#its worse) then its only stupid to keep tiring yourself out with the task of fixing it

[rigil-kentauris]

When you get this you have to put 5 songs you actually listen to, publish. then, send this ask to 10 of your favourite followers!! here ya go!!

OH NO JUST 5????

lets see

hm. im going to take the definition ACTUALLY LISTEN TO and translate that to listen with a capital L, put that song on and melt into mattress, listening to that song is a Task.

1. Nothing Left To Say/Rocks Imagine Dragons EXCEPT i dont listen to rocks i do not like it. i got this album for free back when google play music was new enough to coax people with free music if you can believe that. anyway this song is too big to listen to while walking. i will listen to it while driving but i think i shouldnt. its very. hm.

its very sad. it reminds me of people ive left behind. and places i cant go back to. situations that are over without a choice or chance of reprieve. sometimes it just be like that.

but as sad as it is i think lots of parts of this song are also hopeful. the chorus is entirely about giving up, but ever verse ends with i keep pushing on. i think the idea that you keep pushing on and on is the kind of hope that makes all the sad worse. the first time i wrote a piece of fluff, coming off of a solid career of angst, the person i was writing with was like, see, now that they are happy, you can make them even sadder! because once, they were happy! and i think this song is a bit reverse of that. things suck, and you keep going. theres nothing left to say about it.

anyway, i think this song says about me that i am depressed but what is new there. my favorite line is all of them. god ive decided to pick lines. so i would say that. despite liking individual lines more, i think my favorite line is when it goes

But I keep pushing On and on and on and on

or when it goes and instead of but. i think it contrast is what makes the song powerful. im tired, and im lost, and everything hurts, and im giving up but im still going. im falling but im pushing on. theres nothing i can do and nothing i can say. im pushing on. what a very modern tragedy. ill stop now before i go in circles.

grumpy side note. i think If you could only save me/I'm drowning in the waters of my soul… could be improved. this whole song has been internally driven until then, and then the song gives the spotlight moment to a desperate wish that someone else could save me/us/you. pah.

also fuck rocks. im sorry if someone reading this is a rocks liker but i am not.

2. Well now that we've got a a bog standard answer I'll put All My Friends by LCD Soundsystems for the umpteenth time. I won't make everyone sit through this ramble again. I think this song also says about me that i am a depressed zillenial.

i genuinely cant pick a single line. if im picking one part then that means im not picking another

in general i think this whole song is. regrets and nostalgia bound together. lives youve lead. mistakes youve made. people who have come apart from you just as it is. losing yourself to the grind but also living. this whole verse is

It comes apart The way it does in bad films Except the part Where the moral kicks in Though when we're running out of the drugs And the conversation's grinding away I wouldn't trade one stupid decision For another five years of life

And its like. life is coming apart. we're coming down of the life of living and being young and being in the moment. theres no moral to this story. just entropy. and despite that. despite all that. i wouldnt give any of it away. everything has lead me here and i- i am not just happy with that. i wouldnt take five more years worth of chances in exchange for the one shot to change what ive been

i think its pretty aspirational

theres another song i like to listen to that has a theme of even the mistakes weren't really mistakes at all. i think. eh. i think these aspirations are useful. i think we can find happiness even if the past is sad.

anyway all of these are my favorite lines. this is another one i listen to in the car even though i shouldnt.

3. DID I SAY STOP BEING MAUDLIN I MEANT START HARDER. Wide Open - Chemical Brothers after about a million hours listening time i am becoming slightly immune to this one though.

tbh the lyrics arent particularity striking to me but the whole combination of everything is just MAGICAL. plus theres like four whole words in the song. but since ive decided to make myself pick lines, im going to go with the chorus Slow me down/It's getting away from me

4. OH OH. OH I WANT TO PUT. Hm. I think this might not count but i've written almost an essay about this one and i listen to it critically so I think it fits the definition of Listen listen to. Truth Despair and Hope, FE8, Saki Haruyama, Yoshihiko Kitamura, Yoshito Hirano. im mentally ill about this song re: how it blends storytelling and music.. i'll tell you how ill i am about this song i dug up my exhiled FE blog (nobody @ me there i wont see it) to find what i wrote about it [long eyes emoji post with timestamps][a shorter post that i DID NOT FINISH ELABORATING ON???? but i think is more insightful and important analysis of the story/song meld]

anyway. its not like. a song on my playlists. its just like the only music ive every done serious analysis on voluntarily and because i once said if this song was a person i'd marry it. also help i managed to avoid putting any of these songs on while writing and now ive failed and i cant turn it off. im worked up about this again. its about teh WEAVING OF THREE DISPARATE TALES EACH ALIKE IN MEANING EXCEPT WHEN VIEWED THROUGH THE LENS OF THE OTHER. WHO IS TRUTH? WHO IS DESPAIR? WHO IS HOPE? WHO IS WORKING THAT SICK ASS BASS LINE? THIS SONG AND ITS TRIO OF PARTS (okay i count four in several parts but yknow) HAUNT ME

this one doesnt have lyrics so i cant have a favorite one. my favorite part i think would be the bass from 0:30-0:45

5. there are better candidates for 5, but i spent a week on internal debating and if i dont pick a 5 im never going to. in the spirit of something more cheerful than the prior, im picking Where the Streets Have No Names which is by U2. so, for reasons i wont get into, i have been flying on planes regularly for most my life. this is my Plane Song. i dont listen to it very often because like. the atmosphere. has to be: you are squished into your window seat. its fucking BAKING hot because the sun in magnified on you. it is also FREEZING because youre on a plane. you are squished like the sardine with a stranger and your leg hurts from playing the cant touch anyone anxiety game. and youre tired from getting up early or staying up late and youre unrelated, slightly dozy because the whole process is a stress and theres the tremendous white noise of the massive engines leaking in through your very worn earbuds. and theres the minute vibrations of your tiny metal tube, and you are looking out the baking hot window and there are clouds and clouds and clouds and SUN. and you are nowhere in the world on your way to somewhere else. and it doenst matter if thats a good somewhere or a bad somewhere. your in the Sky now. and it is beautiful

anyway i havent flown lately as you might imagine. plague and all that.

im going to cheat and pick two lyrics. We're still building then burning down love/Burning down love because i like it and i like how it sounds in the song. i like the sound more than the next lyrics but i like the next lyric better, which is And when I go there/I go there with you/It's all I can do

im very disappointed i couldnt sneak in a complextro song or one of the glitchy ones. but tbh i listen to those because they distract half my brain, allowing me to focus. they arent really for Listening listening to.

--------

okey i know several of yall do NOT like tag games and i cant remember who right now so i will wait on tagging. but if you want to do it please tag me and i will skedaddle over and give some songs a listen!

[ganondoodle]

didnt think this would resonate with people so much since my rants have been gettign alot less traction lately, BUT

theres some rly great points in the comments-

the horses in this game .. are just there for the pulling gimmick, like thats pretty much it, one commentor mentioned how fun it was in botw to figure out where to get the fastest horse, and man, have i ever agreed to something this much - it was a little tedious to catch the horse and go to a stable just to know how its stats where, but sometimes something being a little bit of luck or coincidence isnt too bad, good even, you where also told that spotted ones arent as fast etc so you werent left in the dark either; and id argue further that it was fun to see a pretty horse in botw and catch it and then go an a journey with it to the next stable to see what its stats were like, by that point i often didnt even care bc i had built up fondness for it through the travel there - apparently theres no 5 star speed horse anymore in totk, bc it now goes into pulling (ill be honest i think i forgot that was an extra stat there)

this extra stat is pretty .. ass tbh, that horses can pull things is neat in concept, again we keep coming back to that point, but badly excuted in this game, bc now horses have an extra stat that is extremely specific, it doesnt matter outside of pulling anything (shouldnt a horse with more strength be able to pull more ... like why not use the strength stat instead), a mechanic that is already pretty clunky with the physics alone, but then with the clunky building thing AND the fact that your horse might not be able to pull something? ass for the stupid fairy quests (seriously, who liked those shitty escort missions) you even NEED one that can pull (though idk if you can lock yourself out of this if you dont have one) ... but its pretty much also the only time isnt it? other things can be done with sonau (zonai) tech just as well, or even better-

AND you need it to be wearing the pulling gear, which you cant change on your own (WHY not?? link carries it around anyway?? you cant tell me he cant learn how to put different gear on his horse) so i tended to just run around with it on, which sucked bc it pulls on it making controling it harder if i remember correctly, and its annoying bc it always makes sounds and gets flung around bc of the physics, the only reason i did that really was bc i was tired of having to get a different horse out and changed (aesthetic anyone??) just to pull something and usually used it to get krogs to their friend, yet another meaningless task with no reason to it (why are they traveling? where? why do they disappear afterwards? who cares :)) ), bc i didnt want to deal with the building stuff (i hated how that controlled) and also not spend any of my materials just for a krog, so i just glued them to my horse, way more efficient but also more annoying (why ....... cant you just pick them up, id have carried them on hands preferably instead of glueing them to shit or having to ultrahand lift them all the time,,)

the fact that there is another big horse, and neither this one nor the old one (if you had a botw file with it) have ANY sort of different riding accessoires AND cannot pull anything??? actively bananas, what do you mean the horses resembling DRAFT horses CANNOT PULL, it cant be that hard to fit that gear to the big horse, it was a cool thing in botw bc it was the only one and resembled ganondorfs horse, especially with the gear for it (the only one mind you), i was more okay with it bc it was a one time thing and a nod to ganondorf, i didnt mind that it had no sprint, though i found it sad there were no options for its hair etc and then they add another one ...... and its even worse with the new stats added, so not only have you wasted 1-2 spots with a basically useless horse but they also cheapen each other, just like botw and totk as a whole, it stops being special (what they gonna tell me is cool about the white big horse? its descendant from raurus favorite steed? since we have to have rauru or something sonau (zonai) everywhere .. or what?)

also the ugly as shit butter horse, 'golden horse' and it looks like melted butter at best, theres a real horse with a white coat and golden glow, make it like that, make it shine, or like opal or something, no, you get butter horse, which is a regular horse but butter i guess, also thats zeldas now for some reason (botw had the special zelda white horse so i guess we needed another zelda horse ???)

did they see how useless horses would be to most people (id much rather deal with a horse than the tech stuff tbh) and then try to find a reason for horses to exist yet- and made them worse in the process??

(i will be forever salty about there never being another kind of animal you can take and register as a steed ... not even the ones you see zelda ride in the old botw2 trailer, no, those are in the game but you know what they are? gem stone vending maschines. isnt that cool? isnt that satisfying to know? they shit out gems! by eating the green glowing stones we already had in botw but had to be replaced by sonanium (zonaite?) for literally nO GODAMN REASON, i guess there wasnt enough sonau in luminous stone hhhh)

okay i typed this in a reply but i need to say this more detailed here too, the way totk dealt with horses (and stables) is bad and worse than botw imo (yes i can rant about that too, these weird choices are in every little spot in totk, its almost impressive)

in a game that lets you build cars and stupid flying maschines, towers that shoot you into the stratosphere AND teleporting points all over the place, the chance is already low that you use a horse- though i would be one of them bc i love horses and hate building and didnt find it fun at all-

(also i almost never used any parts i had with me bc you cant put them back and your dumb vehicles despawn as soon as you dont look at them- also a negative thing about that system that reinforces the feeling of actually using it being more punishing than rewarding with the added bonus of the good ol saving your health potions forever problem)

-and something i DID like was that you can have more horses and the ... one.. new color (the lil spots but only AFTER you do that one quest in the spy post)

the stable points seemed like a neat idea, but like so many things, are utterly cheatable, imo the system should have only given you a point when you visit a new stable, so you actually have to go around and visit them all

(also .. add new stables, like mini ones or sth that dont offer beds- you dont need that anyway- so you have more places in which you can get them ... why did they remove some of them anyway, shouldn there be MORE now that the land is supposedly healing/being repaired? especially the one next to the big canyon, its so empty there it would have the perfect place for sth like a new settlement or a big boss arena but no its more empty than it was before, why?? and then putting yet another repeating annoying quest there in that weirld empty place?? i just dont get it)

letting you farm points by sleeping at a stable or bringing in a horse gives you LESS incentive to actually go around the world bc you can just farm it there

(and if that was done so youd 'discover' the malanya talks to you in your sleep 'secret' ... that is literally told to you, and if its bc you dont want to force players to go around and find every stable to get all those rewards ... why do you have 140 or whatver caves then with the majority of them being the literal same thing over and over ... to make people actually use the sleeping thing there? .. why, who uses that anyway, and farming points by sleeping there .. what the hell does that add? AND THEN the stupid sleep over tickets, probably the most nothign reward ever, dont count?? i dont think i ever used one- it just all doesnt make any sense, everything plays against each other)

the upgrading system for your horse is .. once again, a neat idea horribly executed, you have to go find malanya to upgrade them, and similarly stupidly like the fairies, they only tell you what food you need for what upgrade when you are there .. or when you are sleeping in the special tm bed at a stable, randomly, one food, bc the quantity changes too

which is just so ??????????? let me go and do a quest that rewards you with a lil booklet in which you can look up what an upgrade costs, or let the stables have that, either as a list or in the menu when selecting a horse or something?? (also why the hell is malanya in a different spot anyway, like, it feels like a modder just plopped them over there, their og spot is just empty now - except for yet again a stupid filler quest for .. another big horse and a yaaaaaaaaays crystal shrine quest- ... the spot is even still called spring of the horse god .... its so stupid, just like the fairy shuffling around, like you really couldnt think of a better way to reuse that concept other than to ... move it to a different spot in the same map and map level???? and not change anything in their og spot except idk, put a hole in the map ... for one of them like .. its like they moved them around last minute just to have the semblance of things being 'changed' with no regard what makes a change actually feel like one and what just feels like, pick up thing, click on random spot on map, drop thing- its like that for the fairies and shrines too, its so dumb and .. feels disrepectful to botw and how much thought seemed to have went into these spots that were clearly built about those things)

and like it couldnt get WORSE, they cut off the paths that horses follow automatically with one of those miasma buttholes (sorry its just a hole cut into the map, it doesnt even look like miasma burst through, it just .. cut out) a monster camp (that RESPAWNS, i thought those camps you clear with a quest would stay clear, but that would make sense, so of course it respawns and you can do the frame rate killer quest over and over yippieee) or otherwise like, with a big rock or a broken bridge-

and there is NO WAY to create a new path or fix or move anything in a game ABOUT BUILDING supposedly, like you needed more reasons to never use a horse????? i liked jsut hopping on and letting them follow a path and chill looking at the landscape, you cant do this here, and you cant even excuse it with 'its bc of the theme' as in, stuff is destroyed bc calamity 1.5 or whatever bc nothing in the game makes it feel like theres anything actually at stake, but the real crime is to make it not be fixable. WHY??? link moves entire buildings with ease but cant move one freaking rock that fell into a river?????? you swing around logs like a club but cant fix a bridge so your horse can get over it??????????????????????????????

[mehidktbh]

Sharing Is Caring

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: You can’t sleep, it’s too overwhelming in your room and the memories get to your head too much. Thank God your Lieutenant has a soft spot for you.

Warning: War, a lot of military topics, swearing, minor injuries, sharing a bed, mentions of insomnia, talk a bit of Ghost’s past, reader has a bit of trauma, pining?, talk of readers' family, awkward tension, nightmares and trauma-based memories?

A/N: Can I just say that I fucking LOVE the idea of the force team having their own group barrack or having to share one with other soldiers. But let's just pretend you live with other soldiers in this story and that you're not divided by gender 👀

The haunting screams and yells awaken you from your slumber, your face drenched in sweat and a thick smell of fear engulfing you. Looking around your small room the faint light seeping through the bottom of the door meant someone was awake. Your room was quiet and dark, the faint sound of a TV or someone talking was the only thing you could hear if you focused hard enough. The window was open, the soft breeze flowing through your room, blocking the outside light from entering. But it still wasn't enough from keeping you at bay, you tried everything to sleep nowadays. From medication to doing soothing stuff before bed to taking other soldiers' advice but nothing worked. The taunting flashbacks haunted you from days of endless guns firing and the blood of enemies even when you got countless days off to relax it just never came.

You sat up in your bed (cot), taking in everything and mentally trying to calm yourself back to sleep, thinking about anything that brought you joy but nothing came. Your room had pictures of your task force on there, photos ranging from stupid and silly selfies to ones where you stood next to the others holding a serious stand. Other polaroids of stuff that your family occasionally sent you through letters, vacations they took and family pets. You were not one to really put your family/private life out there but then again you weren't ashamed of saying anything when the conversation was brought up.

A small desk sat right next to the door on the opposite side of your bed, files and papers crowded its limited space with stationary all over it too. But you didn't have time out of your day to think once about cleaning your room, you've seen other soldiers' rooms that look way worse. And there's never that time you have, you're either too busy or don't give a shit. You walk in most days after a long mission or training just to sit down at your desk and do work all over again or lousy change your clothes. Throwing them into a pile that's constantly there sometimes when you realise you made yourself a mountain of dirty clothes.

Getting up from your bed you tread carefully and cautiously over to your door, stepping over any unwanted things crowding your wooden floor or trying to make your way through the dark. You're used to being able to see through the dark on missions but now you take caution in not disturbing others who sleep right next to your room through the thin walls.

You begin to wonder how you're going to make it through the night, maybe take someone else's sleeping pills or just do an all-nighter but your too tired but still pretty shaken up enough to not sleep. Slowly and quietly opening your door you look down and up the hallway to investigate if anyone's around. Only the hallways are long and dimly lit, sometimes the lights stay on in the hallway or for some reason otherwise there off. The only thing illuminating the barrack/building is the TV that is playing.

Continuing to walk further down you pass multiple rooms, some times you hear people talking quietly enough so they don't bother others but still talking above a whisper. Others have their lights on which shine through the cracks in the door, from under to in between the hinges. You'd have to guess that it's roughly around 12-1sh, the second you pass a small opening or window you get the feeling of the dark vibe outside. And every night it's not common for half the people to be up and around, you hear through other soldiers about their experience. How they deal with insomnia but most times it's hard in these conditions, drill Sargents wake you up in the middle of the night to discuss training right then and there.

♡ ♡ ♡

After what seemed like an endless stream of doors on either side, countless whispers among others and lights shining through the doors. You finally reach the door, the wooden door stands intimately in front of you, some times doors can have the person's rank on the sign, showing which task force they belong to and their code name in metal. But the sign shows a clear neat bold wording of "Ghost (Task Force 141 Lieutenant)" There's nothing out of the ordinary and you hesitate for a while your knuckles touching the naked door but not moving. You're scared of how he'll react when you bring up your pathetic reasoning for disrupting him so late. But sighing heavily you quietly, your rapid and unsteady heart beats thick against your chest as you swallow the ball of saliva in your throat.

"Who is it...?" Ghost's tone was hard to determine but he seemed confused but also emotionless at the same time. "It's Y/N, sir." You cringed to yourself already regretting ever bringing yourself to his door but there was nothing you could do now as he would fish out your lie easily. "Come in." His husky tone signalled for you to enter. Upon opening the door you were met with his greasy flat dimmed room, the atmosphere felt a mix of emotions.

His room was a bit bigger than yours and others, his higher rank meant he got a bit more luxury, sometimes an A/C, but it's rare. He had a reasonable size desk that stood right next to his bed, untidy files littered it too as it was just as dirty. This time his room was rather bare and dusty, with no decoration anywhere, the walls or anything, only the basic thin sturdy walls stood tall.

Has was sitting upright in his bed, still wearing his previous clothes from training today with no excessive amour. His same old mask you've seen countless times covered his unknown face as he stared at your hunched-over pose. "Need something?" He questioned you, his eyes ranking over your tank top with rolled-up military pants. "I wanted to ask you a favour..." Your quiet and unwonted tone made Ghost more curious than in the first place, he cocked his head to the side allowing you to continue speaking.

"Could I maybe lay down with you..." Your surprising question fell silent through the room, the more you two awkwardly stood facing each other the more you cursed yourself for being so fucking stupid. Ghost felt a tingle in his body, his mind telling him no and how someone would probably walk in on you two and get the wrong impression. But then again your tired and exhausted shape felt hard through him, watching as your eyes tried to stay awake, rapidly blinking. As your tone of mind tried to make it seem as if you weren't sleepless to him, the bags under your eyes stained his head with memories of him being exactly like you.

He'd remember standing him in your shoes, his first few years of the military and staying in a barrack full of other men was stressful. Back then he had no one to direct him where to go and what to do he stared at the ceiling every night wishing he could surround his head into the pillows and drift to sleep. But it came to no easy task for him.

"Sure" He blurted out, watching as your face rose bashfully, stalking over one by one to his bed. You stood tense like a log as you watched him make room, sliding over as much as he could so you could rest with him. The bed wasn't too bad, kinda like your coat but more comfortable in size and it didn't feel like sleeping on a thin piece of cardboard.

