stares back, nothing short of amusement and recognition in his brown-gold-bronze eyes, and you realize that maybe he has. if not longer.

“this is ridiculous. you’re ridiculous,” you splutter, pushing him away by his shoulders and throwing yourself down into the covers dramatically (though mindful of the not-quite-healed-yet knife wound). jesper’s laugh in response is high and youthful and sonically pleasing, music-adjacent, and he follows you, the entire upper half of his body slumped over yours as he tucks his face against your shoulder and laughs more, laughs again, deep and full and comforting. you’re filled with a sense of pride, glad that you’re the one who can make him sound like that, so unguarded.

“that makes you ridiculous, too,” he responds in kind, finally crawling the rest of the way onto the mattress. you cease the playful struggle and he settles in behind you, body fit perfectly to yours, like two halves of a whole. his arm is warm and heavy over your waist, and you place your hand over his, fingers intertwining as you press them to your chest.

you've been in this position before, tucked against one another and reveling in the shared warmth, but this time, there is a mutual understanding that this means more, that it is more. he’s right, that you both are ridiculous for a multitude of things, but you finally ended up right where you are meant to be. there is hope and warmth and the promise of a future that looks brighter, clearer than the lives you lead now. maybe you’ll never leave ketterdam, maybe the two of you are bound to the crows and kaz brekker until death, but now you know you have each other.

#.lskisms #.s&b #.jesper #jesper fahey x reader #jesper x reader #shadow and bone x reader

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peaceoutofthepieces · 6 months ago

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Uh hi! So I know you usually do ship stuff, but I am desperate for some Isaac Henderson angst content. I’ve found a few here and there but most of them aren’t actually super angsty and a lot somehow feel more about the other characters even if they’re meant to be about Isaac. They’re good but nothings really scratched that itch so far. Could you write something using #12 from the angsty dialogue prompts? Or honestly if you’d rather not do that one, any one of the prompts would be great. I’ll leave it up to you what exactly it’s about and who the line is directed at, I just wanna see my fave go through it.

hello!! i'm sorry this took so long! i would like to clarify that i started it ages ago, but it was at less than 1000 words yesterday evening, and then it was finished at 2am last night. (i got so into it i'm currently in the mindset of "that's it, i'm going to try and post at least a fic a week now 😤", but we will see if that actually happens.) so, i hope if nothing else it's sufficiently angsty and not too ooc. you did give me quite a bit of freedom, and it remains unclear if that was a good choice or not 😅 anyway, enjoy!!

12. "Help me."

Post-prom, Isaac felt out of sorts.

His situation with James and his odd encounter at Elle’s exhibition had been eye-opening, to say the least. Angela Chen’s Ace still resided on his nightstand, though he’d finished reading it two days after lifting it from the library. He couldn’t bring himself to return it just yet; he found himself going back to it at night, rereading sections over again as if they would tell him something new, feeling he was still missing something. And anyway, they were still on summer holidays. The school wouldn’t miss it for now.

No one seemed to be missing him much, either.

It was becoming more noticeable, this summer break, how he was the odd one out. He’d been aware his friends were essentially coupled off for months now, and Paris had cemented it, but Paris had also kept them stuck together as a group.

(Plus, most of the Paris trip had been before things had become royally awkward with James, but he was mostly avoiding thinking about all that.)

The situation with Darcy had understandably taken a bit of a priority in the past couple of weeks, but it didn’t explain the shift that had seemed to happen within all his friends since prom. Isaac had figured for a while that Elle would be leaving, and he assumed it was why she and Tao had been attached at the hip. He didn’t begrudge them it, really. He had watched them pine over each other long enough that leaving them this time together felt warranted. Besides, it wasn’t like they were asking Charlie to movie nights recently, either.

But it also wasn’t likely Charlie was waiting to be asked, these days. He and Nick had seemingly re-entered their honeymoon phase, which was fair given that they finally could be as coupley as they wanted wherever and whenever they wanted. Isaac just found it odd that it seemed to be more since prom than Nick’s coming out, but he was not going to ask about that. It made sense he didn’t want to think about. The intense, somewhat dark cloud that seemed to still hang over Nick around Charlie was more worth questioning, but it was also part of what kept Isaac from encroaching on them recently.

