#just imagine like her hair flowing in the breeze with the moonlight behind her

[aliciedraws]

Akumatized Ladybug HAS to have her hair down

The Blanc timeline happens when their identities are revealed, and my boy Adrien is sooo smitten and infatuated by Mari with her hair down

So it only makes sense that akumatized LB is also hair down. Damage 10000 already right there.

[sweetcherryharry]

sour — 01: driver's licence

Synopsis: Harry and Y/N were the "it" couple from 2013 to mid-2014, until things got extremely messy and they broke up. based on the album 'sour' by olivia rodrigo.

(masterlist)

I got my driver's license last week Just like we always talked about 'Cause you were so excited for me To finally drive up to your house

The California sun beat down on Y/N's face as she stared at the coveted plastic card in her hand, a bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. She had done it. She had finally gotten her driver's license.

A wave of nostalgia washed over her, the salty breeze and the rhythmic crashing of waves filling her senses. 

It was a golden afternoon at their favorite hidden cove, tucked away from the crowds and paparazzi that constantly hounded their every move. The sun shimmered on the turquoise water as they spread out a worn-out blanket, their laughter mingling with the calls of seagulls overhead.

Harry, ever the romantic, had surprised Y/N with a picnic basket filled with her favorite snacks: strawberries dipped in chocolate, freshly baked croissants, and a chilled bottle of sparkling lemonade. They had spent hours building a sandcastle, their fingers intertwined as they meticulously crafted turrets and moats, their creation a testament to their shared joy and creativity.

As the sun began its descent towards the horizon, painting the sky with vibrant hues of orange and pink, Y/N's phone buzzed with a text from her driving instructor, confirming her upcoming test. Harry, who had been tracing patterns on her arm with his fingertips, looked up with a mischievous grin.

"So, when are you going to get that license, huh?" he teased, gently nudging her with his shoulder.

Y/N playfully rolled her eyes. "Oh, hush, Styles. It's harder than it looks, you know."

Harry chuckled, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I know, I know," he said, his voice softening. "But I have faith in you, babe. You'll ace it."

He paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "Just imagine," he continued, his eyes sparkling with excitement, "once you get your license, you can come visit me whenever you want. Late-night drives, surprise visits... whatever you want, my door will always be open for you to arrive whenever you want."

Y/N's heart fluttered at the thought. The idea of having the freedom to drive to Harry's house, to see him whenever she wanted, filled her with a giddy anticipation. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his lips, the taste of salt and sunshine mingling with their shared laughter. "I can't wait," she whispered.

The memory faded, leaving Y/N with a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. The present moment crashed back in, the stark reality of their separation a stark contrast to the warmth of that perfect day. She traced the letters on her driver's license with a trembling finger, the plastic card feeling cold and impersonal in her grasp. It was a symbol of a future they had envisioned together but would now face apart.

The keys jangled in her hand as she slid into the driver's seat, the familiar scent of Harry's cologne a painful reminder of his absence. The open road that once symbolized freedom and adventure now stretched before her, a lonely path she would have to navigate alone.

But today I drove through the suburbs Cryin' 'cause you weren't around

The moonlight bathed the streets in a cool, silvery glow, a stark contrast to the warmth of the afternoon sun that had witnessed her happiness just hours ago. Y/N's tears flowed freely now, blurring the streetlights into a kaleidoscope of colors as she drove through the quiet suburbs. The leather seats of her brand new car, a gift from Harry for her recent 18th birthday, felt cold and empty beneath her.

When he handed her the keys, he had proudly said that the car was just the one for her; a reflection of her personality, and how it would be perfect for her to drive from the very first moment she got her driver's license.

He had chosen it specifically because it reminded him entirely of her, from the color to the style, making it a thoughtful and sentimental gift, special for her 18th birthday.

She had envisioned this night so differently. Instead of cruising down the Pacific Coast Highway with Harry by her side, their laughter echoing in the night air, she was alone, her heart heavy with the weight of his absence. She had dreamed of driving to his house, surprising him with her newfound freedom, but now the thought of facing him was unbearable.

They had broken up only a month and a half ago, and she swore everything was painful. 

The sting of betrayal was still fresh, the wound in her heart gaping and raw. One day, they were the "it" couple, inseparable and seemingly in love. The next, Harry suddenly broke up with her, with no reasonable explanation.

Soon after, rumors swirled around Harry and a new girl, Nadine Leopold, an up-and-coming model with striking features and an undeniable allure. Y/N tried to ignore the whispers, to trust Harry, that he’d never date someone so quickly after her.

But Y/N's worst fears were confirmed when she saw a photo of Harry and Nadine just two weeks after they broke up, their hands intertwined, their laughter echoing through a crowded club. The image was seared into her memory, a painful reminder of the love she had lost.

She couldn't help but imagine how different things could have been. If they were still together, they would be celebrating her new license, cruising down the highway with the windows down, singing along to their favorite songs. Harry would have his arm draped around her shoulders, his fingers tapping a rhythm on her thigh. They would be laughing, talking, sharing dreams and secrets, their love a warm beacon in the darkness.

But that was a fantasy, a cruel trick of her mind. The reality was that Harry was miles away, probably with her, the girl who had stolen his heart and shattered Y/N's world. The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through her, and she gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white.

And you're probably with that blonde girl Who always made me doubt She's so much older than me She's everything I'm insecure about Yeah, today I drove through the suburbs 'Cause how could I ever love someone else?

As Y/N pulled into the driveway of her childhood home, the tears had subsided, leaving behind a familiar hollowness. The house was dark, save for the faint glow emanating from the kitchen window, a testament to her mother's late-night baking habits. With a deep sigh, she turned off the engine, the silence amplifying the ache in her heart.

The memory of that fateful night replayed in her mind, each detail a fresh wound. The image of Nadine, with her effortless confidence and worldly charm, haunted her thoughts. At twenty, Nadine was a full two years older than Y/N, a lifetime in the eyes of an eighteen-year-old girl. She exuded a maturity and sophistication that Y/N felt she lacked, a stark contrast to the youthful innocence she still clung to. 

The comparison was a constant source of insecurity, a nagging voice in the back of her mind that whispered she wasn't good enough, that she could never measure up to the woman who had stolen Harry's heart from her.

Y/N leaned her head against the steering wheel, a single tear escaping and tracing a path down her cheek. The driver's license clutched in her hand felt like a cruel irony, a reminder of the freedom she had gained but the love she had lost. She had imagined sharing this moment with Harry, their laughter filling the car as they embarked on new adventures together. Instead, she was alone, her dreams shattered, her heart aching for a love that was now nothing more than a bittersweet memory.

He was everything to her. Her first love, her best friend, the person she had shared her hopes and dreams with. 

And now… he was nothing. Not even a part of her life. 

The thought sent a fresh wave of pain through her, a tidal wave of grief that threatened to drown her. How could she ever love someone else after experiencing the intensity and passion of her relationship with Harry? Was it even possible to find a love that could compare?

And I know we weren't perfect but I've never felt this way for no one And I just can't imagine how you could be so okay now that I'm gone Guess you didn't mean what you wrote in that song about me

Y/N laid curled up in bed, the comforter pulled tight around her as if to ward off the chill of heartbreak that seeped into her bones. The silence of the night was broken only by the rhythmic ticking of the antique clock on her nightstand, a constant reminder of the passing time, the moments slipping away without Harry by her side.

She knew their relationship hadn't been without its flaws. They were young, passionate, and at times, volatile. There were misunderstandings, disagreements, and moments when their fiery personalities clashed. But beneath it all, there had been a love so intense, so consuming, that it had eclipsed everything else. A love that made her feel alive, invincible, like she could conquer the world with him by her side.

She knew they weren’t perfect, but she had never felt that way for no one.

A lump formed in her throat as she recalled the countless moments they had shared, the stolen kisses, the inside jokes, the whispered promises of forever.

She couldn’t imagine how he could be so okay now that she’s gone. 

Her heart ached with a mixture of anger and longing. The images of him with Nadine, their laughter and shared glances plastered across the tabloids, twisted the knife deeper. How could he move on so easily, so effortlessly, while she was still drowning in the wreckage of their love?

A melody drifted through her mind, a bittersweet reminder of a night spent on the balcony of Harry's hotel room, overlooking the twinkling lights of London. It was a song he had written for her, a simple acoustic tune titled "Just a Little Bit of Your Heart." He had played it for her under the starlit sky, his voice filled with raw emotion as he sang of his love for her, just a few months back.

Guess he didn't mean what he wrote in that song about her.

At the thought, a bitter taste filled her mouth. The lyrics, once a testament to their love, now felt like a cruel mockery, a hollow echo of a promise that had been broken.

'Cause you said forever, now I drive alone past your street

It had been a week since that bittersweet day. A week since Y/N had received her driver's license, a milestone that should have been filled with joy and excitement. Instead, it had become a constant reminder of the love she had lost, the dreams that had shattered.

As she drove to her yoga class, Y/N found herself inexplicably drawn to Harry's house. Logic told her to stay away, to avoid the pain of possibly seeing him with someone else. But a yearning, a desperate hope for a glimpse of the familiar, pulled her towards the familiar tree-lined street.

She drove slowly, her eyes scanning the windows of his sprawling mansion. The lights were on, casting a warm glow that hinted at life within. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest, a mix of anticipation and dread. Was he home? Was Nadine with him? The thought sent a pang of jealousy through her.

Y/N circled the block, her eyes glued to the front door, hoping to catch a glimpse of him, even just a shadow passing by a window. But the house remained silent, its occupants hidden behind the veil of privacy.

Disappointment washed over her, a familiar wave of emptiness filling the void where her love for Harry once resided. She had come seeking closure, a fleeting moment of connection, but it seemed the universe had other plans.

With a sigh, Y/N turned the car around, the headlights illuminating the path ahead.  

And all my friends are tired Of hearing how much I miss you, but I kinda feel sorry for them 'Cause they'll never know you the way that I do, yeah

The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee and cinnamon candles filled the air as Y/N settled onto the plush sofa in Sarah's living room. Her best friend, with her warm smile and comforting presence, had been a lifeline in the weeks since the breakup. Tonight, like many others, Sarah had opened her home, offering a safe haven where Y/N could shed her tears and vent her frustrations.

"I just don't understand," Y/N lamented, her voice thick with emotion. "How can he be so okay? How can he move on so quickly, like our entire relationship meant nothing to him?"

Sarah reached out, squeezing Y/N's hand in silent support. She had heard the same questions countless times, the same litany of grievances against Harry. She knew Y/N was hurting, and she wanted nothing more than to ease her pain.

"I know," Sarah said softly. "I know it hurts. But you're strong, and you'll get through this."

Y/N sighed, leaning back against the cushions. "I know you're tired of hearing me talk about him," she admitted, a hint of guilt in her voice. "I'm sorry. I just... I feel so lost without him."

"Don't apologize," Sarah reassured her. "I'm here for you, no matter what. But I do worry about you, Y/N. You need to start focusing on yourself, on moving forward."

Y/N nodded, knowing her friend was right. But it was easier said than done. Harry had been her everything, her first love, her confidante, her partner in crime. He had seen her at her best and her worst, had shared her dreams and fears. No one else could ever understand the depth of their connection, the unique bond they had shared.

After all, they both knew what it was to be young and in the spotlight. Y/N had been an actress since she was younger, navigating the pressures of Hollywood with all its glitz and scrutiny. Harry had experienced a meteoric rise to fame with One Direction, the world watching their every move. They had understood each other's struggles, the sacrifices they had made, the loneliness that came with being constantly in the public eye.

"It's just...," Y/N's voice trailed off, searching for the right words. "It's hard to imagine anyone else understanding what we went through, what we shared."

Sarah reached out, taking Y/N's hand in hers. "I know, babe," she said softly. "But you're not alone. You have so many people who love and care about you. And even though no one can replace Harry, there will be other people who will come into your life and bring you joy."

Y/N looked at her friend, grateful for the unwavering support. She knew Sarah was right, but the pain of losing Harry was still so raw, so consuming. She had loved him with all her heart, and the thought of moving on felt like a betrayal of their love, of the memories they had shared.

"I know," Y/N whispered, a single tear rolling down her cheek. "I know you're right. But it's hard to imagine a future without him in it."

Today I drove through the suburbs And pictured I was driving home to you

The morning sun streamed through the sheer curtains of Sarah's guest room, casting a warm glow on Y/N's face. She stretched, a yawn escaping her lips as she blinked sleepily at the unfamiliar surroundings. The events of the previous night flooded back to her, the laughter, the tears, the shared confidences that had momentarily eased the ache in her heart.

As she dressed and made her way downstairs, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee beckoned her towards the kitchen. Sarah was already there, humming along to a cheerful pop song as she prepared breakfast.

"Morning, sleepyhead," Sarah greeted her with a warm smile. "How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I have in weeks," Y/N admitted, accepting the steaming mug of coffee with gratitude.

The two friends settled at the kitchen island, enjoying their breakfast in comfortable silence. But as Y/N sipped her coffee, a familiar longing crept into her heart. She couldn't help but picture herself driving home to Harry after her sleepover, his warm embrace waiting for her at the end of the journey after being the night apart from each other.

She imagined him, his hair tousled, a sleepy smile on his face as he opened the door for her

But as quickly as the fantasy had formed, it dissolved, leaving behind a bitter taste in Y/N's mouth. She blinked back tears, reminding herself that it was just a dream, a cruel trick of her mind. Harry wasn't waiting for her. He was with Nadine now, their laughter and whispered conversations filling the void that Y/N had once occupied.

And with a heavy sigh, Y/N took another sip of her coffee, the bitter brew mirroring the bittersweet reality of her life.

[mangowillow]

interlude: you

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: as you go through life and its fears and doubts, Jungkook is there to ground you, to serve as your anchor in a very messy tide.

genre/tags: fluff, friends to lovers, confessions under the moonlight, intimacy, falling in love

word count: 4.1k

a/n: enjoy :)

Jungkook’s knees and legs feel numb.

He has been stroking your hair, tucking in stubborn strands behind your ear for almost an hour as you lay your head on his thighs, holding a single pink sunflower that ended up resting underneath your fingers, and ultimately, on Jungkook’s knees. 

Jungkook almost didn’t make it to your family’s dinner tonight because he got caught up in a project at work. But he wouldn’t miss a family dinner unless something really urgent came up. Through the years, his friendship with you has become so strong that he’d feel as if he was dying if he let you down in any way. If anything, your anxious messages to him were something he knew he shouldn’t ignore. 

You’re coming to the dinner, right?

It starts at 7, sharp.

I’m nervous, I haven’t seen them in so long, what if they say the same things again?

Where are you? You’ll come, right?

Jungkook could already imagine what you looked like at that moment— phone in both hands, biting your lips, bouncing on your feet in small jumps. You once told him that his presence alone eased all your worries in an instant and ever since then, he wanted to make sure he was there to reassure you, to keep you company, keep you safe. 

So when he arrived at dinner, your family had already started. When your mother laid eyes on Jungkook, she smiled her most pleasant, almost affectionate, smile— a smile you yourself have never been shown. 

"Jungkook, darling, it’s so good to see you. Come sit, sit."

But instead of Jungkook sitting next to your mother as she wanted, he went around the table and sat next to you. 

Your side of the table has always been so cold. And as dinner dragged on, your worse fears came to light.

"You know, honey, you should already be thinking about how you’re going to work for the family business. One day, you’ll take over, you should know that by now."

Your father chimed in as well: Your mother is right. One day we will both be too old to run the whole thing and it’s up to you to continue the legacy your grandfather built. 

“Dancing will never make you money, sweetheart. You need to stop doing all those lessons, eventually or you’ll never be able to focus on the business.”

“You should be more like Jungkook. He’s been doing well with the merger and we all know that one day, he’ll have no trouble running the whole conglomerate himself.” 

It’s always like this, Jungkook thought. It was never fair that you were being compared to him when both your families have been good friends for years. Since he could remember, you refused to run your family’s company and he can still recall how your parents used to express their disappointment over the fact that their firstborn was not a male. 

As soon as he placed his warm hand over your clenched fist, you instantly relaxed. Jungkook rubbed his thumb across your knuckles, coaxing your fingers to loosen and once you allowed yourself to, he intertwined his fingers with your shaking ones.

Jungkook has never done that before.

You have never been more grateful once your parents were distracted by whatever your aunt was telling them because if their words dragged on a bit longer, your tears would have fallen. You were so consumed with your own inner critic telling you you were a failure and trying to control your emotions at the same time that you didn’t notice Jungkook leaning against your ear.

“What do you say we get out of here, hm?”

His voice soothed you like a calm river flowing through a gentle breeze. You look at him quite frantically with eyes full of pain and Jungkook ached for you.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think ____ is not feeling too well. I think she needs to rest.”

Your mom didn’t blink an eye and just told Jungkook to take care of you. 

And that’s what led Jungkook and you into your childhood bedroom. 

In this bedroom, you and Jungkook spent many days and nights playing and studying. Your bedroom is witness to the love and comfort you both find in each other for years and years.

Jungkook is pulled out of his thoughts when you slightly shifted. As soon as he took you to your room, you didn’t say a word and he understood. 

“Thank you for coming,” you whispered.

“You know I always will,” Jungkook reassured.

You slowly get up and Jungkook was quick to help. You shifted your weight onto your left arm and turned to face him, fiddling with the stem of the sunflower with the other hand.

“And thank you for this,” you gesture to the flower. “You really didn’t have to.”

Jungkook gave you a soft smile as he tucked another strand of hair behind your ear. His favorite habit and excuse to touch you. “Pink sunflowers are hard to come by, of course I had to get you one.”

You give him a small smile before collapsing to your real side of the bed. Jungkook exaggerates his stretches and extended his arms with a groan. His legs do feel numb, almost painful, but he doesn’t mind.

“Will you stay the night?” you tentatively ask while looking out the night sky outside your window. Your face is softly illuminated by the moon’s light and Jungkook wants to give you the whole world.

“Of course, ____. I still have some of my clothes here, I think?”

You nod before humming, “They’re inside those drawers.”

Jungkook has no qualms with stripping in front of you. Years of friendship can do that to two people so intertwined, so connected. He takes off his pants and wears the pair of grey sweatpants he left a week ago. Almost immediately, he sees an old jersey of his from his soccer days back in college. Fondly he remembers how you always loved wearing his jerseys especially when you both knew you wouldn’t be seeing each other for a while. Lately, Jungkook also noticed how you would randomly ask him for any of his old t-shirts, telling him his fabric softener smelled so nice.

Jungkook just knows that the real reason why you ask him for his clothes is that you find comfort in wearing them and that doessomething to him.

When he goes back to bed, you instinctively scoot to envelop yourself in his arms. After he plants a kiss on the top of your head, he feels you exhale a sigh of relief, hearing your heartbeat as it calms down.

“You smell so nice,” you say, voice coming out muffled because of how your face was buried against his chest.

Jungkook chuckles and runs his hand up and down your back in smoothing strokes and circles.

“And you feel so warm, Jungkook. How are you always so cuddly?”

“It’s because I am,” Jungkook playfully replies, coaxing a chuckle now from you.

It’s in intimate moments like this that Jungkook gets to see you vulnerable and raw. You always put up a facade and a smile on the outside, but in the corners of your room or in private, Jungkook knows how you truly feel about the world. It has been a world so cruel to you and it hurts him to see you struggle through not knowing what to do sometimes. Dancing has been your one and only love ever since high school. You have never been the corporate type, you told him once. And he knows it. He knows that you come alive once you’re on the dance floor, interpreting music as you move. He knows that you value and care for people and have a heart of gold, not steel, which the corporate world ever so requires.

In your childhood bedroom, Jungkook has seen you cry and feel helpless. And it was a side you hide so well, sometimes even from him. You and Jungkook have fought countless times about you keeping things from him because he knew you didn’t like burdening other people. 

But he wants you to give him your burdens. He wants you to talk to him about what’s on your mind and what’s bothering you, no matter how mundane it is. Your stubbornness is a weapon and a weakness, he always thinks. 

Jungkook is two years older than you so when he graduated, you were sad that you had no one to rant about your classes with. Sure, you still did that with him from time to time, but the cruelty of finite time itself usually pulled you both apart now more and your parents’ incessant nagging didn’t help the situation either. Suffice to say that holding you close has been more of a liberty and a privilege for Jungkook. It has been two years since then and there isn’t a day when he feels regret over not being able to hold you whenever you need him the most.

In this space tonight, he revels in the warmth of your skin, your quiet, steady breaths centering him. 

“What’s it like out there, Jungkook?” you whisper as you slightly pull back to look at him. “What’s it like having big shoes to fill in for other people?”

Jungkook knows your fears are talking. Deep down, he knows you’re unsure, and uncertain about what the future holds because growing up, you have always been taught that you never seemed to be enough. While Jungkook tried to shield you and stand as your fortress as much as he could, his efforts also weren’t enough to fill in the empty spaces and gaps in your heart that longed to be accepted by your family. 

Jungkook sucked in a breath before answering, “I think it’s good and cold at the same time, ____. I say good because there’s so much out there to look forward to. You find your way through jobs, find what fits, meet new people, and have fun at parties but keep in mind that you have to be more mindful now because you can’t afford to be hungover on a workday, maybe you find love or you find yourself in the process. That is the hope, I guess. But it’s also cold because I sometimes feel like I trudge through life not knowing if I am doing things right. Sometimes, I don’t even have a clue what I’m doing…” 

Jungkook feels you stiffen ever so slightly, it was unnoticeable. But nothing was unnoticeable to him when it comes to you.

“And it’s okay, you know?” Jungkook assures as he runs a hand through your hair. “To not know what to do or if you’re doing things right. That’s why we live… to figure things out until we understand it and it all makes sense.”

“Hmm. That sounds nice. I wish I can figure things out fast enough.”

“You have me, ____. And we’ll get through it, together.” It took a while for Jungkook to realize that he isn’t just saying this as someone who understands you because your families are connected. He is saying this because he wants to truly be there and to make up for all his stupid mistakes in the past.