Ghost waited for you to lay down fully, his stare invited you to get comfortable more so you wouldn't have to feel like you needed to be a guest in his room. He wanted to hear your soft breaths and snoring not your wide eyes staring at his back still restless. He could deal with himself not sleeping but you or his team were different. "Need another pillow? Blanket?" You quietly laughed nervously, shaking your head before he turned around to turn off the lamp sitting right on his desk. Hearing the tick and the sudden pitch black swallowing you whole was relaxing.

Now you couldn't hear anything, no TV playing down the hall and no whispering from anyone beside walls. You close your eyes painfully as you tried to keep your thighs and arms clenched together, making sure you took up as little space as possible. The blankets that Ghost had on his bed were just pulled up by him, his hand ghosting over near you as he tried to flatten it out more, making sure the thin material fits perfectly over you. Hearing his head hit the pillow as you begin to close out any thoughts, his rapid hot breath surprisingly hitting your nose as you didn't know he was facing you. His foot and hand came over to just nearly graze your skin, his calloused muscular hand was inches away from your hand. His foot just barely wrapped around your tightly squeezed thighs/legs.

As you slowly and peacefully drifted to sleep, your thoughts shut off as all you could focus on was Ghosts' breathing his pinkly now lightly grabbing yours. You could practically feel him grip tightly onto yours as you drifted to sleep at once.

[watchmegetobsessed]

The Hottest Avenger - Bucky Barnes

a/n: im warning you, i will probably not stop for a while with the bucky fics so... brace yourselves lol! also i wrote this before ep 5 came out so its placed in that time

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: TFATWS spoiler, some violence? nothing extreme

word count: 1.8k

summary: Being locked together with Sam and Bucky brings the worst out of you, picking on each other constantly. Following an arguement Bucky accidentally calls you his girlfriend in front of Sam when your relationship was supposed to be a secret.

masterlist

“Did you fucking eat the last dumpling?” you accuse Sam, holding up the empty takeout box where you thought were one more dumpling, one you’ve saved for yourself, but now it’s gone as Sam is eyeing you with his mouth full.

“Thought it was mine,” he mumbles, his words barely understandable from all the food in his mouth.

Taking a deep breath you’re trying not to jump at his throat right then and there. You’ve been locked up together all damn day in the trashy apartment across the street from the building where’s Zemo supposed to be hiding. Sharon had a tip about a possible place where he might be found, but you’ve been waiting to no avail for now. You’ve been growing stressed and impatient. You lost track of Karli and her people and now you can’t seem to find Zemo either. If it wasn’t for the Dora Milaje, you wouldn’t bother to be so after the asshole, but Bucky said if Ayo finds him first, he is dead and every useful information he holds goes to the grave with him so now you are forced to look for him. One failed mission has been following the other these days, that incompetent dickhead John is on the loose too after murdering that man in front of civilians and you feel like control has slipped out of your grip a long time ago. Now you’re stuck with Sam and Bucky in this crappy place, waiting by the window, watching out for Zemo and on top of everything… Sam ate your last dumpling.

Just when you’re about to snap at him, you feel a strong grip on your shoulder. You don’t have to look up to know it’s Bucky right behind you, but not just because he is the only other person in the room beside you and Sam, but also because you know his touch probably more than anyone. Only that most of the times it’s not your shoulder he is gripping…

It’s been going on for a long time between the two of you. Started with just some innocent flirting and you never thought it would grow into something more significant, but it did. And now you are officially in a relationship with none other than the Winter Soldier, only that no one else knows about it and you plan to keep it that way. You don’t need the teasing and jokes and the Avengers are known to be dicks sometimes, especially Sam.

Glancing up your eyes meet Bucky’s blue irises and he sends you a look that says “just let it go”, and though every fiber in you wants to whoop Sam’s ass, you let it slip.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna get mad about a dumpling,” Sam chuckles as he chews on the food that you should be enjoying right now.

“I can get mad about whatever I want to,” you growl back, growing quite irritated of him at this point.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he huffs under his breath, clearly not as bothered as he should be. Before you could do any harm in him, you leave your spot by the window, needing a breather from… well, from him.

“Hey, it’s still your turn!” he calls after you.

“I need a break,” you growl back.

“Get your ass back here, we agreed to switch every two hours!”

“Sam! I’m walking out because I’m way too tempted to punch you in the face right now!” you snap at him, losing your patience. He rises from his seat with a hard expression, not quite a fan of the way you just talked to him, but you couldn’t care less.

“You think you could actually throw one? Because last time we fought you couldn’t really get a hold of me,” he narrows his eyes at you, coming to stand tall in front of you, trying to intimidate you with how much taller and stronger he might be, but you both know you’re a better fighter.

“It’s easy to talk with your fancy tech stuff. Why don’t we see who wins in a simple battle?” you challenge him with faked boredom.

“Guys, stop. We should be looking out for Zemo, not tearing each other apart,” Bucky tries to end the staring contest, sticking his metal arm between the two of you in case any of you decides to launch at the other one.

“Then tell her to stop bitching!” Sam nods in your way.

“I’m not bitching, I’m just fed up with your bullshit!” you spat back at him, leaning closer, your chest coming in contact with Bucky’s extended arm.

“Don’t talk to her like that, Sam,” Bucky warns him, but Sam snorts dryly.

“Don’t tell me you are taking her side, she is throwing a fit for a fucking dumpling!”

“I’m not taking sides, just trying to settle this stupid disagreement here,” he defends himself and you roll your eyes.

“You can’t tell me she is not overreacting it, Buck!” Sam laughs in disbelief, taking a step back, dropping the act that he wants to fight you. He probably knows he would come out as a ridiculous loser. “This is fucking insane, I’m not in the mood to deal with your shit, Y/N,” he shakes his head.

“Hey!” Bucky snaps at him. “Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that, okay?!”

“I’m just—wait, what?!” Sam’s eyes widen and you freeze too.

Your dumbass boyfriend didn’t just out the two of you, did he? What else is about to come?! Sam’s shock turns into a cocky grin as his eyes shift between you and Bucky.

“You guys… you guys are fucking?” he asks with a delightful laugh and you close your eyes sighing, already tired of his shit.

“That’s not—We’re not fucking, I mean… It’s not like that,” Bucky stutters, but it’s just making it worse. He looks at you with terror in his eyes, but you are way too drained to deal with it the right way.

“Yes, we are fucking! And we are in a mature adult relationship! Get yourself over it!” you bark at Sam before turning around and walking out.

You faintly hear the two men talk inside, but you don’t make out the words. You don’t go too far, sitting on the steps leading up to the third floor. Soon enough you hear the door of the apartment open with a creak and a moment later Bucky shows up in your sight. He sits beside you, remaining silent for a little before speaking up.

“Sorry for running my mouth,” he mumbles, his head hanging low.

“It’s… fine,” you breathe out. Bucky fidgets with his fingers and you know he wants to touch you in any kind of way as a reassurance that it really is fine. You don’t want to hold a grudge, it was an accident, you’re just a little bummed it’s not gonna be just the two of you anymore. Reaching out you take his hand, the real one that’s flesh and meat and you lace your fingers together as he peeks at you, still reserved and hesitant.

“Is it really fine or are you just bottling it up?”

“It really is fine,” you chuckle softly and leaning closer you kiss his scruffy cheek. “The only reason I wanted to keep it a secret is because you know how vickery the guys can get. I just didn’t want them to pick on us.”

“They do it because they are just jealous,” he smirks playfully, his shoulder bumping against yours.

“Yeah? Of what?” A soft chuckle slips through your lips.

“That I scored the hottest Avenger,” he replies smugly and you can’t help but laugh with your head snapping back.

“I didn’t know you were fucking Thor!” you retort and immediately see his smirk vanish from his lips as he stares back at you, not enjoying your joke as much as you are.

“Thor? Really? Not this shit again, Y/N,” he narrows his eyes at you. Back when you were just skirting around each other, you loved pulling his leg, joking about how much you are into the hottest Avenger, aka Thor. He never appreciated it, usually earned you a tight-lipped smile before he mumbled “Tarzan’s got nothing on me” before walking away, leaving you laughing like a hyena.

“Come on, you know I’m more into super soldiers,” you grin, leaning closer as he pepper his sharp jawline with more small kisses.

“You know, it’s not the best thing to say to your boyfriend when there are now about eight more super soldiers running around,” he huffs.

“But none of them has a metal arm,” you point out, finally making him laugh.

“So that’s your kink? A vibranium arm?” he asks with faked shock and you curl your arms around his bicep, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How haven’t you realized yet?” you chuckle. Bucky turns his head until his lips can capture yours in a sweet, lighthearted kiss that makes you forget about everything that’s been clouding over your mind these past days. All the failures, the mistakes and chaos fades into nothing, because you have him and he has you.

Walking back into the apartment Sam stares back at you, neither of you entirely sure how to act after what just happened. He then grabs his phone from the dusty table before holding it up.

“I could order some extra dumplings,” he offers and you crack a smile shaking your head. This was his peace offering, both of you knows he won’t straight up apologize for the way he talked, but this is already more than what you were expecting from him. Bucky must have had a few words with him before joining you outside.

“It’s all good.”

The three of you get back to work, taking your previous spots, returning to the task on hand as silence falls on the room once again. You catch Sam glancing at you and the Bucky and you can tell he is about to make a snarky comment on your relationship. And just as he is about to open his big mouth, Bucky moves to silence him, but you’re faster. With a simple move you throw Sam to the ground, keeping him down with your hand wrapped around his neck.

“Don’t even think about teasing, understood?” you hiss at him as he gasps for air, his hands wrapping around your wrist as he tries to fight you off, but you hold him a second longer to emphasize the importance of your words. Then you finally let go of him and he coughs for air, fixing him up from the floor as you simply walk back to your spot by the window.

“Hottest Avenger, huh?” he breathes out, revealing that he heard what you talked about out on the stairs. “More like the Avenger with the most anger issues…”

You just grin, glancing over at your boyfriend who is now standing with his arms crossed over his chest, not even bothered by his friend’s struggles on the floor as he smirks back at you, nodding proudly as if he was saying: “That’s my girl.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[xgoldxnhour]

"What am I talking about..." She repeats, tone charred in dismissal with a shaking head. How often do their tirades in this way now. What was once something a mere secret, a moment alone, sin tucked away for their view. A secret behind taunting, closing lips and burning skin reaching only to go closer. A connection kilned under fire, unable to be torn or ripped apart. A love unspoken and unburdened, now afflicted with--this anger and pain. Oh, to go back to those nights where they'd pray for these moments to be whisked away, rain or shine for more time. To be hidden, to be chosen, to be cherished, to be loved. A moment where they didn't have to walk as survivors, speak as leaders, but merely kiss as lovers.

"Wouldn't it be easier, Rick? To walk away unrequited than whatever the fuck this torment is? You say that you love me, the way I can see it in your eyes or taste it on your lips late at night. But it's too fucking painful for you. It's too hard to love me? Is that not worse? Don't we deserve to be loved easily? Don't I? Maybe I'm wrong, but I simply cannot be where I am hard to love. That I can't hold your hand when we walk down the street. Don't you think that they know? Are we to assume that the group that stay with are stupid? They fucking know! It's not rocket science to decipher the switched perimeter schedules or how we just so happen to get assigned the same watch or supply runs. Or the early mornings, when one of us has to sneak off to our own bed to keep people from knowing we shared it. Don't you think that people who survive and care and love just like the rest of us will understand. Because God forbid, Rick Grimes has a fucking heart."

Tears brim though unallowed to flow as it somehow sparks a satisfication she isn't willing to give. Of what, she doesn't know anymore. "So, forgive me if I'm tired of being hard to love. You have created this unattainable responsibility for yourself to hold the burden of the entire group. And one day it will crush you if you don't let people help you carry it. So, fuck me, I guess for thinking I could've been that person." It pains her to see him like this, overwhelmed by the weight that has been put on his shoulders. People do trust him to take care of them, to lead them. And they wouldn't have gotten this far without him, hell, she might've never left Terminus alive without him. And he knows that, she's told him tirelessly, everynight of how grateful she is for him. For life is owed to him and how many times has that offer been exchanged between the two? Between close calls and the hanging dread that ropes around their neck each day.

"You're hurt? Join the club." It's her final word before he turns away to distract himself with another task. It's a bitting statement that she only means halfheartedly. There is truth to both pain and how she's understood day in and day out of his burden. And how this threat to leave is meant as some quick fix for the both of them without actually tending to gaping wounds that is usually tended ever so softly by the other. That there was once a time where they never raise their voices to each other or speak with sharp intentions meant to both tend and hurt. How they both are crying out for comfort.

She wishes to follow him instead, to apologize for her words and the accusation that the man who loves too much doesn't love at all. How she wishes to be the better person and maybe far less stubborn than her genetic makeup. Instead she waits until he's fully downstairs, footsteps echoing softly despite the blinding rain poured outside these four walls. They will come back together soon enough, as they always do. Both just needed to be heard and perhaps time apart to fully understand how needed they were together. El grabs the first thing she finds, a book already half torn for kindling as it hurls against the wall, a dent left in its wake.

For the next twenty minutes, she meticulously searches each room for blankets and pillows to warm them for the night as Rick has left to start a fire. By this time, her heart is ridden in hurt and guilt. To threaten to leave was a harsh, empty threat that nearly cascaded into fruition. Not only to leave him, but a group who has slowly intruded into the chasms of what was left of a heart to somehow incase into a semblance of familial bonds. So, if they were meant to walk apart, despite the yearn to be thread together, than that is the burden she will carry. To love from a distance. Or perhaps one day, Rick will understand that the responsibility he holds can be shared and that an unveiled heart won't be seen as weakness but a strength. That despite the world ridden with gnawning teeth and wandering dead, that people can still find something to fight for.

Slowly and quietly, she descends with no intention for fight for the rest of the night. "Look, I'm sorry, okay? But I'm not a fool." A selfish search for her own pride before a hand of forgiveness.

don't look back

[x] continued from here

Eloise never considered herself a reckless person despite one to claim a heart of dramatics. She was cautious, thoughtful and steadfast and perhaps that's what drew the two together. Stubborn and firm in beliefs that could result in survival in this world. But whatever fool fell abandon at the entrance Rick Grimes had in her life. The very sight of him leaves her heart beating at a rate much faster than even walkers assume. She has fallen head over heels and rushed at the sight of comfort, desire and humanity. A vulnerability that only two people share ever so closely at the mere touch of a whisper. But now the look leaves her to sit in the guilt of loving someone who cannot love back. There is no blame per se, but it cannot take away her hurt or anger.

So, she attempts distraction in a rushed break upstairs with notably little regard for possible dangers to be hand. It's stupid and perhaps it goes deeper in the harsh weakness she carries with trust. Something that was taken away and dwindled for a long time since Terminus but was found and resurrected in her time with Rick. Tears threaten to burn quickly turns into an empty bedroom and searches for that very distraction in a closet. If she had declined his help or left earlier, perhaps they wouldn't be in this mess. But then there's the reality if she were alone, trapped and snowed in for who knows how long. And if no one knew where she was or any promise of a return. Would the group just write it off as a mistake and wait it out or forget altogether. This isn't a world that graces the right to be remembered.

But, it's those footsteps, ones she could recognize in a crowd, and the voice searching for that nearly causes her to hunch over in defeat. 'There you are' as if he was truly looking for, as if he sought for her, worried about her, or even cared. The flux of anger returns as she does as she's told, dropping the blanket and standing up to face him--look him in the eyes. "Like this? Is this what you want?" The look he is met is one of heartbreak, fighting back tears and a quivering lip. "I didn't ask you to come. I didn't ask for this. But I'm just a fucking fool, right?" Her arms rise and fall, hitting her thighs. "It's actually too painful...to look at you. Especially like that...I don't want your pity. I don't want us to be like this? But, I can't...turn off the way that I feel about you. But I also can't look at the man who knows that I love him but doesn't love me back. Not after all we've done."

And if she were brutally honest, she was planning to leave. Without much of a word or goodbye. There'd be a note left at his bedside but that's it. She wanted to rid of him of his burden. To longer be forced to deal with whatever weakness she may have been for him. It wasn't fair for either of him, so this was supposed be their way out. But then he found her leaving, asked where she was going and when she said a supply run, he insisted on coming with. And now, they were trapped once again. Did he know what he was stopping?

"You should've let me go. So, I could rid you of this burden."

@wrathfulmercy

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Handmaiden🌹9

Warnings: eventual dark elements ~ nonconsensual sex, violence, name calling

This is dark!(king)Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Summary: Princess Madeline has left her homeland to marry a king. On her journey, she has brought her most trusted handmaiden. Little do either of them know how perilous their new home will be.

Note: Well, well, well, if it isn’t King Sneke again. So I reread this and started on a new chapter and then it took a turn. And another turn. And you know how it seemed slow at first... sorry.

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Masterlist

The king and queen remained tense and at times contentious, though Steven easily overpowered Madeline. The girl, that’s all she was, could not do more than pout and accept her remonstrance for her drunken display and reluctantly restrict your duties upon the king’s insistence. You saw her in the mornings and at night, to dress and undress her, and on some occasion, serve her meals.

In between, you tried to distract yourself until the king called for you. And when he did, you dreaded facing his queen.

Again, the court resumed its progress south. You packed and loaded the trunks along with the rest of royal staff and took your spot among the carts, at times, walking behind the horses instead. The days grew stifling and tiring as you kept the rear of the parade of carriages, carts, and steeds. It was several days before you reached Lord Barnes’ manor of Strata.

You carried with you a sense of familiarity. Your arrival unfolded as it had at Lord Parriser’s. You followed the other servants to the rear entrance and went about the tedious and laborious task of sorting luggage. Just as before, you were kept from finishing your work; this time by a young servant you vaguely recognized from the capital.

“You are the queen’s maid?” She asked as you wiped your hands on your apron and adjusted your cap.

“I am,” you frowned. 

“She calls for you.” The girl said, “She will have no other.”

You held in a sigh and instead clenched your teeth and attempted a smile as you nodded. You rubbed your lower back as you gripped your waist. “Will you show me to her chambers, then?”

The girl was like a bunny, squeaking and hopping to lead you down the corridors. You followed her though she lost herself several times over. You didn’t complain, you likely would have done the same.

As you reached the higher floors of the castle, she found her bearings and only had to go back one corner before she found a set of doors painted with singing birds and floating leaves. 

“This one.” She pointed. “I know it by the robin’s breast.”

“Thank you, uh…” You blinked at her.

“Tilda,” she answered with a smile.

“Tilda,” you repeated and turned to gently rap your knuckles on the door.

“Is it you?” The queen called from within and you heard her frantic steps, “Oh!” She opened the door and wrapped you in your arms, “Thank the lord, it is!”

“Your majesty,” you were stiff in her grasp. 

Before, you would have gladly comforted her but you were wise enough to know the king would have his wife watched, you as well, and it didn’t feel right to accept her affections. Not after… everything. The king’s demands hadn’t ceased, nor his appetite, and every time you saw him alone, he reminded you of your betrayal, not that you could ever truly forget it.

“You mustn’t,” you whispered, “You are queen, you cannot…”

“Oh, do not tell me what a queen does,” she withdrew and waved you inside as she turned and blustered across the chamber. “I hear it enough from my husband! Oh and he does not keep quiet when he is unhappy with me. You cannot understand how long this progress has been for me.”

You entered and pushed the doors closed. She swept around the empty chamber as she flung her hands up in exasperation. “I left him in the yard. I cannot stand to hear it anymore. He tells me how to smile, how to stand, how to breathe. I am young but I am not so stupid as he thinks.”

You watched her. You couldn’t agree with her, though you did. It was unseemly to speak ill of any noble, let alone a king. She huffed as she went to the hearth and kicked the stone.

“If he should come to me now, I would tear his eyes out,” you had rarely seen Madeline so worked up. She was ever calm, ever disciplined, but you could see in the dull circles beneath her eyes that she was as tired as yourself. “Do you know what he did?”

You shook your head, “no, your majesty.”

“He--He--” She sniffed and clapped her hands, “Well, I am still in disbelief. As we are on the road, traveling anon, I am tired and hot from the summer days, and he does nag and nag. He wants me to… fulfill my vows in the carriage and I could not. I was too embarrassed and I told him so.”

You pressed your lips together. It was not unexpected that the king should be insistent and crass. You shifted on your feet. 

“He would not listen. I swore at him. I’ve never sworn at anyone and he tried to force it and I scratched him, right across the face,” she touched her cheek. “He was so angry, I feared he would do worse to me. He only had them stop and took to his horse instead.”

You were shocked by her recollection. You hadn’t heard anything of the episode but once the court settled at the manor, gossip would surely begin to stir.

