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olivianott · 8 months ago

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BRAIN CHEMISTRY

Tell me I’m not the only one happily not recovered from the deatheatertok (yes that’s why I’ve been MIA😬) and the Lorenzo Zurzolo gifs from the other day? 😭 I could not help myself with this one.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION, OCTOBER CAME EARLY TO ME.

ꕤ 1.6k words

ꕤ deatheater!Theo Nott x fem!reader

ꕤ warnings: toxic ex, deatheater Theodore, pure smut, unprotected sex, explicit content, not for minors, 18+

ꕤ all characters are adults

You knew you were in trouble. That you fucked up. You somehow found yourself at a party in an unknown manor. You and your friend got talking with some people at a pub and now you are surrounded by glimmering Death Eater masks. Everyone is acting as if they are just having fun at a party. But you see their eyes following the two of you everywhere.

You already know what is going on at these parties. You heard stories, awful stories, from him. You wonder if he is in attendance. No. Stop thinking about him, he didn’t want you anymore. He is one of them after all.

You try to think of a way out for you and your friend. Get drinks, but don’t drink them, discreetly inch towards the entrance while smiling and acting like you’re having the time of your life, getting through the door and the few steps over the anti-apparition wards and poof, you’re both safe.

That was the plan. Everything went smoothly, until just before getting through the door, your path is crossed by a tall Death Eater with an overly decorated mask. “Hello, beautiful.” He says while you watch your friend successfully execute the plan and disappear with a crack.

You turn around and try to escape the lewd gaze of the big Death Eater, but there is another one in your path and you realize you are surrounded. Fuck. This is not good. No, don’t panic, don’t panic.

You panic.

Your vision starts to blur and you can’t seem to think straight. Heart in your throat, the ground becomes unsteady. Another mask enters your field of vision, too close to your face. This mask looks elegant, not overly decorated, but with artistic lines strategically curved around the planes of the artificial face. He grabs you by the upper hand and starts to drag you away from the crowd that formed around you, barking something to the other Death Eaters. You try to fight him off but it’s not working, his grip tightens and when you don’t stop, he loses patience with you and puts his wand under your chin. It doesn’t hurt but the threat makes you tremble in fear.

The man leans down next to your ear and hisses: “STOP IT.” The voice is so hard and threatening but at the same time familiar.

You momentarily freeze and that gives him time to drag you through the hall and into a bedroom.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He closes the door after you and you finally have time to compose yourself, because he goes to the other side of the room, leaving you alone. While he locks the room with his wand, your mind clears slowly. You suddenly realize why the voice is so familiar.

Theodore Nott.

You’ve never seen him in his Death Eater robes and a mask before, but now you can’t stop looking at him.

Theodore turns around, throws his mask on the bed, and stalks to you so fast, you actually step back in fear until your back is against the door. “Why the fuck are you here?!” He spits in your face, his eyes are feral and full of anger but also fear.

“It was an accident, my friend thought it would be a good idea to-“

“To what? To enter a devil’s lair full of fucking Death Eaters that enjoy killing too much and don’t ask for permission to do anything? Don’t you fucking know what’s going on at these gatherings? Fucking hell!” He is talking quietly but with so much anger, you can actually feel his magic vibrating between you.

“What’s it to you? You’re one of them now, you look like you’re right at home at this vile party, huh?”

“Do you really think I like it? That I wanted this? Do you even know where you are?”

“In some nasty pureblood’s manor?”

“Yes. Welcome to the Nott manor.” His sarcastic smile falls off his face as he looks down and backs off of you, finally letting you breathe air.

Oh. Nott manor. It’s his home.

“Are you actually hosting this party?”

“Well, as I said, those people don’t ask permission for anything, so here we are. But now you are here and you made this night even more difficult for me. They have set their eyes on you now and they are hungry, in more ways than one. The Death Eaters need their food, and they like to play with it before eating.”

He says this so matter of factly it takes a while for your mind to catch the whole truth of what you’ve casually walked into tonight.

“You’re a Death Eater too now.”

“Exactly.” He smirks.

You’ve missed him so much. His scent brings back memories, and you feel your body heat up despite his arrogant behavior and attempts to scare you off.

“What- what are you going to do to me?” You say breathlessly. Without your permission, your mind shows you pictures of you and him from the past, the little bit of fear just heightening your excitement.

“Oh please, you know I’m not like-“ he stops himself mid-sentence and focuses his glare on your throat, pulsing with blood rushing through you, your red cheeks, your trembling hands, the rise and fall of your chest.

“Now I remember.” His mouth curves in this arrogant smirk and his eyes look mischievous at the same time as dangerous.

“You like danger… you like being scared, amore? Does it turn you on? Tonight you bit more than you could chew though, princessa. And now…. You are trapped in here. With me.”

You can’t respond to him, but your body does. Your breathing gets more labored and you can’t help your gaze falling to his lips.

His hand starts roaming down your body while again hovering over you, leaning against the door, the height difference between you more obvious than ever.

“I- uhh…-“ you are unable to say more. But you close the distance between you and crash your lips against his.

Theodore groans loudly, takes both your hands in his, and slams them against the door above your head.

“Oh princessa, you don’t know what you just started, do you?” His hard kisses resume and your mind is filled up with sensations.

The feel of his body against yours, the hardness of the door digging into your back, his teeth biting your lips, dragging against your throat, his lips sucking on your pulse point.

Your eyes are closed, but you feel your feet leave the ground as Theodore picks you up and sends you flying on the bed. While crawling over you on the bed, he picks up his mask and puts it on his face.

Fuuuuck.

You can barely see his eyes staring down at you from behind the mask, in between the short strands of hair falling down around it.

The world is a blur now, clothes start flying off of you, his hands tracing your curves. Suddenly he loses patience and flips you over, on your hands and knees on the bed. With his hand under your chin, he makes you look up. A mirror. Your moan is embarrassingly loud. The vision of him in his mask behind you, admiring you through the mirror, hand grabbing your throat… you’ve never seen anything hotter. With his other hand he traces your wetness and groans into your ear: “So ready for me princessa, you really do get turned on with fear and danger. How nasty of you. Was this your plan all along? To get fucked by a Death Eater?”

You can only manage to shake your head no, since he is already opening his Death Eater robes and taking out his beautiful cock.

“I bet you were hoping to find me here, right? Wanted to make me take you back? Make sweet love and be together forever?“ He chuckles condescendingly at that thought. „Look at you now, writhing under me, dying for me to fuck you like this, with my mask on. Scream for me, princessa.” You can’t see the expression on his face since he is wearing his mask but his words are so degrading and harsh. And still, your eyes roll back into your head.

And you do scream for him, you can’t help it, you are overwhelmed with sensation, his hands, his cock, his scent. After a while, your arms give out and he pushes your chest down into the bed, holding your hands crossed behind your back, you can’t even move. You are completely at his mercy and the feelings in your head are so confusing. You feel pathetic, under him like this, your body getting rocked by his trusts, but still, the way his cock feels inside you, the way he seems so powerful and in control of you and your pleasure with the way he manipulates your body and mind creates a fog inside your brain. Surrounded by his grunts, you realize he is using you for his satisfaction, seemingly oblivious and uncaring about your comfort or pleasure. You being completely naked, with your face in the mattress while he is still fully clothed behind you is just another layer of the humiliation. But your fucked up brain makes you love it so much that with his whimpery moans in your ear you finally lose control as you feel him lose the rhythm and push all the way inside you, so incredibly deep, as he spills himself inside you.

There is no cuddling after. He unceremoniously pulls out and sits in his bed propped up against the headboard, a trembling hand bringing a cigarette to his mouth, while you try to find your clothes and dignity on the floor.

“Nice show. You were loud enough, so now they know you’re mine and hopefully leave you alone. Doesn’t change anything between us though. You can use the floo to get out of here and I hope to never see you at these things again, you understand me?” He says all of this so coldly and without even looking at you at all, so you quickly throw on your clothes and leave through the floo, throwing a “you’re still the same asshole” at him over your shoulder.

Sitting on your sofa two days later, you are replaying everything that happened that day in your head. Your brain keeps getting stuck on the fear in his eyes when he dragged you to the room, a shaking cigarette in his hand after the sex, a slight tremble in his voice while he kicked you out of the manor after fucking you into oblivion.

Maybe everything is not as he wants you to believe. He saved you from them after all.

As always, thank you for reading, hope you liked it. I’m not done with deatheater!Theo though 🤭.

moodboard

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚ Your principessa ‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾. ‧₊˚

If you want more: 🖤here🖤

If you need more death eater Theodore 😌

#toxic theo #theo nott x reader #theo nott smut #theodore nott #theo x reader #harry potter fanfiction #death eaters #deatheater theo #slytherin boys #slytherin #dark slytherin boys #theo gone bad #drabble #smutty fanfiction #smutty smut smut #hp fanfic #slytherin boys smut

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nr1chaedickrider · 1 year ago

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I can only be me when i'm by your side - i'm not a monster.

As time passes recovering, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.

cw: fluff, smut, angst, petnames, virgin!reader, sweet girl!jihyo, popular but not so popular!jihyo, basketball player!jihyo, both are 18 but they are students, mentions of death, drunk confessions, they fall in love pretty fast, lwk rushed, lmk if there is more ^_^, ~ 4k words

if you're thinking "hm! i read this fic somewhere... yes! its my heeseung fic from my bg blog @adorwoo ! which i wanted to use for jihyo !^_^ hope you enjoy anyway.

men dni.

It's not your fault.

It's not your...

Is it really?

The rain beats down on your black umbrella, the lines from Dahyun's letter playing over and over in your head. It feels like you're trapped in a vicious cycle, not being able to think of anything else.

But why?

Why didn't she tell you?

Were all those conversations about the mutual trust between you two a lie? Was it just talk to keep you from worrying?

If someone had told you a week ago that you had to be at her funeral because she had killed herself, you would have laughed at that person. Dahyun was always the happiest person you've ever met.

Even if you had been told that a day ago, you wouldn't have believed it. Because in theory, it's the stupidest thing you've ever heard.

In his letter, she wrote about how much she loved you, how she enjoyed every minute and every moment with you, how it's not your fault that she's not here anymore.