“You said maybe I can find love,” you start. Jungkook stills and he hopes you don’t notice. “Have you found that?” You finish your sentence without looking at him because you turn to face the night-lit sky once more. 

Jungkook juts his lip before tucking his arm under his head.

“I’m not sure. Why do you ask?” He says in a teasing tone, hoping to diffuse some of the tension he suddenly feels.

It took a while for you to answer back that Jungkook thought you fell asleep. “I don’t know… I mean, you used to date a lot of girls back in college so I always thought you’d find the one sooner or later.”

Jungkook tries to gauge the tone of your voice and at this moment he hopes he can see how your face moves or reacts because he badly wants to read you right now.

“I’m not that kind of person anymore, ____.” Jungkook does not know why he feels dejected at the thought that maybe you did think of him as some playboy who only cared about the body count.

“I know… I know.” Jungkook is sure he saw the ghost of a smirk on your lips. You close your eyes and breathe evenly Jungkook thought that was the end of the conversation.

But then you spoke once more and he could’ve sworn his heart fell to the ground.

“Why didn’t you ever choose me?”

“W-what?” Jungkook stammers.

He sees you slowly open your eyes, but they kept looking towards the window. You do not respond to his question and he feels a need to ease your fears, and reassure you right now that you mean everything to him. 

“I didn’t know what I was doing back then, ____… I only wanted to satisfy myself, to enjoy every bit of recklessness i could and could not afford because I knew that when it was all over, I had to endure a life of misery…” Jungkook paused to check on you. You turned your head to look at the ceiling now, your hands clasped over your stomach.

“Was it worth it?” you gently ask him.

“No,” Jungkook immediately answers without hesitation. “It wasn’t.”

“So what now, then?” you ask to the ceiling. Jungkook was at a loss for words. Despite being your best friend, he sometimes struggled to read you, because again, you keep your feelings and thoughts locked up so well, not even he can reach them. But he wants to try.

He wants to try so badly to know what you’re truly feeling because if he doesn’t, he’ll never forgive himself.

He slowly moves towards you until his lips are mere inches apart from your cheek. His eyes look up to see that you have yours closed again. You don’t move, but he can feel you breathing more pronouncedly. He allows himself to look at you this close, so peaceful, so serene. He basks in the idea that it’s only he who could make you feel calm and safe.

And before he can stop himself, he kisses you on your cheek. It wasn’t an odd thing, really. He kisses you on the cheek all the time. But this is also the first time his lips linger and this is the first time he kisses you with so much reverence and hesitation all at once.

He feels you take a deep breath, all the while keeping your eyes closed. 

“Can you do that again?” you evenly asked.

A smile ghosts Jungkook’s lips as he softly kisses you on your jaw. Ever so slightly, he moves downward, partially opening his lips to plant an open-mouthed kiss on your neck. You move and let out a sigh, tilting your neck further, telling him it was okay and you were giving him permission.

He kisses you on your neck once more, this time fanning his breath over the spot he just let his lips stay. 

“I am so sorry, ____.”

“What are you sorry for?” you ask but you still don’t meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t do anything for us. I… I have always wanted to come to you. I always longed for you. But I was scared, ____. I was so scared of ruining our friendship and I would never forgive myself if I ever hurt you that way. Every single day I regret not saying anything. I wish I could turn back time because, in that way, we could have had so much more.”

It was then that Jungkook realizes that the reason why you keep your eyes closed is that you were trying not to cry. As soon as the words left him, a tear slides down the cheek he just kissed. 

“Please don’t cry, ____. I don’t like seeing you cry…” Jungkook whispers and pleads.

You finally open your eyes but kept them towards the ceiling.

“It’s time we can never get back, Jungkook.” You slowly turn to face him now. “It’s also time that I will always be grateful to have spent with you.”

Jungkook tries searching your eyes for any sign, anything that will tell him this isn’t the end of you and him.

He has dated so many women over the years and in the beginning, he never thought about looking at you more than his best friend. But he also knew that your eyes, your face, your whole being told him that you wanted him. He saw the disappointment in your eyes during the times he failed to come to your agreed-upon movie nights. He heard the sadness in your voice when he called to tell you that soccer practice ran late and he had to cancel on you. He felt your longing every time you saw him in the arms of another. He felt guilty whenever he chose his one-night stands over you. 

You always tried to hide what you truly felt, but he knew.

He knew all along.

Yet in all those moments he chose to ignore that one nagging feeling that has haunted him since you were kids: his real feelings for you.

He didn’t think you deserve someone like him— not after all his shenanigans with frat parties and women. He used to think of himself as a lost cause and he didn't want to drag you into his mess. But as years went by, he ached for you all the more. And despite all his shortcomings, you never once shunned him. But he was and still is so scared.

Scared of losing you.

“I never thought I’d get to hear words like that from you,” you smirk. Jungkook thinks you’re insufferable for turning such a serious conversation into something much lighter. “I like it, though.”

“I mean every single word, ____. I am so scared of losing you.”

“You will never lose me. No matter what happens.”

“But the future is so uncertain, I don’t know if I’ll ever be enough for you, ____, because you deserve the world. You deserve so much more and everything good” Jungkook feels relief and agony in his confession. He feels vulnerable now that his secret is out.

“Well… We have the rest of our lives to figure it all out, right? You said it yourself,” you say.

Jungkook lets out a breath of relief again. You turn your body to fully face him in your dimly lit childhood bedroom. You gave him a smile as you touch his lips with your fingers. 

“Can you kiss me, Jungkook? Just for tonight?”

Jungkook feels frustration bubbling up inside of him because you could still think that all this can still be temporary. He wants you to know he’s all in on this, if you are too. He wants you to feel that he only wants to give you all of him if you will have him. 

Jungkook secures his hold on you as he kisses you. The moment your lips touch, he feels elation like he has never experienced before. He thinks about how wonderful it finally is to have you in his arms and to kiss you without abandon. His tongue slides over your lip, shyly telling you he wants more and you readily part your lips to let him kiss you deeper. You both kiss for so long that when he parts from you, he immediately wants to do it all over again even if it knocks the breath out of him. 

“Wow, that was… nice.” you tell him, giggling. Jungkook cocks an eyebrow at you and you laugh.

“Just nice?” Jungkook feigns incredulity. You giggle even more as Jungkook’s eyes soften.

“Can I kiss you again?”

You bite your lip before nodding and Jungkook feels he can now die happy.

He swings his leg over you, positioning himself until he’s now on top of you. He gently leans forward with both his hands cupping your cheeks as he looks at your eyes now full of mischief and love. He plants a long kiss on your forehead before leaving pecks on your eyelids, the tip of your nose, both sides of your jaw, and your chin. 

You giggle at his playfulness, “Just kiss me already, you fool.”

“With pleasure, my love.”

Jungkook didn’t give you any time to process the way he just addressed you because he captures your lips in his once more, this time with more urgency and fire. Jungkook licks into your mouth, allowing your tongues to touch. A few hours ago it was just your hands that were intertwined, but now that love is out in the open, bodies intertwined under the sheets, it gives an opportunity for the both of you to rock and move in sync with one another. 

Jungkook loves how responsive you are and this is just you and him making out. Your soft sighs keep him going until you’re gasping and moaning. 

Jungkook allows himself to be greedy as he runs his mouth to the side of your jaw, going down to your neck once more because tonight, he learns that kissing you there draws out the sweetest sounds from you. His lips return to your lips once more, softly biting your bottom lip.

“I think kissing you might just be my favorite thing to do ever,” Jungkook says through his pants. He sees you swallow and you give him the sweetest smile he has ever been graced with.

“I think I can kiss you all day, Jungkook. Don’t you dare stop.”

“I will never,” Jungkook utters. Your nails dig into Jungkook’s back while his hand grips tight on your waist. For the first time in so long, Jungkook feels so alive and it almost feels unnerving to have you this close to him. Body on fire, voice airy, he kisses you like it’s his last. Hearing your shortened breaths, your moans, and your gasps as he grazes his lips along your jawline makes him feel so, so alive, he regrets not having you like this sooner.

“I need you closer, Jungkook, please.” you plead.

“How do you want me, sweetheart?” Jungkook asks. He rolls his hips against you, making you gasp even more than you already were and he absolutely loves it. 

Jungkook pulls you toward him until you’re sitting on his lap, bodies flush. He runs a hand across your hair, grounding you, telling you he’s here right now, that he will be with you until the end. 

“You’re the one good thing in my life, Jungkook.” you confess.

Jungkook can feel your heart racing. He looks at you as if you created the stars in the sky and says, “You’re like the morning sun, ____.”

“Why? Do you want it to be morning already?” you turn your head to the window again.

Jungkook laughs and turns your face towards him. “No, you silly goose. You’re like the morning sun because with every day passing me by, the sun tells me there’s new hope and a chance for me to try again. I haven’t— I lack in so many ways, but you remind me that the morning will come and despite my uncertainties of the future, I can still turn things around for the better. You are my morning light, ____.” 

“Who knew you could be such a sap?” you tease, Jungkook laughing along with you and pulling you into a warm embrace.

“But the night also comes after the day. What if… what if I fail you?” you ask, your fears threatening to resurface. Jungkook quietly shushes you.

“You are also my moonlight because no matter how dark the night is, you’re still that bright light that guides me home.”

You can’t help but tear up at Jungkook’s words. He gently wipes them away.

“It took me a long time to get here, but I will do anything to make you happy and safe with me, my love. From now on, you will never have to feel like you’re all alone.”

Jungkook feels that love is redemptive. No matter how long, it will always be his saving grace.

“I love you.” Jungkook whispers against your lips. “I will forever love you.”

You let out a shuddered breath before closing your eyes, “I love you too, Jungkook. I have loved you for so long.”

Jungkook captures your lips once more into his and tightens his hold on your body. As soon as the both of you need air, you tuck your chin into the crook of Jungkook’s shoulder, trying to steady your breath. 

“You are so beautiful, my love,” Jungkook reassures you. “You are the most wonderful person I have ever met and I hope you know that.”

“I believe you,” you answer.

Under the moonlight, a love blooms. For you and Jungkook, the sun and moon will always guide you home.

[italkalot06]

Complicated - Luffy x reader angst

Tw: alcohol, kissing (?) arguing (?)

spoilers: marineford spoilers, after timeskip

Lu is a confused sweet thing and gets into it with Y/N 

With the mixture of the sea salt air and alcohol flowing through their veins the Strawhats partied to their heart's content. Brook played a catchy tune on his guitar while Usopp, Chopper and Franky danced. Zoro was sitting half asleep with a bottle of sake in hand, next to Robin who had a glass of wine and a book to keep her company. Nami and Sanji were having a quiet conversation (if you ignored the sound of Nami’s hand smacking Sanji’s face in whenever he’d say something pervy.) 

Then there was Luffy who was being uncharacteristically quiet atop the head of the Sunny. Y/N sipped her drink watching him. His arms stretched behind him propping his head up, straw hat laying on his chest while his hair blew gently with the breeze. One leg crossed over the other, she could see his foot bounce along with the beat Brook played behind him.

He seemed relaxed, it gave the girl a warm feeling in her chest knowing all the pain and struggle her captain has been through, he’s still here for them. For their dreams and his own. 

Being separated the last two years had been a lot for everyone but she could only imagine how hard it must’ve been for Luffy. Maybe the drinks were making her emotional but Luffy’s distinctive character being so harshly tested and him only prevailing from it; made her love and respect for him grow deeper. Seeing him and spending time with him after being apart reminded her of that tenfold.

Making her way over and leaning against the railing next to the lion figurehead Y/N looked at Luffy’s side profile, eyes shut, his scar being brushed lightly by black hairs, body shining in the pale moonlight. He looked beautiful.

“Party’s over here ya’ know.” She stated. Pointing behind her towards the rest of the crew.

“I know.” He said after releasing a deep breath, peeking one eye over to Y/N, “I just needed a minute to think.”

“Think about what?” She laughed, it’s not like Luffy thinks a lot. The drinks they had prior were inferring with her senses enough for her to miss her captain’s mood shift.

“I’m lucky to be alive” he turned his head towards Y/n with an unreadable expression,

“Lucky to have all of you, too. I don’t know what I’d do without you guys” He concludes, a small smile forming on both their faces. She didn’t expect that, Y/N’s eyes began to water. The severity of his situation with losing the crew then Ace, and still coming out grateful; weighed heavily on her chest. It wasn’t like Luffy to reminisce and openly talk about his gratitude towards us especially at a time like this, maybe these two years have changed him. 

She placed her drink down on the ground before wiping her tears away and placing a foot down to get leverage.

“I’m coming up,” she says. Luffy cocked his head at her trying to gauge her motives, but moved to make room for her nonetheless. Placing his hat back atop its rightful spot, he turned his body, extending a hand towards Y/N with his authentic smile.

“Well, c’mon up then.” She looked up at him, staring him in the eye as she grabbed his hand hoisting herself up and allowing Luffy to pull her the rest the way up. Their drunken states become more apparent with each movement. Luffy pulled as she pushed until the two teens smashed into one another, laughing hysterically in the process finding their struggle funny.

“Could you guys not play around up there? What if you both fall in then what?” Nami barks out to them. Luffy waves her off with an ‘okayyyy’ while trying to stay balanced. Y/N laughed loudly as he pulled her towards the front of the Sunny but ultimately fell backwards from the lion’s spiky hairs. ‘Oops’ he hollered out while laughing as well. Typically, Y/N would tell him to be more careful but considering the circumstances (and he didn’t fall in the ocean) she looked past his clumsiness and stepped over the lion’s mane carefully. The boy laid with his ankles caught in the creases of the orange mane, unmoving looking up at the girl with a wide smile. Y/N was standing above Luffy with him laying between her legs, hands positioned at her hips and a matching smile to go with his.

“Who am I?... I’M GONNA BE KING OF THE PIRATES–!” She impersonates Luffy before being grabbed and pulled down on top of the man.

“Hmm, I don’t know, Captain Buggy right? ‘Cause I don’t sound like that!” He jokes, a smirk growing on his face.

“Riiight. Exactly who I was thinking of, how'd you know?” She deadpans, both laughing as Luffy sticks his tongue out at her. 

This position isn’t one that the two would usually find themselves in but the alcohol brought out things in both of them. Y/N was straddled atop Luffy’s lower abdomen, hands planted on his hard chest, thumbs gently rubbing the edges of his scarred skin. Luffy untangled his legs before shuffling up the head some to make more room. The moment turns from playful to intimate quickly as they stare at one another. Feeling his heartbeat under her palm, seeing the sparkles in his eyes, Y/N didn’t want to ever have to go without seeing or feeling him again. Her captain, her friend, her savior. Luffy’s stare was just as hard as hers, his hands coming into view as he cups her head in his hands bringing her closer to him.

“What is it?” he asks, she can feel his breath fan her face, can see each crease and mark on his tan skin. She’d been close to Luffy before they'd hugged, plus he had no idea about personal space in the first place; but this was a different side to him and it made her heart race and skin heat up.

“You.” Was what slipped out of her mouth in a whisper, becoming more intoxicated off of Luffy’s breath and touch alone. She licked her lips, Luffy did too. Leaning into him with closed eyes she let her nose bump his sweetly.

“I’m thinking about you.” she says against his lips. Both their breathing picks up as Luffy’s thumbs start to gently circle her cheeks as he nuzzles his nose back into hers. She opened her eyes again to be met with a view of Luffy she’d engrave into her memory forever. His hat hangs only by its tread off his head, with wild black hair flowing and a blush on his cheeks. She wanted to kiss him so badly in this moment. Did he want her to kiss him too? Thoughts were rushing through her head but all stopped when he whispered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Always.” She whispered back. With heads spinning and noses still brushing; Luffy licked his lips again before pulling Y/N’s face flush against his cheek so he could whisper in her ear like he was telling her a secret, “..You’re my..best friend.”

Her heart cracked before a wild smile spread on her face. “You’re my best friend.” She confirms, pulling back to look at him again with slight tears in her eyes.

They stayed like this for a moment longer before Luffy hooked his fingers on her jaw pulling her into a kiss that made her world stop. After the shock she melted into the sloppy inexperienced kiss. The hands that were on his chest snaking their way up his neck and into his soft hair. They kissed until they couldn’t breathe and had to pull away for air before Y/N pulled his lips back into hers to finalize it with one more ‘pop’ of their lips. Both their heads spinning, racing hearts and red faces as they stared. She didn’t expect a kiss after being friend-zoned like that but Luffy’s different about expressing his feelings, so she’ll take what she can get for the moment. She has her reservations though. Being in a relationship with your captain is already taboo enough but it being Luffy left a lot of lingering questions in her mind.

‘Does he even know what’s at stake?’ Panic set in.

 Luffy went in for another kiss but Y/N pulled back and kept him at bay.

“We shouldn’t–” she started but was cut off.

“Why not?” Was all he said with a puppy dog look on his face, obviously offended by the rejection. Moving his hands from her face to her waist.

Her breath hitched.

“Because..it makes things complicated.”

“I won’t let it.” He says with determination, Luffy looks at her daring her to oppose his statement.

“I don’t even know what you mean, we drank too much. I'm going to bed.” She spews, with the notion she’ll deal with the consequences tomorrow after a good night's rest. Pushing off of her captain's chest she quickly jumps down off Sunny’s head. Luffy’s up too, ready to protest and tell her to come back to him. 

“Come back here! You’re mine.” Luffy announces standing atop the Sunny. Irritation floods Y/N veins.

“You’re so selfish! You don”t even know what you’re saying let alone know what you’re doing. Leave me alone.” She bites back. Anger shows on Luffy’s face and Y/N mirrors him.

“Yes I do! You’re mine, that’s what I’m saying. I’m the captain and you’re my best friend.” Luffy rants out childishly. 

“I am your best friend! I just said that on the Sunny and then you kissed me. If we’re kissing now, don't call me best friend. Got it?”

Luffy’s brows tilt in confusion, “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Ugh, nothing. I don’t want you to say anything. I’m going to bed goodnight.” She rolls her eyes, disappointment and anger still bubbling in her gut; or maybe it was the alcohol she didn’t know anymore.

They got the rest of the crew’s attention by now, everyone's eyes on Y/N when she turned around making her way back to her room.

“Shows over.” She says bitterly before leaving the deck. Leaving the rest of the crew and their captain very confused. 

This is my first published drabble, imagine, fanfiction? I don’t know, there’s just so much Luffy brainrot in my head. I had to get some out. Helpful feedback is always welcomed. I tried to keep Luffy in character enough as possible. Hope everyone likes it :D

[ferallymine]

Act 2 - Confessions of a Lost Boy

a/n: yeah i romanced Astarion what of it? Kaledia is my super-graphic-ultra-modern girl bard Durge and Rhododendron (Rho) is my you-dumb-bastards druid Tav. more to come because i'm obsessed.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Kaledia walked along the shoreline at the edge of the moonlight barrier. The Last Light Inn provided enough space for one to walk quietly, lost in thought. Away from the noise of panic and battle tactics.

Water graced her feet, drawing her to take a step. Kaledia obeyed its beckoning, shedding her shoes and armor. She undid her braids- Rho will have a fit about that later- and walked into the water just enough to cover her ankles. The hem of her pants just barely skimmed the surface. A gentle breeze toyed with her hair, making it flow like a cape behind her.

Kill the cleric. Imagine the beauty in the bloodshed that will descend!

The bard shuddered, crossing her arms. The violent thoughts still plagued her mind. As if she needed more unwanted presences. She shook her head, forcing the Urge from her mind.

Set every building in this cursed place ablaze. Rhododendron will never lift that curse- might as well make these abandoned places artful masterpieces of ash and bone.

With a scrunch of her nose, she shook her head again. Kaledia began quietly humming, tracing her feet in the water. Composing songs and ballads always managed to calm her down- this time being no different.

Tiny wisps of purple and pink escaped her fingertips and Kaledia conducted the air. If a bystander listened close enough, they could make out a faint tune. The bard’s eyes glazed over, feet dancing in steps to match the rhythm of her new piece. One arm stayed close to her chest while the other continued its maestro guidance.

“Enjoying yourself?”

The suddenness of the voice shocked her out of her daze. Whatever music one could hear was gone in an instant- joining the wind brushing past. Her eyes met Astarion’s- his shoes and armor discarded beside hers in the sand. His feet joined hers in the water.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone out here. Aren’t you cold?”

He chuckled, “I’m always cold, darling.”

“Cute, but what brings you by? I thought you were reading.”

“There’s too much chatter among the others. I can’t think with all that racket up there.” Astarion’s face softened as he continued, “But now I’m down here with you... and… I think we need to talk.”

He hates you.

“What’s wrong?” She turned to face him, hoping to any divine that her face wouldn’t betray her fear. Another gust of wind picked her hair up, flowing it delicately behind her.

“Listen, I… had a plan." A puzzled look, but he continued, " A nice, simple plan. Seduce you, sleep with you, manipulate your feelings so you’d never turn on me.” His smile attempted to make light of his words, but his eyes betrayed his sorrows, “All you had to do was fall for it. And all I had to do was… not fall for you. Which is where my nice, simple plan… fell apart.”

Kaledia kept silent, taking in what he was confessing. See? None of it was real.

“It was… instinctive. 200 years a slave, using my body to bring targets back to him… old habits die hard in the face of uncertain survival.” His breath was shaky- was that a tear in his eye?, “I just… feel awful. You’re incredible. You’ve done amazing things since the crash, bringing me along for the ride. You’ve fallen for a façade and I… I want this…  I want us to be real.” His hands were trembling ever so slightly.

There was heartbeats of silence. Had he fucked this up? Astarion held his breath unconsciously, mind racing and waiting for any response. A slap. A scream. Hells, even if she drove a spike through his chest he wouldn’t blame her rage. All he’d done was use her since the tadpole invaded his body. Was that what he’d become- an invasion to her body?

Her next words surprised him.

“Starlight, I’ve always cared for you.” His nickname on her tongue always sounded like honey. Kaledia took a step, closing the distance between them.

Tears brimmed in his eyes, a quiet whisper breathed out, “Really?”