“He did not visit me again. That was two nights past. And then as I am stepping down from my carriage today, he has the gull to whisper to that pest he keeps around, Lord Barnes, that-- that I was a disappointment after his first wife…”

The air went out of her as she stomped to the sofa and collapsed upon it. She hung her head back and sighed. “Why does he hate me so? I’ve done nothing but try to please him. Oh, and he still reminds me of my little dance at the banquet.”

“I am sorry, your majesty.” You said meekly.

“Why are you sorry? He should be.” She crossed her arms and turned to sink back against the couch. “I hate him!”

“He is your… husband. He is the king.” You said.

“I don’t care. He is awful. He only wants me for his bed and I cannot stand it. He hurts me and acts as if I should thank him for it.” She huffed. 

You lowered your eyes and folded your hands before you. You felt heat creeping up your spine and your stomach churned painfully. You felt terribly guilty, as if it was your fault that her husband mistreated her. In a way, it felt thus. His desire for you made him impatient and resentful. Or perhaps, that was thinking too highly of yourself. He wasn’t much less cruel with you.

“And I came here before I could claw at him again.” She went on, “But I know he shall follow and I must be made to listen to another lecture. How can I be called a queen when I am not treated as one? I give an order and am not obeyed! Am I to be a fool for the rest of my--”

A pounding interrupted her and you both looked to the doors as they trembled. “Madeline!” the king’s voice boomed through the door, “Wife, do let me in.”

You blanched and peered back at the queen. She sat up and her face turned bitter. She steeled herself and pointed you to the door. Before you could reach them, the king opened them from the other side and stopped short as he was faced with you. His eyes flared and his cheek twitched but he quickly turned his attention to his wife.

You stepped aside and watched him tramp towards her. The scratches above his beard were stark across his cheek and ended just below his eyes. You almost grinned at the damage but new Madeline would not go unpunished for the assault.

“You are never to speak to me as you did upon the green!” His face began to turn red, “Do you understand, you brat?”

“Do not call me a brat,” she stood to meet him. You were shocked by her energy. She had only ever been so angry years ago when her mother had forbidden her from drinking after she was caught after a banquet. “I am a queen and your wife!”

“My wife?” He scoffed. “I come to do my husbandly duties and you would attack me like a rabid dog!” He swatted her hand aside as she pointed at him. “You shame me before my whole court.”

“And what were you to do to me? To do so in that carriage? As if they would not all hear your lust!” She accused.

He snarled and spun away from her. “I have been patient,” he declared as he strode to the doors and shut them. “I have been tolerant.” He turned back. “I have sat and watched your childish antics. I have done all I can to acquaint you with your new life and you continue to behave as a spoiled princess.”

“I have done all you’ve asked of me,” she approached him. “I have bent to your every whim--”

“As is your wifely expectation,” he grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm suddenly. Madeline cried out as he spun her and marched her back to the sofa. 

“Release me!” She hissed. “Steven--”

“Husband! King!” He snarled as he shoved her onto the couch, her knees on the cushion as he forced her against the back. “You will not use my name.”

She turned her head and looked at you fearfully. “Let go!” She shouted.

“A wife does not give orders.” He sneered. 

“A queen does!” She cried out. “Now leave me--”

He grabbed her hair and wrenched her head back. “Shut your fucking mouth.”

Madeline gasped as she was held by her twisted arm and the hank of hair in the king’s fist. She squirmed and he bent her arm further. She was helpless and you felt just as weak. The king planted his knee on the couch between her, her skirts wrinkled below, and she whined in fear.

You raced forward without thinking. You grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him off of her. He released her wrist and elbowed you harshly so that you flew back. He grunted and kept hold of her hair.

“And you!” He pointed at you before his eyes flew back to his wife, “You’ve fed the ego of your maid and let her think she can touch a king! I warned you she was allowed too much--”

“Get off of her,” you tried again to charge the king and he easily batted you away.

“Try again, mouse, and I’ll strangle her and tell all it was your own hand,” he spat, “Now recall yourself.”

You froze and stared at him. Madeline whimpered as grabbed the roots of her hair as he yanked again and lifted his leg to unbury her skirts and shove them up her legs. You trembled and teetered on your feet. You had no doubt of his threats but you could not watch it happen.

You closed your eyes and turned your head away. A coward. A traitor. You listened to Madeline pleading and struggling and the king’s growls as he warned her again. There was a pause.

“Now don’t look away,” he taunted, “You serve your queen so well. Now watch as she serves her king.”

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut tight. You heard Madeline’s sniff and the king’s order; “tell her!”

“W-w-watch,” she quavered.

You opened your eyes and found Steven staring at you over his shoulder, Madeline trapped between him and the back of the sofa. He snapped his fingers, his other hand on the back of her neck and pointed to the other side of the couch.

You stumbled, nearly toppling, as you followed his wordless demand. You rounded the sofa and turned to face Madeline. Her blue eyes welled and yours threatened to overflow. She bit down as the king moved behind her, feeling between their bodies and she braced the back of the sofa.

“Don’t look away,” Steven hissed and Madeline exclaimed as he thrust into her with a sharp jerk.

His hand snaked around the front of her neck and the sofa creaked beneath their bodies. He rutted into her without relent and she shrieked. He did not stop, deaf to her cries. You shook as he looked you in the face, baring his teeth as he fucked her. He stared at you, a glimmer in his eyes, a taunting shine as he got his pleasure from her pain.

Madeline’s eyes rolled back and closed. She sobbed as he kept on and leaned heavily against the back of the sofa. The clap of flesh mingled with her agonized moans and the king’s deep groans. And then it ended with a growl and several quick squelching strokes.

Steve pushed himself off of Madeline and stood from the couch. She slipped down and disappeared from view as she slumped onto the cushions. The king grabbed her skirts and wiped his cock before he laced his breeches up. He rolled his shoulders as he walked along the edge of the sofa.

“Well, your majesty,” he mocked, “If you aren’t a child, you can clean yourself up.” His eyes darted to you. “And your trite little maid will find a new master.” He curled his fingers as he directed you closer, “One able to teach her a servant’s lot.” You didn’t move and he barked at you, “Here!” He gestured beside him, “I am certain I will train her well.”

You neared, your heart beating wildly, your nerves flying and bouncing off each other. He seized your arm as you neared. You peeked down at Madeline, her skirts twisted around her legs, as she wept violently.

“No, don’t take her from me.” She begged. “She didn’t do anything--”

“She assaulted her king.” Steve gripped your arm tightly, “And you did set that precedent.” He shoved you towards the door and turned to follow, “On your grace, my wife,” he nudged you on and tore open the door as he looked back at Madeline, “I will not send her straight to the noose.” He kicked the back of your leg so you staggered into the corridor, “The next time we meet, you will convince me not change my mind.”

He slammed the door and followed you out. You hadn’t time to react before he had you by the back of your gown and dragged you along the hallway. 

“You’ve done it now, pet,” he snipped, “Trust me when I tell you, you will love me as much as you do your precious queen.” He shook you meanly, “You will!”

[coexiising]

angel of small death & the codeine scene - anakin skywalker

SUMMARY ◆ anakin is just so fucking enamored by you that he can’t take it holding back from professing it anymore. porn with a plot lol. 

WARNING(S) ◆ smut, lowkey public sex but not rly, y’all just fuck in his ship in the hangar, dirty talk, unedited

WORDS ◆ 2.5k

NOTE ◆ this is based off of the song ‘angel of small death & the codeine scene’ by hozier so yeah listen to that if you desire but i can’t stop you if u don’t. this is really short lol im just indulging

»»————-　✼　————-««

“YOU SAID THAT YOU WERE HAVING TROUBLE WITH YOUR SHIP?” YOU ASKED THE GENERAL, WALKING UP THE RAMP. it was later in the day, and just as you were going to call it a day and settle down for the night, you got a call on your comms asking for you to come down to the hangar. that was where the commander told you that they were experiencing some problems with general skywalker’s ship and sent you to do your job. 

you hadn’t been working in tech for super long, still young enough to make a real job out of it. but you joined the side of the republic in the war because you didn’t want to see democracy die, and if you could play a small part in that, that was good enough for you. 

there was a clank of something mechanical from the main control center and no response to your question, prompting you to walk towards the noise to find out if the general was making the problem worse. the second you came within a few feet of him, he jumped and turned around to face you, wrench in his hand. “maker, you scared me,” he stated. 

a small grin made it’s way onto your face. “aren’t you supposed to be able to sense things coming up behind you?” 

generally, you wouldn’t be talking that way to a general of the republic. but anakin was different, more close to your age and really didn’t care all that much for titles or respective ranks. you could see it with the way he treated the soldiers with as much respect he would give to someone like general kenobi or general windu. 

anakin laughed, stepping out of the way to let you see what he was attempting to do. you saw all these wires popping out of place, and one of the pipes completely busted out of its socket. how the hell had he managed to do this? you turned back to face him and cocked your head to the side, motioning at the carnage and saying, “how did this even happen?” 

you allowed your eyes to only look into his blue ones, because you knew the second you let them do what they wanted, you would look over him like he was a meal. and to your defense, anakin was incredibly hot. there was no denying it. but he was a jedi, and a general, and to the most of your knowledge nothing was ever going to happen. 

he cleared his throat. “just a . . . just a mishap that’s all, look, can you fix it or not?” 

“yeah, it shouldn’t take too long,” you replied, setting down your bag filled with tools and beginning to work. and then hopefully you would finally be done for the day and could get some much needed rest. 

“alright, i’ll be back in just a moment,” anakin told you, his hand coming to your waist for just a moment to push past you. you knew that it was just something that he did absentmindedly, but it sent a shock through your body, making your brain hotwire for just a moment. but as soon as it was there, it was gone and you were alone in his ship. 

anakin knew that he was a reckless person. it was evident to anyone that most of the time he did what he wanted, not taking into account any of the possible consequences afterwards. you would think that being a jedi wouldn’t keep that much room for error, since sometimes the weight of the galaxy sat on his shoulders, but there were times where he felt himself breaking away from the jedi code. and that happened the second he saw you. 

he knew that it was wrong to lust over some mechanic that he only saw from afar most days, but you were just so goddamn beautiful he couldn’t help himself. anakin admired the way that you carried yourself, confidently in anything that you did, the way that your hair framed your face every day, and the face you made when you were concentrating. 

at first it just started off as a passing thought, just a brief ‘oh, she’s hot’ instinct that everyone had once in a while, but now he knew that he wanted you. and anakin was planning on just letting the feeling run its course until it was sucessfully gone, but the second you walked into his ship, he could feel the want practically jumping off of you. 

he had to have you, especially now since he knew the feeling was mutual. there was just the tricky task of initiating something.  

you puffed out a small breath, biting the inside of your cheek as your fingers carefully patched wires together. it was getting later and still no sign of anakin again. weird, you thought to yourself, but not so unlikely. it’s not like you needed him to complete your job anyways. you went back to work, wondering what could have possibly happened to general skywalker. 

it seems that devising a plan to get your attention was harder than the man wanted to admit, because he had been standing next to the ramp for almost ten minutes now since he had left for a quick daily briefing. he was probably looking like an idiot just standing there. to hell with it. he would just improvise. like he did most things. 

“you finished yet?” you heard anakin ask from behind you. you shook your head in response, taking a moment to look at him. 

“your power converters are basically fried,” you told anakin, your cheeks flaring up at the way he was looking down at you. sure, there had always been a slight height difference between the two of you, but you were crouching down right level with his hips. you bit your lip and immediately got back to work, pretending like you weren’t just thinking about giving him a blowjob right then and there. 

the problem was that anakin knew exactly what you were thinking and that smirk came onto his face, leaning against the wall closest to you and watching you work. your face flared up, feeling his eyes trail on you. “do you have to watch me while i’m working?” you asked him in a hushed tone, as if you weren’t trying to ask him that indirectly. 

“am i making you nervous?” 

your stomach dropped, you were so flustered by him that the cable almost slipped out of your hands onto the floor. luckily you were quick to conceal it and you hoped that anakin didn’t notice. but he did, he was watching your every move, seeing how long it took before you broke. “no, general skywalker, you are not making me nervous, just tired that’s all,” you said, not daring to look at him. 

though, the next thing anakin asked caught you off guard. 

“when are you just going to admit you want me?” 

you would be lying if you said your knees didn’t feel like giving out right then and there. anakin said it in a deep voice, like he was teasing you for your attraction towards him. your mouth felt dry, like someone was stuffing cotton balls right down your throat. there wasn’t anything you thought you could say to try and defend yourself. 

instead you stood up and crossed your arms, looking into those eyes to decifer what he was thinking. anakin was looking right back at you with those magnificent eyes of yours, yet there was a hint of something else there. he was being mischevious and you knew it, toying around with you all because he could feel the feelings you were giving off. “fine, general, i do feel something towards you, but what does that have to do with anything?” you said, deciding to take the high ground. 

it was like a lightbulb went off in his head, and before you knew it he was walking up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer. woah. this was not the reaction that you thought you were going to get. honestly, you thought that he would kick you out and order for someone else to come fix his ship. this was definitely not that. 

“I asked you,” he started, one of his hands coming up along your back to your neck. you shivered and leaned into his touch. “because i want you too.” both of you were staring into each other’s eyes, almost daring each other to make the first move. 

and that’s all it took before you were leaning in, hesitating for just one second more as your nose brushed against his own. there was still time for you to compose yourself and walk away, leave your desires there and forget this ever happened. 

to hell with it. you wanted him and he was looking at you like you put stars in the sky. the stupid jedi code would just have to be pushed aside for the moment, because you were closing the gap between both of you and kissing him, body intermingling with his own. 

it was a mesh of your gasps from his roaming hands and his groans from your own hands tangling and tugging on those curls of his that were just begging to be ran through. you could’ve sworn anakin tasted like berries and he kissed with so much want and need that it was almost hard to keep up with him. but you did nonetheless, wanting as much as he was willing to give you. these types of things only happened in your wildest dreams. 

your back was soon pressed against the wall that he was once leaning on, one hand on your waist and the other sitting comfortably on your neck to keep you close to him. the air was hot and heavy surrounding both of you and you pressed your body against him, signaling that you needed him right now. 

anakin pulled away, cheeks red from lack of air. “the guards come to check the hangar every 2200 hours,” he told you, forehead pressing against your own. you looked at the clock behind him and saw that it was almost that time, and that you had at least fifteen minutes maybe less if the guards decided to come a few minutes early. 

you were quick to think, your eyes landing on the chair near the controls. he seemed to hear your thoughts, pressing a kiss against your lips before bringing you over there by your hands. you pushed him down onto his seat, pulling down your pants just enough and watching as he pulled himself out of his pants. 

of course anakin skywalker was packing.

you swore that if you could take your time with him, you would already be on your knees for him. oh well, there would just have to be a next time. 

“hurry,” anakin said to you, helping you up onto him so you were straddling him, your knees on either side of his sitting body on the chair. you put your hands against his shoulders for support and once you were ready, you sunk down onto him and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. he filled you up just right and it was better than you could ever imagine. anakin panted below you, head bowing down to nip at the exposed parts of your neck. 

the second the pain began to subside, you experimentally moved your hips forward, feeling a wave of pleasure course through your entire body. it almost stopped you from moving, which was not good for the time constraint. just as you were about to begin again, anakin grabbed your hips forcefully and lifted you up slightly, biceps flexing as his hips raised to meet your own. 

you couldn’t stop yourself from making noise while he continued with this fast pace in the same way, mouth wide open and hands shaking as they tried to keep their hold on him. you were hot all over, every time he pushed into you it felt like he was splitting you open so deliciously. the noise being made by both of you incredibly lewd, though it was on neither of your minds. 

you always thought that anakin looked so good after battle, when there was still sweat on his brow and his hair was all messy. he looked like that now, except you were the person messing up his hair and making him sweat, and that made your heart swoon. you wanted to kiss him and now there was nothing stopping you. your lips attached to his in a hungry kiss, tongue slipping right into his mouth and prodding against his own. everything was hot, sloppy, and messy and you didn’t care. 

“you look so hot like this,” anakin told you against your lips, pulling back and watching your face as he pounded into you. and he wasn’t lying, it was one of the best things he’s ever seen in his life. he made sure that he would remember this moment so he could replay it in his mind over and over again. “if i would’ve known you’d take me this good i would’ve done something sooner.” 

you couldn’t respond to him with words, only moans that came from deep in your throat. you weren’t going to last much longer, not when every time his hips hit your own it rubbed against your clit for just a short moment. you tried to help him with the movement, circling your hips and feeling the release creep up on you before you could compose yourself. 

“anakin,” you moaned out as you hit that much needed orgasm, looking right into his eyes as you fell apart. you were so sensitive that you whined against his neck where your head now laid, making use of your lips by kissing along his tanned neck. 

a few more thrusts and he was there, cumming right inside of you and making you hum in contentment. the two of you caught your breath against one another, his hand coming to rub against your back in a way that was surprisingly really loving. you moved your head so you were facing him and he leaned in to give you one last kiss, pushing away the hair that had fallen into your eyes. 

a new voice in the hangar made you jump, realizing that the cloned guards were here. both of you scrambled to get up, helping each other dress and look at least a little presentable. your legs were shaking with every step and you heard anakin laugh a little from behind you, making you hit his shoulder jokingly. the footsteps came closer and soon enough one of the commanders was looking at the two of you. for good measure, you picked up your bag of supplies. 

“general skywalker, you’re out here late,” the guard said, giving a look at you. “is everything alright?” 

“yes,” anakin responded. “the mechanic here was just finishing up work on my ship.” 

as soon as the guards stepped away, you gave him a look. “you know i didn’t even finish repairments, right?” 

anakin shrugged, a grin on his face. “i guess you’ll just have to come back tomorrow then, same time?” 

“sure thing, general.”

[astranva]

Daffodil

Word Count: 3.1k

Category: Angst

Warning: Some strong language.

Inspired by lines from Lana Del Rey’s excerpt from her poetry book – ‘L.A, Who Am I To Love You?’

“And also I can't sleep without you No one's ever really held me like you Not quite tightly, but certainly I feel your body next to me.”

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings.

 It was suffocating.

Oxygen wasn’t always an ally, at least not there and then for Harry. He had changed t-shirts 4 times after each one got soaked with his own sweat, before finally resorting to taking a shower.

His body felt limp, like it was on auto-pilot mode and he wasn’t in control of it, only watching as his legs dragged him to the room he tried to avoid if it was anything of no necessity.

He remembers a time when he loved the full-body mirror that stood in the room. He remembers the amount of pictures that one mirror caught, the amount of kisses it had witnessed. But as he passed, his stomach flipped upside now.

He had been avoiding seeing his face for far too long, could go as far and say that he hadn’t seen himself since it happened, a month ago.

But he caught a glimpse of himself and he couldn’t help but divert all his attention to the reflection that stared back at him. His hair was greasy, red blotches on his cheeks that seemed to mock him for crying too much for his skin’s own liking, puffy eyes, dry lips that reminded him that the alcohol he sipped at wasn’t what his body needed and that it needed water. He looked…pathetically sad.

But he was okay with it, being sad. Of course he was, how couldn’t he?

He looked dull – dead. Harry grimaced at the sight, his heart seeming to break and shatter even more – if possible – at the sight, feeling as if he couldn’t really recognize himself.

He took a shaky breath, tearing his gaze away from the reflection before moving along with the simple task; showering.

He hadn’t bothered taking out clothes prior to stepping inside the bathroom, wanting to just get it over with.

Harry took off his t-shirt and boxers, throwing them in the hamper before his eyes caught sight of it. Her toothbrush.

His mind was loud, screaming at him to keep his hands to himself, to get his shit together and maybe throw the damn brush away but he shut that off, reaching to grab the vibrant green toothbrush with rough bristles, as if confirming the absence of its owner.

“Fuck,” he cursed, feeling his nose itch before he set the toothbrush back in its rightful place, right beside the hair cream she used to use.

It probably didn’t help that he used her minty shampoo and coconut shower gel, mindlessly doing so. He hated how dependent he was on her, even when she wasn’t there but he didn’t know any better and he didn’t want to.

Harry’s shower was quick, as if he was in hurry to get out of the place that held so much of her belongings. The cold water didn’t soothe his muscles either, it only tensed them more, making him shower with a clenched jaw as he struggled to get used to the cold temperature – it was too cold and he fucking hated how it made sense.

It was all too cold.

Without her.

He had dried his body quickly before reaching towards the cabinet underneath the sink to take out the microfiber towel which she had gotten him,

“The material just causes lack of friction, know what that means? Less frizz. It also dries your hair faster than the cotton ones.” She had said as she dried his hair one night after her trip from the grocery store, the pink microfiber in her hand thoroughly drying Harry’s wet hair before she began scrunching some of the long lockets of hair.