She's probably right, not just probably. She's right, and you know it. But you can't stop blaming yourself. Someone has to take the blame. Someone is responsible.

You could have helped her.

You should have helped her.

Tears run down your cheeks as you stare at her grave. Her family, her friends, they are all gone. You stand here alone, not daring to leave.

'Kim Dahyun

Born on may 28, 1998.

A friend, daughter and lover.

She will continue to live in our souls.'

It feels like your eyes are glued to the writing, you can't look away. You try to regulate your breathing, taking a deep breath.

A sigh leaves your mouth as you place the white rose next to the gravestone.

You take one last look at her grave before turning and slowly walking away.

"I'm Y/n, nice to meet you all."

You look at the students in front of you, all of them giving you strange looks. Of course, you are a new student, but you feel uncomfortable under their gaze. The teacher smiles at you and tells you where to sit, next to a girl called Mina.

It's as if everyone has forgotten about you again as the teacher starts teaching. You sit down next to Mina and she smiles at you.

"Nice to meet you," she whispers. You smile at her.

You can't talk to her for long because she starts taking notes for the lesson. You look around at the faces of the others. It actually looks like a normal class, but your eyes land on a girl.

She looks shorter than you, her hair is brown as well as her eyes. She's wearing a white t-shirt.

"Have you laid your eye on someone?" asks Mina, laughing a little.

"No!" you answer, a little too loudly, and you put your head on the table as a few people look at you. "I was just looking at her," you whisper.

"Yeah yeah... that's what they all say" she says.

You slowly lose yourself in your thoughts as memories of Dahyun come flooding back.

Should you even look at other girls? Is it bad?

Would Dahyun hate you for trying to find love again?

It's been more than two months since she died, but you can't stop thinking about her.

Maybe it's normal, your behavior. Your overthinking of everything, maybe you're not the only person who feels this way? Maybe there is someone else who is just as lost in their thoughts as you are.

Maybe you are simply not alone.

However, your thoughts are interrupted by the bell and Mina.

"I can show you a few things here at school if you want," she suggests, and you gratefully accept her help.

You spend the whole lunch break running after her while she shows you around.

"Why did you change schools anyway? Your old one is a pretty well-known one, and much better than here," she asks, before taking a bite of her sandwich.

The question makes you wonder, and you think about whether you should just lie to her and say that you moved, or that you were somehow bullied at your school - but somehow it feels wrong. Because you neither moved nor were you bullied. No, everything was actually fine.

Actually,

Somehow everything changed after her death.

Your classmates started looking at you funny, and you still don't know whether they are looks of pity or looks of condemnation because they blame you.

"I don't know" is your answer, and somehow it's true. Sometimes you really have no idea why you changed schools, but Mina doesn't need to know the whole truth.

She just nods in response as she continues to eat.

"The girl you were looking at in English, her name is Jihyo by the way" she says.

What?

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.

"Because you were staring at her a lot - you looked really interested in her" she replies with a little grin.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I wasn't staring at her..." you laugh a little, but can't hide your despair. Why does she think you're interested in her?

"Watch out!" someone shouts, but before you can react, a basketball hits you.

You fall to the floor, your head hurts and you feel slightly dizzy as you slowly open your eyes.

The girl from your English class is kneeling on the floor in front of you, looking at you, trying to see if you're okay.

It's like a cliché high school movie.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a couple of other girls come over, but she just tells them to get something to cool off and shoos them away.

The things that can happen when you want to visit the gym...

You nod slowly, after a few blinks your vision is no longer blurry.

Another girl comes back and hands Jihyo a cold pack.

"Here, take this," she says and puts it in your hand, her hand on your shoulder to support you.

You hold it to your head, biting the inside of your cheek slightly from the cold.

Before she can say anything else, she is called by his coach, at the same moment Mina comes to you.

"I was looking for you," she says and helps you up.

You watch Jihyo jogging across the field before you leave the gym.

New week, new luck?

Every day you tried desperately to talk to Jihyo somehow, but suddenly she was always gone after class and you were never put in a group together.

But it looks like luck is on your side for once.

"Here's the list of groups, you have to give a presentation in pairs on a play of your choice," your English teacher announces.

You look at the picture projected on the wall.

Chaeyoung and Mina,

Sana and Miyeon,

Jihyo and Y/n,

Jeongyeon and...

Wait, what?

You read the list again and once more you see your name and Jihyo's name next to each other.

"Jihyo and Y/n," you say quietly.

"Are you happy?" Mina asks teasingly with a grin on her lips.

"Are you happy that you have to work with Chaeyoung?" you ask back - Mina doesn't answer.

Before your teacher can give you any more homework for the break, the school bell rings and everyone rushes out of the classroom.

You walk (or rather, run) to Jihyo who is packing her things away.

"Hey, I was wondering when we should meet," you say, and she looks up at you and smiles. You feel your cheeks turning red.

She puts on his backpack and stands up.

"How about Friday afternoon? My place?" she suggests and you nod.

She takes a pen from her pocket, "Give me your hand," she says, you are confused but do it anyway.

She opens the pen with her mouth, the cap between her teeth as she gently writes on your hand.

Her phone number.

It feels like she's giving you an autograph.

"Text me and I'll send you my address," she says, and before you can answer, she walks out of the room.

You look down at your hand and see a little smiley face next to her number.

You can't help but giggle as you look at it.

You stare at your phone - up to her front door and back down to your phone.

You are 10 minutes early and don't dare to ring the doorbell.

"You know you can just ring the bell?" someone asks you, you look up and see Jihyo smiling at you.

"I'm early, that's why-"

"Not a problem," she interrupts you.

She lets you in and closes the door behind her.

Her house is beautiful, modern and yet somehow old-fashioned.

"My parents aren't here, so I thought we could study in the living room," she says, and you nod, leaning your backpack against the table.

"Water?" she asks and you take it gratefully.

You drink a little before she sits down across from you.

You both leaf through the books, take notes, talk briefly about certain passages, but otherwise no one says anything.

Jihyo decides to break the awkward atmosphere.

"I wanted to apologize again, for the basketball," she says, and you laugh a little.

"You don't have to apologize, things like that can happen," you reply.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" she asks, and instead of answering, you are completely silent, thinking.

Memories of Dahyun come back while Jihyo looks at you and waits for your answer.

"Yes, I did, but she died a few months ago," you answer.

She nods slightly, "Can I ask how he died?" she asks in a quiet, polite tone, as if she really wants to make sure that she's asking something that doesn't hurt you in any way.

"Suicide," you say, short and meager, without many details (whether you know many details at all is another question).

She looks at you with a supportive look, one that makes you feel like she's really listening and that she really understands you.

Maybe she understands you even more than you think?

She puts her hand on yours with a slight smile.

"Thank you for confiding in me," she says, your cheeks slightly flushed, hers too.

You both look at each other for a moment before she lets go and you both go back to work.

If only the work had gone on for longer.

After the one meeting, you saw her every day of the vacation. Always with the excuse that you supposedly "need to add something" (does going to the movies together add something to your project?).

It's been more than a week since you first met.

"You're in love," Mina says as she parks her car in front of Jihyo's house.

"I-"

"Don't even try to find an excuse, it's all good" she replies with a small grin.

You both get out of the car and walk to her house, the music so loud you can hear it several meters away.

How Jihyo, who is slightly drunk, hears the doorbell is also a mystery to you.

"Hey guys!" she greets you, she shakes Mina's hand and gives her a kind of high five, she gives you a hug.

You smile at her as the three of you walk into the living room.

"I'm going to Chaeyoung," Mina whispers, or rather shouts, in your ear before disappearing.

"Y/n, do you want to play a drinking game with us?" asks Jihyo, you nod.

Maybe it was a stupid decision.

Jihyo and her friends (of whom you only know Jeongyeon) only understand drinking games to mean taking shots and asking stupid questions.

Either answer - or drink.

You always chose the second option.

After about 7 questions (maybe more, maybe less - you lost count of that pretty fast) you get up and say that you need some fresh air.

Since you've been to her house several times, you know where the upstairs balcony is.

It's quite big, with a parasol and two folding chairs. You sit down on one and close your eyes, your head throbs a little.

"Are you okay?" someone asks after a few minutes.

To your surprise (not really a surprise), Jihyo stands next to you before sitting down on the chair to your right.

"Yeah, it's just the alcohol," you say.

You and alcohol, not really a good combination.

Especially not when you're sitting next to the girl you're in love with.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" you ask out of nowhere.

She shakes his head, "I thought it was obvious" she says and laughs a little.

"I love you" you confess.

She turns to you, but before he can answer anything, you keep talking.

"I know we haven't known each other that long... a month?? more? less? but-... I just have this feeling with you that I only used to have with her"

"I thought I'd never feel it again," you say, a tear running down your cheek.

Jihyo looks at you, her eyes slightly watery.

Is she crying too?

"Y/n" she says, interrupting your continued rambling.

She gets up, kneels down in front of your chair, and -

kisses you.

Her soft lips on yours.

She pulls away after just a few seconds and you already feel like you miss her lips.

"I love you too Y/n" she says softly.

You look at her in amazement.

"Really?" you ask.

"That's why I asked if you had a girlfriend" now it all makes so much more sense.

She pulls you up and takes you to the guest room. She tries to lay you down on the bed but you pull her with you and she falls on top of you.

You both stare at each other and laugh a little.

"You're drunk, get some rest," she says, kissing your forehead.

"I'll be here when you wake up"

And she really is next to you when you wake up.

"Good morning..." you groan as you rub your eyes.

She smiles at you, "good morning" she says, from the look on her face you suspect she woke up just a few minutes before you.

You pull her closer to you by her collar and kiss her, she kisses you back while her hand is on your cheek.

The kiss is just perfect, gentle, slow, a perfect way to start his morning.

But it can also be perfect in another way.

It gets warmer under the covers as you continue kissing, she kisses down your jaw to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on it. You can't help but rub your thighs together a little.

"What about the others?" you ask.

"I kicked them out yesterday after you fell asleep" she says, continuing to kiss your neck, even nibbling on it, making you let out soft moans.