She closed her eyes. A psionic pulse encapsulated their small space on the beach. Astarion felt their adventures up to this point rush to the forefront of his memory. Their first meeting at the crash site, grabbing arms so they didn’t fall into the hole in the spider’s cave, the entirety of the temple of Selune, the tiefling kids in the Grove, the tiefling party… their first time as they snuck away from camp. In each wave of memory, all he could feel was wonder and love. From her perspective, he’s always been Astarion- not just a spawn.

“It’s always you, my love.” Kaledia opened her eyes, the psionic wave dissipating. “It’s never been about looks or what you can do for me.”

Astarion’s voice caught in his throat, unable to shake the anxiety he now found himself in. This was all new territory… was such love able to be given to someone like him? He gingerly held out his hand, waiting to see what she would do.

Please take it.

She grasped his hand, brining it up to her lips. A gentle kiss grazed his fingers before she rested his palm on her cheek. Kaledia visibly relaxed at his touch, leaning into his palm.

“May I hug you?” Her amethyst eyes looked up. He knew he could say no and she wouldn’t think less of him for it.

He nodded silently in response, a tear escaping down his cheek.

“You don’t have to lick love off of knives, Astarion.” A gentle whisper in his ear, “Love can be freely given, without anything expected in return.”

His breath hitched, arms delicately holding her close. She could pull away if she wanted- could still escape and save herself from the burden of loving such a lost boy. Who are you without Cazador? Are you worthy of love in this void of lost identity? Who is Astarion, and does he deserve what others are willing to give? After everything you’ve done? After who you’ve done?

A sudden wave from the lake lurched on the couple. The water was so cold, Kaledia shrieked and lost her balance. Astarion tried to catch her, but fell beside her into the water. They were soaked, head to toe.

Kaledia’s breath gasped, sitting up in the frigid water. She wiped algae from her eyes and pulled her hair back from her face. Astarion sat up beside her, spitting more water from his mouth.

The absurdity of it all… she couldn’t help but laugh. He joined in, realizing she wasn’t laughing at him. After helping each other stand up, she brought his face close. Their soaked foreheads touched in another tender moment.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Hand in dripping wet hand, they began their walk back up the hill to the Inn.

——

Shadowheart elbowed Rho in the ribs, “What was that for?”

The drow winced before ducking back under cover. She snuck another peek at the shore before responding, “I got tired of waiting.”

“They’ve been fucking for weeks!” A harsh whisper.

“Yeah, but they just now fell in love.” Rho massaged her ribs, “Sometimes a good cold shower snaps people out of their anxiety spirals.”

[westcrescent]

 

𝐗𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐑𝐔𝐘𝐔𝐄 & 𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐔𝐄𝐂𝐇𝐔.

" Mother, your strength lives in me, and I will shine for you, for our realm, and for all those who seek light in the darkness. "

 

In the heart of Xiyang God Realm, where the moon hung low and the stars twinkled like diamonds scattered across a dark velvet sky, young Xiyang Ruyue wandered through the gardens of her home, hand in hand with her mother, the Moon Goddess. The soft glow of luminous flowers illuminated their path, each bloom exuding a gentle radiance that mirrored the bond between mother and daughter.

“Ruyue, look up,” her mother said, her voice as soothing as the night breeze. They paused, and Ruyue tilted her head back to gaze at the heavens. The constellations sparkled above them, each star telling a story as old as time. “Do you see that one?” Her mother pointed to a cluster of stars forming a delicate crescent. “That is the Wandering Moon, a symbol of hope and guidance.”

Ruyue’s eyes widened with wonder. “Will I ever be like the Wandering Moon, Mama?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper as if speaking too loudly might shatter the magic of the moment.

Her mother knelt beside her, brushing a stray lock of hair behind Ruyue’s ear. “You are already more than you know, Ruyue. The stars shine not just for their beauty but to guide and inspire those below. You, too, have that power within you.”

As they continued their stroll, Ruyue’s curiosity blossomed like the night flowers around them. She watched her mother as she gracefully moved through the gardens, her presence calming and ethereal. Every step seemed to harmonize with the gentle rustling of leaves, and Ruyue marveled at how even the moonlight seemed to bend toward her, illuminating her form.

“Can I learn to be like you?” Ruyue asked, her heart brimming with admiration. “To be strong and wise?”

Her mother smiled, a mixture of pride and sadness dancing in her eyes. “Strength and wisdom come from understanding and compassion. Remember, my little moon, it is not enough to wield power; you must also carry the burden of empathy. This is the essence of our lineage.”

With every word, Ruyue felt a flicker of determination ignite within her. She longed to embody the balance of serenity and strength her mother spoke of, but the weight of her expectations often felt heavy. “What if I can’t do it?” she admitted, her voice barely audible. “What if I let you down?”

Her mother knelt to meet her gaze, capturing her attention with an intensity that dispelled Ruyue’s fears. “You can only be yourself, Ruyue. That is all anyone could ever ask of you. And remember, even the moon goes through phases—it wanes and waxes, just like us. Embrace each part of yourself, for that is where your true power lies.”

As the night deepened, they found a secluded spot beneath a giant willow tree, its cascading branches creating a natural curtain of serenity. Ruyue’s mother began to weave tales of the stars, each story a thread connecting the cosmos to their own lives. They spoke of celestial beings, ancient battles fought under the watchful gaze of the moon, and the delicate balance of light and darkness that governed their realm.

Ruyue listened, enthralled, her imagination painting vivid images in her mind. Each story was a lesson, a stepping stone toward her destiny. “One day, I’ll wield the Lunar Wraith and protect our realm,” Ruyue declared, a spark of determination igniting in her chest.

Her mother’s laughter was like the tinkling of bells. “And you will, my little moon. But remember, the bow is not just a weapon; it is an extension of your heart. Let it guide you, and let your spirit shine through every arrow you release.”

Those nightly escapades became the fabric of Ruyue’s childhood—moments of joy interwoven with wisdom and love. Yet, as seasons changed and time flowed like the gentle river nearby, the shadow of illness began to creep into their lives. Ruyue’s mother grew weaker, her vibrant glow dimming as she battled unseen forces.

One fateful evening, as they sat beneath the willow, Ruyue took her mother’s hand, feeling the frailness of her grasp. “Will you always be with me?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Her mother smiled, though her eyes glimmered with unspoken sorrow. “Always, my dear. The moon never truly leaves the night sky. Even when it wanes, it is merely waiting to shine brightly again. You carry my light within you, and it will guide you, no matter the darkness you face.”

The next day, the Xiyang God Realm lay shrouded in a hushed stillness, as if the very air mourned the loss of its beloved Moon Goddess. Xiyang Ruyue stood before the moonlit altar, her heart a heavy stone within her chest. The vibrant gardens, once alive with her mother’s laughter, felt barren and cold, the soft glow of the moon casting long shadows over the gathering.

Celestial beings and guardians filled the sacred space, their faces marked by sorrow and reverence. Dressed in deep blue robes that flowed like the night sky, Ruyue felt as though the fabric was woven from the very essence of her grief. Each breath was a struggle, but she knew she had to speak.

With her father’s steady hand resting on her shoulder, Ruyue stepped forward, her resolve tempered by the weight of expectation and loss. “Mama,” Tears welled in her eyes as she recalled the countless lessons shared beneath the moonlit sky. "You can see me right?"

“I will not let grief consume me,” she continued, her voice steadying with each word. “I will rise in your name.”

With a final, trembling breath, Ruyue stepped back, holding onto her father's hand tightly as her tears fall. The weight of her mother’s absence pressing heavily on her heart yet igniting a fierce determination within her. The stars twinkled above, as if responding to her vow, a silent acknowledgment of the path she must now tread.

[rodeo-boots]

Hi there! Im not sure if I've requested from you before have I?

So I was wondering if I could have a one-shot Sadie/F!ChubbyReader? Something sweet that gets steamy.

I was thinking that it could be the readers having a rough time because she thinks she's unworthy of love and the fact that she's into women makes it even harder.

Take your time, no need to rush~

Feel free to message me if you cant/won't do this I understand Xx

You hadn't requested from me before, btw. BUT I really loved writing this one for you! I hope it's what you've been looking for <3 (I also hope there are no more errors left, I only proofread this once)

Rating: Explicit

Words: 2679

Warnings: NSFW, Low Self-Esteem Reader (Body-Image issues)

AO3

––––––––––––––––––––––

It was one of the rare occasions when camp was quiet, most gang-members fast asleep as darkness spread over Clemens Point.

You had missed the silence, already used to the rambunctious songs, to the laughter and chatter of the others. Even if those good times never were to last.

These days, it was hard to achieve happiness, to feel even remotely safe, your travels East having shaken the entire group to the core.

And sometimes, you wished you had stayed in the West, had bought land and settled down like you've planned, even if that might not have changed a thing.

When it was quiet, like now, your mind often wandered, drifted along with the sounds of rippling water.

It was nice here, better than it had been up at Colter, but you still felt out of place. And no amount of fresh air or crisp water could change that.

With a sigh, you leaned further against the log behind you, your arms crossed in front of your chest where you sat.

At least in the darkness, no one had to stare at you. Had to see you.

You could just be, with no obligations to be appealing to anyone at all.

Never before had Dutch sent you out to distract any targets, to use your good looks on unsuspecting fools like the other women at camp often did. Because you had none. Or so you told yourself.

Of course it was harsh, of course you had other things to offer. But with a couple pounds too many, with chub around your cheeks and your hips, you didn't feel as attractive as you wished you would be.

You envied Abigail, Mary-Beth, Karen, Tilly... if not for their appearance then for their confidence. And Sadie? Sometimes you wished you could walk a day in her shoes, that you could stop caring about what other people thought and put on some pants.

Though you feared you'd only get stared at more like that.

Time went by without you noticing. Maybe you've nodded off somewhere down the line, the sight of the water gleaming beneath the moonlight oddly tranquil and soothing to you.

Your thoughts continued to roam, continued to shift and flow like the water in front of you.

Occasionally, you'd see a fish jump out of the lake, would hear a nocturnal bird taking flight within the nearby trees. And you yearned to be free like them; free of judgment, of society's standards, and your own low self-esteem.

You wondered if they perceived beauty like humans did, if they stared down at the two-legged, wingless creatures, saw long and flowing hair idly whipping in the breeze, or a freckled face and bright eyes and fell in love.

It would be a loss if they didn't, if they were unable to see what you did – and you decided that maybe, being a human might not be all that bad.

Sure, all you could do was behold the beauty around you. You knew you would never get a chance of something more; knew you couldn't compliment the way Sadie's yellow blouse flattered her figure and receive more than a simple "thank you".

It had always been like that – you, finding beauty in another woman, finding beauty in her voice, the sparkle in her eyes and the way she strutted and sauntered along the way. You knew you couldn't change that, knew that you would never be 'normal', but hell, you didn't want to be. If there even was such a thing as normal.

In the past, and even up to the current day, you've struggled with it. With your sexuality.

You had come to terms with it, of course, but you knew that you only stood out more with your chosen way of life. If your body wasn't enough to keep people away, your orientation might just be, and it worried you, what the others might think should you ever come out to them.

It hadn't been your intention to grow upset, your brain doing it to yourself no matter what you tried to do about it.

So you sat and stared out onto the lake, gaze blank as you simply beheld the beauty all around. Watching, and doing nothing, as always.

The sound of boots upon sand drew you out of your thoughts, your head turning to see a familiar figure approaching.

She was tall, slim, her hair braided beneath her hat. A few strands hung loose, though that only held it's special charm.

"What're you doin' out here?" Sadie asked, sitting down on the fallen tree behind you. She kept a bit of a polite distance, crossing her legs as her elbows rested upon her propped up knee.

You swallowed softly, looked back ahead and out onto the wide lake. "Just thinking," you explained, unable to come up with anything else that might explain you being restless and awake at this time of day.

The other woman hummed, her own gaze trailing over the water in front of her.

It appeared black in the dark of night, only little light reflexes showing the movement of the soft waves.

"Did someone say somethin' again?"

Her sudden words brought you back to reality, the silence between you having stretched for a couple minutes before. It wasn't rare that the less pleasant people at camp upset you over your insecurities, pointed out facets of yourself that didn't need to be addressed.

You shook your head, anyhow. Today, that hadn't been the case. Besides, you never knew Sadie paid any attention to the treatment you received. "It's me," you mumbled after a moment of consideration. "Me who made me feel like crap."

And while you huffed at the words you spoke, they were genuine. Oftentimes, it was you who made your life harder than it had to be.

Sadie pushed herself off the log, plopped down into the slightly moist sand by your side. You watched her from the corners of your eyes, unsure what she was intending to do.

But she didn't do anything, merely sat with you and stared out into the water, thinking about what you had said before.

"I did that a lot," she eventually spoke up, turning to face you. "Guess it ain't the same, but I– sat and thought a lot, too. That never seemed to help." She chuckled, but the sound was rather mirthless, her tone more serious than anything.

You had seen her in the past, had seen her sitting outside of camp, far from anyone else. She's had a broken heart to nurse, had a terrible loss to get over, and in the end she had come out stronger than ever.

"You don't gotta tell me, if you don't want. Maybe it'd make you feel better, though."

Inhaling, you thought about her words, wondered if you would even be able to put your innermost thoughts and feelings into words.

Never before had someone asked you to share them, no one ever having as much of an interest in you as that.

"It's nothing," you tried to deflect, tried to invalidate your troubles in order to not burden Sadie with them here and now.

The woman snorted, however, raised a brow as she looked at you. "Don't look like nothin' to me," she pointed out, not impolitely.

"How about this–" she sat up, her back against the log as she gestured for you to come closer, to lean back against her chest.

For a moment you could only stare in disbelief, though you took the chance now that it was offered to you. It had been a while since you've last been physically close to anyone, after all.

"Comfortable?" Sadie asked. You gave her a nod, your heart racing in your chest and beating within your ears.

Holy Shit. That hadn't been how you'd imagined this night would go.

Sadie wrapped her arms around you loosely, rested her chin atop your head. She seemed content herself, seemed like she had wanted to do that for a long while. The thought made your heart skip a beat.

"I know you think you're worse than you are," Sadie spoke up again, keeping her voice low while speaking to you. It was oddly soothing, her usual rough tone sounding more than just pleasant to your ears. "But you ain't bad. Truth be told, I admire you."

That made you pause, your breath catching in the back of your throat. "Me? For what?"

She chuckled kindly, brushing through your hair to tuck a few strands behind your ear. "For knowin' who you are, and what you want. For stayin' true to yourself no matter what anyone says."

Yet again, you hadn't expected her to be all that perceptive, hadn't expected her to know much about you at all. For as long as you've known her, your conversations had been brief, cut short by your occasional shyness and nervosity. Sadie seemed to have read you better than you ever could've thought.

"I..." you weren't sure what to say, or if you should say anything at all. The woman's arms around you were soothing, almost soporific, though the warmth pooling within you made it hard to consider dozing off.

"I always wanted t'know more about you," Sadie continued, nuzzling the top of your head, her lips brushing over your strands of hair. "Wanted to know more 'bout the beautiful woman who's stolen my heart."

You were sure this had to be a dream, that you had passed out after all and your mind was playing tricks on you by now.

But Sadie felt as real as could be, her hot breath in the nape of your neck, her arms around your waist, thighs left and right of your hips. Whatever you had thought of before, all your insecurities and doubts, it all seemed far away by now.

"Me– Me, too," you brought out, confessing to your feelings without directly doing so. Sadie was more bold and confident than you were, was more brave and straight-forward in your eyes. And just like she had said before, you admired her just as well. But most importantly, you were sure you loved her.

Feeling enlivened by her words, empowered by the warmth swelling within your heart, you turned around, straddled her lap and properly looked her in the face. "I think I love you," you properly confessed, cupping her freckled cheeks like you've wished to do for so long already.

She smiled up at you, keeping her hands on your waist for now as she leaned in, and captured your lips with her own.

The kiss didn't last as long as you've wanted it to, but upon pulling away, Sadie spoke up again; "I know I love you." Her smile grew, your forehead resting on hers when you returned the gesture.

Once your lips had met the first time, you couldn't stop yourself from going in for a second kiss. Your eyes fluttered shut, fingertips gliding along Sadie's sides and down to the hem of her shirt. Now that you knew of her feelings towards you, and were fully certain as those within yourself, you only wanted more.

She reacted in kind, teased your tongue with hers when her lips parted ever so slightly, a moan slipping into the kiss. You weren't sure if it had come from you or her, but that didn't matter much, not when your hands soon met bare skin, fingers gripping her sides while her own ran along your thighs.

"You wanna do this right here?" She asked, leaning back a little to capture your stare.

Slightly out of breath, you nodded. Hell, you didn't care where you'd do this, as long as you could feel her skin on yours.

Without missing a beat, Sadie worked on helping you out of your dress, glancing back, only to make sure camp was as quiet as it had been before.

Even if a few drunkards were still milling about, you couldn't care less, your fingers working on her buttons to relieve her off her top layer, before climbing off her lap to get her pants off her hips.

Naked, you laid back in the sand, invited her to follow you only for her lips to meet yours again. She placed her hat on top of your head, gave you a small smirk as her lips wandered lower, over your collarbone and down to your chest.

Moving boldly, her mouth latched onto one nipple right away, one hand kneading the other breast while she suckled and licked your sensitive bud.

Your breath hitched, spine curving to get closer to her heavenly mouth, your head already swimming without her having done too much just yet.

Soon enough, she had stimulated your other nipple to full hardness as well, laying down on her side next to you, and pulling you in for another kiss. "Let's keep this quiet," she muttered, her fingeres wandering once again until they reached your sex, a hum leaving her lips when she discovered the hot wetness there.

She caressed your folds, encouraged you to hitch one leg up and around her hip while coating her fingers within your slick. Slowly, her fingers circled your clit, made your hips jerk sporadically and your muscles tense here and there.

"Can I?" You had only pulled away from the kiss for a second, glancing at her while your fingers slid down her flat stomach.

"Be my guest," she grumbled, trailing lovebites along your collarbone and up to your shoulder, the small motions of her fingers on your clit steadily driving you insane.

To offer her the same kind of pleasure, your hand soon found the spot between her legs, met with an equal wetness as that between your own. You groaned, teasingly gliding your fingers through her folds before your thumb focused solely on her nub.

She gasped, almost sounding surprised, like she hadn't been touched there in a while, though that only spurred you on more. You wanted her to feel as good as possible, pulling away after another few moments only to propose another idea.

"I wanna taste you," you muttered, fingers disappearing from her soaked cunt as you laid back. Seemingly catching on right away, Sadie climbed on top, straddling your face while hers was right in front of your own crotch.

With the new position, you dove in without a moment's hesitation, held onto her hips and pulled her close as your tongue licked through her folds and up to her nub.

She moaned out, had to have bitten down on her lip to keep more sounds from surfacing before she leaned down herself, and focused on your clit right away.

Besides the sounds of your actions, the occasional slurping, squelching and your labored breaths, it was still mostly quiet, the area belonging solely to you in this moment.

You rolled your hips upwards, chased more of the heavenly feeling of her mouth on you as you felt yourself getting close.

Clearly, Sadie wasn't all that far, either, her abdominal muscles flexing while her thighs tried to squeeze your head, the motions of her tongue growing more desperate the closer she got to her climax.

It was over much too quickly, had been too long for you to hold back at all, your body tensing for a moment before releasing in a rush of endorphins that was better than anything you've had before.

You pulled back for air, slipped two fingers into Sadie's tight cunt to grant her a satisfying release as well, and watched, when she shook and trembled through her very own orgasm.

She rolled off of you after a moment, cursing under her breath as she did so.

It wasn't long before she crawled back up to you, however, before her lips met yours and you could taste yourselves upon each other's tongue.

"You fancy a midnight swim?" She asked when she pulled away, sitting back on her knees and helping you up when you agreed.

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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[ofmagicandmusic]

Ninjago Angst Week Day 1: Abandoned

Nya lived a happy life with her family, till one day everything changed.

Also read on Ao3 if you'd prefer

@ninjago-angst-week

Nya kicked the ball across the grass. It was a day like any other in Ignacia. Her parents were working in the forge while she was playing outside with her brother Kai. Her short hair fluttered in the warm breeze. Kai tossed the ball back at her and Nya returned it with equal force. Her cheeks were hot in the bright sun. Nya longed to dip her toes in the rice fields, but she knew Mom would scold her if she did.

“Come on Kai, throw it faster!” Nya urged, “I can catch it!”

He threw the ball harder this time and Nya’s face lit up. She was still smaller than him, being two years younger, but she swore she was faster. Kai always rolled his eyes at that, saying he let her win.

Nya leaped and caught the ball enthusiastically. The yellow butterfly they were watching earlier glided by. The game continued into the evening and as the sun began to disappear behind their hill, the siblings headed inside.

“Kai, where’s mom and dad?” Nya poked her little head in the doorway.

“I’m sure they just went to the neighbor’s or something. They’ll probably be back soon.” Kai shrugged, reaching up to grab some of the food that was sitting out in the kitchen. Nya helped herself to some too. She thought it was strange that mom and dad still weren’t home, but she was a big girl, so she’d be fine for one night without them. Plus, Kai was only a room away. After her long day of play she was asleep within minutes.

The next morning, something felt wrong. Nya knew it. There was no gentle tap on her shoulder or pet of her hair, just Kai’s hesitant voice.

“Nya…Nya, wake up.” He said, as she peaked her eyes over the covers. “Or I guess you can sleep in. I’m gonna head to town and meet up with mom and dad.” Kai sounded slightly unsure. “Just stay inside and pretend like no one’s here if anyone knocks or asks about the shop. Stay safe, okay?”

Nya nodded and mumbled a sleepy “okay”, letting her soft blanket envelope her again. She couldn’t quite remember what made her worry earlier.

The sun was higher in the sky when Nya finally woke up again. She got up and headed downstairs, still confused to see that neither her parents nor her brother were back yet. She didn’t think town was that far. The feeling of wrongness that started earlier only grew, but she did as her brother said and stayed inside.