He loved the towel.

He loves her.

Walking naked and barefoot, he opened the wardrobe, taking out a pair of shorts and resting them on his shoulder before opening a drawer to take out briefs. Harry contemplated wearing a top at all, but then reached to grab one – the one right on top.

Hers.

His movement halted as he felt the material in his hand, looking at the familiar watermelon-printed t-shirt.

“H!” She ran to him the moment he stepped inside their home, a wide grin on her face as she looked at his amused face. How couldn’t he be? She was standing in a watermelon-printed t-shirt and Toy Story-themed shorts. “Look what I got!”

It was that damn t-shirt and the love they made that night that had him write Watermelon Sugar.

That t-shirt.

His chest seemed to clench around his heart, almost begging him to put the t-shirt away, and that time, he listened and folded the t-shirt and put it behind his pile of t-shirts, nonchalantly grabbing another t-shirt before speeding out of the room to put on his clothes somewhere else.

Harry wasn’t stupid, but at times like these, he really thought he was.

He was stupid enough to think that it was the room he could escape when in fact, she was implemented in every little nook, every cushion – everywhere. Hell, even the coaster he had put his cup of tea on in the morning was one she had gotten.

After putting his clothes on, he walked to the kitchen. Surprisingly, he found his phone on the kitchen table, lit up as it released no sound and he was more amused by the fact that he had forgotten he placed it there.

‘Gem’ the screen had read, showing him a picture of him and his sister from when they were kids.

Harry debated picking up the phone. They all had been checking up on him, almost pleading to visit him but he was set every single time;

“I want to be alone.” He had said, every time.

He knew they were concerned, knew they cared about him but he couldn’t not cringe and grow even more melancholic when he heard the pity in their voices and, worse, he knew that in their minds, they probably called him a few names;

Pathetic.

Coward.

Dick.

He knew they probably liked the state he was in because after all, it was all his fault.

He gulped, taking his phone in his hand before answering, putting the phone on his ear and waiting for his sister to speak first.

“Harry? You here?”

He hummed, “Yeah.” His voice came out hoarse and scratchy, making him clear his throat.

Gemma sighed through the phone and he wasn’t sure what type of sigh was that, but it seemed to be as one of relief. He really needed to assure them more often.

“How are you?”

Harry had begun to hate the question. He didn’t like lying, but how could he reply with the same miserable answer every time? If you wanted an honest answer, he would give you one that went like that:

“Never been worse. I’m sad, I’m hallow. I think I need therapy but I know I need her more. I miss her but I’m a fucking dick.”

But he didn’t settle on that one for Gemma, no. Instead, Harry moved to fill the kettle with water while balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder, and gave her an answer anyone would want to hear,

“’M fine. How are you?”

But Gemma wasn’t just anyone. She wasn’t a distant relative nor was she a friend he hung out with every other year – she was his sister and she knew him better than that.

“You can be honest, you know?” She reminded him, “I understand.”

It assured him, really. Not enough to make him smile, but it felt somewhat nice but nonetheless, he hummed.

So, Gemma went on, “I want to head to the flower market, what do you say about joining me?”

Harry’s movement halted, standing straight and holding his phone with his hand, “Which?”

She was glad he didn’t decline right away, but knew she still had to choose the right cards to play. “Columbia Road’s.”

“Th-I-That’s one of her favorite places.” He commented.

“What are the odds that she would be there, Harry?”

“Yeah, what if she was, Gemma? I-I can’t, ‘m sorry.” He shook his head, feeling anxious at just the mere possibility of seeing her.

“Please,” Gemma said gently, “You love that place.”

Because of her, he wanted to say. It was her who made him love that place despite the amount of people with their phones out, taking picture after picture of the flowers instead of actually buying or learning about them.

“I’m telling you; some people spend so much money on carnations and boast about their blue colors, but they always have no idea that they’re actually dyed.” She had told him once as they strolled through the market, hand in hand.

Gemma knew she was making a risky move, but she took her chances. “What if you see her? What happens if you do?”

Harry’s heart dropped, his palms got sweaty and millions of scenarios raced in his head.

Gemma knew he had heard her, but she wanted an answer, whatever it could be. “Harry?”

“She hates me,” He began, rubbing his hairline in distress as he felt his eyes grow tearful, “I-I can’t see her and see the amount of hate she has for me. It’s already killing me, Gem, I can’t.”

“But she doesn’t,” Gemma said, hearing him sigh in annoyance, “No, you listen to me. You’re feeding yourself bullshit and you’re forcing yourself to believe it. Did she say that? Did she tell you that she hates you?”

“She fucking implied it!” Harry shouted, “She said she regrets falling in love with me, what does that sound like, for fuck’s sake?!”

“Sounds like disappointment to me, Harry!” Gemma exclaimed, growing frustrated with how thick her brother could be. And to be honest, she was getting tired of tiptoeing around the truth – one he needed to hear. “Sounds like she was hurt that the one person she trusted and loved for years decided to tell her one day that she couldn’t fit in his life and he couldn’t fit in hers! Sounds like she was hurt to me, Harry, especially because she didn’t expect you to break up with her, no one did!”

That was the last straw for him. Harry’s tears fell, plopping himself down on one of the kitchen chairs, burying his face in his hand as he cried.

Gemma’s heart broke at the sobs she heard through the phone, but she knew he needed it. “You have been scared to see her, to talk to her since the moment she walked out of that door, Harry, but till when? It’s not doing either of you any good.”

Harry sniffled, “D-Did y-you talk to her? Know anything about her?”

“Yeah,” she said sadly, “She’s not okay.”

Another wave of tears hit him, shaking his head at himself.

“I’m a fucking idiot.” He repeated to himself, over and over.

“I’ll pick you up in 10. I was already on my way before calling you.”

Harry gave her no response except for a sniffle.

“Harry?”

He hummed in question.

“I love you, alright? I’ll help you fix this.”

---

Harry wasn’t lying when he said the flower market was all about her.

Without her by his side, it seemed like all flowers lost their beautiful blooming colors, devoid of the saturation. It seemed like his mind loved playing tricks on him so much that it refused to make him smell anything but her scent, even when surrounded by dozens and dozens of petals.

A pair of sunglasses hid his puffy and red eyes, and he hadn’t bothered to change out of the sweat shorts and t-shirt, only put on a pair of socks and jogging shoes.

Gemma was beside him, walking quietly with a pair of her own sunglasses perched on her nose, her arm linked with his.

She dragged him to one vendor, checking the flowers and bouquets before pointing at pretty, blue carnations. “Look at these, they look beautiful, don’t they?” She asked her brother.

“They’re dyed.” Harry had instantly replied, Gemma more surprised by the fact that he talked than by the statement.

“Ah, you know a secret,” The vendor smiled at Harry, “You read a lot?”

“My girlfriend d-“ He paused at his slip, feeling Gemma give him an assuring squeeze on his bicep, “Someone once told me that.”

“Better hold on to them, not everyone is interested enough to learn about stuff like that nowadays.”

Harry felt bitter, like he wanted to tell the man to shut up and ask him if he knew anything about what happened, ask him if he was mocking him, but he knew that that was his mind playing another goddamn trick on him.

He was getting sick of the tricks and the amount of times his mind mocked his state, because when he turned his head away from the man and spotted her, he wanted nothing more than to have a one-on-one fight with his mind.

His jaw dropped, his green eyes widened from beneath his sunglasses, and he felt like he no longer was in an open-air place.

There she stood, in flared jeans, a half-sleeved shirt and eyes hidden beneath a pair of Seven Wonders sunglasses that Gemma had gifted her when she launched her brand. In her hands was one single yellow daffodil, holding it gently and with care, reminding Harry of the days and nights when she would hold him, exactly as a flower.

“Ha-“ Gemma stopped, following his gaze before her eyebrows shot up. She couldn’t say she was very surprised, because she knew how much Sundays at the flower market meant to her friend and brother’s ex.

Gemma also knew it was the first time since the breakup that Y/N visited the place and she couldn’t be any happier for her friend for kicking herself out of the bed and to the one place she enjoyed being at.

Y/N seemed oblivious to the Styles siblings’ fixed gaze on her, carrying herself with grace despite the ache in her heart and the memories that clouded her mind with that one special someone – someone who was standing nearby.

Time seemed to go slow, as if someone had added a slo-mo effect. She had turned, and she was going to miss him if it weren’t for her double taking.

The daffodil almost dropped from her hands, and her knees almost gave out on her.

As if she was pulling the leash on her heart, she turned away quickly before beginning to walk away in big steps, Harry’s heart aching.

“Go!” Gemma urged him, “Fucking go after you, you shit!” She pushed his back.

“I-“ Harry shook his head at his sister, not being able to tear his eyes away from Y/N’s figure as she walked among the crowd, leaning to the side as to not lose sight of her.

“You can, Harry!” She groaned, before tugging on his arm, making him look at her stern face, “It’s now or never, Harry. Your call.”

More often than not, Harry was thankful and grateful for his older sister; like when she took him sightseeing in London for the first time when he was 16 during the boot camp stage of The X-Factor, or when she would help him with his science and English coursework back when he was at school as a kid.

Like that moment, as he ran after his love.

It was easy to spot her. It was easy to run towards her.

Reaching her, Harry gently held her elbow, halting her movement before she turned, and fuck, 

what now?

He expected her to shout at him, tell him that she wanted nothing to do with him but she was quiet, looking up at him as she waited and Harry didn’t know whether he was thankful or despised the fact that he couldn’t see her eyes – was she glaring at him? Was she not?

He opened his mouth before closing it again, slowly removing his hand from her arm, unaware to her longing for his touch.

“Say anything, Harry, dammit.” She almost pleaded, pushing her weight to her right leg and – finally – putting her glasses on top of her head.

Harry definitely wished she kept them on.

Because the moment he saw her puffy eyes, clearly from crying, he wanted nothing but to cry out himself.

As if to assure her though, Harry mirrored her and placed his own on top of his head, letting her see how the eyes she adored so much, the color she decided was her favorite, was hidden beneath the puffiness and red.

“I don’t know what to say, fuck me,” he cringed at himself, reaching up to aggressively rub his eyes with his palms as to calm himself.

But then she gave him that look, that one look she gave him before walking out of the door a month ago – she was disappointed.

She shook her head at him, eyes judging him. “Forget it.” She was about to turn again when he, again, held her, but that time, Harry’s hand reached for hers.

“I’m sorry.” He blurted.

God, what exactly was he sorry for? What exactly was he apologizing for? Kissing her one moment then breaking up with her the other? Not calling her? Standing in front of her and being a coward?

But she had always been patient with him, and as much as her friends advised her against, she was still patient with him that moment.

“I can’t read your mind.” She said gently, stepping closer to him and looking him directly in the eyes, searching them. “Use your words.”

“I can’t do this without you,” Harry’s tone matched hers, staring down at her and stealing a glance at her lips before going back to her eyes, “I was- No, I am a dick. I’m an idiot. It’s taken me too long because I’m just an arrogant son of a bitch who can’t admit when he’s sorry and,” he shook his head, “But I am. I fucking hate myself for letting you leave, for saying the bullshit I said, for- for disappointing you,” he gulped down the tears that threatened to fall,

“I can’t sleep without you. Can’t eat, can’t function like a normal fucking human without you and I am to blame.”

Y/N listened, eyes getting glossy before she took a breath in, gulping as she tore eye contact before looking back at him, “Would you have said all that if you hadn’t seen me here?”

Harry stared at her a moment.

“Would you have called me? Visited?” One single tear betrayed her and fell, “Because I waited for you, all damn month.”

Before he was even aware, Harry nodded, taking the risk to reach forward and cup her face in his hands, watching as she closed her eyes at the feeling. “I would have.”

“I can’t-” She let out a sob, looking up at him with an almost childish frown, “I can’t afford having my heart broken by you again, Harry, because it fucking sucked.”

His breath hitched in his throat but it didn’t stop him from pulling her into his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around her, hiding his face in her hair, his senses waking at the whiff of her shampoo.

“Never again.”

Daffodils symbolize rebirth and new beginnings.

[celestialrry]

more than a melody

7k (longest I’ve done so far!)

summary: You and Harry are roommates, and he finds himself crushing on you, even though he really shouldn't be. (college!harry au)

warnings: nothing, just incredibly cute 

When Harry had put out a listing for a roommate for his apartment, he remembered putting how he didn't prefer the gender of his roommate, and well, because he was a boy and he lived in a heterosexual-normative world, he had assumed another boy would contact him. 

That is where it went a little off-course. You had approached him where you both worked, the record store (Harry had just gotten the job a few weeks ago), and you had asked about it. The two of you talked about it for a while, and after you toured the flat, you both decided you would be his new roommate and move in that week. Of course, you were cautious about moving into a flat with a man you barely knew, however charming he may be. You had watched enough Criminal Minds to be rightfully nervous, and it seemed Harry read your mind when he gave you his friends numbers, Sarah and Mitch, to talk about it. You had met up with them, and your worries had soon faded away, and well, you had a lock on your bedroom door. 

Once you had moved in, over the next few weeks the two of you had made a little routine. You both had morning shifts at the shop, Wednesday through Saturday, and morning classes almost every other day of the week but Sunday. It started when the two of you had a shift you needed to get to and found yourselves standing in front of the only bathroom in the apartment.

“G’morning.” Harry mumbled blearily, and you responded the same, trying not to look anywhere but his face, as he was clad in only a pair of black briefs and a black t-shirt. You checked the time on your phone and cursed in your head, only 15 minutes until you needed to leave to get to work. “Let’s just brush our teeth together really fast and then we can do everything else after, yeah?” You had suggested, to which Harry agreed and opened the bathroom door for you to walk in first. As he walked in, he grabbed his pink toothbrush out of the plastic holder and after putting toothpaste on it and wetting it, he began to brush his teeth. You found it ironic that the man who solely wore black skinny jeans and band t-shirts had a pink toothbrush, but found it slightly adorable. 

You grabbed your green one and did the same, and soon deciding to multi-task. You reached around Harry’s torso for your hair brush, and brushed through with one hand, the other still brushing your teeth. Suddenly Harry felt as if he should be doing something else too, and decided to simply run a hand through his curls, that were beginning to reach his shoulder, as brushing them out would make it far worse.

He then began to run the water and spit out his toothpaste, cupping a hand and filling it with water, bringing it back up to his mouth and swishing it around before spitting it out again. As he reached for the little folded hand towel on the counter he used for this and patted his mouth, you did the same as him. 

It happened nearly every morning, you would both say a quiet good morning, then brush your teeth together in silence, and of course, Harry ended up putting on pants before the restroom, but his shirt had been lost along the way. It was never awkward or anything, and you oddly got a lot of joy by seeing him almost every morning. On this particular day you had stayed up until 4 a.m. studying for a test you had in the morning, and Harry had picked up an extra shift at the record store because a co-worker had called in sick. As you both walked into the restroom, Harry watched as you began to brush your teeth and close your eyes for a minute while doing do, swaying a bit so you won’t fall down. 

It was painstakingly obvious you were tired, but Harry found your actions endearing. He was able to freely look at you because you couldn’t see him, obviously. You looked adorable, mouthful of toothpaste, and your arm wrapped around your waist. He just wanted to kiss you all over your face to wake you up and- he shook his head, eyes darting back to himself in the mirror. He couldn't think like that. He barely knew you, and you lived together.

It wasn't like the two of you never talked, when you had work together you would usually switch off drivers and carpool.  But not once had you had a conversation truly getting to know one another and its already been 2 months. Harry had yet to see you as friend, not because he didn’t want that of course, hell, he wanted to get to know you more than anything, but neither of you had yet to suggest bonding time. 

When you both were done brushing your teeth, you had splashed water on your face in an attempt to wake up a bit more. It didn’t work as you pat your face dry and sighed, looking into the mirror at your puffy eyes, rubbing them a bit with a pout.

Harry was positive it took everything out of him not to wrap you in a massive hug and and kiss the pout off of your lips. This would be the death of him.  He immediately turned away, walking back out and into his room to calm down. This was just a harmful crush that would go away in weeks time, he was sure of it.

                                                        ✧˖*°࿐

Harry was wrong.

About a week later, the two of you had yet to connect, but every time he laid eyes on you, he wanted you more than anything he could possibly think of. It was terrifying, but it had been a while since he felt this way for anyone. It was like he was in the honeymoon stage of a crush, but instead of it being bliss, it was embarrassment every time he opened his mouth.

Harry was utterly tongue-tied every time he spoke around you and his cheeks flushed a pink tint. Luckily for him, it seemed you were absolutely oblivious to it.  You were so oblivious, in fact, that you thought he didn't even like you as an acquaintance or roommate, considering he rarely ever spoke to you.

Things would soon change for the better, you both hoped, and eventually you got tired of waiting. “Harry?” You asked one morning, after you spit out your toothpaste and wiped your mouth. 

He stoped running his hands through his hair and his head almost snapped towards you. “Yeah?” He asked, pretending like his heart wasn't beating out of his chest.  He was actually quite afraid you would see it, as he wasn't wearing a shirt this morning, or any other morning after he has started wearing pants and well, it took a while for you to not drool after you saw his bare front, littered with tattoos, on his chest, tummy, shoulders and arms. It really didn't help that his abs were prominent, and every time he leaned down to wash his face, you could see his back muscles ripple under his skin-

“Um,” You shook yourself out of the trance you had gotten into and continued. “We should like, hangout and actually get to know each other-you don’t have to at all-but I mean, I wanna get to know you, we’re living together, you know?” You suggested, trying to calm yourself down and accept the response of “I don't want to.”

Instead, Harry had bit his bottom lip to stop his smile from reaching his ears and he nodded. “I-I think we should too, when, um, I mean, uh, what do y’wanna do?” He mentally cursed himself for stumbling over his words, he was such a fool.

You hesitated for a second, looking down his body involuntarily as your gazed reached the floor. “We could just make food together and then have dinner here one night? When are you free?” You said, looking back up at him. 

He flushed as your eyes ran up and down his body. He didn't feel insecure, just a little more exposed than he should. He was shirtless in front of you all the time, it truly made no difference and you didn't seem to mind. “Um, yeah, that sounds really good, I-I can do tomorrow night actually,” He spoke slowly, his arms wrapping around himself. “What would y’like to eat? I can go to the store this afternoon.”

“Oh! Perfect, Saturday night is free for me too,” You grinned. “I really don’t care, as long as its decently easy to make, you choose.”

He confirmed a meal with you before nodding and stepping out to change before walking into the kitchen to grab his car keys and waiting for you. It was his turn to drive the two of you to work. You popped out in some jeans and a t-shirt, grinning at Harry as he opened the front door for you. 

Today was already off to a great start, he thought as he watched you hop in his car and ramble about some new artist you had found called Edward Rags. What a stupid name, Harry Styles thought. 

Soon enough it was Saturday night, and you had both agreed there was no need to dress nice, you’ve already seen each other in pajamas so there was no point, and you showed up in pajama shorts and a t-shirt, whereas Harry went for sweatpants and a t-shirt as well. He had turned on his playlist, with an awful lot of older music and you both started cooking dinner, singing along to some parts and moving around to others. 

The two of you had talked about family, what you were both studying in uni, friends, what you did in your free-time, and got into a particularly long conversation about how you believed the Notebook, the book, was astronomically better than the movie. Harry disagreed, and tried to keep himself civil without popping a vein in his neck. “It’s a cinematic masterpiece!” He had exclaimed, resulting in you rolling your eyes, and going back to stir the food in the pot. “The best movie in the world would be nowhere near as good as the best book in the world, Harry.” God, he loved the way his name sounded coming from your mouth, imagine what it would sound like if you moa- another head shake. Harry’s imagination was getting out of control. 

Before he had the chance to respond, Jealous Guy by Donny Hathaway started playing and you looked over at Harry with a large smile on your face. “I love this song.” You simply said, turning back to the pot. Harry mustered up the courage and tapped you on your shoulder, his hand out, and body partially bowed. “Would y’care for a dance?” He asked, his dimples showing. 

You grinned and took his hand as he brought the two of you into a slow dance. 

I was dreaming of the past,

And my heart was beating fast.

I began to lose control, 

I began to lose control.

The two of you swayed to the song, looking at each other resulting in the two of you bursting out laughing. His hand held yours up, with his hand lightly placed on your waist. “I’m just a jealous guy.” You both softly sang, grinning wide. After more laughs and singing along, the song was over, and harry let go of your hand, his own slowly moving from your waist. He would give anything to kiss you he was sure, but instead opted to comment on your dancing skills and received a swat to the bicep.

Soon, dinner was made, and the two of you sat at the dining table for four, talking about everything you both could possibly think of. It was never awkward, which you were extremely grateful for, and after a few hours, it seemed as though the two of you had known each other for years. You had found yourselves sitting on the couch, facing each other, your legs on top of his, and his arm resting on your knees. 