"Jihyo, I think you should know that I am a virgin" you say, your cheeks heating up a little in embarrassment.

She giggles a little, kissing you on the lips again.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about baby" she replies with a smile.

She gets on top of you, continuing to kiss you.

You think kissing Jihyo is the best thing in the world.

Her hands trail over your body, giving you a soft squeeze here and there.

"Can I?" she asks, her hand playing with the buttons on your pants.

"Please" you answer with a smile.

She complies and opens them, pulling off your pants and leaving you in your underwear.

You sit up a little, your hands on her waist, feeling up her muscles, especially her abs.

"Want me to take it off?" she asks, you nod.

She pulls off her shirt over her head, dropping it somewhere on the floor.

Your finger trails up his stomach to her bra, looking at her like she is a work of art (she definetly is one).

"Done admiring me?" she asks with a teasing grin, to which you reply "never".

She leans down again, kissing your face as she starts to trail them down till he arrives at the waistband of your underwear.

"Can I?" she asks again, "yes" you answer, already out of breath.

She takes your underwear off, her hands placed on your thighs as she leaves kisses everywhere.

You can definetly tell that she has a thing for kissing.

When she places a kiss right on your clit though, you let out a small moan.

She begins licking and sucking on it, making you grab her hair with your hands as your fingers curl deeper into her scalp, leaving a delicious burn.

She drags her tongue down as she circles your core, slowly entering it a little.

You let out more moans as you turn your head to the side, moaning into the pillow.

Her tongue feels so good when you realise that you are closer and closer to your climax.

"Jihyo- I think I'm gonna-"

"Let it out princess" she mumbles against your core, the vibrations of her voice stimulating you even more as you cum into her mouth.

She smiles at you as he sits up, watching you coming down from your high.

You smile back at him as your cheeks turn red again.

"Can I?" she asks, her fingers trailing down your soft skin as her nails scratch you a little.

You look at her hand, a few veins poking out, her fingers thin but long.

You look at her again, nodding.

You pulled her closer as she rubs your clit with her fingers, you suck in your breath as she slowly pushes them in, the little stretch burning in a way that makes you even hornier.

She slips them in completly, you let out a moan in response. She takes your hand with her free one as your fingers intertwine.

She starts to slowly thrust into you, kissing you again as her tongue explores your mouth.

"You're so tight baby.." she mumbles into your mouth.

You can't help but let out louder moans when she starts to speed up a little.

Her fingers drive you crazy, it feels like she is everywhere, you feel her everywhere in your body as she exits and enters you.

"P-please jihyo- faster" you moan out, and who would she be if she wouldn't listen to your wishes?

She speeds up her thrusts, kissing down your neck again as her hot breath hits your skin.

Your hand grips the pillow your hand is laying on, moaning against your arm as you can feel Jihyo curling her fingers.

She thrusts into you again before you moan loudly, cumming as your thighs close around her wrist, panting heavily as she lets herself fall onto the spot next to you.

You both stare at the ceiling, the only sounds the heavy breathing from you.

You move her hand to yours and intertwine your fingers. She moves her head to the side to look at you, smiling.

You think seeing her smiling is something you can never get enough of.

Idiots in love, thats how you two can be described.

The next few months were full of love. Kisses here, kisses there. It didn't even have to be sexual, no, it was always romantic, no matter what you did together.

After a few months, she gave you a ring.

"One day I'll buy you an expensive, real diamond ring and ask you to marry me," she said, and since then you've both worn the matching rings without taking them off once.

If only it had stayed that way.

It's late at night, you're lying in bed reading a book when you get a message.

"I love you,

I'm sorry" - from Jihyo.

You sit up and stare at your cell phone.

"What's wrong?" you type and send the message, she replies,

"I can't take it anymore"

She can't take it anymore?

You feel a twinge in your head as you suddenly realize something.

It's too similar to Dahyun's goodbye.

"I can't live in this world anymore" she wrote in her text.

You look at her location, and without hesitation you walk, no - storm out of your apartment and run to her.

She's not far away, a bridge situated over a river only 5 minutes away, and you think you've never been so grateful for anything.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to see anything while your clothes get wetter and wetter, the rain completly drenches you.

Again it feels like a cliché love drama.

Only maybe this time you have the chance to have a happy ending.

Your legs are burning from all the running as you arrive on the bridge.

"Jihyo!" you shout, the rain pattering loudly on the asphalt, forcing you to shout even louder for her.

Her bike is right next to her, one leg over the railing, her hands gripping it tightly, as if she's...

Scared?

"Y/n?" she answers, her voice low and shaky.

"Please..." you say as you walk slowly towards her.

She doesn't stop you when you take her hand in yours.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, she looks at you as a tear runs down her cheek.

"I-... I didn't want you to worry. I thought this feeling would go away if I didn't talk to anyone about it," she says.

Whether your face is wet from the rain or your tears, you don't know.

"Believe me, you have to talk to me, then it will get better," you say.

Her face comes closer to yours and, without answering, she kisses you.

You kiss her back, try to grab her so you can hold her closer - but she lets go.

Completely.

You slowly open your eyes, afraid of what you will see - but you see nothing.

No one.

The rain completely overwhelms you.

"No..." you whisper, looking down on the floor and picking up something shiny.

Her ring.

You look out over the railing and see the water turning slightly red.

It feels like you're trapped in a vicious circle, like you'll never find peace again.

You are trapped, with no way out.

While other people find the rain soothing, you find it to be more like torture.

While other people would stay indoors in weather like this, you're outside again.

Again in front of a grave.

But this time it's Jihyo's.

Everything feels too similar and you hate it more than anything.

"It's not your fault" is a sentence you started to hate.

You hoped so much that you would never have to hear or read it again.

"Why didn't you talk to me..." you whisper, as if she could hear you.

Your hand clutches the letter, it slowly getting soaked by the rain.

You don't dare to move.

"You knew what happened..."

All time does is passing -

"Why did you hide it from me..." Your voice is full of despair.

And all you ever do is grieve.

"Life without you is no way to live" the white flower falls on his grave -

just like her ring,

engraved with your name.

She helped you recover from Dahyun's death.

You just wish you wouldn't have to recover over her death alone now.

In another universe, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.

In this universe, you're left alone,

again.

482 notes · View notes

snowseasonmademe · 8 days ago

Text

Especially on camera

word count: 6,125

warning ‼️: smut

pairing: wiliam saliba x black female reader

summary: wilo had a hard day and he couldn’t miss this opportunity to release his stress

tag list: @sucredreamer @irishmanwhore @dexastres @coffeevacation @goldenngt @btslover117 @kennaskorner

@leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

@jessnotwiththemess @thepointlessideas

@kjlovesbigwilo

note: sorry this took kind of long. i got carried away but on the bright side its long and very entertaining ;) as always, enjoy and tell me what you think.

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

Wilo had a hard day.

The game against PSG had stripped the spirit from his body in the cruel way only football can—slowly, then all at once. The locker room was too quiet afterward, filled with heads hung low and the kind of silence that wasn’t peaceful, just numb. He sat toward the back of the team bus, slouched in his seat, headphones on but no music playing. His fingers toyed absently with the edge of his jersey. Defeat clung to him like sweat. It wasn’t just the loss—it was knowing that the season’s hopes had come undone with it. That it was over.

“Maybe next year” he muttered under his breath, not believing it.

But then—buzz. His phone lit up in his palm. He glanced down, expecting some team update or sponsor message, but instead his heart caught fire at your name.

11:56 PM

you – katrina needs you

Katrina.

His lips quirked despite the weight in his chest. That name—your name for her, your little inside joke—hit him like a memory in full surround. You’d dubbed your pussy “Katrina” after that first night together, when he’d made you come so hard and so fast, you’d nearly cried. “She’s dangerous” you’d said between giggles, sweat-slicked and high off the release. “Natural disaster levels.” he said back

He hadn’t forgotten. Couldn’t.

The name stuck. Not just because it was funny—but because it was true. You were the storm, and he? He drowned in you willingly every time.

He stared at the message, thumb hovering. His whole body tensed. He wanted you, badly—but sometimes, you liked to play. Tease him. Make him jump through hoops before you let him taste what you both knew belonged to him. Tonight though, he wasn’t in the mood for riddles. He didn’t want to earn it—he needed to lose himself in you. Quiet the ache in his chest, the buzzing in his head. You were the only one who could silence everything.

He tapped out a reply anyway.

12:00 AM

wilo – tell her no games.

A minute later:

12:02 AM

you – she said why would she play games when you know she has needs and you’re the only one who can please them.

His throat went dry.

His dick twitched under his sweats.

It wasn’t just about sex. It never was.

The way you texted him, matched his heat with yours, said what you said without hesitation—it wasn’t just lust. It was alignment. Shared hunger. He needed to feel that again, even if only for tonight.

And time was never on your side. Your tour schedule, his travel demands, the constant cameras, the necessary secrecy. You lived in fragments, stolen moments behind closed doors. When you had the chance to see each other—really see—you took it. Because the rest of the world didn’t give you much.

He couldn’t miss this. Not tonight.

12:12 AM

wilo – will be there in one hour. send me location.

12:14 AM

you – don’t be late. we’re waiting.

You tossed your phone onto your chest and let a smirk rise to your lips, body already pulsing with anticipation.

A soft laugh escaped you as you pressed your thighs together, trying to trap the ache that was growing between them. He had that effect on you—Wilo didn’t just fuck you. He touched something deeper. And when he was gone, you swore your body remembered him.

Your girls used to joke:

“Y’all don’t be fuckin’, y’all be screwin’.”

And they had proof. That one time they walked in on you two mid-session—they never recovered. The sounds, the sweat, the headboard slamming, the cries that echoed down the hall. Wilo moaning loud, your voice breaking like you were being murdered. They still brought it up with raised eyebrows and fake concern.

“I don’t know how your pelvis is still intact” one of them had said last week.

You didn’t care. You liked it that way.

You wanted to scream. To feel him inside you so deep it changed your anatomy. You wanted to shake and cry and forget your own name. You wanted to feel that stretch in your lower stomach where his tip pushed so deep, it felt like pressure on your soul.