Everyone seemed to have something going on. His going-ons felt a little unworthy, in comparison. He wasn’t sure if he was feeling shit about himself because he didn’t want to put an extra burden on his friends and it was a bit sad he considered his feelings a burden, or if that was an excuse for not having to talk about it because he didn’t really know how and it was making him feel shit.

So, yes. Out of sorts.

Out of sorts and alone, most of the time.

He was not in the habit of pitying himself, however, and he was not about to start now. So what if he was having some life-defining realisations about himself and he had no one to share them with? He’d coped with life mostly on his own so far and he’d continue to do so.

And he was coping. Perfectly.

Kind of.

Sitting in one of his best friend’s houses, surrounded by their other friends and staring into a book was how he always coped, so this was perfectly normal. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t absorbing the words and everyone seemed louder than usual. He hadn’t been sleeping well. He was tired. That’s all he was feeling.

Tara tugged at his foot from where she and Darcy were perched on the floor by his armchair. “Isaac, we're gonna play a boardgame. Put the book down and come join us!”

Isaac looked, but Tao and Elle were still wrapped up in each other in the corner and Nick and Charlie were nowhere in sight. He raised an eyebrow at Tara. “We are?”

“Yes! Nick and Charlie are away to get them right now, so come get comfy.”

Darcy snorted. “Good idea, because we could be waiting for a bit.”

Tara slugged her shoulder and Darcy only giggled again.

“Shouldn't they have passed the honeymoon phase by now?” Isaac asked, lowering his book slightly but not yet closing it.

“Nick and Charlie?” Tara grinned. “I'm not sure those two will ever come out of it.”

“Well, I can't say I don't understand,” Darcy quipped, leaning in to Tara with a grin. Tara turned towards her, and their smiles melded as they kissed.

Isaac snapped his book closed. “Actually, I think I'll go to the loo while we're waiting.”

No one gave any sign of hearing him, so Isaac slipped quietly out of the room and up to the bathroom. He rolled his eyes at the giggles coming from Charlie's room and didn't pause. Closing the bathroom door behind him, he finally released a sharp breath. He perched himself on the edge of the bath and pulled out his phone.

Instagram was a distraction he did not often indulge in. His follow count was small—only his friends and favourite authors alongside a small cluster of bookstagrammers he'd found to have good taste. He saved a couple of recommendation posts, then began clicking through stories, pausing when he reached James's.

The story was almost timed out, all of it from last night, seemingly at a party. Isaac had stopped on a video where James appeared to be singing along to the song playing with another boy. In the middle of it, the boy had swooped forward to kiss James on the cheek.

Isaac stared at James’s delighted expression and something complicated clenched in his chest. He quickly locked the phone and set it beside him, directing his focus to the wall.

It was good, he rationalised. James was wonderful; he deserved to be going out and having fun, and he deserved, without question, to have a handsome boy having fun with him. Whether they were friends or something more didn't matter, but the something more definitely seemed possible, if not likely. And James deserved someone who could give him that.

Isaac had not been able to give him that—did not want to give anyone that, could not derive any joy from it, even from the chance of it giving joy to someone else.

He was not incapable of love. He knew that. When he looked at his family, when he looked at Charlie and Tao and Elle, he was always so full of love he felt he might explode from it. It wasn't romantic, and it wasn't physical, but it was love, in its purest form it seemed, to him, given he did not want anything in return for it but their happiness and their continued place in his life.

It was love, uncomplicated, unconditional love, and why wouldn't that be enough?

He never seemed to be enough.

He always did what he could to be a good son and a good friend, and he had never doubted it until recently. James had been one of those good friends. He still was, as far as Isaac was concerned, but their relationship had undeniably changed. Maybe it was simply in an awkward phase that would pass, but Isaac, at the moment, could not believe it would ever be the same. For a time, James had been something of his best friend—not because Isaac liked him more than Charlie or Tao or Elle, or because he really spent more time with him, but because James was Isaac’s friend in a way they were not. They spent time together, the two of them, and shared interests the two of them, and when they had been together they had not felt the need for any company outside of the two of them.