After a while her stomach started growling. Nya looked around in the kitchen and found some rice. Shoving some in her mouth, she unfortunately realized that this rice was hard and not at all like what Mom makes. Frowning, she dug around the kitchen till she found some bread and ate a slice, peaking out the window.

No real food she could reach, and her family was nowhere in sight. They didn’t just leave her, did they?  Worry stirred in her chest. No, they couldn’t have, they wouldn’t. Kai said he’d be back with them. Mom and Dad just went to town and Kai is helping them carry the supplies they bought back home.

She was a big girl. She could handle this.

Nya headed back up the stairs to her room, resigned. She glanced out of her window just in case she could see them on that path on the hill. She did not. Sighing, Nya took out her tools. They consisted of string, sticks, rocks, bits of metal she’d found by the forge, and other things she’d acquired. She took out one part which was a combination of sticks and strings fastened to each other in a confusing shape.

Nya scrunched her nose as she continued to work on her robot. She’d heard kids in town talking about them, and she wanted to make hers be the best. She fiddled away for hours trying to put her pieces together in different ways, sneaking a glance out the window every so often, Later, she got bored and played with her dolls before losing interest again and giving Kai’s wooden sword a few test swings. Eventually the stars greeted her from the window.

Now she knew something was definitely wrong. Nya raced downstairs, parting the blinds in the front room. The night was still and there was no one in sight. All she could see was the silhouette of power lines against the stars. Why did they leave her alone?

Sniffling, Nya sat down on the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Something must have happened to them. Her family would never leave her like this. Tears made their way down her cheeks. Her parents had said she was a big girl now; it was only now she realized how small she was. Nya’s sobs grew louder.

The moonlight glinted off a sword hanging on the wall. Tears dripped on her cheongsam shirt. Nya breathed heavily in the candlelight. She cried until she couldn’t anymore. After all, there was no one there to help her stop. Eventually she wiped her eyes, and she took a few more shuddering breaths. Nya waited in the dim light moments longer, still praying to hear footsteps on the stone outside.

Sighing, she stood up, wiping her cheeks again with her palm. Putting on a brave face, Nya finally opened the door and walked outside. A single lit lantern was still hanging by the door.

Nya squinted into the night. A heavy feeling settled in her chest as she saw where she and Kai were playing yesterday.

“I thought I told you to stay inside.” Her brother’s voice echoed through the dark. For second she thought it was just her imagination. Then she saw a figure with spiked hair and she ran.

“Kai!” Nya flung herself at him, holding on tightly. Her head came up to his torso. A grin like sunlight on water shone on her face.

“I’m so glad you’re back, I thought something happened!” Nya hugged her brother with all her strength, relief flowing through her body. She could feel his arms around her too but with some hesitation.

“It’s good to see you’re okay too, Nya.” He said quietly.

Finally pulling away, she looked up at her brother, confused. Why would she not be, okay? She’d stayed home the whole time. Now that she thought about it, Kai looked exhausted. And certainly not as happy to see her as she was him. Still, it didn’t dampen her mood.

Nya took Kai’s hand as they walked back to the Four Weapons. A moment later, she remembered something.

“Kai, where’s Mom and Dad?” Nya asked, curious but not fearful. Kai was back so of course they would be too.

“Uh… they’re still in town. Had to get some large supplies for the shop.” He said quickly. Nya’s uneasiness returned, brow furrowing. They continued up the familiar path on the hill, the colorful trees were now dark shapes in the night.

“When will they be back?” Nya said, testing the water.

Kai was silent for a while and then finally let go of her hand. Nya felt her heart sink. He took a deep breath.

“I don’t know.” Kai finally said.

“What do you mean? Didn’t they tell you? In town?” Nya’s mind was racing. She stared at her brother. His eyes were trained on the floor.

“I didn’t see them in town.” Emotion filled Kai’s voice. “I—I asked all the neighbors and went to town, but no one’s seen them. Nobody’s seen Mom and Dad since--- since when we saw them yesterday.” Kai’s lip trembled and he swiftly wiped the corners of his eyes.

A wave of fear washed over her seeing Kai like that. It took a moment for her to truly process it.

Their parents…were gone?

It didn’t make any sense! She thought Mom and Dad liked them. Why would they leave? And without saying goodbye or anything? Did something happen to them?  Fear and confusion filled her chest. She somehow had more tears despite earlier. Her voice was small when she finally spoke.

“Will they come back?”

“I don’t know that either.” Kai replied weakly. Nya stayed silent after that.

The single lantern greeted the siblings as they returned home. There was still no one else inside.

Nya trudged up the steps after Kai. Her chest felt strange and empty. She didn’t know what to think. She changed into her nightgown and settling into her bed, but the warm blanket offered no comfort. Noises drifted through the wall and Nya got up, walking over to Kai’s room and quietly pushed the door open.

A lone lantern lit the room. From what she could see in the dim light, he was wrapped up in bed. The lump of red blanket was shaking with sobs. Nya felt her eyes tear up again at the sight. She tip-toed to Kai’s bed and climbed in, pulling the blanket over herself as well.

Her tiny fingers drifted to her brother. Without thinking, Nya combed her hands through his hair like Mom always did. Kai flinched. Realizing her mistake, she whispered an apology that only added to the weight in her chest.

Not knowing what else to do, Nya curled up by Kai’s side, face laying against his arm. Wrapping her small arms around her brother, she held on tight as his breathing slowed.

“Nya…” He mumbled in the dark.

“It’ll be okay, Kai.” She said in a small voice. Though Nya knew it would be anything but. Nevertheless, she clung onto her brother’s warmth as she fell asleep.

At least Kai didn’t abandon her.

[ikevamp-shrine]

Hii i'm just wondering if you're taking regular requests? Like, not the nsfw ABC one? If you are, then can i maybe request a hc of how the boys would react when they're getting turned on from something MC does but she doesn't realize it? (If everyone is too much then just Arthur, Vincent, Isaac, Dazai and Mozart hehe) anyways, thanks in advance!

Yes I am still taking requests. (I really enjoyed this one) Thank you for requesting and if you would like me to do the rest of the residents just say so and I shall do as you ask. Enjoy.

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire

Character(s): Le Comte, Sebastian, Arthur, Vincent, Dazai, Mozart, Isaac

Pairing: x Female MC

Word count: 2183

Warnings: mentions of blood, character unwillingly being watched while naked, nsfw (barely though)

Le Comte 

His body rocked gently with the carriage; the movement already lulling her to into a deep sleep. Moonlight trickled in from the window, caressing her skin like ghosts dancing across a marble floor. Her breathing is interrupted, speeding and slowing at times as is she was being pleasured. Her lips parted slightly to release a breathy moan, “…comte.”

The scent of arousal stained the air in the carriage as Comte’s face pinches in pain. “Ma Cherie,” he whispers; the wisps of his voice inaudible to any soul other than himself. “Such a wicked temptress you are.”

He reaches out; her skin warm against the cold pads of his hands. His fingers trace the curve of her reddened cheek, ghosting over the sharp cut of her jaw, dipping lower to kiss the rushing vein of her neck. His fangs pulsed, chest heaved, eyes stalking the female like a wolf would its prey. The pureblood hastily jerked back, hissing as if her skin had scalded him. A quick movement and fangs penetrated the tendon of his thumb, his eyes rolling closed as he reigned in some semblance of control. Releasing his hand, Comte panted, a thin trail of saliva connecting his abused flesh and lips as his nails raked tears in the plush seat below causing white feathers to float down like snow on a cold winter’s morn.

“You shouldn’t leave yourself so vulnerable to me, Ma Cherie… after all, I am a still beast,” he paused his smooth words to watch a ribbon of red seep from the healing marks on his flesh, “and you, a lamb ripe for the taking.”

Dazai

Her skin was flushed from the heat of the thermae, her features relaxed in a soft smile. The candle light illuminated her curves causing her to appear to be what Dazai could only define as a fertility goddess basking in the warmth of light, unbashful to any who might stumble upon the ethereal sight. Her soft breast surrounded by ringlets of wet hair raised as she placed a towel along the top of her head, shifting her hand along the white threads. Water droplets slid down her flesh forcing pale yellowed irises to stalk the clear liquid.

The mysterious turn of his lips seemingly permanently chiseled into the planes of his face dropped into a frown; the want to overtake and claim her body was demanding and too fresh.

Like a wounded animal lapping at its bloodied paw, the beast inside his heart curled, growling, daring anyone to approach him and his possessions. Blood dropped down his chin as his fangs chewed wildly at his lip. His cock raised, sliding against his thigh, swelling with lust and need for the vulnerable female before his trembling form.

Her eyes shot towards the widow mimicking the shiver sliding down her spine; her mind reeling with images of feral yellow eyes watching her, memorizing every dip of her body, but was greeted by a lone tree branch swaying gently in the breeze.

Dazai heaved against the trunk, nails clawing at the harsh bark, moans muffled by the tight palm of his hand as a wet stain slowly spread over the fabric of his clothing, concurring the cloth like the pleasure tumbling through his mind. 

“How far I have fallen,” Dazai whispered, pleasure still rolling through his body, “she who was oblivious to the monster peering through the glass barrier will surely gaze at my dilapidated form with astonishment when the sun kisses the horizon. Innocence dripped from her womanly body like the water warmed by her flesh.”

Dazai smiled a broken smile only men who had been starved of all hope would recognize, “my, how these sinful fingers would corrupt that innocence she holds so close to her breast.”  

Vincent

The stroke of his brush against the canvas was wild, vigorously hurried. The thought of losing the memory chiseled into his mind’s eye fastening his pace. His heart beat with a fury the painter didn’t know was possible as his breath stopped; the air only releasing from his lungs when the pounding in his head became too unbearable.

All she had done was smile, her lashing fluttering, colored orbs bashfully glancing away, a blush staining her cheeks as she tucked a stray piece of silken hair behind her ear. Behind the same ear that glinted with a sliver cuff matching both Theo’s and himself. Vincent’s eyes had widened in absolute disbelief in what he was witnessing. Beauty beyond humanly possible had stood before him; enchanting him, leaving him a slave for her touch.

Every emotion he possessed was being laid bare on the canvas with each brush of color against the skin of the canvas. He worked until red stained the sky, rising over the horizons like the god of war riding a flying chariot. His fingers throbbing with pain from the constant movement, never being allowed a break. He gazed at the painting like a lover would their other half. The oils still vibrant was moisture. Vincent craved for the color of her skin to be beneath his fingers, warming the rough flesh of his palms, not stuck, forever frozen in time, trapped in the same position for all eternity.

His cock strained against the confines of his trouser, lips being tugged into a pained whimper. The smell of linseed oil and turpentine refused to drown out the overwhelming scent of her very being still coating the insides of his lungs. His tongue traced over his fangs; the wonder of the taste of her blood running through his mind. His eyes rolled back as he imagined the softness of her body against his own. His soul was on the canvas- the act a declaration of his love and lust for the woman he had yet to call his. 

“Will you ever look my way, I wonder,” Vincent murmured into the night. His words never being heard by another soul.

Arthur

The door creaked as Arthur pushed it open, stepping into the dimly lit room, the candle on his desk burned down to a nub from the hours of being aflame. It was well past midnight when he had returned from the tavern with Theo, he had told her not to wait for him, but she had tried to stay awake; that much was obvious with the scent of chilled coffee mixing with the sweet smell of her flesh and old paper staining the air. A dark mug placed beside her sleeping form on the nightstand as well as a book, forgotten, tucked between the pads of her fingers. Lips parted slightly to release soft, comforting snores, her hair flowing around her form like wings, the curve of her hips being insinuated by the wrinkled, white fabric of his shirt that clung to her slowly breathing body. The sheets of his bed bunched around her knees; the sweat lightly dampening her forehead a sign of overheating.

Arthur took a sharp inhale of breath at the sight of her heart shaped bottom peeking out from under the shirt. How he would love to see the flesh of her bare bottom rippling from his thrusts as he pounded into her, making her squeal with pleasure.

“Did you do this on purpose? You naughty little minx,” rumbled Arthur. His jaw clicking with movement as he advanced towards his desk, shaking his head to clear his lust filled mind. His stomach grumbled, mouth watering when he noticed the small, mesh pouch of packaged fudge resting on the wooden surface of his desk. Arthur threw his head back, groaning with pleasure, eyes drifting closed as he whispered, a content smile tugging at his soft lips “ass and fudge… damn I love this bird.”

Isaac       

 Isaac shifted his shoulders, forcing a crack to resonate down his back- a regular occurrence the entirety of the day. His form was hunched over his desk, his cheeks flushed, and brows furrowed in concentration; gentle metal clicking reaching her ears. The sheets were soft against her bare legs as she shifted, placing her book down against a nightstand; stretching her arms above her head.

“Isaac,” she hummed.

It took the physicist a few second before he recognized her voice slipping through the air. “Yes, my love?” He responded.

“Does your back hurt?” He didn’t realize she had left her place on his bed to tip toe behind him until her breathy whispers tickled his ear, causing him to jolt slightly.

“A little. The damned thing refuses to stay connected,” the chair creaked under him as he leaned back into his lovers hold, gesturing to the trinket pieces resting on the wooden desk. The warmth from her arms seeped into the skin around his neck while he continued, “I might have to ask Leonardo about it, unless I find-.”

Isaac was irrupted by the strong caress of female fingers shifting over his shirt clad shoulders. Her lips pecking once at the top of his head, thumbs tracing the curve of his tense shoulder blades, digging into his muscles in a pleasant motion.

“Wha-what are you doing?” Stuttered the pale haired man, his hands raising slightly off his lap in shock.

Her slow, relaxed sigh sent a pang of electricity straight to his slowly hardening member, “taking care of you. What else would I be doing?” The flirtatious tone of her voice paired with the warming friction of her fingers against his skin forced Isaac to tug at his tightening trousers; a low whimper being muffled by his teeth, an embarrassed blush warming his ears.

“…the gods help me,” he whispered.

Mozart

The piano was chilled as Mozart leaned against the whitened wood, her giggle forcing a small trimmer to befall his lips. The sweet taste of the chocolate paired with the strong hints of coffee filling slid over his palate like the words falling from hers, “do you like it?”

Her eyes were bright, humorous with a small, barely-there tint of insecurity as he swallowed, smacking his lips to further live in the taste. “It is alright, I suppose,” he mumbled.

She smiled softly, returning to nibble at the half-bitten piece of chocolate resting between her thumb and forefinger. “Ah, its melting!”

Mozart rolled his eyes at her disbelieving tone of voice, answering with his own, “yes. It does that. I thought you weren’t idiotic enough to not acknowledge that-.” His words were caught in his throat as he saw her finger disappearing into the cavern of her mouth; her cheeks hallowing slightly as she sucked at the digit. Her eyes stared at the floor in concentration, her brows being pulled together from the thoughts running through her mind. Slowly her finger reemerged, her lips releasing the flesh with a soft pop.

Mozart swallowed thickly. Denial ran rampant through him at the feeling of his trousers becoming tighter to a point it was somewhat uncomfortable. He could still see the melted brown on her tongue as it darted out, licking at her thumb like a snake scenting the air.

“Wolf? Are you feeling okay? You’re a little red,” her words were close, her breath smelling of cocoa as she placed her lips to his forehead, checking for fever. He sputtered, falling back to place his hands roughly against the ivory keys forcing a deranged concoction of notes to shift through the air, “do not- do not do that…,” he huffed. Wishing nothing more than for the earth to split and swallow him whole at the high-pitched crack of his voice.

Sebastian

His hair was a mess, water still dripped from his chin, his tie loosely dangling around his neck, his breath coming out in hurried pants as Sebastian launched himself into the kitchen, throwing himself into motion only freezing when his lover’s laughs penetrate his ears.

“I’ve never seen you this frazzled Sebastian,” she giggled walking over to him, taking the tie between her fingers and knotting the fabric. She had yet to notice the panicked scowl on his face.

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I don’t see how being late to wake is a laughable matter when it concerns the wellbeing of the residents.”

She glanced up, a brow raising slowly at his accusing tone of voice, “I woke up early and did your portion as well as mine,” she paused, placing a gentle kiss to his wet cheek, smiling gently, “you have been more tired than usual so I figured I let you sleep in.”

Sebastian took a deep breath, wrapping his arms around his lover and letting his head fall back, his eye lids closing as a low groan left his lips, “I love you.”

Her love-drunk giggle made him smile brightly; his stone façade non-existent as his lips locked and parted with her velvet hills quickly. Hands slid down his back to rest against his hips making a shiver run up his spine; heat pooling into his eyes at her affections. He growled lowly, nipping at the shell of her ear, “good girls get rewards, and you’ve been a very good girl.”

Breakfast was a little late that morning.

SHOTS MATERLISTS

MASTERLIST

ABCs SMUT MASTERLIST

[anntidote]

:carton of milk - kageyama tobio

back to: series index || ann’s playground

pairing: kageyama tobio x fem!reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings: timestop!au, TW!!dubcon, smut, angst, pwp, masturbation, blowjob, handjob, deepthroating, does this count as somnophilia(?), mentions of oikawa

summary: the day after the break up, you find yourself confiding in tobio, your reliable underclassmen. he's not good with his words, but he offers you a drink-- and you happen to drink more than he would ever thought you would.

brimming later hours into the night, the moonlight seemed to play peek-a-boo behind the scattered clouds. the slight breeze danced at the hem of your skirt as you're sat outside karasuno's second gym, knees up to your chest, head buried in your arms. the rhythmic sound of the volleyballs ricocheting off the hardwood floors and squeaks of sneakers only seemed to echo in your mind. 

"senpai?" 

you raise your head at the inquiry, only to meet the blue eyed gaze of your underclassmen, and the crinkle of his steps toward you against the dirt. "what're you doing out here? it's late."

you let out a sigh before responding, tilting your head up to avoid his curious stare. "i'm thinking, tobio."

he raised an eyebrow in confusion. "thinking about what?" 

the low hum of the vending machine and wisps of the night air filled the space's silence, as you blankly stare up into the endless black and blue above. "i broke up with him."

kageyama's eyes widen, mouth falling slightly open, staring at you in disbelief, and you almost scoff. "y-you broke up with oikawa-san? why?" 

you unfortunately understood the utter surprise, as any outsider looking at the two of you would've seen it. you knew the way you looked at him was filled with adoration and love. the times he pointed at you after a serve, or the random back hugs he'd give when picking you up from school. 

it was definitely the shameless kissing and proclamations of utter infatuation with each other, that led other people to think love had definitely taken a liking to the two of you. 

but the fact you could recite yesterday's events like the back of your hand- the thought of everything being a lie was more realistic than your fairytale of a relationship. 

you remember the shade of pink that came across her cheeks, and that dark blue of her discarded underwear. you remember the creak of the bed, the melody of moans that tumbled from his lips- the same ones that he swore that only you would ever hear. you remember the string of lies that came from that very same mouth, the ones that failed in attempts of faux reassurance. 

"it's all a misunderstanding!" the disheveled look of after sex hair he sported was a stark contrast in the words he called out after you, grabbing your hand to turn you towards him. you immediately jerk away at his touch, face scrunching in distaste.

"just how is you being balls deep into another girl a misunderstanding, tooru?" 

"y-you were just there at the wrong place and the wrong time! i-"

"what the fuck does that even mean?" you yell back, fists clenched tight. "have you been doing this the entire time we were together?" 

the look of guilt that washed over his face was more than enough to have had made you bawl, but you held back, forcing yourself to hold your head higher. "i hope you're at least half as loyal to that girl than you are to volleyball." your eyes that were once filled with warmth, now cold daggers, as you briskly turned from him, beginning to walk away. "i-if…"

you halted in your steps at the start of his words. "if i could turn back time and fix what i did, i swear i would." 

your heart ached at his broken tone, regret hanging off every word. you wanted to run back into his arms, kiss him and tell him that it was alright. that everything would be alright. "but you can't." 

you don't see how he stares at the shape of your back, and he doesn't see the tears that streamed down your cheeks when you continued. "you can't stop time."

the nerve of that motherfucker. 

"senpai?" 

a snap back to reality hits you when tobio leans forward in worry. "senpai? are you okay?" 

only then do you realize the glassiness in your vision. "oh." hurriedly wiping the edges of your eyes, you give the boy a small smile. "sorry about that." 

he shakes his head, pressing the familiar chime of buttons into the vending machine. "did he do something bad?" 

you fiddle with an object in your hands, watching as he pushes the door open, and stabbing his straw through the carton. "something like that." 

but you felt absolutely pathetic. 

if you didn't break up with tooru, as of right now, you'd be dragging him face first from the seijoh gym after getting a call from iwaizumi. you'd still be looking at him like he was what the world, and you revolved around him. if you were a bit stronger, perhaps you'd still be able to walk over there and give your goodbyes to their volleyball club. 

instead, here you were. sitting outside karasuno's second gym, still wearing one of his old sweaters. the bounce of rubber and screech of shoes only reminds you of the late nights you'd spend watching his practices. you wallowed in what was, and you hated it. 

you know it's not your fault. you understand there was nothing you could have done. yet the voice at the back of you head taunts, and peppers thoughts that aren't yours. 

that maybe if you were a better girlfriend- maybe if you bought a blue set of panties instead. maybe if you smiled a bit more. maybe if you were more-- "here." 

pushing the watch you were messing with into your pocket, you reflexively catch a slightly cold and sweating carton of milk from the underclassmen. "i hope you win." 

you offer him a lopsided grin at the analogy. "you know he can't beat me, tobio." 

he nods promptly, and the crunch of the dirt under his shoes follow as he begins to walk away.

"tobio, do you think i'm…pretty?" 

although his back turned to you, you don't miss the way the tips of his ears immediately flare up. his posture straightening when his pace quickens, after the rushed, polite goodbye he offered you. 