You were lost in those thoughts, fingertips tracing the hem of your shorts, when your phone buzzed again. His ringtone.

You answered instantly.

“Y/N,” he said. His voice was a low growl, dipped in that thick, beautiful accent that made your stomach flip.

“Mmm?” you hummed, coy and soft.

“I’m trying to hurry but there’s traffic. Don’t touch yourself. I will do it. Just wait. I be there in a few minutes.”

A sharp breath escaped you. Your fingers froze.

“I’ll wait,” you whispered. “I love fucking you too much to do it myself.”

He audibly exhaled, like he’d just been punched in the chest.

“I will crash if you talk like this chérie,” he said tightly, voice shaking with need.

You giggled, teasing but not. “Oh we can’t have that. You have to eat me first, then you can crash your car.”

He laughed, really laughed—and it lightened the air between you. The tension, though, still pulsed underneath like a drumbeat.

“Okay. I will see you soon” he said, and hung up quickly—before you could tempt him into veering off the road entirely.

As soon as Wilo hung up the phone, you tossed it onto the couch and headed straight to your room. You moved with purpose—slow, sultry, almost ritualistic. Tonight wasn’t about trying too hard or dressing up for show. This wasn’t new. Even with how rare your meetups had become, there was something sacred in the routine. Familiar. Intimate. Raw. You knew what he wanted. You knew what you wanted. That was all that mattered.

You slipped into something barely-there: a loose black sleep shirt and matching shorts, the kind that clung only where they wanted to but swayed easy with every step. No panties. No bra. You weren’t in the mood for clothes to get in the way. Tonight was about access, about urgency. You considered shaving for a second—not out of shame, but habit. The hair between your thighs had grown out just a little, but honestly? This wasn’t a night for vanity. He didn’t care. You could show up with a full, wild bush and he’d still bury himself in you like he was starving. He wanted in. He always did.

You walked back out to the foyer, checking each blind to make sure the world couldn’t peek in. Privacy was survival in your world. Your fingers tugged the last blind into place—and that’s when you heard the knock. Three firm thuds. You froze. Your heart paused. Then—an excited grin spread across your face. You gave yourself a quick, silent twerk of celebration—pure instinct, pure joy—before smoothing your shirt and gliding to the door.

When you opened it, there he was.

Big. Broad. Towering. His presence filled the doorway before he even crossed it. He radiated this primal confidence—the kind that came from knowing he was wanted, needed. Big dick energy if you will. His gaze landed on you like he already knew what was waiting for him, and his whole body was humming with intent. His hands were clenched, jaw tight, like he was trying to hold himself back out of respect. But the fire was right there—behind his eyes, in the heat radiating off his skin. This wasn’t just desire. This was need.

He knew he’d satisfy you. Knew that once he got his hands on you, there’d be no doubt. Because your pleasure was his pleasure. Watching you unravel, hearing you moan, feeling you clench around him—that was what got him off the most. He didn’t just enjoy your reactions; he craved them. Needed them. And you? You weren’t afraid of that hunger. You leaned into it.

But he also knew that pain made you sing. The right kind, at the right time. The sharp slap to your ass while he drilled into you from behind. His hand yanking your hair back while you cried out his name, bent over the kitchen counter. You didn’t want gentle all the time. You wanted that fine line between too much and just enough—where it almost hurts, but it feels so fucking good that you beg for more. You wanted him to ruin you lovingly, to bruise you where only you and he would know. And Wilo? He lived for that balance. He took pride in it.

“Can I come in?” he asked, towering over you like a shadow you never wanted to outrun.

You turned, walking deeper into your apartment as you tossed over your shoulder, “You’re not gonna bite me, are you?”

“If you want, I will” he said, stepping in and closing the door behind him. His arms slid around your waist with ease, his chest pressing into your back, his hips firm against your ass. That heat—his heat—wrapped around you, soothing and maddening all at once. The scent of his cologne mixed with the natural musk of a long day. You inhaled it like oxygen and tilted your head back onto his shoulder.

He moved your hair to the side, his lips brushing against the soft skin behind your ear, trailing down your neck, your jaw. His hands roamed your body slowly, reverently.

“I was late,” he murmured into your ear, his voice low, thick with desire. “I make up for it now.”

You barely noticed that he was walking you until your back met the wall. His hips ground into you, pressing his hardness against your ass. You whimpered, hips arching back to meet him, eager to feel more. You rocked against him, creating friction that made you both exhale.

“Fuck me, Wilo. Right now” you whispered, cheek resting against the wall, your voice breathy and begging.

“I will, chérie,” he murmured, turning you around. “Let me make up for being late.”

But as he spun you, his strength underestimated the moment—your head bumped the wall. “Ahhh, shit,” you hissed, clutching the back of your skull.

“Oh—I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry,” he said immediately, kissing your cheeks with urgency, his eyes wide and soft with guilt.

“I can’t fuck if I have a concussion, William,” you said through a wince, voice dry.

“Is okay. I’m doing the fucking” he replied with a half-laugh, brushing kisses down your face and neck, trying to soothe your annoyance. You rolled your eyes, but let it slide. You were too hungry for him to care.

He sank to his knees, his palms running down your sides. He hooked one of your legs up over his shoulder with ease, positioning you perfectly against the wall. His hands were firm, grounding you there. Your fingers tangled into his curls, bracing yourself.

His lips ghosted over your inner thigh—open-mouthed, wet, messy. He knew you liked it filthy, liked to feel it all. You gasped when he groaned into your skin, tongue tracing slow patterns that only teased what you knew was coming.

He licked up the inside of your thigh, pausing to admire you. The loose shirt you wore barely covered anything. There was nothing between you and him but the humid air.

He looked up at you, eyes low, voice thick. “My Katrina… so good for me” he whispered, lips grazing your folds. His breath made your knees weak.

Then, he devoured you.

There was no slow build-up. He latched onto your clit like he’d been waiting his whole life to taste you again. His tongue moved with confidence—pressure perfect, rhythm locked in from memory. You cried out, head falling back against the wall.

Your grip on his hair tightened, legs trembling already. He wasn’t eating you out. He was feasting. Like you were the last meal he’d ever have, and he was determined to make it count.

When he slipped his middle finger inside you, you nearly lost it. You were already dripping—soaking. He moved inside you with purpose, curving up, stroking that spot he knew would have you unraveling.

“Fuck—Wilo” you gasped.

He didn’t stop. He hummed against your clit, the vibration making your hips buck. When he felt you twitch, he pushed another finger inside and started pumping harder, tongue relentless.

You were undone.

You cried out, thighs spasming as your orgasm tore through you like lightning. Your free leg gave out, but before you could fall, he hooked it up too. Now he was holding you—both legs over his shoulders—as he continued devouring every drop of your release. His tongue never wavered. His arms locked you in place. He wanted all of it. Needed all of it.

He didn’t stop until he was sure you were empty—and even then, he gave you one last, slow lick, like he was savoring you. Your hands slipped from his hair, your whole body trembling.

And when he finally looked up at you, his lips and chin glistening, his eyes were glazed with lust—but also pride. He looked like a man who’d just worshipped at the altar of your body.

Because for Wilo, making you cum wasn’t just about satisfaction—it was about power. Connection. It was about giving you exactly what you needed… and being the only one who could.

He let go of your legs one at a time—slowly, carefully, like you were something sacred and fragile. His hands gripped your thighs gently, lowering them as if he didn’t trust gravity to treat you the way he did. Your body was trembling, spent, soaked. You clung to his shoulders as he rose to his full height, your head resting briefly on his chest like you needed help staying grounded.

Your eyes were glazed, unfocused, wandering off into the blissful haze of your orgasm. Everything was warm and distant, like you were still floating in the pleasure he’d given you. You barely noticed the wetness seeping through your shorts—your own cum dripping down your inner thighs, clinging to your skin, staining the fabric. You’d soaked yourself for him. You didn’t care. You wanted to stay in this fog.

“Are you here bébé?” he asked, voice low, mouth close to yours.

You could smell yourself on his breath. Tangy, raw, earthy. That alone made your thighs clench again, made your lips part in instinct. He’d eaten you like a man possessed—and now the proof of that was on his tongue, in his beard, and in the air between you.

You wanted to taste it too.

So you kissed him.

Messy. Sloppy. Greedy. There was no finesse to it—just heat. Your lips collided, opened, moved with a hunger neither of you could control. His hands slipped down to your ass and gripped. Not soft, not gentle—hard, like he needed to mark you, to claim you again. You moaned into his mouth, tongue tangling with his as you tasted yourself, as you shared yourself with him. That primal mess of saliva, breath, and sex between your lips made your head spin.

You could feel his dick pressing into your stomach—hard, hot, throbbing. The length of it rested against you like a promise. You knew it was ready. Ready to stretch you, drag against your walls, fill you until the only thing you could do was take it. It twitched against your skin like it was aching to be inside you. You wanted that too.

You pulled away and looked up at him. His pupils were blown—huge and black, swallowing the brown of his irises. His lips were slick, swollen, parted. His whole body was tight with restraint, like he was hanging on by the thinnest thread. He needed you now.

Just like you needed him.

“Go to my bedroom and wait for me there,” you said, smirking against his lips. “I have to get something real quick, okay?”

He nodded once. Then he leaned in, breath brushing your ear as he whispered, “I will have no clothes when you come back.”

He pulled back to look at you, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed like he was daring you to take too long. His control was hanging by a thread. You giggled, pecked his lips one more time, and turned away.

You could hear the way he rushed off to your room. Could practically feel his urgency in the way his feet hit the floor, quick and heavy. It made your stomach flutter.

You walked calmly to the back closet of your apartment—the one that held your real secret. You reached up onto the highest shelf and pulled down the camera. Your camera. His camera. The camera.

The one he bought for the two of you in Milan—the trip that was supposed to be innocent, but ended up changing everything. The one that had seen you in every angle, every position, every orgasm. The one you used to satisfy yourself when he wasn’t around. When your fingers weren’t enough and only the sight of him fucking you open could make you cum.