But that had not meant the same to James as it had to Isaac, and Isaac could not give him anything more. He understood that his rejection would not be taken without consequence, but he hadn't been prepared to be, in a way, rejected in return.

Was this all he would ever achieve? Having friends who would always be somewhat distant—who would always have someone closer, someone better—or having someone close who would eventually want that closeness in a way he did not. Before, he'd worried he was not worthy of that want to begin with. Never had he thought it would be his inability to return it that would be the issue. Could he be upset, that it was his not wanting to be too close that lost him all closeness as a result?

He was alone on an island of his own making. He couldn't blame anyone for leaving him there if he wasn't going to invite them in, could he?

Was this, then—alone in the bathroom of his best friend's house with his phone locked beside him and tears in his throat—all he was destined for?

Isaac Island, party of one.

A knock on the door startled him, and he swore quietly as he knocked his phone onto the tiles. As he picked it up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and blanched. There were no tears, but his eyes were red and his face was blotchy and the tears were waiting in his throat, they surely would be there if he went back downstairs to—

Another knock.

“One—one minute,” he tried, clearing his throat when his voice cracked. He quickly turned on the tap and ran his hands and wrists under the cool water, but it did nothing to steady his breathing. The thought of his aloneness had choked him, but the thought of returning into company strangled him. It was not his friends’ fault—he refused to make it his friends’ fault—but at the moment, he couldn't bear them all the same.

He cupped more cold water in his hands and scrubbed it over his face, but it did not shock him out of the spiral of his thoughts. The third knock barely registered over the growing ringing in his ears.

“Isaac?” Not Charlie, like Isaac had thought. Not Nick either, or Tara, or any of them. “Are you okay? I'd really like to use the loo.”

His island, he thought deliriously, was sinking; he was drowning, and still, he could do nothing but soak his hands under the tap and soak his face in turn and suck in breaths that did not hold enough oxygen. He was drowning, he was sinking, he could not see it but his body felt it and his lungs were going to seize, he was dying—

He cut the knocking off by throwing open the door and gasping, “Help me.”

Isaac had one second to appreciate Tori’s bewildered expression before it turned serious and she took to action. “Isaac? Hey. Look at me.” She set her hands on his shoulders as he wrapped his arms around his middle, still heaving. “I'm assuming you didn't just get diagnosed with asthma,” Tori said, still impossibly calm—perhaps he was actually the sea, he thought, undefinable and raving, and she the island, unravagable. Isaac shook his head. “Alright. I think, then, this is likely a panic attack. Would it help if I get Charlie?”

Isaac shook his head more vigorously.

To her credit, Tori only considered him for a few seconds, and didn't argue. She guided him back into the bathroom and gently kicked the door closed. “Sit,” she told him. He did, and she crouched in front of him. Immediately, with his knees pulled to his chest and the bath supporting his back, it was better. He was not so adrift. “You're alright. It will pass. I know it's stupid, but you really do just have to focus on breathing.”

She started counting. It was only when she'd repeated the numbers four times that he understood she was telling him how long to breathe in and out for. Then he tried to follow it, and slowly, air felt like it was moving through him regularly again.

Isaac wiped at his cheek. To his embarrassment, his fingers came away damp. He didn't look at Tori, but he said, “Thank you.” Then, “Sorry.”

She didn't brush off his apology, or tell him to get out now so she could actually use the loo—both of which would have been fair and not unexpected responses. Instead, she turned and sat next to him. She leaned against the bath to his left, a few inches between their shoulders, and stared at the wall quietly with him.

When his skin stopped vibrating, he tucked his arms around his middle again and breathed out. “How did you know what to do?” he asked.

She glanced at him and shrugged. “I didn't, really.”

It was all she offered, but it seemed honest. Isaac decided not to push. He was too grateful to care much.

“Do you want to tell me what it was about?” she asked, softly.

Isaac looked over at her. She was looking back, unsmiling but not unhappy. She reminded him a lot of Charlie, Isaac had always thought. They seemed similar in ways they likely weren't even aware of. It was both comforting and unnerving. “Do you really want me to?”