“So once I’m more stable I’m gonna ask to have Evie, she loves me way more too, how would you feel about living with a cat?” Harry asked, his eyes boring into your own. If he could paint, he was positive you would be the only thing he ever painted. 

“I’d love that, I can’t wait to meet her.” You smiled, yawning. Harry took notice of your yawn and looked at the clock. Almost 12 a.m.. “We should probably get to bed.” he suggested, moving his arm off of your legs, allowing you to swing your legs off of his own. You nodded, yawning once again, Harry catching it and yawning after you. You laughed a bit, and stood up, stretching before facing Harry, who now stood in front of you. 

“Okay,” You said, looking up at him, “Goodnight Harry, I had a lot of fun.” You said, about to turn around. “Me too,” He said, hesitating a bit before wrapping his arms around you in a hug. Your eyes widened, you weren't expecting a hug, but after feeling it, you wouldn’t want anything else. “Goodnight, sweet dreams.” He mumbled, pulling away slightly and then gently pressing a kiss to your forehead. You smiled and the two of you parted ways, walking to your respective rooms. Little did the other know, the two of you were both feeling the same way.

                                                       ✧˖*°࿐ 

It had been a couple months since that dinner, and it was safe to say the two of you had grown incredibly close. Harry seemed to always find a way to touch you, whether it be grabbing onto your hand to drag you somewhere, putting his hand at the small of your back to guide you through a crowd, making sure his thigh touched your own whenever the two of you sat next to each other, or wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you walked somewhere. He just wanted to be near you, and you felt the same. You could call him one of your best friends and he could do the same. Now that he knew you though? It just made his little crush a thousand times worse, and he found himself thinking of you more than anything else throughout the day.

In addition to wanting to feel you all the time, after he kissed you on the forehead, he quite literally got addicted to kissing you. All over your face, he had kissed your cheeks, nose, but never your lips. He found himself thinking about that a lot, what it would be like to actually kiss you. If he enjoyed kissing your cheeks this much, he knew that if he kissed you on your lips, he would never stop. But his consciousness stopped him from making a move, because the two of you were roommates. What happened if you started dating, then broke up? The two of you would have to move out, and make what would just be a breakup, so much worse. 

It never stopped him from daydreaming though. He had picked up another extra shift at the record shop on Sunday, the day the two of you were both free, and was driving back to the flat, where he knew you would be studying. He passed all the familiar buildings, until one shop caught his eye. A flower shop, and in front of it there were bouquets of all sorts, but the sunflowers entranced him. He quickly got into the other lane and turned into the parking lot, getting out and making his way to the shop. He looked at the sunflowers, and thought of you. You were probably frustrated because of your class and scrunching your nose at the questions you didn't know the answer to. But you were like his sunflower, bright and beautiful, and the flowers might help your frustration. He grabbed the bouquet and paid for it, driving back to the flat with the flowers in his passenger seat. 

He opened the door, bouquet behind his back, where he saw you on your laptop on the couch, running your hands through your hair. “Hey lovie, what’s goin’ on?” He asked, walking up to you. You sighed, looking up at him from your uncomfortable position on the couch. “Studying for this stupid test that really doesn't matter, but apparently to Professor Eden it matters a lot.” Harry pouted at your distress and brought the flowers into view. “M’sorry, let’s take a break. Also, thought this would cheer y’up a bit, they reminded me of you.” He mumbled, looking anywhere but you. 

Your eyes widened as you saw the sunflowers and tears of overwhelming emotions threatened to spill out of your eyes. You scrambled up and took them out of his large hand, gently placing them down on the coffee table before practically jumping on Harry to give him a hug. “Oh my god H, thank you. You’re too sweet.” You said, pulling away from the hug to kiss him on the cheek. He flushed and just smiled, telling you it was no big deal.

You had put the flowers in a vase and set them on the kitchen counter, and during the next few days, you couldn’t stop the smile on your face when you saw them. On Tuesday you got back from your morning class around lunch time, and walked in the flat to see Harry in a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants, baking what looked like cupcakes, and humming to some song that was playing that he had showed you about a week ago.

“Harry? Whatcha doing?” You asked, and he jumped, turning around to see you setting your bag on the counter. “Jesus,” He said your name. “Scared the living’ shit outta me. M’just baking cupcakes, felt kinda cupcakey today.” He shrugged, going back to frosting them with yellow icing. “Cupcakey?” You raised a brow at the term.

“Cupcakey.” he confirmed, giving you a dimpled grin.

You just nodded and walked up to sit on the stools the two of you had placed at the counter, facing Harry and watching him look down at the dozen cupcakes, his tounge sticking out a bit in concentration as he carefully made swirls of icing. 

“Can I try some?” You asked, sticking your finger out so he could put a dollop of icing on your finger. He looked up and nodded, doing as you expected him to before getting back to work. You looked at the untouched icing on your finger before looking back at Harry, your brain encouraging you to put it on the tip of his nose. You grinned to yourself and called his name, and as soon as he looked up you reached your finger out and wiped the icing on his nose. His eyes widened and crossed a bit as he looked down to his nose then to you. You laughed, and he thought it sounded like the most gorgeous melody in the world.

“You’re gonna regret that, love.” He said, wiping a bit of the icing off his nose but not all of it. You just laughed again, your eyes closing for a split second, and in that split second, Harry had gently pulled you off the stool and taken you back into the kitchen. “No! Please, please, I’m sorry.” You laughed, begging as he held you tight by the waist and used his other hand to hold the piping bag, slowly starting to squeeze it and holding it above your face. “Are you really? Doesn’t seem like it, pet.” He teased, the icing coming out of the cut plastic. 

You shook your head and looked up at him, spotting the icing on his nose. “Let me make it up to you.” You said, holding onto his arm that was holding the weapon of sunshine-colored icing. 

“How?” He asked, raising a brow. You leaned up and pecked his nose getting most of the icing off, before licking it off your lips quickly. He froze, and your eyes widened. He didn’t want that, you thought. As you opened your mouth to apologize he dropped the piping cone onto the counter and held your jaw with his free hand, leaning in and finally kissing you. Your lips slotted perfectly with his and he never wanted to stop. When the two of you pulled away his cheeks flushed, “I’m so sorry, I should’ve asked-”

You cut him off by kissing him once more. “It’s okay. Better than okay, actually.”

He smiled wide and kissed you once more, “M’never gonna get tired of this, Sunflower.”

[secondhand-trash]

Come with the Wind

Kinktober 2020 — knife play

A/N: this is directly inspired by Sakusa’s merch design from the hyakki yakou (hundred ghouls marching at night????) line Jump released a while back where we get kamaitachi!sks and i just thought he was perfect for this prompt hhhhh

Pairing: kamaitcahi!Sakusa Kiyoomi x f!reader

Description: Sakusa Kiyoomi knocked you off your feet the moment he first entered your life as a strong whirlwind out of nowhere.

Warning: mention of causing wounds on people, non-threatening stalking behaviour (?), non-threatening breaking in behaviour (?), knife play but kinda tender, vaginal penetration, creampie

Word count: 3824

(more of the modern magic au here)

-

鎌鼬 (kamaitachi): a youkai in Japanese folklore that looks like a weasel with claws shaped like sickles (for the sake of visual aesthetics kamaitachi sakusa will have it on his tail instead). It is said that this youkai appear in the form of a whirlwind, knocking its victims to the ground before slitting long cuts on their skin. Despite the wounds, the person who got attacked would not feel any pain.

-

Sakusa Kiyoomi knocked you off your feet the moment he first entered your life as a strong whirlwind out of nowhere.

Quite literally, knocking you off balance and making you fall onto the ground on your knees.

He showed up in the form of a strong turbulent, tripping you when you were alone on the quiet streets of your neighbourhood. Sakusa eyed you up and down as you laid on the cement floor, too shocked by the man that appeared out of nowhere to even move. Your eyes widening when you saw the long tail swaying behind him and the sharp hook that was at the very end.

In a world where the inhuman and human lived as one society, the many youkais that had inhabited Japan way before your kind did were starting to blend into the modern city life as well. But there would always be some that could not, or refused to, give up on the way they had lived by far before they were anything but a story passed on from generation to generation.

Except, unlike the generations before, people of the current day now knew for a fact that these monsters lurking in the shadows were very much so real and waiting for a chance to strike when your guard was lowered.

The kamaitachi stared at his victim, finding somewhere to place the wound. The preferable tactic was to do it fast and precise, but Sakusa always had trouble with making a haste decision. Very inconveniently so, he had quite the distaste towards getting blood on himself and would rather pick a position on the delicate human body that would cause less bleeding. 

Blood was messy, and it was hard to wash off of the fleece on his tail once it got on there. He did not like the mess at all.

The purpose of youkais of his kind was not to cause bloodshed. Well, actually, he wasn’t all too sure what the purpose truly was, given that he really wouldn’t gain from any of this. He had simply been told that this was what his kind did, and he carefully followed this task bestowed on him by his origins for more years than any of the measly humans that had been tripped by his wind could count.

So that was what he had been doing ever since he had a memory of his existence, and he intended to finish his task this time around too. But when his eyes met yours, your lips slightly agape as you sat on the ground from the shock, he found that he couldn’t swing the hook of his tail down onto your skin.

His moment of hesitation was enough for you to come back to your senses, climbing up with scrambled steps as you dashed towards the direction of your house without the time to even look back.

Sakusa realised that he was staring at the floor when he snapped out of his trance, letting out a muffled groan as he looked towards the direction you had headed.

What was it? Why didn’t he do it?

Sakusa had never felt so tortured in his many years of life than he did after he let you escaped completely unharmed. He had failed his one job for the first time ever and he wasn’t the happiest about it. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t get you out of his head no matter how hard he tried and it was really, really irritating him. 

It must be that he couldn’t stand having an unfinished job, it must be it.

-

He spent the next few days in the air of the neighbourhood he saw you at, which wasn’t exactly his proudest moment. It was stupid for him to care so much about a random human that got away through luck, but he was determined that he would right his wrong. There were several times when he caught you alone, but he never managed to do it. He spent a lot of time observing you but always missing the prime timing. It could be that he was far too enticed by the book you were reading (which he tried very hard to see the title clearly because he was so far away from you), or he simply got lost in the way you laugh to yourself when you thought no one was watching (he was, in fact, watching), but he always remembered in absolute frustration that he was there for a proper reason when you had left. 

So he kept going back to you again and again, waiting for the chance to make his strike.

Not because he wanted to, absolutely not.

He swore he only found out about where you lived on accident. He wasn’t really intending to be so stalker-ish but one day when he didn’t see you around all day long when he was waiting for you to show up only to spot you pacing down the streets late at night, he thought that it was absolutely foolish for you to be alone at the hour and just had to make sure you got back to your place safely. Humans were very fragile creatures was what he had learned after years of observation, and if you happened to bump into any of the more vicious youkais or worse, vicious humans, then he wouldn’t get to finish his task with you gone.

(He grumbled, as if he wasn’t one of the said dangerous youkais lurking around.)

He had resisted the urge to look into your house. There were youkais that broke into people’s residents but that wasn’t the nature of his kind and he intended to stay in his own lane. But now that he knew where you lived, it was getting harder and harder for him to stay away.

Sakusa was circling the area midair one day when he saw that the door to your tiny balcony was wide open. He felt his eyelids jumped, did no one ever tell you that you should keep all doors and windows locked when you were out? He floated close with a disapproving tsk of his tongue, wanting to help you close it up when he got a brief glimpse of what was behind the window.

He swore to all the gods whose name he could not even remember because they were far too long to utter out that he had never seen a more horrendous sight.

He took a step back, absolutely disgusted. Had humans gotten to this point of their survival now? That they could live in a condition like this? “Unbelievable,” he muttered to himself as he tentatively entered your home, careful not to step on anything that was on the ground.

The trash can at the corner was filled to the top and threatening to spill out. He felt a sharp ache banging in his head when he saw the empty boxes piled up at the side. There were bunches of tissue paper shoved onto the back of your table that had no empty space on it with so many things that were scattered on top. Now that he started paying attention, there were marks on your balcony window clearly left behind because you never bothered to wipe it clean after downpours of rain.

Ridiculous. His brows furrowed together in disapproval, picking up any trash on the ground with the hook of his tail as he inspected the place.

This would not do, he would not allow it.

Right, he clicked his tongue as he looked around, searching for anything that resembled a broom, where should he start?

You were sure you must have tired yourself too much that you were starting to see illusions when you came home that night to see the same kamaitachi who had shoved you to the ground and proceed to let you escape furiously wiping your window with a towel hooked onto his tail while grumbling about how stubborn the stains were. You did not dare to move when he must have heard you come in, slowly and stiffly turning around until you two were staring at each other. Neither of you said a word, and you blinked as you tried to make sense of the situation.

You didn’t know that kamaitachis also break into people’s houses just to help with the cleaning?

“Um,” you gulped, feeling small under his inky eyes even though he was the intruder here, “do you want something to drink?”

This was wrong. Kamaitachis were not supposed to mingle with the mankind. He should have escaped through the little gap on the window he had left for ventilation (your house was far too dusty for his comfort), or throw you off by causing a whirlwind inside your tiny city apartment which was guaranteed to make quite the destruction., or just do what he thought he was there to do all along and slit an open wound on any part of your skin.

Sakusa Kiyoomi had a moment of silence when he realised that he didn’t want to do any of those things.

He did, however, really wanted warm tea.

-

Sakusa Kiyoomi made several discoveries about humans after he met you:

1. under the right amount of pressure, they are able to keep up with a hygienic living environment, you were just too lazy for your own good

2. they make really decent tea (you made him this thing where you pour tea onto rice and umeboshi once and he was completely floored)

3. they invite people to move into their residence as a gesture of affection (you had brought it up after he waited outside your balcony for a good hour before you came home and let him in, claiming that he always around anyways

4. youkai-human romances are a thing now and people wouldn’t get burned alive for it (you laughed very hard when he brought up his concerns on why you didn’t have any issues letting your neighbours see you with him, he didn’t understand why)

Oh, and they were soft, very soft. Sakusa held you just a little closer to his chest as you two sat cross legged on the mattress, his arms wrapped around your waist as he leaned his jaw onto your shoulder while you mindlessly played with his tail.

So soft.

“Careful,” he warned when he saw you tracing your finger along the edge of his reaping hook, “you’re going to cut yourself if you slip.”

You chuckled, watching as he flicked his tail as far away from you as he could. “Shouldn’t you want that to happen?” you mused, twisting around so you could see his face. The two dots above his eyebrow shifted as he narrowed his eyes, his lips pursed into one thin line. You could see the very tip of his tiny white ears peeking out of his wavy black curls, twitching ever so slightly.

He sighed, clicking his tongue at your triumphant expression like you had gotten him good. Light reflected on the silver blade as he lifted it up to your eye level, twisting it slowly so that it glimmered. He always kept the blade clean and sharp even though he hadn’t used it since meeting you. You could see your own reflection on the polished surface and you stared into his inky eyes through it.

For a moment, you were mesmerised, and you could hear your own breaths as your gaze travelled to the very tip of the hook which could draw blood even from the slightest bit of force.

“Omi,” you licked your lips and gripped onto his forearm that was around your stomach, “is it true that I wouldn’t feel it even if you slice down?”

His eyes widened, “I’m not hurting you.”

“I know, but is it?”

Sakusa paused, he hadn’t thought about it in a long time. Gently and with caution, he turned his hook to its dull edge and trail it up to your leg. You stiffen at the feeling of the cold metal on your skin, goosebumps rose on your skin where the hook just grazed past. 

“Apparently,” he said, his voice coming out as a whisper as he took in your reaction. Any hint of fear and he would pull back, but you only seemed to lean back against his chest even more as he brushed the blade along your calf. You were so delicate, he could leave such nasty scars on your skin if he did so little as flick down and you knew it. But the heaving of your chest only got more obvious when the edge of his blade reached higher and higher up on your leg until it was pushing up the hem of your shorts.

He stopped when the curved hook was right at the root of your thigh, and pressed the flat edge down.

He nearly lost control of himself when he heard the faintest resemblance of a moan slipping from your mouth.

“Do you like this?”

Your face burned up at the question and the gravel in his tone. His arms slowly pulled away from your waist, warm palms running along the curve of his waist until they were resting right at the side of your hips. Your breath hitched when you felt his fingers digging down and gripping onto the hem, the fabric of your shorts now bunched up around the silver hook.

“Do you like this?” he asked again, the fleece of his tail brushing against your skin as he crooked the tip. You could see it poking under the fabric, pulling it taunt around the edge, and you felt your own voice betraying you at the thought of how easy it would be for him to just ripped it to pieces.

“Yes.”

A loud tear ripped through the room and sent numbing sparks all the way to your scalp as you held your breath in reflectively, the hook gliding across the flimsy fabric of your room wear and dangerously close to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. 

You whimpered when he slipped his hand under the baggy t-shirt you were wearing, pushing it up until your bare chest was out on display.

“Bite.”

You parted your mouth and took the hem between your teeth, the heat spreading onto the tip of your ears at your lewd position. He brought the sickle up, his eyes bearing at your form when he slowly ran the dull edge down the valley of your breast and onto your stomach. You wanted to arch against him so badly but held yourself still, your shoulders shaking slightly as you did not dare to move.

“I remember how people used to scream when my blade touches their skin,” his lips ghosted on where your neck met your shoulder, warm breath fanning onto you and making every hair on your back stood up. He sniggered when he heard your breath getting heavier when he brought the blade to your front. The chilling metal barely touched your nipple before it pebbled up and stood almost painfully. “But getting aroused... that is a first.”

“O- omi...” you managed to utter his name through your teeth and he brushed against your nipple with a flick, the feeling of steel still lingering on the sensitive bud.

“Look at you getting all antsy,” he clicked his tongue and the sound sent shivers down your spine. He shifted underneath you, hoisting you higher up on his lap. Something hard poked at your ass as he held you still, his erection pressed firmly against you through the shorts that were struggling to hold together.

You let out a pitiful whine when he hooked one nimble finger under the crotch of your panties while the sickle scrapped down from your shoulder to your arm, an inaudible rumble slipping from the back of his throat when he felt the slick that had seeped into the cotton.

Humans, their bodies react in the most fascinating ways.

You froze when the hook brushed past your inner thigh and under the strip of fabric his fingers were holding onto.

“Scared?” he asked, the elastic choking snugly around your skin in tension as he held the hook still, “just one wrong move and I could hurt the most delicate part of your body.”

You pussy couldn’t help but clench around nothing when he cut the last bit of fabric covering you with a forceful pull, the clear essence that was already pooling up all the more obvious when dripped onto the metal.

“Tsk tsk...” 

You could not even press your thighs together to get the friction you so desperately wanted with his hand giving you a squeeze in warning, bringing the hook up to your face as he turned it under the light. 

“You are getting my sickle all dirty,” he said, referring to the shine on the usually spotless surface that was from your arousal. Sakusa’s fingers danced along your inner thigh before bringing them to your sopping folds, brushing past your slit and felt the wetness gushing out.

He brought the hook to his lips and poked his tongue out, the sound of his tongue against the metal where it had just touched your skin forming a blood curling image in your head even though you could only hear him. He twisted his tail, letting his tongue ran along the blade from the base to the tip.

You whimpered when you felt the coldness of his saliva on the blade right at the side of your neck.

“Up.”

You shakily lifted yourself off his lap, getting onto your knees as you waited with bated breath. The sound of zippers had your heart pounding in your chest all while the sharp blade of the reaping hook was starting to make your skin go numb.

He could slit your throat if he wanted to.

Your jaw was aching from how hard you bite down and it only got worse when you felt his tip prodding at your entrance. He signaled you to sink down with a tap of his finger at the side of your hips. You could not hold yourself back anymore as his girth slowly stretched you out, your shirt falling back down over your abdomen as a breathy moan rolled off your tongue. 

“Mph-” your toes curled when he was balls deep inside of you and he tilted your head back until the curve of your neck leaned right on his shoulder with the tip of his sickle, the metal growing warm under your chin as he held you there.

He groaned at the feeling of your tight walls around his cock, the sudden penetration without any foreplay had your cunt now leaking with wetness just to get used to him. 

He slowly started rocking against you before upping his pace. He throbbed inside of you, the heat of him burning into your lower stomach and spreading all over your body. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, guiding you to roll against him all the while never removing the blade from your neck. You let out a choked mewl when the tip of it trailed down your neck, poking against the fragile skin ever so slightly when he thrust up.

Sakusa had never felt any hint of emotions in his brain when he held his blade at any of his past victims, he did it because that was simply what his kind does and that was it. But when he saw the lighter streaks left on your skin where the tip of his sickle had pressed down on, your breaths rigid but with desire dripping from each heave of your chest, he felt all sorts of feelings screaming in his head until all he could do was lash them out through each merciless rut of his hips.