...

the next time you see tobio was an occasion you felt slightly guilty about. 

patrolling the hallways as part of your student council duties, you ended up shooing a clique of boys loitering in front of the bathroom. their excuses played into one ear and out the other when you sent them to their classrooms, earning a couple insults on the way. 

and only when their figures disappear down the hallway do you hear the grunts. the moans. 

your eyes widen, fully knowing the source of the noise, and a shot of heat pools in your gut.

every ounce of responsibility in your body is screaming at you. the full knowledge of other patrollers being far from your position, the understanding that this was definitely wrong for you to be walking into the boy's bathroom, and the fact that this was tobio. the cute, round faced tobio who tagged behind you at kitagawa first. how you always peppered him in compliments after practice, and offering a couple milk candies you'd snuck away from your now, ex. the same doe-eyed tobio, who asked where the gym was. 

that was the same tobio who had his fist wrapped around his angry red cock, tip weeping in precum, and his eyes closed shut in concentration. you quickly placed a hand over your mouth, stopping the surprised noise that came up your throat. you felt disgusting, feeling the way your panties dampened with each stroke of his shaft, clenched thighs, and school slacks pooled at his ankles. how you wished that it was you he was thinking about. how you'd want to slap his hand away and sink his length into you until he cried. "f-fuck…" another groan leaves his lips and your eyes widen. realization hits you.

"if i could turn back time and fix what i did, i would." 

your jaw clenches as you shove your hand in your pocket, and the tentative click of the stopwatch rings out. 

like that, the world halts in place. the wisps of clouds stop their journey guided by the wind. the birds pose against the blue hue of the sky, and the teachers and students alike stop mid lesson. nothing else can be heard except the click of your shoes against the tile of the bathroom floor, pattering towards the setter in question. 

you place a guilty kiss on the crease of his forehead before turning his build towards you, dropping to your knees.

as if you were apologizing. 

you place your smaller hand on top of his own, and the combined stroke of his cock was an absolute sinful sight that made your mouth salivate. you leaned in, taking a tentative lick from midshaft to the tip, and his precum collecting at your tastebuds-- you moan in pure delight. his taste became addictive whence you finally took him into the heat of your mouth, wrapping your lips around him, and taking an innocent look up. 

although face still paused, you still take your time in admiring him. the collar of his military button up popped, a button or so undone, the familiar pout on his face, and tan skin with a light sheen of sweat. 

oh, what you would do to kiss him- to swallow his moans into his throat and ride him in this bathroom. how you wished it was you who he was jerking off to, and that if he wanted to split you in two. the stretch of your lips around him only paled in comparison to what your imagination held for his cock buried in your cunt. 

but this was about him. 

working yourself lower and lower, you finally took all of him. nose pressing against the mound of his abdominals, as you reached over and gripped his thigh. nails slightly digging into the meat of his leg, your air flow constricting and eyes turning foggy when you replay his earlier melody of moans in your head like a broken record. 

you undo a button of two of your blouse, your chest slightly peeking out- simply because it was just too fucking hot. the flush and suction of your cheeks against the heat of his dick seeming like the only thing in the world that mattered. 

this was for all the times he'd stayed by your side. for all the times he'd offered you a shoulder to lean on, and an ear to listen. for all the times he'd put up with your ex's envy antics, and for last night. 

you wanted him to remember your gratitude. 

life resumed, and for a split second, tobio swore he saw you. 

glassy eyes, your nose pressed against his abdominals. the way your throat convulsed as you choked around him. his length hitting the back of your throat, and how everything was suddenly so hot, wet, slick and sticky. the way your breasts peeked out from under your shirt, and several strands of baby hair sticking to your forehead. how you stared back at him with such want. such eagerness.

as if you wanted him too. 

it was too much. it was overwhelming when witnessing the sight of you gagging sand struggling to take him, forcing him face first into an orgasm. cumming spurts out over the urinal with his fist clenched around himself, thighs shaking and the heavy pants of his breath. he let out a pornographic moan in the school bathroom-- eyes blinking in utter relief yet confusion. 

even though it was a mere flash of an image, he swore it was you… 

but where did you go? 

he would never know how, or why you briefly resumed the timeline like that. he would never know that you did it out of pure selfishness. no matter how many times you wanted to convince yourself that it was a gift for him. 

he wouldn't notice the press of your legs together when you spotted him on his next excursion at the vending machine. he wouldn't notice how you seemed to know why he got so flustered over the most pure of interactions throughout the rest of the week. 

the way you sucked at your straw at lunch, and licking the remnants of milk from around your lips. you seemed to giggle louder than before, and it made his heart do something strange. 

"you want a sip, tobio?" your question catches him off guard as he coughs, before shaking his head. "ah n-no, i'm alright." both of you settle in comfortable silence, except for the occasional sip or chew of snacks.

 things began to dial down, as your heart began to heal. ever so slowly, the cracks of your heart being filled with moments like these. 

"senpai?" kageyama suddenly calls out. 

"yes tobio?" you looked over at his slouched form against the concrete wall, leaning over to brush part of his bangs out of his eyes, and not missing the slight blush that comes over his face. 

"oikawa-san is an idiot."

you raise your eyebrow. "that was out of nowhere."

he looks away from you, and you only grow more confused before he continues."i don't know what he said to you, but i think you're attractive."

your breath hitches for a second, before you settle into a a bright smile- one that has kageyama's heart beat in his ears. grabbing him by the collar, pulling him close, and giving him a noogie. "aww tobio, you're so cute. you'll always be my favorite." 

but your volleyball headed tobio doesn't deserve to be a rebound. and it's not what will heal your broken heart right now. 

that's what you said, with the time stop watch tucked away in the pocket of your sweater.  

[botwstoriesandsuch]

Finally finished this! Sorry I’m a bit late.

Made this song in pairing with a new Revalink soulmark fic: Paraphrase

Based on a prompt @motherhyrule (Happy Birthday and thanks!)

Read it on AO3 or, here...

Chapter 1: Holes

There were holes in the sky.

While the artificial blue glow of Vah Medoh was a constant reminder of abnormal circumstances of this view—looking out into the east, you could be fooled for a moment to believe in serenity.

The details of the great, inky abyss were blurred by the occasional grey cloud, crawling towards the light of a decaying moon. Its pale, crescent complexion gave a humble glow to the dancing seas of grass and the motionless hills of glistening lake water. Below, wooden huts embraced one another on the edges of an ancient spire. The winds had crafted a fine sculpture, the unique silhouette of Rito Village cast faint shadows on Lake Totori.

There was distant whistling from either the cutting breeze or a bored village guard, perhaps leaning against his spear, dreaming of slumber.

There's a fire, somewhere. A spiral of smoke rises with a delicious aroma fantastic enough to reach the heights of Medoh. Someone making a late-night stew, under the dotted, broken sky.

If you could tear your eyes away from the nature down below, the navy blue canvas would still be there to greet you—a perfect night that cloaked any traces of the sun, as if time was always meant to be this way. Unchanging, and ever an elegant, unrivaled mix of blue, black, and grey.

But of course, unchanging was not everlasting. The perfect canvas was pierced by the frozen heights of Hebra, and flaming stars. Whole armies of them were scattered across the sky, as if the goddess had flicked a handful of embers at the night, burning through the blue and into an unknown.

"I heard that stars are actually holes into the heavens." Link finally said. "Like...They break through the sky, and at night you can look through them and see the great beyond." He leaned back, shifting himself into a more comfortable position on the rocky cliff.

The ghost beside him raised an eyebrow, wings tucked behind his back.

"Oh? And where exactly did you hear that?"

Silence.

The boy looks out to the distant mountains, wreathed in grey clouds with filtered moonlight. When the wind blows his golden hair just the right way, you could catch a glimpse of a familiar expression.

"...I'm not too sure."

Revali nodded, looking back into the night. He stood beside the hero, and let a quiet sigh escape him, the turquoise flames that circled around the Rito seemed to rise and fall with his chest. "Well. I cannot confirm or deny such a thing, but I imagine it's a decent enough fairy tale to entertain the fledglings."

Link scoffs, a smile tugging at his lips. "Really? They don't give you a big ghost book on how all of life works? What's the point of being dead if you don't know the answer to all the fancy questions?"

"I appear to have missed Hylia's educational spirit lecture. Perhaps my schedule was busy at the time. I do apologize."

"Don't apologize to me! You're the one who missed a once-in-a-afterlife-time opportunity."

"..."

"...Too soon?"

"No, it was just a horrible joke."

"Pfft. Well OK, Mr. 'Well I'll be plucked'"

"I don't think I'm going to accept criticism from someone who's sense of humor isn't even a year old."

"Aha...Fair enough."

A chuckle. A nod. A smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

Silence.

The moon crawls further west. Winds start to die with conversation.

The ghost sighs again, but of course, no breath escapes him. Something itches in the back of his mind, and he looks up at Medoh.

Her phantom blue eyes pierce both mortal and incorporeal, yet there's a tenderness in the way her head tilts towards Revali—every so slightly so as not to wake the whole kingdom with the groan of gears. The gesture is wordlessly understood by her pilot, something about speaking the unspoken. He clicks his tongue.

I don't remember flipping a relationship advice switch in your control unit...

Medoh's lights glow brighter and dim, playfully.

The Rito shakes his head.

No, he thinks again. It's better this way.

The Champion looks out towards Hyrule Castle, Medoh's red laser aimed directly into the heart of the swirling malice. From this view, it’s almost beautiful. Like layered petals of a rose...

I cannot wait to burn it to the ground.

"Yeah..." Link replied. "Don't worry, Revali. It'll be different this time. I won't let you down, again."

The Rito blinked. "Ah. Did I...say that outloud?"

Link nodded, tilting his head to the side with a smile. "You always seem in such deep thought when looking at Medoh. Your face gets a lot more s—uh...I don't know... " He trailed off, making the wise decision to not finish the sentence. Afterall, he wanted to hang out for a little bit longer before Revali's glares punted him to the Akkalain Sea.

Nonetheless, Revali grimaced. Looking at him? Acknowledging him? Oh, there was nothing worse in the world than that...

Time really can change anything.

"Hmph. Well," Revali turned his head back towards Medoh, "With Windblight gone, it's nice to actually have conversations...As unconventional as they may be." He makes sure that his smile can only be seen by the sky.

"She's good company."

Link picks at loose pebbles, tossing them off the cliff and letting gravity take them to new destinations. His hands are already coated in a dusty beige dust.

"Well, if Medoh ever becomes a bore. My schedule's always open." He chuckles. "I'm certainly a different sort of company in comparison, so I should be able to spice up your d—!"

"No."

The iciness of his tone runs Link's spine cold. He dares to look up at the Champion.

It takes all of Revali's strength to continue staring at the stars.

"You should really stop coming here, Link. You have a job to do, and so do I. You gain nothing by returning here each night."

He pauses, his beak clenched just a bit too tightly.

"You did well, avenging me, but now...Your job here is done, and there is more work to do. The fact that you keep visiting each night while the world fades away is pathetic, honestly. You banter and quip as if you have all the time in the world, as if everything doesn't depend on your success. Quit acting childish."

Silence. It drowns out the whistling wind.

Revali looks at the holes in the sky.

"It'll be morning in a few, so get lost. I don't need you here."

The Rito can feel the hero's eyes tearing into him.

= = = = = = =

"Careful now! Can't have you return with half a head. Can I?" Revali loosed an arrow just above Link's head, striking true in a Bokoblin's right eye.

Link whips around just in time to see the monster drop dead, just a foot away from where the knight stood. He turns back and gives the Rito a thumbs up in gratitude.

"Eye think that solves that problem." Link groans and rolls his eyes, but Revali smirks at the grin he attempts to hide. "Ah...One of the best things about these occasions is that you're in no position to quip back at me with your hands full like that." Revali shoots him a wink. "Perhaps I'll interpret your silence as overwhelming awe for my verbal abilities."

The Rito bows left and right, playfully. "Thank you, thank you. It takes a great deal of practice, but perhaps you'll grace my level of skill one day."

Link signs as best he can with the Master Sword in his left grip.

"You're an asshole."

"Perhaps. But it's your fault for sticking around!"

"On your left..." He suddenly says.

There's no hesitation as Revali moves his head out of the way, letting Link swing his sword over his shoulder. A brilliant beam of blue light escapes the edge of his sword, the disc of energy making contact with a Bokoblin's neck, slicing it asunder mid-roar.

"Hmm. Now that's just breath taki—"

"Shut UP!" Link says, knocking an elbow into his ribs. He starts to sign again. "Let's keep heading east. We need to close this pincer quickly. I'd like to finish before lunch..."

The Rito scans the snow covered path, littered with monster guts and blood. Deep reds and purple stain the pristine, crisp morning. The sky is a deep green, pine trees covering the day, dressed in coats of white. The breeze blows the smell of rotting corpses and hickory his way.

"Alright. Let's get a move on. Don't need the Princesses yelling at us again."

"A bit late for that, don't you think?"

The boys both look up in time to see a large burst of water erupt from a nearby cliff. It cascades into a shimmering slide, that freezes as it flows. A bright red Zora flips through the air and descends on it, landing delicately in front of the two. She gives a warm smile that could melt the winter.

"Shall I assume you ran into some chuchu troubles, again?"

Revali scoffed. "That was one time!"

"Hehehe...chuchu go 'sluuurrrp...'"

"Plus, that incident was entirely a certain knight's fault. I've been nothing but incredibly efficient and productive, since then."

"And your tail feathers are all the better for it!"

Revali thwacked Link with his bow to shut him up. The knight rubbed the back of his head with an "Ow..." and shot a rude glare, but the Rito continued. "So where is the Princess?"

Mipha gestured uphill to where she had come from, her magical waterfall already beginning to melt away. "We finished cleaning up the other end of the Tabantha path. She's met up with Urbosa and Daruk by one of the bridges."

The Zora smiles as she looks between Revali and Link. "I volunteered to check on you two while the others headed back. Neither of you need help cleaning chuchu slime out of your hair, yes? I do have the pliers, this time."

Revali's rageful squawk was drowned out by Link's laughter.

Before the trio's banter could truly serenade with the sounds of the forest, Mipha was off to regroup with the others, and Link was soaring in the sky.

The sky was open and clear, not a speck of grey clouded the air. The sun was perched comfortably on the heights of Tabantha ridge, painting the horizon with strokes of orange, the distance blushing in the morning's presence.

The wind flipped Link's hair back and forth, so he finished tying the braid behind his neck, woven tightly with a single, Prussian blue feather. Its tip looked like someone had dipped it in the moon's pale glow.

Braid or no, the heights above Lake Totori were quite cold, and Link nuzzled himself further into Revali's soft feathers. If he were any softer, it wouldn't be out of the question to drown in him.

"You're distracting me." Revali craned his neck back, raising an eyebrow at his passenger. "Keep it together, back there."

The hero shrugged his shoulders. "It's cold."

"I told you to drink another elixir before I took off."

"I wasn't cold then! Besides," He flopped back into the Rito's soft down. "This is adequate protection." Link's words were slightly muffled as he spoke.

Revali sighed. "You're insufferable..."

Eying the destination down below, the Rito rolled his shoulders to get Link's attention. "Keep steady. We're almost there." He started to dip forward.

"And try not to go flying, I imagine it won't work out well for you."

Before Link could even process his words, his stomach started to drop. Falling fast, Revali arched nearly perpendicular to the ground, his bright blue scarf flapping behind him. The Hylian on his back could do nothing but grip onto his armour for dear life, clothes flapping wildly. His loose sleeves caught the wind, pushing them back to reveal pale gold letters, etched in the underside of his right forearm.

Leaving so soon?

The wind rushed by Link's ears, and the sky quickly faded from the cerulean glow of morning, to the snow laced air of the Hebra. What was once broad strokes of indistinct colors soon morphed into the intricate faults, flaws, and edges of towering grey mountain peaks. With the heavens stolen from them, and the frozen earth quickly coming to greet them, Revali quickly opened his wings to catch the air, swooping just above the ground and shooting forward towards the Flight Range.

Rows of cool safflina and wildberries whizzed by, the scent of smoked boar drawing closer and closer. Revali could practically feel Link's appetite from aura alone. Although, the fact that his grip on his back was starting to tighten didn't exactly keep it subtle, either.

"I left the stew going before we headed out for the mission. It should be perfect by now..." He tucked his wings into himself with a quick twirl as he shot through a narrow pass.

The cold updrafts of the Flight Range now biting into his face; the Rito let his wings expand with a few more great flaps, before landing gracefully on the railing of the wooden platform.

Link practically soared off Revali's back and bounded straight for the simmering pot.

"'Thank you, Revali, for giving me a ride across all of Tabantha without asking for so much as a rupee in return!' Oh, you're so welcome, my dear hero. It's always a pleasure to aid a flightless Hylian in need." He shook his head as he made his way into the hut.

"'Oh, but really Revali! The speed at which you travel, and the strength required to take on my loathsome person as you fly is truly something to admire. It's a miracle you took me with you at all.' Why, you are much too generous with your compliments, Link. I have half a mind to write this all down for—MmMph?!"

In a brilliant move of both telling Revali to shut the fuck up, while also sharing their meal, Link shoved a ladleful of delicious stew in the Rito's beak.

Warm, savoury stew trickled down his throat, banishing the cold from his body in mere moments. His tastebuds were nestled with flavours of nutmeg, tender meat, and the delicate heat of a perhaps a single, spicy pepper.

Link's expression was equal parts, "Will you shut up now?" and "So how's it taste?"

"Not too bad...The prime meat I procured is obviously the main event. But your seasoning skills are certainly something of note..." Revali made his way to one of the cabinets, as Link rolled his eyes.

The Rito set his bow beside the Master Sword, leaning it against the painted wood. His eyes lingered on it for a bit too long, before he scoffed and continued on his routine.

Quiver on the counter; bomb arrows wrapped properly; armour loosened and set aside; scarf—

The feathers on Revali's neck suddenly floofed up at Link's touch. But he didn't dare turn around and risk losing the sensation.

He carefully unfolded the fabric around Revali's neck, and drew it off his shoulder. He wrapped it around himself, and signed at the Rito, "Mine, now."

The Rito chuckled, before turning back around to look at the hero, now adorned with far too much blue. Blue tunic, blue scarf, and sapphire eyes—it wouldn't be out of the question to mistake him for the sky.

Link stretched out his hand, and traced the edges of Revali's face, eventually falling down his neck, and towards his shoulders. His fingers eventually hovered over some familiar words that wrapped down the left side of his neck and down his shoulder.

You should give yourself more credit.

They both did nothing but smile at each for a moment, leaning closer and succumbing to the moment. Revali could already feel Link's breath, and see the bits of snow still sticking to his (horribly) braided hair.

The Hylian saw something curious in the Rito's expression as he planted a kiss on the tip of his beak. Looking back up at his jade eyes, he couldn't help but smile wide. Revali cocked an eyebrow.

"Something to say?"

Quiet. The fire chuckled in the background.

Link finally leaned in and whispered to him.

"You smell like shit."

Revali scoffed loudly before shoving Link to the carpet, where he burst out laughing, the wind carrying it to the spirits above.

"Gods, you're insufferable. Why do I settle for you..."

Link unsuccessfully attempted to toss a pillow in his face in revenge—Revali catching it with ease.

"Beats me! Now come here, you stinky bird." He patted the space in front of the fire. No doubt he wanted to sit between his wings again

"Stew or no, I need you to keep me toasty."

In no time, Revali had sat down and wrapped himself around Link, resting his beak on his head.

A hole in the ceiling let sunlight trickle on them as they warmed up.

= = = = = = = 

Link finally sighed, the sound falling off into the void below.

"You-I can't-It was never..." He trails off, before chucking another pebble off the cliff, shaking his head.

"...I'm sorry. I know that you...That we're not really...friends or whatever...I don't mean to force you into anything uncomfortable. I owe you that much..." He looked up at the spirit, a determined look on his face.

"But, don't worry. Whatever mess I was before, whatever person you hated 100 years ago. They're gone, now. I promise I'm different. I promise I won't repeat whatever mistakes I made with you."

Revali just wants to die all over again.

"Well. That's good to hear. Perhaps there's hope for you yet, hero..." He walks forward, so he can't see his face, pointing a translucent feather far out east.

"I'd say your next objection should be Rudania. It's the closest. You can backtrack through whatever roads you've already trailed through getting here." The Rito then waved towards some glistening summits just a bit south. "Although, you said you've been to Kakariko and Hateno, yes? You could probably trek to Zora's Domain from there. The Zora will no doubt be a great asset to your further adventures—"

"Who was I closest to?"

Revali knew it was impossible to feel cold at this point, but he felt something shiver nonetheless.

"What do you mean?"

"Like...the pilots I mean. Was I...particularly close with any of them?"

"Well how should I know!" Revali snapped. He immediately regretted it seeing the look in Link's eyes. "I mean...sorry..."

Silence.

"...Mipha would be overjoyed to see you, I'm sure." He pointed again towards the cliffs surrounding Zora's Domain. "She had quite the heart...She'll make better company than I, I'm sure."

"Mhm...Alright." Link nodded to himself.

"But whatever you choose, don't try taking on Naboris, yet. Urbosa was one of the strongest warriors that even I've ever met. So I imagine that what awaits there is...deserving of more preparation."

The moon escaped from the clutches of a grey cloud, and the two of them were bathed in moonlight.

The knight's sword on his back glistens.

"I'll start making preparations tomorrow, and I'll finally be out of your hair." Link scratched the back of his head. "Although...I hope you don't mind if I come back every now and then to get pointers on using your Gale. I really only used it that one time when you gave it to me, and I've been a bit scared ever since, aha..."

Revali nodded. "That would be a more productive use of your time, yes."

Link finally stood, adjusting the strap of his sword around his shoulder.

"S-So...with Mipha. I actually heard from Kass that...uh he's—well you see, I figured you could confirm if she actually—"

"Stop." His response was as sudden as thunder. Link started sputtering again.

"S-Sorry. I know you just s—"

"Stop doing that. Stop trying to learn about the past, there's nothing for you there." Revali poked a feather at Link's head, which surprisingly made physical contact as he flinched away. "You've been given a gift, you understand? You have the luxury of being unburdened by the pains and memories of 100 years ago, while the rest of us have been stuck wallowing in what we once knew for over a century. Things that we can never attain now that we are dead." He glared, eyes sharp enough to stab into Link's flesh.