Tori shrugged again. “I'd prefer it if you told Charlie or your other friends, because I think that would be more helpful. But I don't think you want to. So you can tell me, if you need to tell someone.”

That was—exactly what Isaac needed, really. He didn't exactly think it should be Tori. They'd known each other a while, and they liked each other well enough, but they weren't friends. Plus, Isaac knew she and Charlie were actually close; it felt weird and unfair to tell her something and then ask her to keep it from him.

But in this moment, he could not think of a better option, and the mere thought of getting the weight off his chest was a relief.

“I think I'm going to end up alone,” he said, blunt and ridiculous. Tori, completely fairly, raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Not because I think I'm unlovable or something like that.” Although that was part of it. “But because—” Could he say the actual words? “—I think I'm asexual, and aromantic, so I don't think I'll ever love love anyone, and I think that means I'll always be a bit alone.”

He could.

It still seemed sad and pathetic when he said it out loud, maybe even more so, but the act of it—the unretractable reality of it—settled something in him.

Tori's expression, a little confused but free of judgement, only added to that feeling. “So, you don't feel romantic or sexual attraction,” she said slowly. “At all. Is that what you mean?”

Isaac was vaguely impressed. He nodded.

“When did you figure this out?”

Isaac took a long, heavy breath. “I think, properly, I started to figure it out in Paris, when I realised this guy liked me and I was trying to figure out if I liked him back? But I think I'd been starting to realise it long before then. I just…hadn't known what to call it, or what it meant.”

Tori, he noticed gratefully, took time to process this before nodding. “And now?”

Isaac blinked. “Now?”

“What do you think it means now?”

Oh. Isaac hadn't expected the question, and he found himself unsure of how to answer. “I think it means I'm always going to be lonely.”

Tori tilted her head. “But you didn't think that before.”

“What?”

“You said you don't think you're unlovable. And I agree. I think Charlie loves you a lot. I think most people would, because you are a very nice person. You didn't think of that as less important because it wasn't romantic before. What changed?”

Changed? Nothing. Everything. They were growing up, and love had more meanings when you grew up, and some of those meanings became less important. He looked at the wall again. “They have other people they love more,” he said softly.

“And you won't ever have that,” Tori returned, equally soft. Not a barb, not a rebuke, nothing negative at all. Just realising; working through it alongside him. “So you think you won't ever be the most important person to someone.”

Isaac swallowed, unable to answer. Not because he didn't know the answer—because it was yes, it was true, she was right, of course she was—but because it was impossible to admit.

“I think that's the case for most people,” Tori said, at once blunt and thoughtful. Isaac looked back at her, awaiting an explanation. “Think about it. Even the most in love people usually have children, and then their children are the most important people, or at least equally important. And if they have more than one child, no one of them is the most important, and neither of the parents are the most important to the other. I think, instead of having one supremely important person, most people have a group of important people in their life.”

She looked over at him and continued. “There probably are different levels and different kinds of importance, but I don't think that necessarily means one is worth less than the other.”

Isaac sat, for a moment, and absorbed that. Could it be true? He thought of his family. He was lucky, in that scenario. His parents were kind, were wonderful, and he knew without question that they loved him, and he loved them. Neither one of them, he realised, was more important to him than the other. He had different relationships with them both, but each of their losses would leave an equally sized hole in his heart.

He knew that probably wasn't the same for most people, but if he could find that one example in his own life so easily, he couldn't deny it was possible in others.

“I suppose,” Isaac said. “I think I know what you mean. I don't think it's the same, but—I know what you mean.”

Tori did smile, now. A barely there thing, but warm and kind, all the same. “It probably isn't the same. I know me saying I love my brothers equally and neither of them are less important doesn't mean anything for your friends treating you the same as their partners, or even other friends. But I think—every relationship is as important as you make it. And sometimes, people might not know they aren't making it important, if they don't know what's important about it to you.”

“Has important stopped sounding like a real word to you, too?” Isaac asked.

“About six ‘important’s ago,” Tori agreed.

Isaac laughed, and his relief grew. Tori's smile also grew, just a tick.

“You're saying I should just talk to my friends,” Isaac noted, eventually, and Tori's smile grew wry.