The sound of his balls slapping against your ass bounced off the walls as you panted, your hands threw back to circle around his neck the blade was pressed down flat on your neck. It almost felt like you were being choked as the metal grew warm on your skin, your eyes seeing white in the corners as your walls contracted around him and his name slurred off your tongue like a mantra.

A low moan rumbled from his chest at your walls clamping down on him and the vibration seeped through your back, making you whimper. You sucked in a hasty breath when the hook was removed from your throat, his tail stiffening up at the side as he felt his own climax getting close. He buried his face at the crook of your neck, muffling his moans as he held you tight against him.

He came with a shudder, his hands still clutching you tightly before his muscles relaxed and he slumped onto your body. Your lips parted to let out a soft sigh at the feeling of his release inside of you, the sticky substance slowly leaking out of your fluttering folds down onto the base of his cock with him still buried inside of you. 

His tail, the part that was just fur and not blade, rubbed soothingly against your waist as he gently lifted you off his lap. You whimpered at the feeling of his warmth leaving your body, the sudden emptiness making your still sensitive walls clenched and more of his cum trailed down. Turning you around so that you could lay on his chest, you listened to his heartbeats slowly easing down from the rapid beating as it rose and fell underneath your chin.

His tail was swung over your back, locking you in as his palm ran up and down on your back. You brushed at the white fleece with your finger, a light coo slipping past your lips at how soft it was. It was a wonder how just a few inches down and the fur would blend in with the unbending steel of his sickle.

“You know,” you said, still relishing in the feeling of his fur brushing past your finger tip, “sometimes I’m really glad that you tried to attack me that day.”

He huffed, “You mean you’re glad I didn’t actually do it?”

“Well,” you looked up, smiling a little as you stared into his inky eyes, “you would not be here if you didn’t stalk me weeks after that because you let me went away.”

“I did not stalk you.”

“Yes you did!” you laughed when he rolled his eyes. You paused, letting out a short hum before leaning your jaw on his chest again.

“I’m happy you did though.”

He looked down at your murmur, and closed his eyes as he took in your scent with his face buried into your hair.

Sakusa Kiyoomi came into your life as a strange, sudden whirlwind and in a stunning twist of events against his very nature, he stayed.

And he was very happy he did that too.

[chaoticpuff17]

A Dangerous Game

Part 6

masterlist

Arms wrapped around her waist tugging her back from the window sill before she had the chance to take the final step out of the room and away from him.

“No!” she screamed thrashing in his arms as she tried to escape his hold. “No!”

RM cursed tugging her further back into the room despite the wildly flailing limbs. “Are you insane!” he yelled throwing her onto the bed before stomping back over to the window to slam it closed and lock it in place as she sat up and watched the very clearly furious man. He whipped around to face her his displeasure abundantly clear. “What were you thinking?” he shouted rushing back to her and gripping her shoulders so tightly that it hurt, but she stayed silent. “What were you thinking?” he repeated violently shaking her.

“I wanted to leave.” She whispered slightly shocked by what had just occurred combined with the man screaming in her face.

“You wanted to leave?” he repeated eyes wide in disbelief. “You wanted to leave?” she remained silent knowing anything she said would only make things worse for herself. “And you thought throwing yourself out of a second story window was the best way to do that?” she looked up at him with wide eyes of her own knowing full well that she had fucked up.

He released her shoulders with a shove pushing her back down onto the bed again as he began to aggressively pace in front of it. She sat up again her limbs trembling as she watched him pace back and forth. He was muttering something to himself in Korean as he moved the meaning of which was lost ­to her, but she had the distinct feeling that it wasn’t good at least not for her.

In all the times she had met RM she had never seen him so blatantly angry before. He had always maintained a restrained dignity. Even when she knew she had upset him during their previous meetings the reaction had never been like this. If she had been scared of him before, she was terrified now. And there was nowhere else to run. She was trapped in an enclosed space with the most dangerous man she had ever met, and he was furious with her.

Her breath hitched as he abruptly stopped his pacing. His back was to her with his head bowed and his breathing harsh.

“You.” He hissed whipping around to face her. “You idiot girl. Did you think that you can escape me so easily?”

The anger was still very much present but there was a mask of control slipped back in place. She wasn’t sure which scared her more, the yelling or the cold rage she saw now. Hot anger burned away. It exploded. It was terrible, but it burned away. Cold anger lingered, and made life hell for everyone in its path.

“I’m going to attribute this moment of… insanity to the concussion and the shock.” He informed her his mouth set in a hard line, his eyes dark and burning with controlled anger. One of his hands came up to grab her chin in a bruising grip forcing her to meet his gaze head on. “I will not allow such an action again. It won’t go unpunished again. Do you understand me?” she remained quiet gazing at him with wide fear filled eyes. “Do you understand me?” he questioned again tightening his grip and raising his voice just a little.

She nodded wincing at the tight grip he had on her.

“I need words, jagiya.”

“I understand.” She whispered trembling in his grip.

He released her with a smile as he took a step back from her. God how she hated those dimples. “Good. Now, I’m going to send Miss In back in to help you get ready.” He explained straightening his collar and acting as though he hadn’t been enraged less than five minutes ago. “I’ll be back when you’re finished, and then we are going to sit down and speak like civilized adults. Alright, jagi?” She nodded keeping her eyes focused on the bed spread beneath her. “Words, jagi.” He reminded her sharply.

“Yes.” She hissed a bitter taste filling her mouth.

His hand returned to her cheek in a gentle caress. “Good girl.” He hummed stepping back to head for the door.

As soon as the door closed behind him she was filled with an overwhelming sense of nausea. She made a mad dash to a door on the other side of the room grateful to find an en suite on the other side before she lost the contents of her stomach. That was where Miss In found her hunched over on the polished tile floor of the bathroom tears streaming down her face.

The older woman clicked her tongue and came over to help the woman up from the floor. “Come now, bu-in. We need to get you cleaned up, yes?”

She didn’t say anything, but she did allow the older woman to help her up from the floor though she was still had a tremor in her hands and her face was white as a sheet. The older woman fussed over her guiding her to sit on the little ottoman placed in front of the sink.

“I’ll run a bath for you, bu-in.” the older woman hummed mainly to herself as Y/N wasn’t really listening to her. “And we’ll call for the doctor to check on you again now that you are awake.” She decided nodding to herself as she went about her tasks. “You were asleep for a long time, and the doctor needs to check your head again.”

That caught her attention. Her head whipped up to stare at the other woman. “How long was I asleep?” she asked almost frightened to know the answer.

“You were asleep for a full day, bu-in. Sajangnim was very worried for you.”

“What happened to the man who was in the car with me? Is he here? Is he alright?” the questions flowed from her before she could stop them, but Miss In had no answers for her.

“Man? What man?” she asked her brow furrowed in confusion. “There was no man with you, bu-in. Sajangnim brought you here alone. You had a cut on your head. He said there had been an accident.”

“There was a man in the accident with me. Is he alright?” she asked again desperate to know what had happened to her companion. She knew full well that he had taken the most damage from the crash.

“I don’t know about any other man, bu-in, but your bath is ready. Try not to get the bandage wet.” The older woman motioned her into the tub before leaving her alone to soak in her thoughts as she went to go about her other duties until Y/N was ready to get out of the tub.

The lack of answers along with the stress of the day had left her tired. The bath helped her to relax, but it left her with far too much time for her thoughts to wander. What had happened to Eun-ho? What did RM want with her? Who was RM? How long was she going to have to stay here? If RM wasn’t going to let her go, how was she going to escape? She had a bad feeling that she wasn’t going to get the answer to most of those questions, or at least she wasn’t going to get answers any time soon.

All too soon, Miss In was back to collect her from the bath room ushering her into a robe and sitting her down on the ottoman again to dry her hair before escorting her to the ridiculously large closet that was attached to the main room. The entire closet was bigger than her bedroom back home had been and had clearly been decorated with a woman in mind. The wall paper was a muted shade of teal with a cream tree pattern across it. And all of the furnishing were set to match. Everything in cream, or like the great round ottoman in the middle of the room, a muted shade of teal.

Miss In was quick to ferry her into a pair of undergarments and settle her in front of the vanity to do her hair and makeup. Overall, Y/N felt like a child or perhaps a doll as the other woman styled her hair into loose curls before she moved onto her makeup, and Y/N let her unwilling to do anything that would incur RM’s wrath again, not after her spectacularly failed escape.

In hindsight she really should have known better. She should have known that the bedrooms would be on the second floor, and that jumping out a window would be a futile plan. It was a stupid plan one that had been fueled by panic and not actual foresight. It had been doomed to fail from the beginning. Even if she had managed to throw herself out the window she probably would have sprained something at the very least. And then there was the fact that RM’s estate was gated. She knew that. She’d learned that the first time she’d been here or at least where she assumed here was. She didn’t actually know. That was the downside of waking up in strange places after being unconscious.

Even if she was like a doll at the moment, Miss In was gentle at least. Her touch was light and maternal almost as if she knew how traumatized her charge was. Her tone was always soft, and her smiles were gentle. She was a calming presence in an otherwise panic inducing situation.

“Bu-in.” the lady spoke placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “I have a dress prepared for you, but first, sajangnim has prepared these for you. He would like for you to wear them.” She was presented with a pair of stunning earrings. They had a pearl at the top and two strings of diamonds that dangled down from them elegantly. And it made her sick to look at them.

“I can’t wear these.” She shook her head gently placing the box that contained them on the vanity.

“You must, bu-in. Sajangnim has requested it.” The touch on her returned to her shoulder, firmer this time but still gentle, a gentle reminder that she didn’t really have choice in any of this.

She reluctantly put on the earrings hating how they looked dangling from her ears, hating that they were a gift from her kidnapper. She hated how lovely she was made to look, RM’s doll. But the bandage on her forehead served as a reminder that everything was not as lovely as it seemed.

“Come now, bu-in. We must get you dressed.”

With a reluctant nod, Y/N allowed herself to be pulled up and guided into a blue sundress far finer than anything she had in her own wardrobe at home, and she hated that too. What was worse was that every single thing that Miss In had placed her in was in her size. It was here pulled from the drawers and wardrobes of the closet, and it was all pre-prepared and in her size.

“I think I’m going to be sick.” She whimpered sinking down to sit on the ottoman her head in her hands.

“I’ll bring you some ginger tea.” The kind woman tutted fussing over her as she helped her up and slipped her into a pair of house slippers before leading her back out to the main room and helping her down onto one of the sofas. “Sajangnim will be here in a moment, bu-in.”

“No.” she whimpered. “Please no. I don’t want to see him.” she begged grabbing onto the other woman’s hand and looking up at her with big doe eyes.

“Everything will be alright.” The woman placed a kind comforting hand on her cheek before leaving her alone in the room to await her captor.

When RM returned it was as though he were never angry with her to begin with stepping into the room with a charming grin on his face.

“You look lovely, jagi.” He took a leisurely seat on the sofa across from her completely relaxed.

“Thank you.” She murmured through gritted teeth knowing she had to be polite at least for a little while, until she had answers.

“Miss In told me you were feeling unwell. I’ve sent for the doctor. He’ll be here later to look you over and change the bandage on your head.” He announced eyes flitting up to the bandage before they moved to the earrings she had been forced to wear. “I see you got my gift. They suit you.”

“Was all of this necessary?” she asked fiddling with her fingers in her lap refusing to look at him as she did so.

“Of course. Only the best for you.”

“But why?” she questioned her brow furrowing. “Why am I here?”

He paused almost contemplatively. “You are here because I want you to be here.”

“Why?”

“Why does anyone do anything? I did it because it pleases me for you to be here.” was the easy reply that fell from his lips.

She sighed in frustration ready all but ready to throttle the man when he had only been in the room a few minutes. “That doesn’t explain anything.”

He sighed leaning back in his seat as he spoke. “I would have waited to bring you here, waited till you were more comfortable, but you do get so easily spooked, jagi. I didn’t account for you being a flight risk quite so soon. Luckily I already had preparations in motion. I am sorry though that you were hurt. That was never my intention.” The apology was strangely genuine as he frowned at the bandage decorating her forehead as if it had offended him in some way.

“Till I was more comfortable…?” the implication left her stunned. Till she was more comfortable. “How long were you planning this?” she whispered horrified. “How long were you planning to kidnap me?”

“It’s not kidnapping, jagiya. I simply removed you from a bad situation.” Her eyes were wide completely horrified by what she was hearing. He was delusional, completely delusional.

“The only bad situation I’m in is this one.” she hissed. “I was going home.”

“And what was there for you there?” he scoffed. “You’ve said yourself that all that was waiting for you there was a fat cat.”

He was about to continue when a knock on the door interrupted. “Enter.” He called over his shoulder never taking his eyes from her.

Miss In glided into the room carrying a tray of tea with her placing it on the coffee table between them with a respectful bow. She picked up one of the cups and handed it to RM before picking up the other cup and handing it to her with a smile.

“Drink this, bu-in. It will make you feel better.”

“Thank you.” She took the cup with a shaky smile. Watching wistfully as Miss In left the room leaving her alone once more with RM.

She turned back to her captor placing her cup of tea back on the coffee table. “You can’t just kidnap people.” She groaned in frustration glaring at the cup of tea though it had done nothing to her.

“Jagiya,” he grinned leaning forward and placing his cup on the table as well. “I can do anything I like.”

“People will look for me.” she argued.

He grinned the expression almost vicious. “And who would dare go against me?”

“I would.” She hissed.

He laughed, a full bellied laugh full of mirth, and it did nothing but sent her teeth on edge. “I know, jagiya. You are a rare bird. It’s why I like you so much. You’re too good for them, jagiya. You’re better off here.”

“You’re insane.”

“Not at all, jagiya. I’m simply a man who knows what he wants.”

“I don’t even know you’re name, and you plan to keep me here for God knows how long?” she scoffed looking up to send him a heated glare.

“Of course not, jagi. I know exactly how long you’ll be staying here.” He smiled bringing out those damned dimples in full force though something glinted in his eyes that sent a shiver of unease down her spine. “You see, you won’t be leaving. Ever. And as for my name, I’m Kim Namjoon.”

part 7

[lachesis-games]

Trouvaille Short Story

m!Trouvaille

tw: swearing, mild violence

~

This trip started out very simple. Go into the forest, gather spell ingredients, then get out. Getting dragged underwater by a sticky horse was not part of the plan.

While the others were searching for normal herbs like tarragon, nutmeg, or wormwood, you and Antigone waded knee deep in a wide pond. Morning sunlight streamed through the trees, casting an ethereal glow on the water’s surface.

“Remind me again what you need curly pondweed for?” you call out to her.

The witch doesn’t look up from her task when answering, “They promote growth in spells. And encourage perseverance.”

The plant itself was plentiful. Too plentiful, as she told you earlier that it was an invasive species. But every time you thought you found a good stem, Antigone waved you off, stating that your pick was too dark or too old or too tough.

You straighten up and stretch out your aching back. Tedium aside, the forest was beautiful in the morning. Red dragonflies skimmed the surface, creating ripples that jostled the aquatic flora. The natural song of chirping crickets and croaking frogs sounded throughout the clearing. At the water’s edge, a few meters to your right, you can see a dark figure among the cattails. It’s wide, but short, and moving slightly.

When you get closer, you can make out the creature’s long gray mane and thick black body. There are mossy spots and algae strewn across its body. It looks like it lives near the pond, but something about it seemed out of place in the tranquil forest.

“Um, Antigone?” you try to keep your voice down.

“What?”

“Are there supposed to be ponies in the forest?” You take your eyes off the animal to glance at her over your shoulder.

Her head snaps up and she drops the flat woven basket she’d been holding.

“Shit!”

Before either of you can react, the pony whinnies, rears up, and charges you. You’re too slow to dodge and it rams into you. Instead of sending you flying, you find yourself stuck to its flank as it dives deeper into the pond.

The pond is much deeper than expected and every few feet, the water gets colder and darker. Light brown sediment billows up as the probably-not-actually-a-pony settles into the bottom. 

The surprise attack, along with your wildly thumping heart means you’re losing air fast and the creature doesn’t seem like it’ll surface any time soon. Your elbow is fastened tight to the creature’s side. If you can just get to your dagger!

You open your eyes and regret it. The sting of the dirty water only hinders you more. You can’t see anything more than two feet in front of you clearly.

Panic sets in and you thrash and kick, desperately trying to separate from the creature. Its skin’s adhesive surface clings onto you. The harder you thrash, the more you pull at your own skin and clothes.

They say to be completely calm if you’re ever being held underwater, but the proverbial “they” are stupid and clearly have never been drowned before.

Black spots dance across your vision. Your lungs burn and your head starts to ache. Great. The artifact wouldn’t kill you. Nor would vampires or werewolves or any other badass way to die. No, you’re a lucky one. You get to die via drowning, stuck to this thing like gum on the bottom of someone’s shoe.

The pony flinches and so do you. It kicks up sediment in its panic. You get tossed around along with it until you feel a small hand on your shoulder. Sharp claws dig into you as it drags you away from the pony.

You can finally make out Antigone’s silhouette as she pulls you close. She presses her lips to yours. Air fills your lungs. Your vision and headache settle, and the burning sensation in your lungs subsides.

A blast of light breaks through your clenched eyelids. Her mouth is on yours again, breathing life into you. For some reason, though, she doesn’t do anything else. Just sits there and keeps breathing into you whenever your lungs start to burn again.

There’s a heavy splash above you. The cold sediment kicks up again and tiny bubbles pepper your face.

Someone hooks their arms under your armpits and the next thing you know, you’re being dragged up the bank of the pond.

Head spinning, you cough up what feels like gallons of water. In your delirium, you think you hear your name.

“There you are!” a familiar voice cries.

You rub your eyes and look up.

T.V. takes a step towards you, then stops. You want to tell him you’re alright, but Jackie grabs you in a bone-crushing hug.

Her clothes are soaking wet.

“We saw the basket floating in the pond! What the hell happened!?”

You hack more water and algae out of your lungs.

“Water pony,” you wheeze out.

“Huh?”

“Kelpie,” Antigone says through violent coughs. Despite her having been the one to save you, she seems much worse for wear. Dakota white-knuckles her hand.

“Kelpies are shapeshifters.” He pants, also soaking wet. T.V. is the only one bone dry. “They take the form of a pony or horse and drown people for fun,” he explains. “What happened?”

You take a deep breath, “It dragged me down underwater. Antigone came to save me.”

Dakota’s eyes widen as he grabs the witch by the shoulders.

“You did what? Are you high?” he demands.

“Wait, hang on!” Jackie interjects. “What’s the problem here? She kept them both alive until we got there!”

Dakota crosses his arms. “The problem here is that Annie can’t--!”

Antigone cuts him off. “What was I supposed to do? Let the kid drown?” she rasps and shrugs off her knit sweater.

“Of course not! I just--” Groaning, he buries his face into her neck. Antigone allows the touch and strokes his hair gently. Her tired gaze flickers over to you. Jackie’s concerned voice steals your attention.

“Let’s get you back to the shop,” she says, holding a hand out to you.

You clasp her hand and the two of you pull in tandem. The moment you put weight on your feet, searing pain shoots up your leg.

The ground rushes up to meet you, then stops when a pair of strong arms wrap around your middle.

As soon as their fingertips make contact, your head erupts in a pain like someone took an axe to it. There’s a ringing in your ears and you cry out.

Whoever’s holding you lets go and you hit the mud, writhing in agony.

“I— I’m so sorry!” T.V. manages through his groans of pain, hands clenched tightly to the sides of his head.

It feels like your skull is full of liquid metal. The cool water of the pond is tempting all of a sudden, kelpie and all.

Antigone presses a cool hand to your forehead and whispers something in a language you can’t understand.

Your head is still heavy, but the white hot pain ebbs.

She crawls over to Trouvaille to give him the same treatment. His agony seems to decrease faster than yours.

Through your delirium, you hear her snap at him, “That was unbelievably stupid!”

“I know,” he replies, rubbing his temples.

“You know? Mistakes like that can be fatal. Do not let your bleeding heart be the reason you both die.” 

Carefully avoiding her eyes, he says, “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t talk to him like that!” you protest through the pain.

“Shut up,” she snaps. “I don’t need one idiot defending another idiot.”

Jackie crosses her arms, “Very original with the insults.”

“I’m just calling them as they are. If they feel insulted, that’s on them.”

You clench your teeth, “He said he was sorry!”

“Sorry won’t bring back the dead,” she says directly at Trouvaille. Rounding on you, she says, “Let me take a look at that ankle.”

Your left ankle is inflamed and is taking on an angry red color. It must have happened when the kelpie hit you. The throbbing pain only grows as the adrenaline flushes from your veins.