You clutched it to your chest and, just before walking back, decided to strip. You needed to match his energy. His greed. His need. You took off your shirt, your shorts, everything—your skin already tingling from the thought of his hands back on it. You walked slowly to the bedroom, completely bare.

And there he was.

Laid out across your bed like he belonged there. Hands behind his head like a king, relaxed—but his dick was anything but calm. It was angry, needy, pointing straight up toward the ceiling. Higher than Travis Scott. The tip was flushed, red and leaking. The veins stood out, thick and pulsing, running down the length like maps toward your ruin. You licked your lips.

His dick was made for you. To fill you. To drag against every nerve ending inside you. To make you scream, cry, beg. To make you come back to life again and again.

“Finally you come back. Thought you left me,” he said, voice low and teasing as you closed the door behind you.

“No,” you purred, holding the camera up in your hand. “I was just looking for our friend.”

You saw the recognition flash across his face immediately. The memory. The hunger. The camera was a symbol—of all the dirty, beautiful, wild things you’d done together. His eyes darkened.

“Let’s record again,” you said.

“Are you asking?” he asked, sitting up and scooting toward the edge of the bed.

“Do I really have to ask? I know you want to.”

You straddled him slowly, one knee on either side of his hips, your heat hovering just over his length. His dick twitched between you, hungry for your body.

“I do,” he said, reaching for the camera. “Lemme see.”

He turned it on and pointed it toward your face. “Hi, camera,” he said, grinning.

You turned your head, shy at first, laughing softly.

“Non,” he said, voice stern. “Don’t be shy. You want this. Say hi to camera.”

You turned back, smiled wide, and said, “Hi, camera,” with a soft giggle. But he wasn’t here for giggles. He wanted a performance. He needed it. You always performed for him—and tonight, he was ready to devour the show.

He propped the camera on a pillow at the end corner of the bed, angling it perfectly. You both knew what was coming. He leaned back against the headboard, spreading his legs just a bit.

“Crawl to me, bébé.”

You obeyed immediately. Crawling slowly, deliberately. Your ass swayed with every movement, hips rolling with intent. You knew the camera had a perfect view—and you wanted to watch it back later, when he wasn’t around. You wanted to relive every second.

You crawled between his legs and positioned yourself close to his dick. No hands this time. Just your mouth. You licked long, slow stripes from base to tip, letting your tongue explore him. He groaned deep in his throat.

His hand gripped your hair—not to force, but to guide. You were in control. He was just the canvas.

With your back arched and your ass high, you moved your mouth over him, lips wrapping around the tip, tongue swirling. You moaned softly—just enough to let him feel the vibration. He threw his head back.

This was more than pleasure—it was release. For both of you.

You added your hands, twisting as you sucked. You didn’t want him to cum yet—not until he was buried inside you—but you needed to taste him. Just a little. Just enough to satisfy that hunger you’d been nursing for weeks.

Your eyes locked with his as you sucked harder, your mouth stretching around him. You wanted him to see it. To feel how much you wanted him. He was right there.

“Stop, stop. Let me fuck you now,” he said suddenly, voice rough but tender.

You popped off him and sat up, waiting.

He leaned forward, moving behind you with a grace that was almost terrifying. He turned you so that your body was stretched across the bed—your profile in full view of the camera. He pressed your back down until your ass was high in the air—his favorite angle. You were open. Exposed. Busted wide just for him.

His. His ass. His pussy.

He grabbed the camera and aimed it right where his hips hovered behind you.

“Look at thiz,” he said in that thick, hungry accent. “So sexy.”

He jiggled your ass with one hand, and you caught the hint—so you started to twerk back on him. Just enough to make him groan.

“Mmmhm… there you go bébé,” he whispered, utterly satisfied.

You glanced over your shoulder and smiled at him—mischievous, filthy, and completely gone.

Then he took his dick and ran the tip up and down your slit. Teasing. Spreading your slick across your folds and over your clit.

“So wet… Katrina miss me, hm?”

“She said she doesn’t wanna be empty anymore,” you said, voice thick with lust, eyes locked with his. “I think you should help her out Wilo.”

He grinned, cocky and crazed with lust.

Then—finally—he pushed in.

Only the tip.

And it was already perfect.

“Yessssss… ughhhh,” you sighed, pure relief leaking from every syllable as your head dropped.

“Ughhhh,” he groaned low and deep behind you, voice rich and full of satisfaction. The camera sat in full view, capturing every inch as his swollen, flushed tip slowly disappeared inside your soaked pussy, his other hand wrapped tightly around your hips like he was steadying himself just to survive the feel of you.

You were already clenching—around him, around the sheets, around the wild heat spreading through your limbs. You didn’t know how many times you were going to cum tonight. You just knew it would be too much. Maybe not enough. Either way, you needed it. You craved every drop of what this night had to offer.

He started slow. Shallow strokes. Just the tip. In and out. In and out. You could hear how wet you were, the obscene sound of your arousal echoing off the walls. You moaned without thinking, your swollen walls tightening with each pass of his head over your most sensitive spots.

“You said no games Wilo,” you huffed, breath hitching as you turned your head back to look at him, brows furrowed.

He locked eyes with you. “You’re right bébé,” he said—then with zero warning, he pushed all the way in.

You screamed, “Ahhhhhh—fuck!” as your hands clawed at the sheets, back arching uncontrollably. Your face buried into the mattress like it could soften the impact of how deep he was.

Wilo set the camera down, knowing this wasn’t going to be a one-hand moment. He needed both. Both to handle you. To control this. To lose himself.

He grabbed your head, angling it toward the camera so it could see the wrecked expression on your face. And then—he started to really fuck you.

Long, heavy strokes. Thick. Intentional. Every thrust sank into you like he wanted to leave a permanent mark. His hips slapped against your ass, his balls landing with perfect rhythm. The sound alone had your eyes rolling back.

“Oh—” he moaned, deep and heady, “you feel so fucking good. So good.” His head dropped back.

You could feel it. Another orgasm creeping up like fire licking your spine. He didn’t stop. His hand lifted in the air and came down hard on your ass.

The slap stung—but in the best way.

“Again baby,” you begged, pushing your hips back onto him, needing more.

He smacked it again. Harder this time.

You moaned like a prayer. Like a promise. It hurt—but god, it felt so fucking good.

You looked right into the camera. But it wasn’t close enough. It needed to see this. Needed to catch it all. So you reached beside you and grabbed it, angling it perfectly beneath where his thick dick was disappearing inside you.

“So nasty for me bébé,” he said with a smirk, completely turned on by your boldness. This was what he loved—when you let go, when you stopped pretending and just gave in to the chaos between you.

His grip tightened around your hips. He started slamming into you, faster, harder, your pussy stretched and soaked, your moans almost turning into sobs.

This was the screwin’ your friends joked about.

The headboard knocked against the wall.

Your whole body jolted forward with every powerful thrust.

“Fuck—Wilo—oh my God, don’t stop, I’m gonna cum!” you cried out.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He kept going, unrelenting, and just like that, you came around him with a scream.

“Ughhh—oh yesssss!” you shouted.

The camera captured it all. Your pussy spasming violently, gripping him like a vice. Slick and creamy, your release clung to the base of his dick.

Your arms gave out, and your knees buckled as you collapsed flat on your stomach, panting and dazed.

Wilo slowly pulled out and grabbed the camera, angling it downward to show his wet, glistening dick.

“Made a mess all over me,” he said, voice thick, pride swelling behind every word. Then he spread your cheeks, exposing your glistening, dripping entrance.

“And look at this… I love fucking this pussy,” he whispered. His tone made your spine tremble.

He placed the camera on your nightstand, carefully adjusting it so it captured both of you fully. He wasn’t planning to pick it up again until he was watching his cum leak out of you.

Wilo laid down beside you and whispered, “Sit here” gesturing toward his face.

You didn’t think you had the strength left in you—but you moved anyway. Straddled his hips and scooted forward, inch by inch until your wet core hovered above his mouth.

He didn’t wait. His arms locked around your thighs, and he pulled you down.

You hissed at the sharp sting of his mouth on your oversensitive clit. He sucked it in like he missed it. Like he needed it.

His big brown eyes stared up at you—soft, unblinking, almost innocent—while his tongue worked filthily between your folds.

You started grinding. Slow, needy. His nose bumped your clit as his tongue dove deeper. You gasped.

“Oh fuck, William, I’m gonna cum again. Please…”

You didn’t know why you begged. You never had to. He always gave you everything.

He hummed against your clit, the vibration forcing your hips to rock harder. You were close again. So close. And then—

Something shifted. Sharp. Sudden.

Before you could process it, clear liquid burst from between your thighs and into his open mouth.

You screamed.

Your body shook with the force of it, legs trembling, thighs clamping around his face.

“Oh my God, oh my God—fuck!” you wailed.

He never looked away. Even with his face soaked, even as your eyes clamped shut from the force of it all, his gaze was locked on you.

He was hypnotized—by the way your chest bounced, by the pleasure shaking your entire frame.

When your body finally stilled, you tried to slide back down his chest. Shaky, dazed, breathless.

“Katrina almost got me that time” he laughed, his voice ragged.

You couldn’t even speak. He didn’t mind.

He just pulled you in and kissed you—messy, wet, raw—just like how you kissed him after he ate you the first time.

His face glistened with your release. His neck, his beard, his lips.

You loved how he smelled with you on him.

If you could bottle it and make him wear it, you would.

He laid between your legs like he belonged there—because he did. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck, legs hooked over his hips as if your body refused to let him go. He kissed you slow, deep, until your lungs forgot how to work without his breath in them. His hands mapped you like he was rediscovering you—gripping your thighs, palming your waist, squeezing your breasts. When he slid one of your legs higher, propping it up just right so the camera on the nightstand could catch every second of him stretching you open, you shivered. You knew what he was doing. He wanted a memory—full view of the way your pussy welcomed him in.

“I’m happy I came,” he whispered, pressing kisses over your cheeks, your jaw, the soft skin under your eye. “Missed you.”

Your heart tugged in your chest. The sincerity in his voice hit different when it was between strokes and moans.

“I missed you too, William,” you replied honestly, voice small but sure. You pulled him in again, and just like that, he sank inside you.