“I did say that at the very beginning, yes.” Isaac laughed again, and she shook her head. “But I am saying you should explain to them. I can't promise you're wrong, or tell you everything will be fine,” she said truthfully. “But I don't think you can assume people can't give you what you need, if you don't tell them what that is and let them try.”

Isaac’s chest tightened again, but it was different to the breathless feeling from before. Instead of hopelessness, it was an anticipatory sort of buzz. There was a sureness that hadn't been there before.

There was a clatter from outside, and this time it was Charlie's voice that called out. “Isaac! Are you still up here? We have the game set up.”

Isaac looked from the door back to Tori. She gave him another smile and nodded. “Go on. I have really needed to pee for about ten minutes now.”

Isaac laughed, again, and got to his feet. Tori passed his phone up to him, and he thanked her once more. He knew she could tell he meant for everything, and she wouldn't appreciate him making more of it, so he took his leave without another word, leaving her to pee in peace.

Charlie was hovering at the top of the stairs. His face broke into a smile at Isaac’s appearance. “There you are. You've been up here ages.” His smile drooped slightly as Isaac came closer. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Isaac nodded. “Sorry, I got caught talking to Tori.”

“In the bathroom?” Charlie huffed, bewildered but amused. For a moment Isaac pictured Tori's expression when he'd opened the door to her, and he smiled.

He only hesitated for a second before saying, “I wanted to talk to all of you about something, actually.”

Immediately, Charlie's expression softened. “Yeah?” When Isaac nodded, Charlie smiled and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, tugging him towards the staircase. “Come on, then. The game can wait.”

#heartstopper #heartstopper fic #isaac henderson #prompts #i actually really enjoyed writing this #i feel like i don't express my love for isaac enough #so this was a good opportunity #so thank you vm for trusting me with the request!#i hope it's at least somewhat what you were looking for <3 #honourable tag for #tori spring #i could imagine no one else when i thought of this scenario/convo #i think any interaction between these two would be a very cool and important thing to have #my fics

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irkimatsu · 5 months ago

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Back at it again with blacking out and fic writing to Chappell Roan

“Baby… “

“Don’t-“ they winced.

“Look, I’ve just been feeling… a lot lately so I needed to let it out somewhere. I never thought you’d see! I promise I didn’t-“

“Baby.” Husk says firmly, immediately regretting it as he sees tears start to well up in their eyes.

“Baby…” he said softly, getting up and slowly walking towards them, bringing his hand to their face and carefully wiping away their tears.

“…you sing real pretty.”

“Is that all you have to say?” They look up at him, starting to get angry.

“Doll face I-“ He takes a step back.

“I live with you! I’m one door down from you! The walls are paper fucking thin! How do you think it feels when I have to watch you bring people home that I’ll never be as pretty or good at sex as?! You think I don’t hear you when I’m trying to sleep at night?!”, they stepped towards him, crying as he took another step back.

“Baby you’re gorgeous-“

“Then why do you seem to get so bored of me so easily?” They asked quietly.

Husk remained silent in shock. He didn’t think they cared this much, and they didn’t think they were good enough for him? He wasn’t good enough for them! Here they were, pouring their heart out to him and he couldn’t say shit. He wrapped his wings around himself, desperately trying to stay calm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so unbearably overwhelmed. Fuck, Husk, say something! Anything!

They kept crying.

“We keep having these great nights together, we spend time together, we go to nice dinners, we can stay home and just watch shitty tv and order takeout and it’s fine, we do literally everything together, you even spent your days off with me. Of course I hear people talk about how I’m just some sinner you play with for fun and I hear you brag all the time but I thought it was just for show. I don’t know, I thought I was important to you, ” they said teary eyed “I guess I was wrong,” they said quietly .

“Baby I never, ever meant for you to feel-“

“Shit hold on I got something in my eye and it’s really fucking burning,” they said, blinking comically after rubbing their eye trying to get rid of a mascara clump that stuck their lashes together.

Husk couldn’t tell if he wanted to cry for making them feel so shitty, laugh at how cute they were, or hold them close in an embrace and never let them go for the rest of their silly little second lives.