She pokes an especially puffy part.

“Ow, fuck!” you cry out, hands grabbing onto your injured leg. “Why would you touch it!?”

“Punishment for being too slow to dodge the thing,” she deadpans.

“You think getting nearly drowned wasn’t enough punishment?”

“No.”

Thankfully, the poking ceases. A purple light emits from her clawed hand. She hovers over your ankle.

“Well, that is going to need a splint.” She retracts her hand.

“You can mend ribs but you can’t unsprain an ankle?” Jackie demands.

“For one thing, ‘unsprain’ is not a word. Second, normal treatment would take weeks. I can make it a few days. Any other grievances, hotshot?”

“Maybe if you were paying attention, oh powerful witch, you could have done something before it got this bad!” she shoots back.

The witch’s mercury eyes narrow. “You want to blame me for this?”

“I do. What are you gonna do about it?” Jackie takes a step forward.

“Don’t pick fights you can’t win, you little--” Antigone begins.

Dakota nudges her.

“We should head back.” They share a tense look, but she ultimately backs down. Then he turns to you, “Can I carry you?”

You nod in agreement. He places his hands under your knees and behind your back, careful not to jostle your ankle too much.

As he stands up, he takes on a comically cheerful tone. “Thank you flying Dakota Airlines! Please fasten your seatbelts and keep all electronics stored away until we reach cruising altitude.”

“Does this flight have snacks?” you jokingly ask.

“Check my pocket!”

You reach down into his kangaroo pouch and pull out a waterlogged 4 pak of Nutter Butters.

You raise an eyebrow. “You just carry these around?”

He shrugs. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re 25.”

“Okay? And?”

You chuckle. On the trek back to the car, you look over his shoulder to see sunlight glimmering off of caramel hair. Trouvaille strolls several feet behind you. He gives you a weak smile but makes no attempt to get any closer.

Reaching out for him, you beckon him closer. Not to touch, but you don’t like the wide berth he gives you.

He shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry,’ he mouths.

‘Don’t be.’

His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Instead of coming to you, he speeds up to catch up to Jackie.

The few seconds that he’s near when he passes by makes your hair stand on end. You almost reach out to stop him. You don’t. You can’t. Dakota readjusts you in his arms. After making sure everyone’s out of earshot he finds your gaze.

“Try not to be too mad at Annie. She just wants to keep all of us safe,” he says.

You briefly wondered if he swallowed too much pond water.

“You make it sound like she cares,” you grumble.

“She does. She really does. You know how if you don’t socialize dogs at a young age, they have trouble with other dogs later on? She’s like that.”

Raising an eyebrow, you reply, “Would she be mad at you comparing her to a dog?”

“Not if you don’t tell her.”

You chuckle and look ahead to see the three of them walking side by side. Trouvaille turn his head slightly. For a moment, you lock eyes before he pointedly turns back around. Your heart reaches out for someone who won’t reach back.

“Hey,” Dakota recaptures your attention. “Sometimes the people we care about decide for themselves that we’re better off without them. Those people are amazingly stubborn, but we love them anyway. Probably because we like pain, but whatever.” Up ahead, Jackie jokes around with T.V. while Antigone keeps her distance off to the side. “I just...” you sigh. “I don’t know what I think. I tell him I’m fine and I’m not afraid to get hurt, but he still pushes me away.” “I think that half of it is protecting himself. You may not be afraid of getting hurt, but he might be. Give him space, but let him know he can come to you.” “Easier said than done.”

Dakota shrugs. “Just know that these things take time. And patience. So much patience.” You glance back and forth between him and the group ahead. 

“Why do you sound like you speak from experience?”

He grimaces, “If I said I don’t know what you’re taking about, would you believe me?”

“No.”

“Fair enough.”

Your gaze drifts between the trio in front of you.

“You can’t possibly--”

He cuts you off, “Wow, wouldya look at that! We’re at the car! Everyone please place your tray tables in the up position while we begin our descent!”

Trouvaille and Antigone are locked in a tense conversation. They stop to watch your approach until the witch mutters something and relinquishes her claim to the passenger seat. T.V. slides into the car without sparing you a glance.

[milkacchan]

Requesr for anon: Brother bkg being an ass to his sibling but they start ignoring him and he feels bad- not an rq but dam 😳

No fuck you im taking this as a request 😤😤😤

• Katsuki had always been a little harsh.

• His whole family had (except his dad). He had anger issues, his mom had anger issues, even you had them.

• So it wasn't exactly a surprise that Katsuki was being a douche

• You'd lived with him forever you knew how he was

• but sometimes he went too far

• Like he had been the last few days

• He was getting on your case for fucking /everything/

• Just existing? Why would you do that

• Come downstairs dressed in something other than your school uniform? He'd laugh and point out some flaw.

• Did your make up a little different? Yikes does that really look good to you?

• Trouble on a project? Frustration about academics? He'd just sneer.

• Frankly, you were fucking tired of it.

• the last straw was when he said something about you being the dumber one while you were minding your business one morning in the dorms

• Shit made your blood boil but you promised your dad that you were gonna work on your anger issues- and you know what? You sure as hell didn't want to be like /Katsuki/

• Your twin could go fuck himself.

• So you did what any logical sibling did, you ignored him.

• Now usually- there'd be an actual fistfight- someone would be genuinely hurt.

• There had been times when you'd knocked him out cold- there had been times he'd left bruises and scrapes.

• But again, promises- so ignoring it was the only thing you could do.

• you had a week off from school, a break of sorts- given by Mic, he said the classes were being overworked

• You come downstairs the next day, dressed to go out with some friends, not ones from /his/ class though (cue we're both in the same class you dumb fuck) and he snickers at what you're wearing, making some comment along the like of 'who dressed you this morning?'

• You keep your attention on the task at hand, making sure you're ready to go.

• You get water and some snacks, barely registering what exactly Katsuki was saying.

• The knock on the door brought a smile to your face.

• "Bye dad! I'll see you tonight for dinner!"

"Are they still eating with us?"

"Yeah, and we're taking Iwa's car since we took mine last time."

"Alright, love you," he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'll tell your mother."

• You gave him another wave before bounding out the door and Katsuki was left behind very fucking confused.

• And this continued

• When you got back that night, surrounded by friends, he one next to you he knew as Iwaizumi and the other Oikawa (? He wasn't sure) you didn't bother saying hi

• Your parents seemed happy enough to see them again and he ate in silence.

• You blew him off when he made some snide remark about your test scores

• You blew off eating lunch with him and his squad- opting to eat alone in the courtyard instead- facetiming a friend from another school

• You blew off his glances and you kept to yourself

• You ignored his input on the homework and you rejected his lunch the next day.

• He wasn't spoken to in the car while you were driving with his friends ("his" friends) home

• And it hits him in class- he starts to feel bad. /really bad/

• You're his sister and even though you can be annoying you've always loved him unconditionally

• You held him the night he got back from the LOV

• After his breakdown about Allmight

• You were honest and you were there.

• And he was just an asshole- for no reason

• and it wasn't everyone in awhile.

• it was all the fucking time

• and he missed you bullying him too

• it fucking eats away at him

• for the next two days the feeling just simmers

• so he makes the reluctant plan to apologize

• and he does- in his own way.

• First things first he makes you your favorite food, he won't let anyone else in the class even look at it- so much as touch it.

• and he packs that shit up in your favorite stupid cloth he makes fun of and leaves before you come downstairs

• Your class, unfortunately but obviously, had sensed the tension between the two of you and for the most part had steered clear.

• Mina and Denki bugged Bakugou to tell them what was wrong- after all it had been a week

• And Midoryia had bugged you.

• The three if you had been childhood friends (does that even count when its siblings???) and he was concerned!!

• You told him not to worry about it and continued your week of really keeping to yourself while you ignored your asshole of a brother

• So they really didn't tell you Bakugou had cooked something nor did they mention him leaving early

• So the day ci tinued as usual

• You'd made home in the corner of the courtyard, the one farther from the school building and you had your phone pulled out, playing a game-

• at least you were until /he/ plopped down next to you, alone.

• A box was placed under the hands holding your phone.

• You looked at it, puzzled, for a few moments before looking up.

• Your brother was looking away, his hands on his own bento box in his lap

• He held his breath- listening as you opened the box and waiting for you to take a bite.

• "Do you like it?" He asked quietly, "Does it taste fine?"

You nod, "Tastes good, not as good as moms, but its up there none the less."

He nods too. "I'm-"

"Don't say it, the foods enough. I don't want to see you getting mushy. Just stop being an asshole all the time."

He nodded again. "Yeah, whatever. You're not dumb, by the way."

"Didn't buy it when you said I was."

He grumbled something under his breath before looking at you again. "Next time just hit me- Don't ignore me."

"No, I think i'm definitely going to ignore you, that hurt worse didn't it."

"Fuck off."

"I did kind of miss fist fighting you though. Don't disrespect me again."

He rolled his eyes and opened his own bento.

"Wheres the squad?" You question, eyes scanning the surrounding.

"I told them to fuck off somewhere. I was eating lunch with you today."

"Aw Katsu, thats so sweet."

"Fuck off."

• And so the dynamic duo was back.

[pepinotpepe]

“Wildflower”

Chapter 10: Tulipa

Declaration of love

You weren’t sure how you ended up in this position, but you were crying in Corpse's embrace, already inside his apartment. You didn’t register the moment the both of you made it inside, but you were glad he took care of it, as you didn’t want to be seen in that state. You were slightly shaking but at the same time clutching your hands at his t-shirt. You made sure that he wouldn’t disappear any second, you were too afraid to let that happen.

“It’s okay.” You heard him whisper while he kept patting your hair. He tried to calm you down, yet that was not an easy task. You felt like you had no control over your body, you kept telling yourself to calm down, to stop crying, but then you started hiccuping and it got so much worse than in the beginning. You felt so tired, so helpless you couldn’t properly breathe. It was too hard for you.

You weren’t sure if you lost consciousness or fell asleep but your slumber was so peaceful, so good. That was the best sleep you got in what felt like ages. You felt safe in his embrace, he was your refuge.

When you finally woke up, he was not by your side but you found yourself in his bed. The space next to you still felt warm so you concluded he had to walk away only seconds ago. Your source of warmth had disappeared so it was only natural for you to wake up. You felt a little embarrassed because you fell asleep at his place and were a burden yet again. You didn’t want to be a problem, the two of you hadn’t a chance to even talk.

After a while you heard light steps coming closer to the bedroom you were located in. Only your head was sticking out from underneath the blanket as you looked at the direction where Corpse appeared seconds later. He seemed surprised that you were no longer sleeping and he smiled apologetic, coming closer with two mugs in his hands. You sat down, making a space for him to sit down as well and you were silent as ever. You were lacking words and feeling as if you made a stupid little girl out of yourself.

“So-”

“I-” You both started at the same time and you couldn’t help but smile. He put the mugs on the bedside table and took place right next to you. You felt so much better with him by your side that you couldn’t believe it yourself. 

“I’m sorry.” He said, finally making eye contact. You were not able to avert your gaze and that’s why you felt your cheeks becoming warmer and probably more pinkish in shade. Even if he noticed, he didn’t comment on that fact. “I was… I was so lost in my work… I’m- I’m working on something new right now and… And I didn’t realize. I didn’t realize so much time had passed, you know? And when I finally did, I thought it was too late. I thought it was your choice, that you didn’t want to keep in touch anymore. I didn’t even think about reaching out to you. I’m so terribly sorry about that. I realized my mistake the moment I saw you. I’m so sorry, I really am. I missed you so, s-so fvcking much. You can’t imagine.”

His voice broke a few times during his speech and he was more like throwing his words out of his mouth. Like he wanted to get rid of them or maybe say them before he changed his mind. You were not sure. It all felt so surreal, yet so true. You felt the sincerity dripping down every single word he mumbled.

You were so deep in thoughts, so lost that you missed the moment he scooped closer to you. You noticed in the exact moment you felt his cold hand at your a little bit too warm cheek. You blinked fast, not eternally sure what’s happening.

“I shouldn’t have let you go just like that after… what you said.” This time he chose his words carefully, slowly deciding what was the best thing to say. What he really wanted to say. “I was not ready. But now, now I believe I am.”

You kept num, your face void of any emotions, as you couldn’t keep up with him. Your brain just couldn’t proceed with what he said. You didn’t understand and wanted an explanation. He gave you just that.

“I think I love you.”

His voice was hoarse, his eyes blinking really slowly as you looked at them. His words ringing in your head as if they had been banging at some kind of door, pleading for you to let them in.

His hand at your face suddenly became so hot, almost burning you with its flame. You felt your throat becoming dry, unabling you from uttering a single word. You hoped he could see it all in your eyes.

“I can’t remember anything before you.”

__________

happy funky monkey friday everyone <3

Chapter 11

Tag list: @letsloveimagines @divine-artemis  @daisiesandmarvel @artzic @mynewnamedoesnotmatter @blackheartemojivibes@dinameetsworld @afuckingunicornn @donttellaweirdweakling @cherryvalentine @thaliadoesthings

[soulwillower]

heather • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader)

[based off the song heather by conan gray]

requested:   OMG I HAVE AN IDEA IDK IF ITS GOOD AND IDK WHY IM TYPING IN ALL CAPS BUT CAN U DO A FIC WHERE LIKE ITS BASED OF YHE SONG HEATHER BY CONAN GRAY WHERE THE READER AND RICH HAVE BEEN BEST FRIENDS FOR SO MANY YEARS AND HAVE FEELINGS FOR EACHOTHER BUT THERE BOTH SO OBLIVIOUS- SO WHEN RICHIE LIKE GETS A GF ONE DAY THE READER JUST WHSKWHDIWHWIW IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT LIKE AT THE END THEY REALIZE THEYRE IN LOVE. SORRY IF ITS TOK SPECIFIC. LOVE U. IM RUNNING OUTTA CHARACTERS 

warnings: swearing, mentions of underage drinking, themes of cheating but no actual cheating, angst, fluff at the end, unedited.

thank u guys so much for being so patient with this fic <3 love u all so much!

[losers + reader are  18+ in this.]

4.4k words

(also, this fic starts with a flashback and idk if i like this style, but lmk if it works) 

♡

the persistent beat thudding in your ears seems to do nothing more than dim your already low mood as you sip on lemonade by yourself in someone's basement bar, sitting on an uncomfortable metal barstool and leaning your head heavy against your chin.

these days, it seemed as though the world was painted in gray.

you look around almost lazily; bev and ben went outside in the snow a couple minutes ago, stan just took a girl upstairs - you're left alone now, because mike and eddie had to study for their exam and bill was feeling under the weather. and richie, as usual, was late.

there's almost twenty other people in the room right now, but you have no desire to speak to any of them. you've been trying to have fun tonight, but you're just having a hard time, feeling distracted and unable to stop thinking about wire framed glasses and a certain bright smile.

your wandering eyes halt your thoughts as a girl in your class - heather perez -  catches your eye from across the room, her hair falling in natural curls that makes you sigh in envy. she smiles and waves at you warmly, gesturing for you to come and sit with her. you swallow and look down into your cup of dreary, graying lemonade as you try not to think about how you look in comparison. she's so fucking pretty. you look back up and shake your head with a friendly smile, faker than a plastic flower, and nod to the bathroom. she shrugs and smiles, turning back around.

she was too sweet, it hurt.

her naturally dark hair, long and wavy, her smooth dark skin, her laugh.... but suddenly, your head snaps back up after recognizing a familiar sight on heather's figure.

-is that richie's sweater?

your heart thumps and churns in the most unsavory way as all the breath leaves your lungs in one swift exhale. you feel sick to your stomach and your hand falls to hit the counter to stabilize yourself, the lemonade sloshing out of the cup slightly. but you pay no mind. heather's wearing richie's sweater...

you know that sweater really well. it's definitely his, and for some reason that makes you want to cry.

you blink and force yourself to suck air into your lungs as you look around quickly, anywhere but at heather perez wearing richie tozier's sweater, with all the stripes and patterns and the rough polyester material. you're not sure why you're so caught off-guard, you knew that heather perez was maybe-kinda-sorta seeing your trashmouth. he'd mentioned it in passing a few times and you've not been able to keep it off your mind as bev and bill whisper to richie about it in the halls or during hangouts when you were laying in stan's lap pretending not to hear it.

it hurts, though. holy hell, does it hurt when richie turns the corner and the typical, 'hey, richie!' choruses through most of the people in the basement - and yet his eyes are just set on her.

it hurts even worse when you make eye contact with him and he smiles at you, nodding in greeting and calling a "hey there, toots!" over the thumping of the noise before turning back towards heather.

your heart thumps erradically as you eye him sliding an arm around her shoulders easily, pulling her into his tall lanky frame,  crushing your chest and deflating your trembling heart. heather's head falls onto richie's shoulder and you shiver, feeling colder than you've felt in so long. the lemonade you force to your lips tasting like stale water as the sight of richie pinching heather's shoulder and thumbing his own sweater on her frame make you feel empty.

even now, weeks later, you remember how it felt. you sip on the boiling tea and immediately burn your tongue, making you swear as you stare out your window, the snow falling around your house in the dark making you feel an odd, empty kind of peace. that fucking sweater.

you haven't talked to richie in almost a week and a half - he got in trouble the night after the party and his parents took his phone away - at eighteen years old, his parents took his phone - so that he could 'spend time with family' (a task that made you chuckle to yourself when bill had explained it to you about twelve days ago).

it's winter break, though, and you've been missing the last piece of your eight-person puzzle the last few times you've hung out with your friends. it feels empty without richie's boisterous shenanigans, snarky looks and goofy comebacks... you feel really embarrassed for missing him so deeply.

tears well up in your eyes as you think again about his damn sweater, the one that heather was wearing, the same one he'd given you not even three weeks prior.

"well look at you." richie says with amusement trickling through his voice like melting icewater through a calm creek.  you spin towards him with a grin eclipsing your face as you shrug around his sweater, pretending not to smell his strong scent and pretending not to feel the immediate comfort it gives you.

"you know, for as dumb as it looks, i kind of like it." you tease, brushing some hair back from your eyes as the sweater sleeves fall back down past your hands. he laughs, eyes not leaving you for a second.

"shit, doll. keep it." he says, sounding serious. it makes you pull a face at him, starting to lift it slightly over your head to return it to its rightful owner.

but he shakes his head, hands gently gripping your arms and halting your motions, subsequently setting your heart on fire. his lips are set in a gentle grin as he shakes his head again. "it looks so much better on you."

it's spoken simply, in such honestly that it makes you blush nearly immediately. in fact, you're so flustered that all you can do is shove him a bit, stuttering out a quiet, "shut up, richie, you- i - okay, whatever."

it makes him chuckle as he takes the soft blow of your hands against his shoulders, deftly running his hands through his curly locks as he shakes his head. "you're adorable, kid."

you're lucky he'd turned around to gripe around on his messy bed for his laptop, because the stupid grin you're sure is painting your face is enough to make you dig your own grave and then hand him the shovel. if only he knew how much you liked him.

you didn't keep the sweater after that night, though. at the time, you'd told him it was because it was putrid; that the colors and patterns were a sin to man and that you'd never be caught dead wearing it out. he laughed the whole time because you had literally worn it to the store with him it with him that same day. but now, you'd give anything for richie to give you that sweater again, to feel that polyester inseam fall against your stomach and your arms and chest, like a huge richie hug (without all the bones and the cologne and the caffeine-pulsing heartbeat - so not a real richie hug, but as close as you could get to the real thing without actually just having it).

god, you like him too much. you rub your face with your palm, the moisture from the tears that had accidentally escaped your eyes smudging against your face. you're tired, almost - it's like an empty, heartbroken exhaustion that sags your shoulders and chokes your throat and makes you zone out for minutes at a time. one thought overwhelms you right now, so as you see a car's headlights shine out your window through the falling snow, you don't even notice it.

you just wish you were heather.

you've tried to hate her. really, you have - you figured maybe, just maybe, if you were able to rant to bev or eddie about how much of a bitch heather is, how she's terrible to richie and how boring she was, maybe you could justify the heartbreak in your chest.

but god, she's so perfect. heather, with her shiny hair, bright smile, her flawless mind and caring heart. she's, as far as you're concerned, an angel. of course richie would choose heather, who wouldn't?

the other day at that party, you'd tried your hardest to ignore your intrusive thoughts, but you can't help feeling like it would all be better if heather didn't exist. and even that thought alone hurts your heart, because you remember the smile on richie's face when he looked at her, swathed in his sweater and floating around the room like a beacon of light.

and you could never, ever in good conscience take that from richie.

you almost laugh at how absurd it is - now you're talking to yourself while you stare out the window, half asleep, dreaming of freckles placed just like constellations and crooked noses, of jawlines that jut out and long, lanky fingers; of loud, chipping laughter and beat up high-tops with cuffed corduroy pants.