"It'd be an insult to the rest of us to throw away such a gift. So stop being ungrateful, and move on."

Silence.

Revali sighed, turning back towards Medoh. "Now get los—"

"You have no right to speak to me like that!"

The Rito whipped around. "Excuse me?"

"You don't know what it's like!" Link stomped a foot down. "You don't know what it's like, to have no attachments, no nothing to grasp onto!"

The Hylian shook his head, looking at his hands. "You're dead because of my failures, and for that, I'm truly sorry. I really am. But..." He looked the Rito, dead in the eyes. "But now I have nothing of value. Nothing to tell me what I'm worth, besides being a fighter. Besides defeating the Calamity. I don't know what kind of person I need to be," He waves a hand at Revali, "Or even what person I should try not to be. I can't...I don't want to just be nothing. Nothing but a sword and useless snippets of a dead past.

"So don't try and tell me there's nothing for me in the past. I need to know what I was, what I lost, and what I did wrong. N-Not just for me, but for everyone's sake! I want to truly know what this is all for, even if it hurts me..."

Link looked down, caressing his right wrist. "I want to know...what it was like to be complete...at the very least..."

Revali looked him up and down, something clawing up the inside of his chest, threatening to escape as dangerous words.

"...Let me see your arm."

"What—?"

"Hurry up, and just come."

Link cautiously stepped closer to Revali, extending his right arm towards him, like a handshake. But he roughly tugged him closer and folded the sleeve of his Rito garb away, exposing the skin to the crisp night air.

Pale gold letters adorned Link's inner arm, running from his wrist to his inner elbow.

Why did you think it was impossible?

The Rito nodded to himself. He had noted the first word being different when he had first reunited with Link, but it put him at ease—and completely shattered something—to have his suspicions confirmed.

"Do you know what this is, hero?"

"Yeah, it's a soulmark. This is probably what my soulmate 100 years ago said when they—"

"No." Revali let his arm fall, turning away. "It's a soulmark alright, but your soulmate is very much alive."

"Wh-What?!" Link started to walk up to Revali. "T-That's impossible! I-It's been over a hundred—"

"That's not the soulmark you had when I met you." Revali said simply. "You died. You were revived. You are adorned with a new mark, and are destined for someone new. Or someones. Or, maybe your soulmate is just yourself, it really depends..." He turned his head back.

Link was just staring at his arm. He bore no smile, but Revali could see the new fire in his eyes.

"It's like I said. It'd be an insult to go digging up the past. But I suppose I can't stop you..." Revali continued to make his way to Medoh. "You want something to fight for? Fight for that..."

The moon disappeared behind another cloud, and the glow of Medoh was all that bathed them. Link finally looked up, calling after the ghost in the mist.

"I...Thank you, Revali. But just so you know..." The Rito Champion turned, staring directly at the hero's determined expression.

"This doesn't change what I want. I still intend to know who I was."

There was quiet as they each looked at their ghosts.

Revali sighed, giving a sad nod.

"I know."

He disappeared in glowing blue flames, the embers falling towards the stars.

[aquaticstyles]

from the dining table

I know I said I was posting at 7, but I finished earlier than expected :) 5k inspired by the song we all know and love, From the Dining Table. Hope you all enjoy reading! I really liked how this one turned out. As always, feedback is welcomed and appreciated!!!

“Whatcha doin' out here by yourself?"

You nearly jump out of your skin and send the wine sloshing in your glass splashing onto the freshly cut grass at the sound of his voice.

You hoped—you prayed that you could get through the night without running into him. You were here to celebrate your good friend and her new husband, not re-open old scars. Yet here he is, right in front of you, dressed to the nines in all black, tailored perfectly to fit his broad shoulders and slim waist, chestnut locks styled haphazardly and intentionally all at once, new, foreign stubble on his upper lip and jaw making him that much more ruggedly handsome, chest hair peeking through the opened buttons of his shirt, and a white rose clipped to the lapel of his jacket.

He looks good. He looks really good, and you would like to die.

You would very much like to bury yourself in a hole.

He seems so familiar, traces of an old lover lost in the gold flecks of his eyes, but you don't know him, at least not anymore. He's a stranger now, an array of old photographs and journal clippings scattered throughout your memory. He went from being your person, to a person--from being the one person you could talk to for hours upon hours tangled in the sheets, the moonlight from the open curtains dancing upon miles and miles of bare skin, without ever growing tired, to the one person that sucks every word out of you, leaving you speechless, an awkward shell of the confident woman you used to be around him.

You would have followed him anywhere, blind, heart thumping beneath your chest, relying solely on his palm in yours to guide you through the dark—to the ends of the earth, tiptoes over the edge, ready and willing to plummet thousands of feet downward.

The breeze that floats through the air and brushes against your arm adds more goosebumps to the ones already present due to the man next to you. Everything around you is calm—the ocean to your right, waves slowly reeling in and releasing back against the shoreline, the sun setting in the horizon, creating warm hues of tangerine and pomegranate in the sky and sparkling on the endless canvas of blue below, the palm trees rustling gently, the soft chatter of guests behind you in the distance. Outside, there's a whirlwind of serenity, but inside, there's a hurricane crashing against your rib cage.

"Oh, I, um, had a phone call," you confess. You barely got the day off to come to the wedding, and your phone has been buzzing nonstop with work emails, texts, and voicemails.

Yes, you had to take a phone call, but you also needed a minute. A minute for yourself. A minute to reflect, on both past and future.

A minute to inhale--his palm in yours, your cheek pressed against his chest, his temple resting on top of your head, swaying slowly in the kitchen, Frank Sinatra's 'One For My Baby' echoing softly, pulling you closer to him if possible, hushed whispers of "I love you" from two hearts beating in unison.

A minute to exhale--love letters, broken promises, his (your) favorite t-shirt, borrowed books, his handwriting still in the margins, tokens of his thoughts, postcards, one for each new city he inhabited while he way away from you for months on end, pearls, a Frank Sinatra vinyl, your ring stretched and bent from his pinky, anything and everything that was part of him, tucked away in a cardboard box in your attic, collecting dust.

Weddings are supposed to be joyous; they're supposed to remind you of just how amazing life can be, particularly when it's spent with someone you love, but you can't help but feel lonelier than ever.

This is what you wanted.

This is what you wanted with him.

"Still always working," sparkles dance in those eyes of his, morphing every coherent thought in your head to mush. It's criminal how relaxed he is. It's almost as if you're old friends catching up, as if all of the history between the two of you simply no longer exists. He's smirking at you, making your insides turn to jelly and your brain slosh around in your skull. He seems entirely unfazed as he strolls closer to you, the whiskey in his glass barely moving from how slow he progresses. He's honey, the golden sugar dripping lazily from a swarming hive.

You look good. You look really good. And he notices.

His eyes trail from the very tip top of your head, to your cherry red toenails, and you immediately shrink in on yourself. He studies your appearance, long locks of hair he used to comb his fingers through flowing in the slight breeze and cascading down your back, thin straps holding up the loose, silky fabric of your sundress, heart-shaped lips glistening, coated in your favorite lip gloss (He thinks the longer he stares, the more he can taste them again—the more he can feel the sticky substance transferred on his own lips, remnants of your sparkles imprinted on him), freckled cheeks paired with a rosy nose, results from a sunburn (You're tanner than he last saw you. Has your skin always been this golden?), a new tattoo on your inner right forearm, a compass, so minute that one would have to be staring to notice (Which he was, and he did).

Then he sees it.

That all-too-familiar gold band wrapped around your right middle finger, catching the light reflecting from the white wine in your glass.

The ring he gave you.

The one he saw in Japan and had to buy because it had you written all over it. The one he left on his pillow in your shared bed, waiting for you once you had successfully stretched and rubbed the sleep from your eyes while he was off to an early studio session. The one he had engraved, "H.S." on the inside of, a little piece of him always with you. The last token of him you couldn't bring yourself to rid of, a time capsule from a past love.

As soon as you realize he's spotted it, your grip on the glass in your hand tightens. Harry's eyes immediately snap back to yours—after all this time, you still wore the ring. Why were you still wearing the ring?

In a desperate attempt to distract Harry from asking that question you knew was swimming around in his mind, you clear your throat, "Still always working," you force a tight-lipped smile and rock on your heels, "that and you know I'm no good at dancing." You nod your head to the crowded dance floor alive with couples drunk off the mini bar behind the two of you.

Harry's hard expression softens, accompanied by a dimple as memories of your horrible dancing come flooding back. He releases a warm chuckle, one you haven't heard in ages that echoes in your eardrums longer than you would have liked, "Can't argue with that, 'member you almost broke m'big toe a couple times." His eyes never leave yours as he takes a sip from his glass, the amber liquid gliding down his throat with a faint burn.

The space between the two of you progressively decreases as he moves closer and closer, until suddenly his shoulder is only a couple inches away, daring to brush against yours. You're both facing the ocean now, backs towards the roaring crowd. You close your eyes, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore easing the anxiety coasting through your veins. You inhale slowly, enjoying the feeling of the wind brushing against your cheekbones, cooling off the nervous heat Harry has caused. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Harry turns his head and watches you with your eyes fluttered closed, admiring your side profile up close with no shame, because how could he not? He hasn't seen you in person for over a year—it's like he's seeing you for the first time again. He fights the urge to tuck a stay piece of hair behind your hair, something he would have done without thinking if things hadn't gone completely downhill. He wants to memorize how you look in this moment, the exact position of every eyelash, the exact angle of the slope of your nose, just in case he has to go another 12 months without seeing you again. But boy, he wants to see you again. And again.

You keep your eyes closed, your lips turning upwards in a faint smirk, "I saw you at Target the other day," you open your eyes and turn to look at Harry, only to find him already fully fixated on you. Has he been staring at you this whole time? "Rolling stone? That's big."

He grins at your flustered look of shock; he was caught, but he's not embarrassed at all, not trying in the slightest to hide how much you have captivated his attention, "Uh yeah," Jesus, your eyes are beautiful. Your eyes didn't look this beautiful when you were together. Did you do something to your eyes? No, that's impossible. Is that a new piercing in your ear? You hate needles. Did you pierce it yourself? What else has changed about you? Harry, focus. What did you say again? Oh, yeah, Rolling Stone. "Doesn't do well for my narcissism though."

"Hmm... I can imagine," you take a sip of wine, returning your eyes back to the horizon, this time focusing on a pack of seagulls gliding through orange creamsicle skies. You can't stare into his eyes for too long without thinking of everything, the good, the bad, the ugly. Each time you look into his eyes, it's like reliving every conversation you ever had. His words, a gallon of feathers poured on top of you, soft tufts brushing against your skin. His words, a gallon of daggers poured on top of you, sharp metal piercing your skin.

Silence overwhelms the two of you—filling the void of words needed and wanted to be said.

Harry clears his throat and finally looks in front of him to the breathtaking sunset melting into the skyline, almost as breathtaking as you. Taking a big gulp of his whiskey, he prepares himself for the words about to spill from his mouth. He has to ask, because you're here, in person, live in stereo, and when will he have an opportunity like this again? This question has been swimming in his brain for months; it's been eating him alive, the unknown mystery of the situation. He's dying to know if you've heard that one song.

"Have yeh listened to the album?"

He chose the absolute worst time to ask this question, right when you were taking a sip from your glass. You nearly choke on the liquid sliding down your throat, erupting into a coughing fit as soon as you get a breath of air. Harry's eyes widen, immediately angling his body towards yours, a look of alarm flashing across his features. You hunch over, sending cough after cough into your free hand. A warm palm rests on your back between your shoulder blades, causing goosebumps to rise, and as soon as he's about to ask if you're okay, you wave your hand, brushing off your near-death experience. You cough one last time, your raspy voice hesitantly admitting, "Um yes, I have."

Harry furrows his eyebrows, analyzing your face to make sure you're actually okay and before he can stop it from happening, he's rubbing small circles into your back. He hovers his body slightly over yours as you cough one last time into your elbow. You mouth "I'm good" inaudibly and send him a thumbs up. You finally straighten back up, brushing your hair out of your face and blinking slowly a couple times, God, that was embarrassing, way to keep it cool.

When your posture returns to its natural state, and his palm on your back is no longer appropriate, Harry removes his hand and pushes it into his pocket. He silently curses himself for not grabbing intertwining your fingers together and squeezing your palm once—that was something he would always do when you were together. It was his thing. When you would be out shopping and the paps would show up inconveniently out of nowhere, he would grab your hand and squeeze it once, letting you know that he's here and he's sorry, before dropping it. When you would be eating dinner at your parents, laughing about who knows what, his knee brushing yours underneath the table, he would grab your hand and squeeze it once, letting you know that he's here and he loves you, before dropping it.

Silence returns again and you're both back to your original positions overlooking the sea. Bass thumping, "cheers!", clinking, birds chirping, leaves rustling, waves crashing, heavy breathing, congratulations, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!", his rings tapping against his glass, the soles of your shoes crunching the grass, heart pounding.

The loudest silence breaks, "Figured one day you'd at least g'me a call back."

If you weren't sure if that last track was really about you, you were completely certain now. Maybe one day you'll call me and tell me you're sorry too. For the first time since he's been in your presence this evening, you regain a sense of confidence, your nervous jitters diminishing with your next statement.

"I didn't have anything to apologize for."

And you didn't. Not when he was the one that left, when he was the one that decided he didn't want to love you anymore, when he was the one that chose his life over the both of yours. It hurt. It still does. So why would you call him and tell him that you're sorry too? Sorry for what? Loving him too much? Because you loved him too much. He was the love of your life, the man you wanted to marry, the man you wanted to be the father of your children, the man that completely and utterly captured your heart and sewed it together with his own. But he left. And you had to figure out how to live without him, how to do the dishes when he wasn't drying, how to dance when it wasn't his records playing in the background, how to kiss when it wasn't his lips that were folded over yours, how to love again when it wasn't him that you were loving. You had to do it all. Alone. Pick up the pieces he scattered, put them back together, and super glue them.

Then he put out his debut album. And suddenly he was everywhere, from magazines, to billboards, to tv shows, to recommended YouTube videos, to Instagram, to twitter, to even Facebook, there he was again, closer to you than he had been in months, yet still light years away. And all of those pieces you super glued? Yeah, they became completely undone again, and it didn't help that you decided to actually listen to his album. It was one thing to see him everywhere, but to hear him again, hear that voice that once felt like home, it ruined you.

That song ruined you.

You remember the day that song was inspired from, every single detail.

-

You had a particularly busy day at work, and you decided to have a spa night. A bubble bath, a bottle of rosé, a face mask, a couple bath bombs, and a pizza was exactly what the doctor prescribed. You had just stepped out of your steamy wonderland, your body covered in your favorite, fluffy robe, soapy suds still clinging to damp skin, completely content in your cotton bubble and slightly buzzed from the glasses of wine you consumed. It was nearly 3 in the morning, and you just sat down at your vanity to apply your various lotions and serums when the phone rang.

Who on earth is calling you this late at night?

You shuffled your slippered-feet to your bedside table, glancing over to see something you never thought you'd see again.

His name.

Harry Styles

Flashing on your screen.

Nearly giving you a heart attack.

You froze in your tracks, eyes widening, mouth hanging open, breathing halting, heart beat slowing and thumping louder than ever in your ears. It felt like the entire world was put on pause, every car on the busy street outside your apartment stopped, traffic lights stuck on red, clouds frozen in place in the sky, every form of life on hold. You miss the call, not that you could have answered anyways; you were completely and utterly paralyzed.

Another notification: Harry Styles Voicemail.

Then you're breathing again, quick, sharp puffs of air in and out. Are you dreaming? You squint your eyes shut tightly and pinch your wrist. This has to be a dream. You open your eyes, the same notification illuminating your screen. You're not dreaming.

God presses play on the world, your surroundings slowly returning back to their normal pace around you, your bubble bursting as you frantically pull your phone from its charger, typing in in your passcode at the speed of light and going straight to the neon green cube on your dock. A shaky thumb taps on the voicemail, hitting the speaker button. There are a couple seconds of static, and for a moment you think maybe it was an accident, a butt-dial, a complete misunderstanding. Please let this be an accident.

Key word: moment.

Because as soon as you think you can forget about this, go back to your nightly routine, and have a peaceful sleep, his voice is booming through the speakers, and you're paralyzed again.

"Um... Hi, it's Harry," the ghost of the man you used to know lets out a nervous laugh, "But you knew that didn't yeh? Probably why you didn't answer..." there's silence, two seconds, five seconds, eight. "I'm in Japan. It's noon here, and m'drunk, alone in my hotel room," his voice is deep, raspy, tired. "'Member that ring I gave you? I'm stayin' a couple blocks away from that shop. Y'loved that ring. Think tha' was the last good thing I did."

Your eyes shift to your right hand, the one that's not death-gripping your phone, the one that holds the piece of metal he's referring to. A lump grows in the back of your throat, and suddenly it's becoming harder to stand. You collapse on the edge of your bed and gulp. Tears pool uncontrollably in your eyes, falling onto the robe that now feels like pinecones suffocating you.

"I saw Mark befo' I left. Ran into him at the grocery store," Mark, your co-worker, your friend. Mark didn't tell you he saw Harry. Why didn't he tell you he saw Harry? Why is Harry talking about Mark? Why did Harry call you? Why did Harry leave you a voicemail? "I asked him how you were, and he said you were fine. Are you fine?" No. "Cause I'm not. M'not fine at all."

You shut your eyes in pain, wincing at his words. Waterfalls flood from your eyes, and you hate it. You hate that this is affecting you so much. You hate that he still has a hold on you. You wished you could not care; you wished you could simply say "fuck you forever" and forget him. It's been 6 months since the breakup, and you want more than anything to move on and forget him.

"Love I-" You bite your tongue at the pet name, almost drawing blood. When was the last time he called you that? 'Love'—the equivalent of a knife plunging into your chest again and again. "I fucked up... and I miss you." And again. "God, I miss you so much." And again. "And m'sorry. I'm so fucking sorry." And again. "Th'worst thing I ever did was what I did to you."

You're fully sobbing at this point, your phone thrown across the other end of your bed, his voice slightly muffled by your duvet. Your hands are tangled in your hair, elbows resting on your knee caps, shoulders shaking as you hiccup, wave after wave of his words hitting you. Little do you know, Harry is on the other end of the world doing the exact same thing—hands pulling his hair, hunched over on the edge of his grand suite's expensive mattress, an almost empty bottle of whiskey to his right, tears staining the carpet beneath him.

"And I know this is late. M'a fuckin' idiot for not saying it until now. I just..." He breathes out a sigh, and you pinch your eyes shut even tighter. No, he's drunk. He doesn't mean it. He's drunk. He doesn't mean it. Don't fall for it; you've been doing fine. You're fine... right? "I needed yeh to hear that. Need you to know I'm so sorry for hurting you. I did th'one thing I swore I'd never do."

Relaxing your grip on the roots of your hair, you sit up at his words, the words you have waited to hear him say for six months. Why don't they sweep you off your feet like you imagined? Why don't you feel different? You had thought about this moment over and over, the moment he would finally own up to his mistakes, finally apologize for all the shit he put you through. You imagined him showing up to your doorstep with a dozen sunflowers, your favorite, a speech prepared on how much he still loves you and how much he is sorry for everything. After, you would launch into his open arms, sinking back into his quicksand, enveloped in his love all over again. Everything would fall back into place; you would be whole again. What you didn't expect was a drunken voicemail, making you want to crumble inside yourself until all that is left is a pile of bones, useless. It felt as if there was a surprise epilogue to your joint ending—you were experiencing the break up all over again. What was supposed to give you life, hope was slowly taking it away each second the voicemail continued.

"I'm dying, love." Me too. "Can I still call you that?" No. "M'dying without you. Just... Please call me. Please let me show you how sorry I am. Need to hear y'voice. I'm so sorry. Call me."

-

His voicemail remains in your phone. You never called him back. You've lost count of the times your finger hovered over his contact name, nearly jumping into the deep end, just for you to take one step backwards on the diving board. One particular night, after taking another step back, you decided to write down everything you wanted to say, everything you wished you knock on his door and scream at him until you lost your voice—all of the heartache, the sorrow, the stress, the hope, the anxiety, every single emotion you felt since it ended. You wrote twenty-two pages. They're now hidden in your bedside table, addressed and stamped, never sent. Harry didn't call you again; that was the last time you heard from him, over a year ago now.

Silence welcomes itself again. Comfortable silence is so overrated.

Shoulder brushing against yours, Harry stands still, digesting your last words. I didn't have anything to apologize for. There was a time when he would have completely disagreed with that statement, clearly, given the lyrics to his last track on his debut album. Then, he would have argued that both of you had dipped your toe in your downfall, each equally responsible for how things crumbled apart. Now, however, he sees how it was him that was in the wrong. He was the one afraid of the commitment you wanted from him—part of him could never fully love you like he wanted to. A couple hundred therapy sessions later, he's sorted his shit out, and he sees just how much shit he put you through, as if someone had sat him down in a theatre, showing him your love story from your perspective. You don't owe him an apology; you were perfect, always giving him your all, every single drop, every single ounce of your love from an endless fountain. He was the one that left. Hewas the one that broke you into small, jagged pieces.

But he's selfish. He still misses you so much. He misses your hand encased in his, your laugh at his terrible jokes, your lips on his cheek, your faint snores that only erupt on Friday nights after a hard week at work, your face buried in his neck, chest on top of his and legs entangled in his on the couch, your finger poking his dimple, your face scrunched in concentration as you painted his nails, your records playing in his house (the ones you said he had to borrow, but if he scratched them, he was a dead man), your hugs (the way you would make him feel itty bitty in your embrace, enveloping him into your open arms after he was away for too long), your mind, always alive and itching for those deep conversations that always arise at midnight in his bed.

That's why he came to the wedding in the first place. He was originally booked to shoot a music video, but he quickly cancelled at the possibility of seeing you here. And that's why when he finally spotted you, off in the distance, speaking into your phone away from the buzzing reception, he knew he had to talk to you. He didn't care if it re-opened closed wounds; he was selfish and he had to talk to you. He missed you.