“Okay you can continue now,” they said, sniffling, crossing their arms.

“Baby I never thought I was hurting you this bad if I knew I never would’ve done it I promise. You mean the world to me,” he took both their hands in his, looking them in the eyes “I- I really do care about you.”

“Am I supposed to just trust that?” They raised a brow at him.

“Baby,” a clawed hand cupped their face, and they couldn’t not lean into the warmth of that touch. “Look at me,” he said softly, “I never thought you wanted me too.”

He gently rested his forehead against theirs and closed his eyes. “Look, I know I fucked up real bad. But maybe… if we work on this… we could know what we want better and we could just… work better? Please, please give me another chance… if ya want this as bad as I do?”

When he opened his eyes they were teary eyed again.

“Shit sugar I didn’t mean-“

He was shut up with a kiss that tasted like lipgloss, cocktails, and paradise. He couldn’t help but grab onto them and deepen the kiss with a grunt. He never wanted to let go, even if he was probably digesting glitter at this point and that probably wasn’t a great thing.

When they broke apart they couldn’t stop giggling like the lovesick fools they were. Leaving the makeup on the floor to be tomorrow’s problem, they headed on to their bedroom and cleaned up, got comfy, and settled in for the first of many nights knowing that even though it was hell, they could get by together.

- 💃

Thoughts? Prayers?

AAAA HOW DID I MISS THIS? God I love a good reconciliation... <3 Overlord Husk really does care, truly! He's just... not great at the feelings thing. Especially if he's been an Overlord for long enough that silly things like personal connection and feelings haven't mattered in ages. But he'll get through... having someone he truly cares about and knowing that they love him back will get him through. I'm glad they can finally be happy together. <3

His dancers are going to be annoyed at the loss of bonus income, but they'll deal.

#irk blubbers about nothing #irk got asked a thing #irk huskposts #irk talks to strangers

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office-hours-affection-if · 1 year ago

Text

Diesel and MC stuck in a closet. Angst variation.

Note: This was actually for the stuck in a closet for each ROs ask which I am currently writing 🫣 and also due to the last angsty ask, i posted this closet variation earlier than what i intended.

Diesel and MC is being a stubborn pair right now 🤧 its why i ended up writing this instead of the suggestive variation.

Out of all that could have happened, being stuck in a closet with an ex-boyfriend is the least scenario you could think of.

You let out a sigh of frustration but it seems someone is enjoying the situation, you look up to see a smirk on his face, his hands leaning over the closet door frame and with you leaning against it, offering much less space in a small closet basically you're enclosed in between his arms.

"Are you enjoying this?" You narrowed your eyes on him before looking away. Diesel's smirks fell at your question and started pursing his lips.

"I'm not"

You can feel his eyes on you although a bit dark. When you didn't offer any reply, he sighs and starts to speak.

"It's just-" You closed your eyes, felt yourself stop breathing, holding back any reaction for his next words. You can hear him gulp, a light tone yet nervousness in his words as if he's afraid to tread on something you both know can snap.

"I'm just glad I get to be stuck with you."

Slowly, your eyes opened, he continues staring, and the look he's been giving you these past few days like he's been making time for the past years. You hated how your heart still beats fast at seeing him again, truly you can never separate the mind and the heart, no matter how much you wanted to despise him.

The creeping feeling always comes back like a vine you can't cut off. A thread that always hangs on.

"I missed you."

Diesel whispers, eyes roaming all throughout your face, from your eyes to your lips.

It's intense how he stares at you like you're the most special woman in his life yet how can he walk away when you were still madly in love with him back then. You felt his fingers touch your cheek.

Your lips quivered, chest aching all of a sudden. A snap. The words you have been wishing and hoping for, he'd someday tell you that he misses you or that he will give your love a chance again.

The pain comes back. It hits you hard.

"Diesel, don't." Your voice croaks for the first time, pushing his hand away. "You don't just get to waltz like this back in my life and say you miss me."

A hurt flashes in Diesel's eyes, You don't know if it's from your words or how you pushed his hand away. Desperation and guilt is between them now, but before he can say anything more.