"y/n?" a voice behind your door makes you jump a bit, unsettling your already disconcerted bones. you’re imagining him, now? you laugh into your scalding mug for a second, but after a double-take at the doorway you find the angel himself to be standing there with a perplexed look.

"richie, what're you doing here?" you ask, rubbing your eye to make sure no tears are left. he looks troubled. "i knocked, but nobody answered. so..." he says with a shrug, and you ned, tucking a leg under yourself and nodding.

"what are you doing, toots?" he asks, backlit by the hallway light. and then you finally can see what he's wearing, and you almost laugh at your own misery.

but you don’t laugh, your brain short-circuiting as you feel the knife twist further into your abdomen. the stupid fucking sweater.

“-um, nothing. y- did you get that back from heather?” you try to deliver the line as smoothly as possible, but by the look on his face, you did a real shit job at that.

“what?” he asks in an exhale as he shakes snowflakes from his hair and shoulders, closing your door as he walks towards you and falls to sit next to you on your windowsill seat.

“i thought you gave her that sweater.” you say and he raises a brow, “yeah, like two weeks ago.” he says slowly, eyeing you. he adds, “she obviously didn’t need it after that.”

you frown, “did she need it then?” you didnt try to sound bitter at all, but your voice comes with more of a sting than you’d anticipated.

as always, richie meets fire with fire. “it was twenty fuckin’ degrees out, she was wearing a tank top.”

you don’t know what to say so you just stare out the window with a quick huff, crossing your arms. "why does it matter? it's a sweatshirt." he mutters. "i was just being nice to her."

you nod, pain twisting around in your stomach. he's right, it's just a sweater. but he gave it to her, because he likes heather better.

“what’s up with you, kid?” he asks, gentler this time.

“don’t call me kid, richie.” you say sharply, not meeting his eyes. “and there’s nothing up with me.” you know you’re being difficult, but you really don't have the energy to argue with him right now.

it’s quiet again, and the silence is even more awkward. you take another scalding sip of your tea. 

“um, y/n... is this because of heather?” he says after a bit. you feel the tension that the acknowledgment brings as it hits you in the thick, cold air. richie’s tapping a rhythm on his thigh, so you can tell he feels it too.

"richie." you say weakly, your voice coming out too quiet, too obviously broken and exhausted. "i cannot do this. please don't do this right now"

he blinks at you, eyebrows furrowed. "sugar, i'm so lost right now."

you decide to change the subject. "-why'd you come over?" you ask, actually looking at him then immediately regretting it. he looks hurt and confused, like a lost puppy.

"oh. um, i just need to tell you something.it's about heather, too." he sounds anxious, and you roll your eyes, looking down at the tree outside your room as wind blows powdery white mounds off its branches.

“can this just wait until tomorrow?” you whisper. doesn't he get it?

it's quiet and for a moment you believe that he's going to leave it, to not bring up the obvious jealousy brewing in your chest. but he breaks the silence too soon.

"i tried to kiss her." he says and you immediately look towards the door, the most immediate escape possible. 

your breathing gets heavy; if you have to hear this, you know you'll admit your feeling to richie, and you don't want to do that to him. but you have a suspicion that he already knows.

"richie, i'm so, so glad to see you. and that you like heather. really, i am. but- it's not a good time. i'm not- i'm not okay." you say, voice thick as tears well behind your eyes.

richie’s eyes widen almost comically as you make eye contact and his hands immediately find purchase on your arms, his thumbs rubbing in the way that he has done ever since that one foggy summer you spent in the sewers. "y/n/n, what's wrong, sweetheart?" he asks, watching sadly as a tear slips from your cheek. it breaks your heart when he calls you sweetheart, and you shake your head.

you can't tell him the truth - that you love him, so instead, you mumble, "i've missed you. there's a lot going on, and i just really need you."

he looks guilty as he pulls you into a warm hug, one that takes you off guard but that you return gratefully. "you've been too busy spending time with heather and with your parents, and i understand that, i just - you know, i miss you." you say, voice muffled as your cheek is squished into his shoulder. he sighs shakily, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “i know i’ve been with her a lot, i’m sorry sugar.” he mutters. 

it feels like you’re both holding something back from the other. 

"i wish i were heather." you say against his shoulder, knowing richie’s completely unaware of the depth of your statement. but he pulls back and stares at you, an unknown look on his face. you open your mouth to say something, but you're cut off before you can get anything out.

and his lips fall against yours lightly, almost as if they’re ghosts against yours. his presence feels fleeting. 

you barely close your eyes and press closer to him before you snap out of it, jerking backwards with wide eyes.

richie’s eyes fall open too as he looks at you questioningly. your heart is thumping heavy as you shake your head, more shocked than you thought ever possible. “what?” he asks, as if he’s surprised you’re not kissing back.

you give him a sad, broken look. you think you’ll cry as you mutter, "why would you ever kiss me? i'm not - i'm not nearly as pretty as her, i'm just-"richie suddenly looks like he might get sick, his face paler than usual as the steam from your tea dwindles idly between you. he cuts you off. "-why are you - why are you saying all these things y/n/n-”

“heather. you like heather.” you say frantically, trying to remind him so you dont have to live through this fresh faced heartbreak twice as painful if he kisses you again. 

but richie shakes his head, and your confusion skyrockets just as much as your heartbeat."no. a-amy asked her out." he says breathlessly. "-she said yes."

you blink, pulling even further away as it dawns on you. "wait. so... so you only want to see me after the girl you wanted finds someone else?" you ask, watching as the smile gets smacked off of richie's face so quickly you think it may give him whiplash. "wait, no-" he starts, but you shake your head.

“richie, do you understand how hurtful that is?” you say, voice heavy as you try not to let tears fall.

he shakes his head, eyes glossing with tears as he gapes at you, “n-no, y/n-“

“fuck, richie. i know you know about my feelings for you. how could you do this? i’m not heather, i’m reminded that every time i’m in the same room as the two of you. she’s had you completely mesmerized for the last month, you can’t just use me to distract yourself.” you say, your tea completely forgotten as a tear escapes your eye.

he shakes his head, looking at you with an emotion you don’t have the energy to decipher. “leave, richie.” your voice is broken and it shakes as you look away from him.

you’re not sure what you were expecting, but when richie stands up silently you dont even look away from the window. you see him wipe his cheek in your peripheral before he sighs quietly and walks out of your room, shutting the door quietly.

you cry openly as you hear your door shut downstairs, your hands shaking as you cover your face, your shoulders shaking with sobs. you make it under your covers just as you hear a car engine sputter outside, your heart empty and lips still tingling as the feeling of richie’s lips linger on yours. you groan into your pillow and let out another sob, your eyes squeezing in agony as your heart feels like it’s ripping in two.

because even if they’re not together, richie still likes her.

why couldn’t you be heather?

you cry until you’re asleep, your now cold mug of tea resting on the windowsill as your phone charges next to you and snow swirls in the dark sky.

when you wake up the next morning, your headache is nearly blinding. you feel like crying more as you remember last night. you roll over and rub your eyes, unlocking your phone groggily.  

but you check your notifications and your heart immediately stops as you see a missed call from richie at 3:49 in the morning last night, and a voicemail left a minute later.

well, you guess he got his phone back.

your fingers tremble as they hover above the play button, feeling like you may vomit from anxiety - the message he left is two minutes long.

closing your eyes, ready for even more heartbreak, you press play and hold the speaker to your ear.

“um, y/n.” the voicemail starts off, and you’re already tearing up because richie’s voice is full to the brim with anxiety and he’s not using his usual nicknames for you. 

“uh... okay, i- i know it’s four in the morning, and you’re probably asleep - god, i hope you are, and that you’re not ignoring me. not that i dont deserve it, but i just want you to get good rest. uh, a-anyways. fuck,” there’s an awkward pause and you’re holding your breath.

“you know i’m not good with phone calls or voicemails-“ his rambling just adds to your anxious feeling, but you think if you don’t listen to this, your anxiety would eat you alive.

“- fuck, i don’t know how to say this. kind of ironic, i guess, since i’ve been thinking about saying it like every day for probably more than a year- okay, i’m... god, spit it out, trashmouth.” his voice gets thicker and you can hear the emotion as he takes a shallow breath.

“y/n/n, you make my hands shake. i swear, my heart feels like it’s going to backfire and explode when we touch... and it scares me so fucking bad.” you feel your heart halt in your chest, the air leaving your lungs.

you keep the phone pressed tightly to your ear as richie’s recorded voice goes on.

“-fuck, y/n. i’m terrified. sometimes i think.... like, whoever created me... they designed me just to be yours. and... it’s not in the same way i feel about bev, or bill, or eddie-“ his voice breaks as he sniffs on the other end and it dawns on you that he’s crying. “-you’re you. you’re y/n. i tried to like heather as more than just a friend. but...” it’s silent for a second.

“i just kept comparing her to you. i do that with everybody. i think i’m broken. i love you so much that it hurts.” he’s crying enough by now that it’s leaking into his speech; he’s hiccuping, stuttering slightly, his inflection changing as you can almost picture the tears rolling off his thick eyelashes and onto his rosy cheeks.

“-and i can’t sleep right now knowing that i hurt you like this. i can’t believe that i let you think of yourself as lesser than heather in any way-“ he sobs quietly in the recording and takes a stuttering breath. "i can’t believe i put myself before you. i’m such a shitty friend. i should’ve been giving you my stupid fucking sweaters the whole time.” 

tears are pouring out of your eyes as you sit up, ripping the comforter off your legs. you’re pulling on socks and your shoes as you continue to listen to richie’s voicemail.

“i’m sorry that i kissed you, and i’m sorry that i dragged you into this m-mess, that i used heather as an excuse to ignore my feelings for you. i-i love you so fucking much, and i’m just so scared of hurting you. i’m so sorry that i hurt you, y/n.”

you have to see him.

“-and, um, i’m sorry i left this voice message. this is probably the worst way to find this out but i figured that it would be easier for us to ignore if it wasn’t in person- y’know, because you don’t have to respond. just- now you know. that i’m sorry, and that i don’t expect you to forgive me or want to speak to me for a while. i just- i need you to know that you’re so loved, y/n. and that you deserve so much better than me.

“so, um, okay. i’ll let you sleep now. b-bye.” he whispers the end and then the line cuts dead.

you’re left with shaking breath and tears in your eyes as his voice rings in your head. you try to take in what he’s just said, but you think you’re about to pass out.

how can richie love you back?

you brush your teeth almost aggressively as your heart beats erratically in your chest and then you’re suddenly flying down the snowy road towards the tozier’s house.

you realize too late that you look completely awry, hair unbrushed, eyes puffy and swollen, shoes untied as you knock on the front door of richie's house.

went opens the door, richie’s younger sister sat on his hip as he smiles at you, "y/n! long time no see. richie's upstairs in his room."

you smile at him in thanks, too rushed to say anything to him or munch. then you’re all but sprinting up the stairs, only feeling the anxiety as you throw open the door to his bedroom. 

you're relieved that he's laying in his bed, surrounded by pillows and fluffy comforters as he jumps from the noise of your arrival.

when he sits up, neither of you say anything. his eyes are red and rimmed with tears, a heartbreaking sight as his lower lip trembles slightly. you're sure you look the same as you take a step towards his bed, your eyes not leaving each other's for a second.

he looks incredible, still. 

"y/n..." he whispers finally, his eyes wide. "did you get my message?" he says, lips tilting in a stupid, forced smile. his voice holds no humor in it's sad thickness, though, and you sigh as you look down to the carpet.

you shake your head, "can you not joke for a minute, rich?"

he laughs wetly, standing up fully and although he towers at 6'0, he looks so small. "i can try, doll, but then i'll start to cry a lot, and that's just not what anybody wants-"

"richie." you say, effectively ceasing his rambling. it's cold in his room, bright white from the snow outside, and silent. he looks at you with huge eyes and a red nose.

but you don't know what to say. you’ve spent so long wanting to be heather, but now you've found out that richie's loved you this whole time. it hurts, but you can't wait another second being away from richie. 

you launch yourself towards him, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to your mouth.

this time, the kiss is warm, unexpected again but much more loving. it's a kiss that tastes like tears and love and trust, and all you can feel is richie as his hands find purchase on your cheek and back, pulling you so close to him that you can feel is rapid heartbeat.

he pulls back to mumble against your lips, "i'm so sorry." you shake your head, pressing another kiss to his and loving the feeling of richie against you finally. "i love you." you say, feeling his grin against your mouth.

"i love you so much." he says, pulling you lightly to fall onto his bed with him and tickling your sides.

you laugh lightly, swatting at his prodding fingers. "please stop crying." he whispers, laying above you with a small smile. you roll your eyes, "you stop crying rich." you retort, and he shakes his head, one of his tears falling onto your cheek. you jump from the feeling and wipe it away, sniffling a gasp and pulling him into a tight hug, his legs tangling with yours.

“i’m sorry.” he mumbles. you cup his cheeks so his lips pucker out and you smile at him, whispering, “i forgive you, rich. i love you.” and then you place a soft kiss to his lips and he kisses you back enthusiastically.  he pulls back and hugs you again, burrowing himself in your neck. 

"i didn't think i'd ever get you." he says, muffled by his face in your shoulder. "thank you for trusting me. i love you so much." he kisses your collarbone lightly and your fingers play through his curls lightly as you smile, eyes closing. you're so tired.

"i love you more, richie."

you fall asleep with richie curled up beside you, his breath light on your chest and arms clutching you against him. you fall asleep with richie’s lips on your neck, his legs entangled with yours. 

you fall asleep contently, knowing that you no longer have to wish you were heather.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings​ @stenbrozier​ @simplesammyx​   @brxken-heartsclub​ @clownsloveyou​ @moon-shine-baby​ @daughter-of-the-stars11  @trashedfortozier​ @oceandog13​ @finnskindofwoman  @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters  <33

[thr-333]

Drastic Measures- Part 16

@daminette-december2019-2020

~Deaging~

Yes I know I left a cliff hanger. Yes I know it was evil. That my friends is the point! if I cannot be an evil gremlin whats the point in writing at all.

Ao3

First < Previous

-----------

Damian blinks awake, head groggy and with an ingrained sense to pretend he’s still unconscious. There are bird calls and the sound of the wind. He isn't at the league's base. Last he remembers he was.

Then he catches the sound of movement, not from an animal but a human. He stays still. They look around for a minute before shuffling closer to him. Foolish, they were obviously untrained and stupid. Even more so when they poke his cheek talking with soft-spoken words.

Damian grabs the wrist lightning-fast making them yelp. He surges up turning the grip into a pin and going for his sword, which isn’t there. In fact, he has no weapons. This realization makes him zero in on the person below him. It’s a girl, his age, and looking terrified. As she should be.

“Who are you?” He demands, no weapons so he presses the wrist at a painful angle.

“Ma-Marinette!” She squeaks, Damian doesn’t let up raising an eyebrow, “Dupain-cheng!”

Damian doesn’t know that name. So she can’t be a threat and she can’t be important. He lets up enough that her wrist won’t break and takes stock of his surroundings. They’re outside, a tropical area judging by the foliage. There are tire tracks, some footprints, and that's it, no other people around. 

It must be a test from his mother or grandfather, those aren’t unusual. The question is what could it be. Certainly, it can’t just be to kill this girl, Marinette. Even without weapons he could have snapped her neck long ago. Information doesn't seem to be it either she doesn't have any training in resisting pain. But perhaps she can provide a clue, maybe that's her purpose.

“Why are we here?”

“I don’t know!” Or perhaps not.

He’ll have to look around. He drags Marinette over to a tree using the vines to tie her up.

“If I am meant to kill you I can do that later, it’s harder to unkill someone,” She relaxes, “Harder, not impossible,”

She is no longer relaxed. Damian paces through the forest, the tire tracks are clear, no effort to hide them, and can easily be followed back. He takes stock of his clothing. Someone changed those. They are all ill fitting, and now that he notices so are Marinette’s. Damian looks over his person for any details missed, finding a small notebook.

None of its coded which is strange in itself since it’s his had writing. Notes, a to-do list, Marinette is mentioned several times, something about a pet store, calculations and what he’s looking for; a location. They’ll head to Alaska then, he likely had to bring Marinette considering she was mentioned. He’ll have to find out where they are and move from there.

“Where are we going?” She demands as Damian unties her from the tree, not completely unbound as they start walking.

“That's not your concern,” Damian snaps pulling her along by a length of vine.

“Well, I am concerned so-”

“What?” He hisses turning to glare at her, Marinette shrinks under it.

“Fine,” She follows along in a few blessed moments of silence,  “... what’s your name?”

“That’s not your concern either,” Damian rolls his eyes, this journey is going to be insufferable.

“Is anything my concern?” Marinette snarks, Damian squashes the smirk down putting up his serious facade.

“Walking faster so I don't gut you,”

That's an effective threat, at least for a while. Damina followed the trail of snapped branches and squashed foliage. If this was a test tracking certainly wasn't what was being tested. So what was? How quickly did he have to figure it out? And what would be the punishment if he didn’t?

“Do you know where we are?” Marinette tries again, she’s incessant that certain.

“I will soon,” The dirt was kicked up into what could almost be a road. They followed to find a proper dirt road and follow the worn path.

There's a few tracks, recent enough to be the past few days which means it wasn't just the people responsible for their situation that have come through here. It was a long walk. Not that it bothered Damian he had trained for much worse. The problem was Marinette. She wasn't tired, actually the opposite which was a problem for Damian. Pounding him with a hundred questions a minute.

“I’m from Paris,” Despite her hands being tied behind her Marinette still managed to lean in front of him, “Where are you from?”

“That's none of your business,” And so he kept trying to shut down every topic, but Marinette seemed more afraid of silence than whatever threat he could dish up.

When night started to fall they set up camp off to the side of the road. With luck, a truck would drive by at some point and he could commandeer the vehicle. Damian was willing to set up a fire but not try and hunt. Without weapons and Marinette in tow, it would be a pointless task regardless.

“Do you like pastries? I live above a bakery,” Which only begged the question of why this girl was important. The daughter of a baker? He was the demon heir and son of Batman, why on earth was he left here with her?

“I don’t care shut up,” Damian rolls over, Marinette securely fastened to a tree. 

He wouldn't sleep tonight but maybe the illusion would keep her quiet. It doesn't. And Damina is unwillingly lulled to sleep. He only realized this when he was startled awake by Marinette warning him that a truck was coming. Damian readies himself to fight as the truck slows as it approaches them. Marinette has other ideas.

“Excuse me, we could use a ride,” 

“Why are you tied up?” the driver asks looking between them concerned.

“A-a prank!” She is not a convincing liar, “Could we please ride with you?”

“Uh, sure, just untangle yourself and let's go,” Damian weighs the advantages of just killing the driver here, but ultimately deems it not worth the effort. Letting Marinette free can’t be that big a risk he greatly outmatches her in speed, strength, and skill.

Damian will admit her habitual questioning comes as an advantage as she makes small talk with the driver. Figuring out where they are. They get dropped off at the main city and from there they go to the port. It’ll be easier to stow away on a ship than a plane even if it will take longer.

“Stay quiet and follow me,” Damian warns Marinette, hiding behind crates at the dock.

Marinette nods following along closely her steps louder than his practiced soft ones. They sneak onto the boat headed for Alaska, its easy enough to stow away hiding among the shipment during the security checks.

“Wow you move like my Maman,” Marinette whispers, once the security has left.

“I highly doubt that,” Damian scoffs perched vigilant high on the crates.

“No really, she always moves silently and sneaks up on Papa accidentally,” Marinette giggles leaning back on the crates.

“Ah-ha,” Damian dismisses watching her out the corner of his eye.

“Yeah she tried to teach me but I’m too clumsy,” 

“Teach you?” Damian actually looks over, “That would imply she actually trained,”

“She did, I don’t know where but I think it was with aunt Talia,” Damian freezes.

“.... Talia?” He hesitates, looking fully at Marinette now, “What's your mother's name?”

“Hm? Sabine,”

… well… it's a really good thing I didn't kill her Sabine would have taken down the whole league

“... So it was an act?” Marinette looks over at him concerned, “Surely Sabines daughter wouldn't be bested so easily,”

“What are you talking about?”

She must know something but what?

“Hey, wanna play hide and seek?” Marinette breaks Damian out of his thoughts.

“For training?” Damian puzzles.

“No silly,” She laughs, Damian can't bring himself to feel offended as it doesn't feel like she's laughing at him, “For fun,”

Hesitantly he lets her drag him along, taking turns hiding among the crates. At first, it does feel like training, staying silent, staying still. Then when she catches him he realizes the difference. There's no pain, no punishment, nothing. Marinette just smiles.

--------

no taglist :P