The stretch was immediate. The burn and the fullness took your breath away. You moaned into his mouth, arms clenching around his shoulders. Your nails scraped lightly down his back as he began to thrust—deep, not soft, not slow. He wasn’t being careful now. He was fucking you. Giving you the ache you craved. The bed creaked violently beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall in a stuttering rhythm. The side table trembled, a glass toppling over and hitting the floor with a dull thud, ignored. The pillows fell off the bed completely. None of it mattered. You were consumed.

He grunted into your ear, hot breath brushing your neck. “Don’t pull it out. You better fucking leave it in.”

Your back arched at that. “Wilo—fuck, please—” you whimpered, and that only made him go harder.

This was the rhythm your body begged for when he was gone. The kind of pace that made your toes curl and your eyes roll back. Just rough enough to leave you sore, but never enough to make you want it to stop. Your pussy pulsed around him with every thrust. You couldn’t think, couldn’t form words—just moan and scream, letting him do whatever he wanted with you.

“Can you hear it?” he growled into your ear. “How wet you are for me chérie.”

You could. It was obscene. The slick, messy squelch of your bodies meeting, again and again. It sounded like your pussy was trying to pull him deeper. Like it didn’t want to let him go either. It sounded like fresh mac and cheese. Like soggy cereal. Like heaven.

You were soaked. The kind of soaked that made the sheets damp beneath you. The kind of soaked that had your thighs and his glistening. The kind of soaked that meant your laundry would be a whole different battle tomorrow.

Then he hit a spot—one he hadn’t touched before tonight—and your eyes snapped open. That was it. That was the trigger. A tidal wave of pleasure surged through your belly, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream.

“Oh—fuck! Wilo!” you cried out as your orgasm slammed into you, unstoppable. And just like that, he followed.

“Bébé,” he groaned against your neck, voice strained as his hips stuttered.

You both came, bodies jerking in unison, sweat mixing with cum, breath catching like you’d both run a marathon. He filled you up completely, spilling deep inside you with long, guttural moans, hips twitching as your pussy milked every drop from him. You swore you could feel him throb as he emptied himself.

He laid there a while, just breathing. Listening to your soft gasps. One of your legs still hung limply over his shoulder, trembling with the aftershocks. He lowered it gently and pressed soft kisses all over your face, still whispering your name like a prayer.

“You alright? How you feel?” he murmured, brushing damp strands of hair from your face.

“I’m good,” you nodded with a slow smile. “I’m good Wilo.”

He sat up, slowly pulling out of you with a deep breath. He grabbed the camera quickly, eager to capture what he knew would be his favorite part. He pointed it down between your legs just as his thick, warm cum began to spill out of you. It dripped over your folds, creamy and heavy, a glistening reminder of how much you took from him. He dipped two fingers inside you, gathering a bit of the mess and dragging it back out slowly, then raised the camera to your flushed, glowing face.

“Open” he said lowly.

You looked right into his eyes as you opened your mouth, and he slid those fingers between your lips. You sucked them clean without breaking eye contact, moaning softly as you did.

He groaned. “Mmm.”

Then he leaned in to kiss you again—wet, messy, unhurried. His face and neck were still slick with your scent. You could smell yourself on him, and you loved it. If you could bottle that scent and make him wear it every day, you would.

Still holding the camera steady, he pulled back just enough to whisper, “Bye,” with a cheeky little wave and soft giggle.

You laughed too, flushed and breathless as the screen faded to black.

He tossed the camera somewhere on the bed, not caring where it landed. All he wanted was you in his arms. He pulled you close, cradling your back to his chest, his chin resting gently on your shoulder as his breath tickled your neck.

“Thanks for letting me come over” he murmured, his voice quieter now, gentler. The rough edge of lust was gone, replaced by something softer. “I really need this.”

You let out a little hum, barely able to speak through the haze of exhaustion. “I needed you too… missed you a lot,” you mumbled, your words slurring slightly, lips heavy with sleep.

He smiled against your skin, rubbing slow circles into your stomach. “I’ll see you more now. Season’s over. I can come to you, we can keep doing this… if you like.”

You loved that he said it like that. No pressure. No awkward questions. No trying to make it something it wasn’t. He got it. He always got it. This wasn’t about love or promises—it was about the space you two created when you were together. Fucking. Laughing. Touching. Talking sometimes. Just two people doing what felt good with no expectations. And you loved that.

“Mhmm,” you replied, smiling faintly. “I want that. I wanna do this with you. More.”

He kissed the back of your shoulder in response. You both lay there in silence for a while, your breathing syncing up. The heat of his body behind you, the soft weight of his arm across your waist, the occasional brush of his lips against your back—it was perfect.

Eventually, he stirred, voice low so he wouldn’t disturb the comfort you’d settled into. “I will clean up and shower. Have to go back before coach finds out I’m not there. I will be in big trouble.”

You nodded sleepily, barely opening your eyes.

He slipped out of bed and padded softly to the bathroom. You heard the water run, the sound of drawers opening. A few minutes later, he returned with warm clothes for himself and a handful of wet wipes for you. He moved gently, cleaning between your thighs with such care it almost made you emotional. Like you weren’t just someone he fucked. Like you were someone he wanted to care for.

After he wiped you clean, he scooped you up into his arms without a word and carried you to the couch. He knew you loved sleeping here sometimes, wrapped up in your favorite fluffy blanket with the soft light from the kitchen glowing nearby. He laid you down, covered you carefully, then stroked your head with a tenderness that made your heart ache a little.

“Rest,” he whispered, kissing your temple. “I’ll text you when I’m home.”

And you did. You drifted off right there on the couch, warm, clean, and satisfied. Not just from the sex—but from the feeling of being understood. Held. Wanted, in the way that mattered to you.

#deonn writes ✍🏾#william saliba fic #william saliba smut #william saliba fanfic #big wilo #william saliba x reader #wilo saliba #william saliba #william saliba x black reader #william saliba x black female reader #footballer x black reader #footballer fanfic #Spotify

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crescenthistory · 7 months ago

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hear me out…b4 with paul <333

thanks for your request babe! this fit best as a silly drabble in my mind, enjoy<33

Prompt: B.4 “Kiss me again”

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: sparring, kissing, goofing

The blade whistles through the air, missing your cheek by a breath as you twist out of the way. You’re not fast enough to avoid the follow-up, though – Paul’s foot sweeps low, knocking you off balance. You hit the ground hard, air rushing from your lungs.

He is standing over you in an instant, poised and confident, dark curls falling over his forehead, eyes glittering with the quiet triumph he always tries to mask.

“Yield?” he asks, that edge of teasing already creeping into his voice. He extends a hand down to you, his stance relaxed, clearly feeling like he has already won. Typical.

“I’ll think about it,” you huff, reaching up as if you’re taking his hand. The second your fingers brush his, you tug, hard. He yelps in surprise as you yank him off his feet, using his own weight to pull him down.

He lands hard beside you, his expression startled for a split second before it melts into a grin. You don’t give him time to recover, rolling over to press the flat of your practice blade to his throat.

“Yield?” you echo, your smirk matching his earlier confidence.

Paul laughs, bright and unguarded, and it’s the kind of sound that makes your chest feel too tight. His shoulders shake beneath you, his amusement spilling out in waves, and for a moment, you forget about the training ground and the hours of drills. It’s just him, here, like this.

“Okay, okay, I yield.” His hands coming up in mock surrender. In his eyes, though, there is a dancing, teasing glint that should tell you he’s not done playing yet.

You lift the blade, relaxing your grip – and he strikes.

With a swift movement, Paul rolls you both over so you’re beneath him, pinning you to the ground. Before you can protest, he catches your wrists, holding them down with an infuriatingly smug look on his face. His body is warm above you, his breath still coming fast from the laughter.

“Can’t believe you fell for your own trick,” he murmurs, leaning in close, voice a low drawl meant to needle you.

Your lips twitch, torn between frustration and amusement. “Can’t believe you’re so insufferable.”

“I’ve been told.” He smirks, leaning in even closer, so close now that his breath ghosts over your skin. “But admit it. You love losing to me.”

He loves to push the limit with you, but you won't let him get away that easy.

“Oh, please.” You scoff, squirming under his grip. “I am so above that.”

You throw your hips up on the side of his, mind too focused on not losing to panic over your proximity, as you use your weight and sheer willpower to topple him over, ripping out of his grasp from the momentum.

Both opponents scramble to your feet, eyes trained on the other to catch any small movement. Despite yourself, a smile begins to tug at the corner of your mouth, relishing in the pure childish fun of it all.

Once Paul sees, he smiles himself, shaking his head slightly at your antics.

In the next moment you throw your body around and lunge, taking advantage of his slight distraction.

Your foot connects with Paul’s chest, and he stumbles back, laughing as he barely regains his balance. His grin grows lopsided, wild, as he twirls his blade in hand, trying to recover some dignity.

“Oh, don’t even think about it,” you warn as you see him shift his posture. You know him too well, his signalling, his tells – he’s about to pull one of his flashy moves, the kind that makes you roll your eyes but also secretly impresses you.

Paul cocks his head, increasingly infuriating smirk still on his lips. “Think about what? Winning?”

You narrow your eyes. “Trying and failing to, at least.”

Ignoring you, his foot sliding forward with practised ease, body twisting in ways it shouldn’t be able to, blade arcing toward you in a sweeping strike.

You sidestep him, just out of range, letting him stumble slightly past you.

“Really?” you tease, pressing in close before he can recover, mock blade at the ready. “Is this the same Paul Atreides that’s supposed to be great?”

“Oh, I’m saving my energy,” he quips, but his breath is coming faster, his shoulders rising and falling. “Just giving you a false sense of security.”

“Right,” you say, repressing an eye roll so you can keep your focus on him. “So, in this plan, I’m supposed to get overconfident and–”

Paul surges forward before you can finish, his blade coming at you in a quick, fluid strike. You barely manage to block it, relying on your reflexes as you twist and catch his wrist in your hand, using his momentum to throw him off balance. He stumbles, wide-eyed, and you spin, finally pressing him back against the smooth stone floor of the courtyard.