The closet door opens, much to your luck and probably from both your weight. Diesel hugs you so you won't fall, you can smell the same scent you've grown familiar as it engulfs you with so much warmth, you closed your eyes again, tears threatening to fall.

How can love still burn so much?

"Please... don't go" He begs, shakiness evident in his voice. You felt him kiss your hair, he hugs you tightly. "Please."

Your chest aches once more, your walls are trembling to collapse. Would it be all right to let yourself fall for the second time? To allow yourself have a second chance with him? You asked that that again and again.

You stayed like that for a minute that felt like eternity.

Then a realization came, You froze, feeling yourself get drenched with ice water.

You're scared.

It's why you kept asking all these thoughts. You're never going to be brave again like the first time you're falling for him. You're scared that it will end in another heartbreak again.

What if Diesel won't fight for it? How long would that take? It will just be you, not us again in the end.

You can't have yourself lose another battle once more. No, You can't take another heartbreak. You can't let the wall I've built up again just come crashing down just because he misses you.

With a strong will, You find yourself pushing Diesel away. His eyes are tinged red with tears already, you looked away, afraid you might just crumble and give in.

"You're fucking unfair." you cursed, finding the strength to look at his eyes again. You can feel your eyes are glassy that you find yourself trying to hold back more. "You can't just say that and expect me to stay when you didn't."

Diesel was just quiet, still staring at you. You can never comprehend what's brewing beneath those dark brown eyes of his. It's like we're back 2 years ago again, except this time there are tears in his eyes and a facial expression like he's been slapped.

He's giving up again?

You wiped your tears away. When it's all too much and the feeling of déjà vu comes back haunting you, you turn around to walk away yet some sick twisted hope within you just like 2 years ago wishes he'll call your name or chase you.

You almost froze again. A flutter of hope runs through you.

Diesel calls your name this time, you can hear his footsteps behind you.

You stomped that hope and started walking faster. "Don't follow me." you mumbled and this time you're glad he didn't.

#office hours affection #interactive fiction #stuck in a closet but i offered angst #diesel one shot #mc and diesel #oha: diesel

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valiisthea · 8 months ago

Text

Sighs not my FFVII muses coming back because of Rebirth. I've sort of shelved Roche for now since I am enjoying getting to write with one vs writing him for now but he does still exist if wanted.

I'm gaining a lot of muse for Zack and Tifa on top of already having Reno, Leslie, Biggs, and Wedge.

But also my brain is still in a very bad place and everything changes in me at the drop of a hat so take it with a grain of salt.

It was really nice to be able to write some FF16 again too! Though for some reason, it was much easier to slip into Barnabas than it was Dion who I mained for HOW LONG sheesh.

Grief and anger mentions beneath the snip snip.

I'm stuck in the 'anger' portion of my grief. I have 3 free therapy sessions through my insurance specifically to address grief that I will be going to starting next week. But the anger is really starting to be coming intrusive and concerning. I'm misplacing it too. I can notice all of this AFTER the fact, but I can't seem to stop myself in the heat of the moment. Like, my dogs pissed me off so much last night that I legitimately threw a (very small) vacuum at my door. I also slammed a lot of doors and screamed incredibly loudly into a pillow before storming out of the house and angrily marching around dollar general until I felt okay enough to come home. My anger does not ever get taken out on people or animals, even when they're the reasoning behind it, so I'm really really glad for that. But I am not the 'throwing a vacuum, running out of the house, slamming doors" kind of person and I didn't like any of that at all. But I felt so out of control in the moment.

I do think the anger and lack of patience is from the grief. I think I flutter in and out of the anger stage of grief and sometimes it just gets to be too much and I'm overstimulated and I just sort of...lose it. So I'm glad I'll have the therapy to address that. As soon as I calmed down I was booking appointments so damn fast because it is NOT acceptable behavior.

Aside from that, things have been okay at best. I just want my grandma and she's not here and she will never be here again and it's not fair to her. I struggle with it every day. I know it's only been a month (on sunday) and that it's still fairly fresh, but I didn't expect it to still be eating at me THIS intensely at this point.

I miss my fiance. I want him to come back desperately.