"Listen-"

"I-" Harry speaks up at the same time you do, beginnings of sentences clashing together. Your eyes meet again, shoulders turned towards each other now. He grins, bunny teeth making an appearance at the mishap regardless of the obvious tension that has invaded the air between the two of you. You envy that trait, his ability to make any situation comfortable and relaxed despite its origin. "You first."

"No, um you go," you mumble out awkwardly, finishing off the remnants of wine in your glass in a rather large gulp to ease the nerves. You know Harry, sometimes better than he knows himself, and you know that he would have never approached you if he didn't have some motive on his own. You had to shut this down—there was no way you could go down this road with him again, not when just this conversation was enough to ruffle your feathers, making you feel like a traitor in your own body, someone you don't even know.

"How 'bout we both go?" There's a cheeky look in his eye, and if you look hard enough you could see a tinge of excitement, hopefulness, "On th'count of three?"

Not daring to quirk upwards, your lips remain straight, and you nod.

"One," You can do it. Just tell him you want to basically forget he exists. "Two," You can do it. Just tell her you still love her. "Three."

Two similar heartbeats.

"I still love you-" Sweet sugar crystals, an honest confession from candy land.

"I think it's best if we don't see each other again." An exploding cannon, sinking his battle ship.

Two entirely different headspaces.

-

The next morning, you wake up with a massive headache, one that was undoubtedly brewing as you cried yourself to sleep the night prior (it might also have to do with the entire bottle of wine you consumed as soon as you slipped off your heels in your apartment).

You notice it's technically no longer morning when you check your phone, squinting in pain at the sudden brightness, the numbers 1:25 yelling back at you. Thank god it's Saturday; you haven't had a hangover of this intensity since college and there is no way you could possibly go to work like this.

Slowly slipping out of the warmth of your numerous weighted blankets, your socked feet hit the plush carpet, and you bend down and open the bottom drawer of your bedside table. Tied up in a pink bow are four envelopes, addressed and stamped, waiting to be delivered to the man whose hopes you crushed. You reached for the stack, running your fingers along the edges, reading over his name, tracing the letters with your fingertips.

With the letters firm in your grasp, you rush to your front door, making sure to slip on your robe; you don't want anyone to drive by you putting these letters in your mailbox in nothing but a t-shirt and undies, after all.

You're finally doing it, diving into the crystal-clear water that was once forever still. You're going to mail all twenty-two pages, every emotion. This is it, the last period to the epilogue, the ending of this book, the closure the both of you so desperately need.

As you reach for the handle, you pause, noticing the one thing you nearly forgot about—that gold band. You slip the piece of metal off your finger, observing his initials engraved on the inside for the last time. Untying the bow holding the envelopes together, you slide the ring onto one end of the cotton-candy colored ribbon and retie the knot, the ring now attached. Inhale, one moment to reflect. Exhale, one moment to say your final goodbye. You swing open the door, and right before you can make another move, something stops you. Looking down at your doorstep, a bittersweet smile breaks out across your face. He was saying goodbye too.

A dozen sunflowers.

[whimperwoods]

Arms of the Enemy (D&D Whump) - 17

 This is part 17! It was supposed to be fluff and angst and it is definitely both of those things, but I couldn’t get them both to fit in before the read-more.

There is now a masterpost, which can be found here.

Castor is a warlock, in service to the Great Old One and the Dark Emperor, in that order. Ed is a fighter, a knight and battle master in the service of the True King of Lumenea. They have always been enemies. Away from it all, they might be able to become something else. Maybe even friends.

(This time: Ed has his hair washed. Castor has an unpleasant realization.)

tw: aftermath of torture, tw: mind reading, tw: captivity, tw: scars, tw: threats (maybe???)

taglist: @redwingedwhump, @fanastywhump, @insanitywishes @bluebadgerwhump,@burtlederp, @newandfiguringitout, @kawhump , @extrabitterbrain, @kixngiggles​, @whumpitywhumpwhump

***************

Castor’s hands were gentle in Ed’s hair, his fingers running tenderly along his scalp, careful not to pull too hard as he worked the knots out of the wet locks. Periodically, he found one of the places Ed’s hair had been pulled hardest or used as a grip to drag him by, and Ed wasn’t sure what it meant that it was easier than ever to let little noises of discomfort out as Castor brushed against the scabs left behind.

Ed was mostly in the water, half floating, and his limbs were warm away from the cool breeze of the surface. Castor had rubbed at the base of Ed’s skull and down through the back of his neck, at first working soap into his hair, but then lingering, easing out muscle tension, warm and gentle, all the way down into the less injured portions of his shoulders, and Ed was floating, and he was tired, and if he let himself think about anything but the gentleness of the fingers on his scalp, he found himself trapped thinking about the pain that still radiated from his bound knee, throbbing with his pulse and running up his thigh and down his calf, and he couldn’t - he had to - the hands in his hair felt nice.

The soft grunts that escaped him almost before he noticed them were sparked, this time, by pains so small, so insignificant, next to the barely-lessened agony in his knee, that they almost weren’t pain at all, but only surprise. And yet, he couldn’t stop the sounds. He tried to convince himself that it was on purpose, that he was still being “entertaining,” that there was nothing comforting about just letting the soft, instinctive noises flow out of him as he melted under Castor’s fingers, but he had never been that good at pretending. Not to himself.

A soft moan broke from his throat and he wasn’t even sure, anymore, if it was a sound of pain or pleasure, but the soft “shhh” Castor responded with was more reassurance than instruction, and Ed gave up worrying about it, keeping his eyes shut and just letting himself relax and try not to overthink.

*****

Ed was lax and easy in Castor’s hands, cooperating, for once, and the water woman was studying her reflection in the water, looking pleased, but Castor was still on edge.

This was the moment. If he was going to grab the amulet and Ed and run, this was it. They were most of the way in the water, not so pinned down to this scarier bank, the woman was distracted, and Ed was - well, Ed was something, anyway.

The impulse to run was almost certainly a foolish one. Most of his impulses were foolish ones. He was outdoors, on a strange plane, wearing nothing but his underclothes. Ed was the same, but the underclothes were technically not even his, and he was too injured to walk. There was no way they could make a run for it. Was there?

Ed made a soft little noise in the back of his throat, more hum than grunt, apparently content, but Castor remembered how he’d sounded underground, begging not to be kept here, begging to be taken away from the woman who had them caught.

His breathing was short, tight, squeezed by indecision.

He ran his fingers along the healthy parts of Ed’s scalp again, and the knight turned his head into the touch, probably unconsciously, because even after everything, Castor still couldn’t imagine Ed accepting comfort from him without somehow demanding it first, just to be in control.

Gods, Ed was a nightmare, when he wanted to be. But he was so peaceful right now, so content in a way Castor had never seen him in his life, and something in him couldn’t wreck this moment, not even for that desperate, pleading voice still lingering in his memory.

No. It was better to scare Ed than to let him get hurt worse again. His shoulders relaxed as he made the decision. He kept working the tangles out of Ed’s hair, trying to be gentle, and breathed easily as he let the moment pass them by.

*****

Castor’s sweater was dry now, warm under Ed’s cheek as he lay tucked against the warlock’s side, using the front of his shoulder as a pillow. Castor’s arm was around him, carefully placed, solid and comforting, and he didn’t know how to hate it, anymore.

Castor’s breath had slowed, but Ed could tell he was still awake, if not by much. The water woman was, as far as he could tell, fully asleep, her pale hair floating eerily in the water, gleaming in the faint moonlight streaming through the shaft of the well above them.

Tentatively, Ed wrapped his fingers around the neck of Castor’s sweater, resting his knuckles against the warmth of Castor’s collarbone and holding on to the fabric, just to reassure himself that even if Castor let go, they’d stay together.

Castor hummed softly, rearranging just slightly to let Ed settle still more closely against him, and Ed took the offer, tucking himself more thoroughly against Castor’s relatively thin frame.

<<We’ll go in the morning,>> Castor said dozily in his mind.

<<Where?>>

Ed felt, rather than saw, the answering shrug.

<<You’ve been in danger, too,>> he said, glad he didn’t have to try to make eye contact while they were like this.

<<Yeah.>>

<<I’m sorry.>>

<<It’s not the first time.>> Castor’s shoulder tensed, as if he were going to shrug again, but then he didn’t, stopping before he jostled Ed.

<<I know,>> Ed answered, <<But I am anyway. Same as I’d be sorry for somebody who lost their house in a fire or got lost out at sea.>>

<<I did that, too. Could have been worse. Met my master there.>>

<<Is that how you got- >> Ed nudged Castor’s shoulder gently with the side of his jaw, <<that scar?>>

<<Yeah,>> Castor answered, turning his head to the side as if even facing the same direction was too close to making eye contact, just now. <<Lightning hit the mast. Sent pieces flying everywhere. The one in my side is worse. Actually got impaled by that bit. I’d - rather not talk about it.>>

Ed nodded, tucking his head down to get farther from Castor’s gaze, too. <<That’s fair. Might be a while before I want to talk about mine.>>

*****

I should let Ed have that, Castor thought. And yet - now that Ed had pulled him back from the brink of sleep, a half-formed question from earlier in the day was nagging at him, almost unbearably.

<<You, um - I saw the old scars, too,>> he said, trying not to push too hard, even as he gave in to curiosity. <<I kind of figured you’d been cut with swords and things before but the, uh - the burns were a surprise. The old ones, I mean. The other thigh, where it’s not new ones. Unless they healed you up in the dungeon and I just didn’t know about it?”

Ed’s head shook against his shoulder, a short, quick motion. <<You - you don’t want to hear about that one, Castor.>> The thought was barely a whisper, but something about it still managed to ring like it was hollow.

<<Now you have to tell me.>> He didn’t manage to make it a joke. It was foolish, being quiet in their own heads like this, as if their captor would hear. And yet - he couldn’t imagine speaking more loudly, not curled together like this, and he couldn’t make it a joke, even when he was trying.

<<That one was your lot, too. The time you burned the armory. I went in after the box of healing potions in the basement even though I knew the whole thing was ablaze. It was stupid, but the fire was spreading, and we thought the next building over might catch, and I thought if there were any casualties- >> Ed paused, cutting himself off. <<Anyway, it was me. I was the casualty. My sister didn’t half tell me off for it, either.>>

Cold washed through Castor’s gut and he suddenly felt himself being torn apart. He needed to get away from Ed. He needed to pull Ed closer. He needed to apologize. He needed to ignore what he knew. Instead, his whole body tensed and froze, stiffening as his impulses fought each other.

<<I told you you didn’t want to hear it,>> Ed said, staying right where he was, even as a bit of the old bitterness crept back into his voice like a sharp, poisoned thing.

Castor’s face burned with a blush, all of a sudden. <<You already know it was me, then.>> he said, trying to keep his voice even.

<<I’d have taken your head off your shoulders a dozen times before now if I could have managed it. You knew that already.>> Ed said it like it meant something and like it didn’t mean anything at all, all at once, perfectly calm.

Castor was lost, still torn between pulling away and pulling Ed closer, something in his chest was aching with it, now. <<I didn’t mean to catch anybody in it,>> he told Ed, half whispering, <<It was supposed to be empty. Just the weapons. We heard you had a guy working on magic javelins, and we figured - well. Wood burns.>> He licked his lips, not sure how his mouth could be this dry after a day breathing water half the time. <<I didn’t mean to hurt you,>> he continued. <<Not - like that. Not then.>>

<<I think I’d feel better about it if I’d marked you back.>> Ed said pensively, <<But you were always so damned far away. Long range, just blasting things but never getting close. I always thought you were a coward, playing keep-away like that when I knew you carried a sword.>>

<<I am a coward.>>

<<You’re not. That’s what sucks about it. One of the things that sucks, anyway.>>

Ed was still cuddled up against his side like he meant to be there, his fingers tangled in his collar, and Castor couldn’t move, couldn’t get away, couldn’t move his arm from around the knight. He had to just sit here, knowing things.

<<Do you still want that?>> he asked quietly.

<<Want what?>>

<<To mark me back.>>

<<Don’t be an idiot.>>

<<I’m not.>>

<<You are.>>

<<You didn’t answer the question.>>

Castor’s arm had begun to feel oddly estranged from the rest of his body, wrapped around Ed like they weren’t having the conversation they were having, like there hadn’t been a threat in there, somewhere, and maybe a reprieve.

He’d thought the feywild was supposed to be the incomprehensible part of all of this. But it wasn’t.

Ed looked up at him. <<I won’t mark you until we’re safe and sound somewhere. And only if you want it.>>

It was a relief when Ed looked away again, snuggling back down against his shoulder. Castor should leave it at that. He knew he should leave it at that.

He didn’t.

<<Ed, I didn’t - >> he breathed out heavily, frustrated. <<I don’t know why we were fighting. I don’t know why any of us were fighting. And I don’t know why I was there. What I was doing. Any of it.>>

Ed snorted, sounding almost - fond? <<You never know what you’re doing, Castor. Not sure why I’d be surprised that you didn’t know what you were doing then, either.>> All of a sudden, Castor wanted that old Sir Edmond venom, wanted Ed’s voice to twist like a knife into him, cutting and gleeful, but it didn’t, and somehow that was worse. 

He shook his head. <<No, listen to me, Ed, I don’t - >> he cut himself off, sighing to buy himself a moment to think. <<My master sent me there, said I needed to work with them for something, to get the two of us to a goal, but I don’t - I don’t even know why they’re at war with you. Why you’re at war with them. I don’t know any of it.>>

Ed was silent for a long moment.

<<Them, huh?>>

Castor blushed. <<I won’t say ‘us’ again until I know they won’t just shoot me on sight.>>

Castor was still blushing when Ed sighed, twisting his head down a little as if to evade something. <<We’re at war with them because they’re at war with us. You can say what you want about who started it, but the first battle was a thousand miles away from me and by the time word got to us it just - was. But once you’re at war you can’t just - just stop being at war.>>

<<Can’t you?>>

<<Not unless somebody surrenders.>>

<<Yeah, that’s not so much your bag, huh?>>

Suddenly, Ed pulled away, pressing himself farther into the little alcove, away from Castor’s side, and Castor’s whole body reacted with surprise against the sudden cool of the night air.

<<I think you actually meant that,>> Ed said quietly, but with some unreadable edge to his voice. <<But if you didn’t, I’ll never forgive you.>>

It took Castor a moment to realize what he meant.

<<If I ever rub it in that you told them what they wanted to know, you can stab me through the shoulder,>> he said, after a moment, extending a hand toward Ed in the faint moonlight. <<Mark for a mark. I’ll deserve it.>>

Ed’s eyes locked into his own so intently that neither of them could look away, but he didn’t reach for Castor’s hand, wrapping his arms around himself instead. <<I’m going to kill them some day,>> he answered, quietly, <<If you want to help when that day comes, you can stay out of my way.>>

That was it, then. The tension between them dissipated, all at once. He was forgiven. Or something. The water had whooshed past, under the bridge, a swift current. He broke the eye contact, looking down and away. <<If you - >> he bit his lip. <<Just, uh ->> Finally, he chickened out and pulled his arm back in toward his side. <<Don’t let yourself get too cold up against those rocks. You’re still healing.>>

It took 20 minutes for Ed to reach out and pull lightly at the sleeve of his sweater to urge him closer, but Castor didn’t fall asleep until they were back up against each other, warm in spite of the rock at Ed’s back.

[seijorhi]

Complicit

A/N: As promised my (slightly late) Yandere Dabi/female reader fic 🔥

TW kidnapping, implied abuse, non-con

You’d come to like the silence in the empty house. It meant safety, peace, if only for as long as its occupants were away.

It wasn’t often. Most of the time they went out in pairs and smaller groups, all of them going at once meant that awful things were about to happen. It usually also meant that when they got back, at least one of them would drop in for a one on one visit. You tried not to think about that part too much.

In the early days, you’d spent those precious hours alone desperately trying to free yourself. The door to your room didn’t lock, there were bars on your window, yes, but they were old and badly rusted, they might be easy enough to break if you applied enough force. Hell, the front door was just wood, and not particularly strong wood at that.

But there was a reason that they hadn’t bothered to put padlocks on the door, why they didn’t worry about you alone in the big empty house - the solid iron manacle wrapped around your ankle and the heavy chain that bolted it to the floor. They hadn’t been cruel with it, or at least not as cruel as they could have been. The chain was long enough for you to access the dingy bathroom attached to the side of your room, even long enough to reach a little way down the hallway.

You’d broken your nails trying to pry yourself free, scraped up your hands working on loosening the screws that anchored the chain down. They never so much as budged. While everything else in the house was worn down and decrepit, the chain remained strong. You could still remember the fear that flooded your veins the night that Shigaraki had come back to find you frantically trying to jimmy the lock open. Your eyes had gone wide, your breath coming in short gasps as he stared at you, those bloodshot eyes flickering from your face to the shackle around your ankle, and for one awful moment, you wondered whether he’d kill you for it. Instead, he’d laughed, more of a snort really, rolled his eyes and just walked away. It’s why they didn’t bother locking you in anymore, they understood as well as you did, you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon, not unless they wanted you to.

And sometimes they dragged you out, made you sit with them in that shitty, run down living room, stuck between Toga and Jin as they drank and gambled and laughed while watching that ancient, static-y TV. The whole time, you’d sit ramrod straight, hands clenched into fists on your lap as Himiko cooed at you, fingers twirling around your hair as she whispered awful things in your ear. But as unnerving as the sadistic little psychopath was, you’d much rather be stuck with her, any of them really, instead of Dabi.

He was the one who’d found you.

You weren’t a hero, you’d never wanted the spotlight, you just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It was cold that night, and all you remembered was the smell of burning flesh and a whimpering cry echoing out as you walked the dimly lit streets on your way home. It was a bad neighbourhood, bad things happened. Most people would have kept walking, it was safer that way. Maybe it was selfish, but it was really just self-preservation - Good Samaritans didn’t seem to last very long in places like this. Keep your head down, ignore what you weren’t supposed to see and live another day unbothered by the seedy underbelly of the city. Too many innocent people had been hurt because they’d tried to help. Nobody would have blamed you if you just kept going.

But the man sobbed again, his voice cracking as he begged for help, and you felt that twinge in your heart. If he was hurt… you could help.

Help him, and leave quickly. If you were lucky, he wouldn’t even remember your face.

Against your better instincts you crossed the road and wandered down the darkened alley. You found him lying behind a dumpster, hunched over and moaning in pain. The bile had crept up your throat at the sight of him - half of his face was badly burned, the skin, what was left of it, was a weeping mess of black, red and pink. The burns - the twisted, melted flesh- continued down his neck and spread across his right side. It looked like someone had thrown a wall of fire at him, and you had a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as he moaned again, his one good eye rolling to look at you. The smell alone was enough to make your stomach turn.

“P-please,” he gasped. “Please help me.”

It was one thing to ignore the cries for help entirely, another to walk away after seeing the state he was in. With burns like that, he’d be lucky to survive a few agonising hours, if that. But one look, and you could guess who’d put him in that state in the first place. Blue flames always burned hotter, and you knew of only one villain with a Quirk like that on this side of the city. It was possible that he was just an innocent man who happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time, but on this side of town it was just as likely that he was no saint himself.

And yet you hadn’t even paused as you dropped to your knees beside him, ignoring the grime of the asphalt as you leant over and placed one hand on his chest, the other on his cheek. Nobody deserved to suffer like that. He shivered under your touch, his gaze flickering wildly from you to the dark alleyway, as if he half expected whoever had done this to come back.

Whoever it was was likely long gone, assuming the poor man would die before anyone else actually showed up.

“It’s okay, just… try and breathe, alright?” you told him, trying your best to muster a reassuring smile. Truthfully, he was probably in that much pain that it wouldn’t have mattered what you’d said or done, he was hardly in a state to fight back. “I promise it won’t hurt for much longer.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you reached inside yourself, tapping into that power and letting it flow through your fingers. Your hands began to glow, a soft shimmer like moonlight emanating as his flesh began to mold itself back together. You were so focused on the energy that poured from your hands into his body that you didn’t feel the weight of a cerulean eyed stare burning into your back from the fire escape above.

Most of the wounds you worked on were small, hardly life threatening. Minor cuts and burns, a few broken bones and torn muscles. Wounds like his took a hell of a lot more focus and energy. Your brows drew together, a bead of sweat slipping from your temple as you forced more energy through the tenuous bond - there was still so much damage to fix, but slowly his skin began to heal.

With a cheshire cat-like grin, your voyeur dropped silently to the ground behind you. For a moment he simply watched, watched as your Quirk healed the piece of shit he hadn’t quite finished toying with. At first he’d been pissed at the interruption, but this? Oh this was a treat he wasn’t expecting.

Loudly, he cleared his throat. “Now what have we here, hm?” he purred, chuckling as you snapped around to face him, pretty eyes going wide with such delicious fear. You didn’t even notice that your hands had slipped, or that the man on the ground had started to sob anew at the sight of the villain before you.

With his wild dark hair, bright blue eyes and swaths of rough, scarred flesh stapled across his arms, chest and face, he was unmistakable.

Dabi.

You could only swallow and gape as he sauntered over, ignoring his victim entirely as he studied you. “Isn’t it a bit late for a cute little thing like you to running around, sticking your nose where it don’t belong, babydoll?”

Absolute dread crawled up your spine, freezing you in place as Dabi knelt down on the ground beside the two of you. Every instinct you had was screaming at you to run as fast as you could, because you sure as hell weren’t gonna be able to fight him off if he attacked, and heroes had stopped patrolling here months ago. But even if you could move, it was pointless. You’d seen footage of Dabi’s fights before, hell, the man you’d been trying to save was a perfect, horrifying demonstration of his abilities. You could try and run, you might even make it back onto the main street, but his fire was quicker than your legs, and his Quirk far more lethal than yours.

So you just swallowed again, nervously licking your lips as Dabi leaned closer. “P-please let me go. I-I won’t-” but your words stopped in their tracks as the cremation user’s hand reached out and caught yours, the other conjuring up a ball of blue flames that flickered in the cool night breeze. You could feel the heat it gave off, licking at the bare skin of your face and fought the urge to cringe away from it.