His back hits the ground with a soft thud, and you’re on him in an instant, straddling his waist, pinning him down. Your practice blade presses lightly to his throat, though your grin is what’s really sharp now.

“How did that work out, huh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “Yield, or are we going to keep pretending?”

Paul’s breathing has quickened beneath you, but there’s still that mischievous glint in his eyes, even as he raises his hands in a final surrender. “Alright, alright,” he says, smiling. “You win this round.”

You can’t help the triumphant laugh that bursts from you. “Oh, don’t look so surprised.”

“I’m not,” he replies, his voice dropping an octave as he looks up at you, his eyes flicking to linger on your lips. “Not when you fight like that.”

Your heart skips a beat, your breath catching in your throat. It’s all playful until it’s not.

Maybe if you weren’t full of endorphins from the fight and, more importantly, the win, you would have thought twice. Instead, you drop your knife in favour of his cheek and lean down to catch his lips with yours.

It’s short lived, seconds feeling like minutes when you’re this high, but when you pull back, Paul’s hands shoot up to secure you by your waist and neck so you can’t go far.

He whispers your name with a wild look in his eyes. When you meet that gaze, you realise what you did and what it meant.

Paul tilts his head up slightly, lips still brushing yours. “Kiss me again,” he murmurs.

For a second, you’re frozen, caught in the quiet intensity of his gaze. His voice i soft but insistent, and the teasing banter from a moment ago seems to have slipped away. The challenge remains, though.

“Paul…” you start, but whatever you were going to say fades as his hands tighten on your hips, urging you closer.

“You heard me,” he says, his tone lighter this time, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re going to deny the victor their spoils?”

You huff a laugh, shaking your head. “Pretty sure I’m the victor.”

When Paul rolls you over this time, it’s with lazy ease as you don’t feel the need to fight it. His hand falls from your face to hold him up, most of his weight being placed on his hips on yours.

“What about now?”

“Doesn’t change a thing, Atreides.”

Still, you give into him and tug on his hair to bring him back down into another searing kiss. What started as a playful gesture shifts into something deeper, something that makes you forget about the sparring match, about the training grounds, about everything except the feeling of Paul’s lips moving against yours. His hands slide up your sides, settling on your waist, and his fingers flex slightly, like he’s anchoring himself to the moment, to you.

When you pull back for air, your foreheads resting together, Paul is smiling – that rare, genuine smile that you only ever see when it’s just the two of you, away from all the expectations and responsibilities.

“You know,” he says, voice breathless but still tinged with humour, “you didn’t have to knock me flat to kiss me.”

You snort, rolling your eyes as you sit back slightly, still straddling him. “Where’s the fun in that? Besides,” you add, raising an eyebrow, “if you wanted to kiss me so badly, you could’ve won.”

Paul laughs, full and bright, and you feel his body shake beneath yours. “Oh, I let you win.”

“Right,” you drawl, shifting to poke him in the chest with your finger. “Sure, sure. Go on and keep telling yourself that, future Duke.”

His grin softens, and he reaches up to gently tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d rather be here.”

The way he says it so earnestly hits you somewhere deep, making your heart stutter in your chest. You swallow, your playful bravado slipping for a moment as you meet his gaze. He’s looking at you with that same intensity, the one that makes you feel seen in a way that’s almost too much.

“Paul…” you start again, but he interrupts with a playful grin, his hands slipping to your waist again.

“Don’t go all serious on me now,” he teases, though there’s a gentleness to it, a way he’s pulling you back into the easy, playful rhythm you share. “You’ve still got me pinned. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

You laugh, shaking off the sudden tension. “You mean while you let it last?” Your tone imitates his.

“Exactly.”

“Well, if we pretend I’m in charge,” you say, leaning down again, your breath mingling with his, “then I say we take a break from all this training.”

Paul hums in agreement, his lips brushing yours again as he murmurs, “You always have the best ideas.”

“Now you admit it.”

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yellowhollyhock · 4 months ago

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I feel like both Don and Raph could have helped Leo during his ptsd arc. Raph would be the only one who understands Leo’s anger and Don would understand almost getting everyone killed in his cased killed cuz of SAINW.

super sweet idea! I think it's true that they both would be able to relate to him in different ways, and it makes sense they'd try to reach him on those grounds. To be honest, I think that's exactly what would make it difficult for them to help--or well, not by necessity, but what did make it difficult for them to help

Anyways you gave me an excuse to overanalyze Don's reaction to Leo's ptsd arc, and while I'm here I'm doing Raph and Mikey as well

Okay let's talk about Donny. I've thought about this one a lot. We don't ever canonically see him dealing with what he saw in that alternate universe, other than immediately after when he hugs Mikey and Raph. But we can imagine. He's already someone who puts a lot of pressure on himself (ie Underground City). Now the big threat that's been weighing so heavy on him for so long, the thing that he went to the future and saw there was no way to beat except to sacrifice themselves, is gone.

He can finally rest.

And I do feel like that's the attitude we see. He's eager to take out some aggression on the PDs when they show up at the farmhouse, but it's not Obsessive Mode Donatello. Compared to how we know he gets when he thinks something is his fault or that someone needs him help, he Chillin. Also he immediately develops a crush on Jhanna. I mean that's just one reading, but as a lesbo recovering from severe emotional repression I think I know the face of a traumatized soul seeking solace in the idea of a future and falling too hard too fast for Stronk Smort Gorl as soon as she gives him a bit of attention, not that I, ahem, have uh, direct experience or anything

Anyway

I think he's making a very deliberate choice to stop taking things so seriously--to be a kid for the little bit of time he has left to be a kid. To cling on tightly to his relationships with his brothers above all else, because he knows (and likely has it fresh in his mind) he could lose them. Goofing off with Mikey isn't a distraction, it's a priority.

And then Leo is doubling down on being child soldiers. To Donny, all that work they did was to escape that life. Taking down the Shredder should mean, from his pov, they now get to focus on just living, building themselves a little corner of the world they can just stay in and be happy.

I had a breakdown of multiple episodes demonstrating this but my app crashed and it all got deleted so just trust me ok

Big important example though: Dragons Rising. Yes, Donny understands the mission, he'll play his part to get it done, but even more pressing is to make sure he preserves the light in Mikey's eyes. Now that the Shredder is dealt with that's the next thing on his checklist to make sure that future never happens. They put on silly disguises. He wears a mustache and does an old man voice.

Then Leo doesn't see the exact results he wanted from a planned mission and chews them out for treating it like a game. I can imagine how much that remark would sting for Donny specifically, assuming his brothers know about what happened in that alternate dimension. (do you think old man Leo, listening to this sixteen-year-old insisting that they should go after Shredder again, this time they would win, ever said something, even very gently, to the effect of 'be careful Donny, this isn't a game?' y-yeah me neither)

You can hear his barely contained frustration when he defends himself and the others with, "Leo, we did the best we could."

Which is ultimately what will help Leo. That's the exact mantra that brings him through the battle with himself. But he's not hearing it from Don; to him in that moment it just sounds like an excuse. And Donny, who is also a hurting traumatized teenager, very likely doesn't appreciate his hard-earned wisdom being dismissed as childish and lazy.

Now on to Raph: he talks explicitly throughout Leo's arc about how he can see himself in it, and out of everyone, I feel like we see him most directly trying to help. He's sticking right by his side, supporting his ideas, training harder when Leo asks him to train harder. Back to Dragons Rising: in stark contrast to Donny's almost scolding comfort, Raph waits until Leo leaves and then:

"I hate to say it, but Leo's right."

Everything Leo is saying and doing makes perfect sense to Raph--as far as he's concerned, where it goes wrong is when it gets too extreme. 'Yes we do need to take this more seriously, but he shouldn't yell at us.' 'Okay training more and harder is a good idea, but how much more and harder?' He gets needing to blow off steam--he watches Leo face the rat king, and holds back (which is not an easy thing for him to do) because he thinks Leo needs to work this out of his system.

After all, that's what Raph's always done. Step outside, get some air, find someone to take it out on who deserves it so that he doesn't take it out on his brothers. But you know what else Raph is always doing when he does that?

Finding someone to help.

And that's super healthy and really healing. But it's something he does naturally because he likes to, I don't know if he's connected it with helping to manage his temper (it's easy for us to see because we're watching it, but he's living it. Hard to notice patterns when you're in the middle of them).

Anyway, blowing off steam doesn't work for Leo. Every time he faces something down on his own just further reinforces to him that he's the only one taking this seriously, and he absolutely has to be perfect in order for his family to be safe.

I think a lot about Raph, seeing Leo get mad enough to hurt Master Splinter, and then watching him be sent away. From his teenage perspective, wouldn't it feel like Leo is being punished? Wouldn't he wonder about how far he's allowed to push things, how close he might have come in the past to being sent overseas? I think Leo really needed the time for himself and understood that to some extent. He probably felt it was a just punishment as well, but I think he realized Splinter was doing what was best for him. After all, he asked for his training to go to the next level. And he doesn't want to make another mistake like that.

But for Raph? I don't think he can imagine a worse punishment than being separated from his family, especially if he just hurt one of them. That moment between Leo and Splinter had to remind him a lot of himself and Mikey. Imagine how he would've felt if the answer to that had been, 'I can't train you anymore, go to Japan to meet a man you've never heard of who will teach you how to control your temper.'

Also later on when he realizes how much it did actually help and wasn't meant to be punitive, that absolutely would twist into 'why were Leo's problems that important but mine never were.'

So why isn't Leo receptive to Raph's help? Well he is. But his goal isn't to heal. He thinks he's doing the right thing by spiraling further and further. Leo would have sucked up Raph's loyalty not unlike what Shredder did to Karai. Obviously not to the same extreme, but he would keep expecting Raph to be right behind him and work towards his goals, and Raph would've kept thinking that the Leo he knew, an undeniably down to earth Decent Guy, was still in there and would be back if he just held out and stuck around. Raph is not hard and fast with rules, he'd make allowances for his brother who is clearly going through some things. And Leo would have just kept pushing.