I want to write more, I think it's helping a bit to get some anger and frustration out but my motivation is so lacking, I feel like I cannot start anything without my hand being held.

On a happier note....I started playing pocket frogs again and those lil froggies are so damn cute. If nothing else, I have my froggo babies. And my best friend has been shiny hunting pokemon at night for me to fall asleep to so I don't feel so alone. I super appreciate that so much. AAAAND Stuart has been playing Rebirth a little bit every afternoon too so I can see the game/story since I don't have a ps5 so that's been nice too <3

#tw: long post #tw: grief #tw: loss #tw: anger

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comfymoth · 1 year ago

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(duckspiderbit anon) It can be nightmarish... but the hilarity of their dynamics combined and the sudden unexpected sweet moments they share at times make them perfect. Would LOVE to hear your thoughts on them btw, I'm very interested :D

anon i just want you to know that i have been trying to answer this ask since i woke up, i just apparently cannot talk about these fuckers without writing a novel, i am So Sorry.

i’m gonna try to be as short as i possibly can (spoiler warning it’s still not short IM SORRY) but like, basically. basically. in my head, right, in the version of events that lives in my head— roier and quackity already have a history. not exactly dating, just fooling around “as friends”, but it makes their friendship now very overly-familiar. they’re very touchy, very flirty, but at this point it’s all just playful. they’re just very comfortable with each other, you know? they’re best friends! and what best friends Aren’t this close, huh?

and cellbit isn’t fully aware of whatever they had going on before he knew them, but he knows there’s something he missed, like an inside joke he’ll never quite understand. and it’s not like that bothers him, exactly? because him and roier are completely secure, there’s never been a couple more fucking obsessed with each other, he knows he has zero reasons to feel threatened. it’s more like— he knows quackity is always going to special to roier, in this weird way, so they are just stuck with him. for better or worse. me and you and your friend steve, just a little bit, that’s kind of the vibe.

but it’s not like quackity and cellbit don’t also have their own share of familiarity. not nearly to the same extent, obviously, but they are familiar. cellbit gave him partial custody of his child, they’ve taken each others sides in disputes over how to raise said child, richas calls quackity pa, they are very much already stuck with each other anyways.

so like. what do you even do with that. right? what do you call your husband’s not-quite-ex and your co-parent, what does that make him to the two of you. and how is that impacted by the fact that he’s always desperately hitting on you both?

so again, in my head, in my head— i think it Has to be a slow burn with them. because quackity has baggage around relationships, right, he’s had a history of chasing romance just because he thinks it will fix him or make him feel something, and he needs time to cool off on that first. now, he never cools off on the flirting, i don’t think he ever physically could, but he needs to be okay with it not going anywhere. and i think spiderbit needs time to warm up to the opposite idea, that it might actually go somewhere. but over time they do. over time, quackity just worms his way into more and more of their life until they’ve basically made him a part of it without saying. they fall into comfortable routines. cellbit gets used to roier and quackity’s teasing, he starts to join in on it. over time, all the joke flirting just stops really being a joke, and all the friendly affection just escalates and escalates until they finally have to acknowledge what they’re doing.

they’re all very stupid about it. cellbit brings it up to roier first, who is somehow embarrassed because he thought they were all just joking and he was the only one catching feelings which he did NOT wanna think too hard about. they have a talk about what this means for them, come to an agreement, bring it up to quackity— who also somehow thought this was a bit and that they were just doing it all to tease him! and then, somehow, they’re both surprised when he says yes, because they couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. morons all around. they do have braincells, they just short circuit when they’re in a room together, it’s very sad and very comical

i actually…. okay, i Actually might’ve started writing the world’s most self indulgent oneshot about them, like… three or four weeks ago? idk, it was before school started so a bit ago, and i’m just never gonna finish it now i’ve accepted that but i Might just turn part of it into a comic. idk. idk we’ll see ahdkdjd if i don’t get too embarrassed to actually do it

anyways i’m sorry i talked so much i just have demons okay i have demons. and i didn’t even TALK about festa junina or “go take care of him” I MADE SO MANY CUTS GUYS I DID!!!!!

#long post #qsmp #duckspiderbit #sure that’s what we can call them. that works

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