His grin widened, his thumb brushing back and forth against the back of your palm. “You won’t what? Tell anybody?” he mocked, his eyes finally flickering down to glance at the half-healed man. A flicker of irritation passed through his eyes as he sighed. “Ah, it’s my own fault, I suppose. Never leave a job half finished.” He glanced back up at you, running his slowly up and down your shivering body and winked, “Still, not a total loss, right babe?”

“Wha-” you never finished your sentence, Dabi striking like a viper to knock you out. You never asked what happened to the man in the alley, but you could imagine well enough. Hopefully, he’d ended it quickly, but somehow you doubted it.

The next thing you remembered, you were waking up in that rundown old house, lying on a filthy mattress, a chain wrapped around your ankle. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dabi who walked in first, but Shigaraki. You could still vividly remember the way he’d simply strolled into your room, picked up the lamp sitting on the lone night stand between four fingers, his pinky hovering in the air.

Staring right at you, his pinky made contact and you watched with a racing heart as it turned to ash before your very eyes. In a calm, detached voice he explained exactly what was going to happen: You were going to be good and you were going to be quiet. If one of them got injured, you were going to heal them, no questions asked, no fuss. In return, he wouldn’t turn your body parts to dust one by one.

Such a generous offer!

In a trembling voice you’d told him that your Quirk wasn’t limitless. You could only heal so much damage before you passed out, if they were too close to death or if they’d lost too much blood, you weren’t going to be able to bring them back from that, and you couldn’t heal sickness.

And then you’d looked him dead in the eyes and told him in a trembling voice that if any one of them so much laid a finger on you, you’d wait until the next time one of them got badly hurt, and instead of healing them you’d finish the damned job yourself.

It was a bluff, of course it was a fucking bluff, but it was all you had. Your only hope of keeping yourself unharmed.  

Tomura had just smirked, his thin, chapped lips baring across his teeth, and scoffed. “I can see why he likes you.”

Then he was gone, leaving to acquaint yourself with your new home.

For the most part, it wasn’t… awful. They mostly left you to your own devices, they made sure you were fed - you’d been surprised when the food they gave you turned out to be surprisingly edible. Oh, you never forgot that you were their prisoner, but compared to some of the other poor people they brought home…

Sometimes, they’d drag you down into the basement and make you heal their latest hostage, again and again and again and again, just so they could inflict more pain. They’d do it for hours, taking turns to hurt, to the point that whatever poor hero was trapped down there would start screaming whenever they saw you, begging through tears and snot for you to just let them die. And as awful as it was, and as terrible as it made you feel, there was some part of you that was just glad it wasn’t you tied down to the gurney.

There was also some part of you that wondered if at the end of the day, that made you complicit. Even so, when you were lying wide awake in your bed at night, that wasn’t what kept you up. No, it was the way that Dabi had stared at you, smiling like a cat that ate the canary as you did as your captors bid.

So yeah, you liked the nights when they were all off doing horrible, awful things, because it meant that you got peace.

But there was always a price when they came back.

In the eerie silence of the empty house, it was hard to miss the creak of the front door as it swung open just before. The rabble of their voices and laughter floated down the hallway - whatever they were doing, it must have gone well. Hopefully that meant that they’d have no need of your or your Quirk. Your eyes fluttered shut, your arms folded across your chest as you held your breath.

Keep walking, please keep walking.

The soft knocking at your door shattered those hopes. You opened your eyes open just in time to see Dabi slide into your room and shut the door behind him, that lazy smirk splayed across his face, but that wasn’t what caught your attention. No, it was the wide gash cut along his chest and the gruesome wet crimson stain on his white shirt.

“Aw, you stayed up for me, babydoll?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. “You got hurt,” you replied blandly.

Dabi just chuckled, making his way over towards the bed. You scampered up to the headboard, burrowing into your pillow as he settled himself down far too close for comfort. He shrugged, inching closer. “You know how it goes. Some bastard got a lucky shot in,” he said with a chuckle. “Don’t worry though, I took care of him.”

Bullshit. You didn’t believe it for a second. You weren’t sure how long they’d been keeping you locked up in here for - a month at least. In that entire time, Dabi had been the only one to come on an almost weekly schedule. It seemed like he wasn’t capable of going out to conduct League business without finding himself hurt in some way or other.

You’d seen him fight - with his Quirk he didn’t need to let others get close enough to even get a shot in, and yet every time, seemingly without fail, Dabi managed it. Maybe you wouldn’t have doubted the legitimacy of his injuries if it wasn’t for that stupid smug expression he wore whenever he sauntered into your room, like he was enjoying it just a little too much.

“C’mere. You can’t do it properly from all the way over there,” he crooned, wrapping one hand around your wrist and tugging. Knowing that it wasn’t worth the fight, you complied, crawling towards him as he shrugged off his jacket and shed his bloody tee, tossing it across the room.

You averted your eyes, your cheeks blushing a pretty pink that had Dabi chuckling again. “I can heal you just fine with your shirt on,” you muttered under your breath.

“Oh, I know.”

God, sometimes you just wanted to hit him in his stupid face.

He winked as if he knew exactly what you were thinking and beckoned with a single finger. “I don’t have all night, sweetheart.”

More lies, but you wanted this over quickly. Ignoring the heat of his burning gaze you crept closer still, almost sitting in his lap, rubbed your palms together just once before placing them on his chest, just below the still bleeding gash.

You could feel the pump of his heart, the steady rise of fall of his chest with every breath as your Quirk started to activate. Your hands began to glow and Dabi let out an almost pornographic moan. One of his hands reached out to clutch as yours, pressing it harder against his skin.

Your flush spread to the tips of your ears, but you ignored him (and the growing bulge in his jeans), squeezing your eyes shut and focusing instead on trying to force your Quirk to work faster.

Anything to get him out of the room. He always did it, acted like it was something gross and sexual whenever you had to heal him. You never felt good after helping any of them, but Dabi was the only one who ever made you feel dirty afterwards.

Maybe that was why you missed the heady lust that glinted in his eyes as his skin knitted itself back together.

“You really need to stop getting yourself-”

Dabi struck.

Quick as a whip he had you on your back, straddling your stomach with his thighs resting either side of you. Your hands, which had been on his chest, were both swept up in one of his and pinned to the headboard.

“Dabi, what the fuck?!” you hissed. “Let me go, you asshole!”

There was nothing but wicked intentions in his smile as he licked his lips and let his eyes roam. “Don’t be like that.” He ground his crotch against your stomach, leaning down so that his face was hovering just above yours. “Are you gonna try and fight me off, babe? Do you think it’ll do you any good?”

Shivering in repulsion, you considered his words. Would it? If you screamed loud enough, would any of the League come? And if they did, would they stop their friend or help him hold you down? Toga liked you, if her psychotic, twisted version of friendship could be considered as such, and Tomura didn’t seem to hate your presence. Twice sometimes slipped in to have a smoke and talk, but did that count for anything? You were still their captive and Dabi-

“I’m still gonna fuck you anyway,” he said with a lazy shrug.

Dabi was a fucking asshole.

“Get the hell off me,” you hissed instead, thrashing beneath him.

Dabi just laughed, “Nah. I’ve waited plenty. Y’know, I think I made a mistake bringing you here.” His lips brushed against your neck, kissing it lightly and nipping at the tender skin as he pulled away. “You remember the night we met? You were so terrified, shaking on the ground as you begged me to let you go. D’you remember, babe? You were so adorable! So damn cute,” he purred. “I wanted to fuck you right there in the alley for the whole fucking city to see, but I had other shit to deal with, so I took you with me. Figured I could keep you here if I could make ‘em think you were useful enough.”

The index finger on his free hand lit up like a match and you could only watch in horror as he slowly dragged it down it down the oversized tee they’d tossed at you. You felt the heat brush against your skin, but it didn’t burn - only the fabric did. “A healing Quirk like yours is rare, and it didn’t exactly hurt things that you such a sweet, submissive little thing. You never even tried to fight back, just like you’re not gonna fight me now, right, cutie?”

Shame flooded your core as he let go of your hands to pry the ruined scraps of fabric apart, his cyan eyes lazily trailing across your exposed chest. A bra, apparently, had not been considered necessary when they’d decided on your wardrobe. “Aw, dollface,” he tutted mockingly. ‘You’ve been holding out on me. Who knew you had such a cute, delicious pair of tits, hm?”

He leaned over again, shuffling down your body so that he could comfortably wrap his lips around one rosy, pink nipple. You stiffened at the contact, crying out in shock as his tongue swirled around the bud, alternating between licking and sucking on it. Even with his mouth occupied, Dabi grinned as you trembled beneath him, biting your lip to stifle any sounds. When he finally relented and let go, it was with a sick plopping sound that made your stomach flip and a wave of revulsion crash over you. But Dabi was far from finished, kissing, sucking  and biting a trail across to you other breast, intent on giving it the exact same treatment.

You hated yourself for the warmth you felt pooling inside you, the slick that gathered between your legs the longer Dabi lavished your tits with attention. With one hand braced on the mattress beside you, his other reached up to cup its twin, kneading the soft mound in his greedy palm, tweaking your nipple just to hear you squeak.

“Please, Dabi,” you gasped,  “Please stop.” You didn’t expect him to listen, but you begged him anyway.

But surprisingly he did, pausing in his attention for just a moment to let out an irritated huff. With one final bite, he righted himself, wiping off the excess saliva on his lips as he met your terrified gaze, his eyes hardening as they narrowed into a frown.

“It’s partially my fault, I’ll admit that, I didn’t think these idiots would get so attached.” Your shock must have shown on your face, because Dabi scoffed, “Oh don’t play dumb, doll. I’ve seen the way ol’ crusty looks at you when you’re not paying attention. He wants to fuck you,” he cut himself off, seizing your lips  in a needy kiss. His tongue swept past your bottom lip, pushing into your mouth to taste you. He groaned as his lips moved forcefully against yours and you couldn’t help but shudder at the odd feeling of his scarred skin against yours. There was nothing sweet or tender about the way he kissed you. It was primal, violent, ravenous. When he finally pulled away, biting down on your bottom lip and tugging hard enough to draw a bead of blood, his eyes were blown wide - wild and terrifying. “And he’ll do it soon, too. He might be an awkward fuckin’ virgin, but there’s only so much wanting a guy can take before he just snaps.”

Each word out of his mouth sounded more ridiculous than the last, but still they made you feel sick to your stomach. Outside of forcing you to heal him once or twice, Tomura had never laid a finger on you, he barely spared you a second glance! Hell, he seemed to just barely tolerate your presence when the others dragged you out to play.

But what if he was right? What if he was just biding his time, waiting until your guard was down to attack?

Dabi chuckled, petting your cheek in a mockery of tenderness. “No need to look so worried. I’m not gonna let that creep touch you, or any of ‘em, for that matter. Y’see, I grew up in a pretty big family, had a few younger brothers and a sister who always wanted to play with my toys, but I never did learn to share all that well. You, babydoll,” he said, reaching down to toy with the drawstring of your pyjama shorts, a truly wicked grin adorning his face. “You’re mine.”

You licked your lips, your heart rate picking up as his other hand grasped at his belt buckle, the echoing clink of the metal sending shivers down your spine. “I think it’s time we left the League behind, don’t you, Babydoll? Make our own way in the world, just you ‘n me?”

You could only watch in frozen horror as he moved onto the zipper next, sliding it down with exaggerated slowness, revealing his boxer shorts and the straining erection of his cock beneath. Oh god. Oh god, please no.

“Dabi-”

He shook his head, the fingers that were tracing patterns across your stomach heating up enough to have you squirming beneath him as he pulled himself out, not even bothering to shed his jeans entirely. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, your mouth going dry. It was bigger than you’d expected, thicker too, with a prominent vein running along the underside and a noticeable curve. Pre-cum beaded at the head as he stroked himself leisurely, preparing himself for what was about to happen.

Like a terrified rabbit you started to shake, trembling beneath him. You wanted to yell, to fight and kick and scream, but it wouldn’t do you any good. There was no way he was going to fit that thing inside of you, no way it wasn’t going to be painful! Tears of sheer terror welled in your eyes as you silently begged for somebody to stop this. As if he could read your very thoughts, Dabi just winked.

“But first,” he said with a lewd moan, sneaking his hand underneath the waistband of your shorts as he continued his languid strokes along his cock. “First, sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck you ‘til you’re begging me to let you come.”

Whatever protests you had were swallowed up in a heated kiss as he violently tugged your shorts down. “You’ll learn to love it,” he whispered between ragged breaths.

[yandereclues]

Request: Hey! I saw that you take requests for Stranger Things and was wondering if you’d take requests for borderline-terato Mindflayer! Billy Hargrove?

Request by: @youre-gonna-stink-and-burn 😊

Note: I changed things up a little with the mind flare, just to fit the Yander print better. But I really hope you enjoy !! 💕 (also based on the pronouns in your bio I assumed you would want male pronouns, if not I can change them real quick.)

Pairing: Yandere! Flayed! Billy Hargrove x Male! Reader.

Warnings: Displays of obsessive behaviors, slight violence? And sexual themes.

(Credit to @fivemoonjunction for the cool gif 😋)

“Hey umm,” you spoke as stress-filled tears threatened to pull from your eyes, “have you seen Billy recently? He hasn’t been answering my calls and-“ your shaky words were cut off by Max’s reply.

“No,” she seemed uninterested. She went to close the door, but you managed to get a sentence out before It clicked closed; “Well, if you see him please call me.”

She opened the door again slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. The unintelligible emotion behind her words put you off slightly. She quickly slammed the door closed. You stared at the frosted glass, at about eye level on the door. A small, almost silent sigh escaped your lips as you tilted your head up. But as you looked up, you noticed a pair of curtains flowing outside of an open window. You recognized the window, the same one you had been ushered to crawl through on many nights. Memories flew around your mind at the thought.

You remembered the chilly autumn evening vividly. “C’mon baby, if you jump, I’ll pull you up,” it was like his voice called to you from the open window, beckoning you closer. You had put all your faith into Billy’s relentless weightlifting that night, hopping towards the window. You remembered just barely touching the window sill, as strong warm hands gripped your forearms.

Many things had happened. You remembered music, calloused hands, cigarette smoke, and piercing blue eyes encasing you throughout the night.

A chill filled your system. The last time you had seen those beautiful eyes was last Friday. When Billy had dragged you to the changing rooms of the pool after hours. He had pressed you against the cold stone wall, lips grazing over your neck. Running his hands down your body as he usually did. This time though, he hesitated. As if he was waiting for some sort of signal.

It took a few seconds for it to set in how cold his hands were. He refused to let you ponder the subject though, as he resumed kissing your neck roughly. Much rougher than your previous nights, where he had been gentle, patient. His chest was pressed against yours, almost uncomfortably so. You shiver at the words he spoke softly into your ear that day. “I’ll be back for you, don’t worry.”

As soon as you got to your front yard, you threw yourself off of your bike. Not bothering to put it in the garage. Rushing to get to the door, you nearly dropped your keys as they shook, trying to get the damn thing to open. When the door finally slipped open, you scampered through, closing and locking it as you entered.

————————————————————————

“Come here,” you heard him call, “come here baby.” Billy sat down on his old bed, beckoning you forward with his pointer finger. You crawled forward, reaching your hand to touch his thigh. You seemed a mere inch away, but the only thing in front of you was now your kitchen phone. It rang, even as you rushed to pick up the receiver, it simply rang.

You could see him, on the other side of the line. You could feel him. He was cold, afraid, desperate. When the phone would stop ringing, he would dial your number again, placing it to his ear as he awaited your voice. You spoke through the receiver;

“Billy? Are you okay? Why are you so cold?,” you were frantic, trying to express your concern to him. But he wasn’t in his home anymore, he now stood in the field outside of your school. He just stood there, taking a long, shaky drag of his cigarette.

————————————————————————

Your eyes opened lazily, taking in the lights you had left on when you fell asleep. You looked at your bedside clock, it’s 1:26 AM. You stumbled over to the light switch, so inconveniently placed next to the door to your room. You flicked the light off, turning to now return to your slumber. But the familiar feeling of thirst made your throat scratch. You huffed, pulling the door open to stumble your way to the kitchen.

You flicked on the lights in the kitchen, the harshness of the fluorescent light fixture stung your eyes. A cold breeze flowed in from your left, making you shiver as the hair on your arms stood on end. But you got through it, in an attempt to grab a glass of water so you could go back to sleep. You tilted the glass up. “Hmmm?,” the top layer of the water seemed to have frozen. A frustrated huff left your lips. You stumbled towards the entrance of the house, where the thermostat was attached to the wall.

As you turned the corner towards the thermostat, the temperature continued to drop. Your eyes widened, as they landed upon your front door, standing wide open. You froze, not really knowing what to do. When you came to your senses you quickly walked over to close the door. But before you could close it;

Something called out.

The sound seemed to pull you outside. The grass was wet against your bare feet, but you couldn’t find it in you to care. You walked for a while, it seemed like it took twice as long as it did on your bike to reach your destination.

Billy’s house was dark; no lights, no sounds. You stepped up to the front door, almost knocking on it, when the sound of those awful curtains flowing outside of Billy’s window reached your ears. You looked up. There was something, no, cigarette smoke being blown outside of the window.

You walked over, noticing the ladder Billy had always set out when he wanted you to come over. It was an old rusty ladder, leaned up against the side of his house where his window was. You placed your hand on the rung, hesitantly. What if the smoke was just your imagination? You would practically be breaking and entering.

You quickly forgot those thoughts though, as you hoisted yourself up the ladder. One rung at a time. The final step onto the roof had always been a little awkward, but you managed. You tip-toed over the roof, taking no chance in waking the people beneath you. You stood under the window now, looking into the pitch black room, in which smoke no-longer emanated.

With a quick breath, you jumped. Your fingertips barely grazed the window sill. But once again, a strong, firm grip held onto your forearms. The grip easily pulled you through the window, with you simultaneously ending up on the floor.

You looked up, seeing those piercing blue eyes shining in the moonlight. “Billy!” You stood, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. Bringing your body to his. He returned the embrace, nuzzling his face in your neck. You could feel him inhale deeply, as if taking in your scent.

He pulled away for a moment, moving his hand up to hold your jaw. “You heard me calling you?” He asked. It seemed like a rhetorical question, as his answer lies with you standing in front of him. Still, you nodded frantically. He smiled, his grip on your jaw tightening. He spoke; “hmmm, good boy. C’mere.” He pulled you over towards his bed. He sat, having you stand between his legs.

You piped up “Wait, where were you? I tried calling you so many times, and you didn’t answer. I was starting to get—,” something wasn’t right. Where the hell did he go? What happened?

Billy, in an attempt to pull you away from such silly questions, spoke; “You know, you’re so pretty. My pretty little boy, hmmm?” You froze, not knowing how to respond to his words, his touch. Dear lord it was cold in here.

You looked over, Billy must have turned on the lamp on his bedside table while you weren’t looking. Your eyes averted his, instead scanning the walls. It seems he had torn down all of his porno magazines.

You were surprised, he had spent years putting all of those up. But now they were instead replaced with, Polaroid’s? Many of them were blurry, like he had been in a rush. But one of the photos seemed oh-too familiar.

This photo, unlike the others, was framed. It was a photo of you and Billy. He had insisted that you sit on the hood of his car, while one of his buddies took the photo. As you looked closer, you realized that many, if not all of the photos were of you.

Many you remember having told Billy he could take while doing, scandalous things. Others seemed to be of you in many positions. Asleep in his bed, making him breakfast while his dad was at work, and the occasional shot of his hand on your ass.

Billy refused to let you ignore him longer. He pulled you down on the bed. With seemingly more strength than ever. He had you pinned down by your arms. He stared down at you with hungry eyes. His teeth shined in the lamp-light as he licked his lips. He leaned his head down to your lips, kissing them aggressively.

“Shit,” he whispered, “you drive us fucking crazy.” He bit your lip, hard. His action caused you to gasp, attempting to wrench your hands away from his grasp to sooth your lip. He only gripped them harder, with a bruising force. “We’re so lucky,” he breathed. “I thought I was crazy about you before, but he’s showing me just how much I can love you.”

Billy moved both of your wrists to his left hand, using his right to reach for the cuffs on his nightstand. Without warning, he quickly snapped the cuffs around your wrists. You then began to panic, struggling against the cuffs. He still had one hand, holding the chain linking the cuffs. The other, now moving up your neck.

“It’s okay, you can trust us,” his hand gripped your neck softly, “we aren’t gonna hurt you.” You tried kicking, thrashing your legs around. You tried kicking his legs, but it was to no avail as they stood solid where they were.

“Billy, what the fuck!? Let me go, now! Are you crazy?! You disappear for like a week, and now you’re talking about ‘we’!? What do you mean ‘he’s showing you’?!”

His grip tightened around your throat, choking you mid sentence. His expression changed, now darkened, like a switch had been flipped. He spoke, low and hoarse; “Don't fucking talk to us like that! You won’t know a damn thing about what’s out there. He’s shown me shit you couldn’t even imagine,” he growled “this is the only way you’ll be safe. The only way we can make sure you’re all ours.” His expression softened. “You're all ours,” he barely whispered.

As well as his expression, his grip on both your restraints and throat lightened. You took this opportunity, not knowing if such a thing would occur again. You pushed his hands off of you, leaving him momentarily stunned. The handcuffs rendered you slightly, but you pushed up from the bed, jumping over to the window. Making you realize, it was colder inside, than it was outside.

You got practically half way outside before Billy lunged towards you, dragging you down to the floor by your ankles. You fought back, pushing him away. But the seemingly inhuman force he used, easily had you rendered defenseless. “Stop struggling honey,” he huffed. Once again his hands wrapped around your throat. Only this time around, he didn’t hesitate to completely choke you out. He watched you try to pry his hand away, merely sighing as your body went limp beneath him. “Hmmm,” he spoke, “you’ll understand soon darling.”

——————————————————————————

Part two? Maybe?