Wow that got dark

Anyway

They love each other very much, and ultimately, the fact that Raph did stick it out for so long was likely a big help to Leo. He just wasn't able to see it for what it was until he first shifted his priority to achieving peace within himself, instead of trying to fix the rest of the world. And I do think when he gets back, he'll remember how Raph stuck by him even when he was being very difficult. Because he really did, more than anyone.

As for Mikey, he and Leo have plenty of differences, but they've always been on the same page about one thing: the greater good.

I think Mikey sees Leo doubling down and assumes it's similar to the last time they defeated Shredder: City at War. During that time, Leo and Mikey were the ones who wanted to go out and fix the mess the city was in, stay involved in gang politics. Raph and Splinter were staunchly against it, and Donny went to support and protect the others, with him and Mikey both frequently trying to gently rein Leo in (not something they normally have to do).

Mikey sees it all happening again. Leo feels responsible for the city's safety, doesn't want to rest on their laurels, going into hyper-vigilance after a big victory as an overcorrection from overconfidence.

So Mikey leans just as hard into confidence. He's skipping on training, doubling down on the jokes, anything he can to get Leo to lighten up, or, when that doesn't work, avoid Leo whenever he can. No one likes to be constantly criticized. Just like Donny, he gets defensive: they are doing good for the city, they will keep on winning. After all, he's already a superhero, and a Battle Nexus Champion.

It makes a lot of sense he starts bragging about that again--seeking comfort from the past when the present offers none--and is unfortunate for him that Raph and Donny are just as exhausted as he is from the micro management and constant negativity, and do not take the bragging well at all.

It's also something that ends up helping Leo a lot. Directs all that energy and rage towards a goal, helps him look outside of himself by focusing on helping Mikey, balances the guilt of perceived failures (of himself and of his family) with a simple clear-cut victory. And Mikey knows it helped, he gets to see Leo being closer to himself again. It feels like he's close to a much more important victory, so he keeps pressing. He tries talking more positively about Leo, because positive words mean so much to him and are what's been missing in their home.

It helps some. It might've helped more directly after the inciting event. Either way, it's not a solution. Outside praise has never been enough for Leo, if he's decided he's not where he should be he's gonna keep pushing himself until he achieves it.

And this time 'it' is the assured safety of his family, something he honestly hasn't ever experienced before, and as far as he's concerned, takes more than all of them combined have to give

Overall, yeah I do think both Raph and Donny would've had some useful wisdom to share if 1) anyone had noticed and asked 2) they were able to separate the coping/survival skills they used to deal with their traumas from The Way Everyone Should Deal with Hard Things (big ask from teenagers--as far as they're concerned what they've been through so far is how life works).

Those conversations could've been a big help, although I don't think any amount of family talks would solve things. Leo needed the in-show equivalent of professional help. He needed time away from his family, too, so he could see more clearly what he was doing to them and himself.

I also do think all three of them will have cause to think back later on Splinter's comments that they had healed, but Leo hadn't. I get what Splinter meant by this, Leo's response was maladaptive and even immediately dangerous, but my guy, nobody's okay just a couple months after a traumatic event like that. No not even with meditation, no not even if they are laughing and playing video games. Especially considering how much those boys had already been through. Not to mention the added trauma of Leo 1) having such a drastic personality change that manifested largely as aggression towards them, and 2) being sent away. but that's probably a whole other post lsbfksjs

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #2003 leo #2003 donnie #2003 raph #2003 mikey #just my headcanons #character analysis #i haven't gone on this long about 03 fanily dynamics in a bit #thanks for the ask <3

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xxkiller-muffinxx · 1 year ago

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THAT FLOYD ONESHOT WAS SO GOOD‼️‼️ I'd love to see a part 2 for it!^^

(If you want to btw-)

As long as we're together

Floyd x reader (Part 1) (part 2) (part 3)

Summary: after a long while of being reconnected with your favorite brozone member. You make plenty of sweet familiar memories, however a line is crossed when a familiar popstar duo enters the picture.

Words: 1475

Warnings: Implied death, angst, another semi-cliffhanger

A/N: I don't know why I wrote these so fast, but maybe it's because I stopped worrying about tiny details and just went with the flow. I don't think I got Velvet and Veneers personalities perfect but I just felt like their scene fit their dynamic as best as possible. Genuinely appreciate the support on the last part, your guy’s positive feedback gives me life. Stay golden and enjoy! Ps. Velvet and Veneer are the same color but I tried to make it clear who was talking in the writing, thank you!

✦✧✦

You remember the first week you two were together. So fondly. Back to back in your prisons and humming each other's favorite song. No matter how embarrassing.

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

It's been quiet for a few hours, you're both recovering from the last concert and are giving each other time to process. When suddenly Floyd begins humming quietly. You look at him and raise an eyebrow.

He returns your eye contact and smiles warmly. He then whispers. “Don't you…forget about me.” He would quietly sing. He continued mumbling the words until you would join in, but instead with one of his songs.

“Lately I've been, I've been losing sleep. Dreaming about the things that we could be.” You placed a hand on the glass as your voices began to wrap around one another. Creating a symphony unlike anything else. It reminded you that sometimes just singing matters more than any perfect note.

The two of you continued until you couldn't anymore. You tried to keep humming but you threw yourself into a coughing fit. Floyd immediately stopped singing and looked at you. “Hey hey, it's okay. You don't have to.” he comforted, instinctively reaching out a hand for your shoulder but being stopped by the barrier between you two.

“I'm okay. I'm okay,” you responded, despite the deep pain in your chest. You sat up and leaned on the glass. “Can we still talk?” You asked. Then Floyd nodded.

“So mount rageous? Pretty cool huh?” he started the conversation, but you only snorted at his sad excuse for a conversation topic.

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

In a similar regard. You remember him telling you about his brothers. You were getting a bit too overhyped over all of them though. Even if you loved every other brother, you had to remind him who the best of them was.

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

“Then there's Spruce-”

“The heartthrob!”

“Yeah him. He was nice, I didn't like how much he butted heads with John though. I just wish I could see them again,” He looked at his hands, gripping the air as if it were life support. You frowned. Leaning into the glass.

You didn't know how to comfort him, at this point, you were both pretty pessimistic. So saying anything optimistic would have the opposite effect. So you decided to keep talking instead.

“Yeah, spruce was pretty cool, but did you go to the last Brozone concert?” You said, utterly messing with him at that point.

“Wait what?” He asked as he glanced back at you.

“It was so good! I mean the pyrotechnics, the colors, ugh! The music! Don't get me started on the music!” you did your best to stand up and did an excited spin. Floyd followed.

“Woah hey, slow down.” he placed both hands on the glass and his eyebrows creased with worry.

“Though there was something I could never get over. Something that always irked me.” You stumbled back into the purple surrounding you, looking into Floyd’s eyes. He frowned and looked down. Seeming to already know what you’re going to say. However, you hit him with a curveball. “There wasn’t enough of that sensitive troll…what was his name again?”

He shook his head and said your name once. “What are you talking about?”

“He had pink hair, he was almost the youngest but Bitty B was too quick.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Bitty B was the star of the show honestly.”

You laughed and leaned your forehead toward him, he did the same. Your eyes met and you grinned. “He was the cutest troll and my favorite. No other brother could beat him.”

His cheeks turned red instantaneously, causing him to turn away. you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. Which threw you into yet another coughing fit, Floyd was at your side quickly. Checking up on you to make sure you weren’t gone yet.

⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱⊰⊱

Those moments, even if short. Meant the world to you. Now the boundary was crossed. Neither of you had much strength to talk or sing together anymore. To you went with compatible silence. That is until Velvet and Veneer took matters into their own hands.

You were in your usual spot when suddenly, Velvet stormed in. She was in hysterics, absolutely appalled by her performance. “I can't believe that happened!” she shrieked, kicking a shoe into a wall. Veneer came in right behind her.

“It's fine! One voice crack never ruined anyone's career! Woah!” Veneer dodged another shoe and hid behind a mirror just in case. Velvet wasn't having any of it though, she was completely thrown off course.

She stomped to the desk and swiped up the perfume bottle you were inside. “I don't care if it was one voice crack or five! I can't mess up like that in front of the world!” she growled and was prepared to throw you across the room. Before she stopped. She looked at you and smiled. “I just need more troll. That's all.”

She grinned, pulling the bottle to her neck and beginning to spray all around her. Veneer came from behind the mirror and put out a hand. “Hey, maybe we should ration those little guys, don't know how many trolls we're going to need, you know?” He tried reasoning.

Floyd looked up at Velvet and watched in horror as she sprayed as much of the music onto her as she could. There was nothing he could do. Velvet laughed in her insanity. Glancing at Veneer she made sure she was covered head to toe. “We won't need much more Veneer! If I nail this performance we’ll be made! I promise!”

Veneer shook his head and walked closer. When Velvet suddenly sprayed him in the face. “And face it. You love the attention as much as I do.” She hissed. Then once she was calm she slammed you back down onto the desk and left you alone. “Okay, now…I'm ready!” She was going to leave but Veneer stopped her. He pointed at your bottle and gulped. Velvet turned to look at you.

You were spent, your hair all white and your skin turning an entirely different shade. You were dying, and you were dying fast. Floyd dropped to his knees and whispered your name multiple times as if it would be the last thing he uttered. “Please be okay, please hold on for a bit longer.” He begged,

Then as soon as you were down, you were up again. Velvet groaned and handed Veneer the bottle. “You handle it. I have to get ready.” She said before leaving him alone in the room. Veneer grimaced as he watched her go. Then grimaced even more when he realized his duty.

Floyd banged on the glass. Trying to break it open to no avail. Veneer looked at Floyd. “Geez, you're making this harder. If I don't do this you know what Velvet will do.” He knelt down to Floyd’s level. Veneer’s eyes pleading for understanding.

Floyd shakes his head. “you don't have to do this, Veneer just let us go! Please, I'm begging you.” Floyd pushes hard on the glass, looking up into his eyes. Veneer, on the brink of being moved, stands up and looks at your nearly lifeless form.

Before he could respond, Velvet rips the diamond out of his hand. “What are you doing? I told you to deal with it. Not stand around playing with it.” She looked around and crossed her arms. “Ugh I always have to do everything. Hope you like flying.” she says, walking to the nearest window and opening it.

Veneer cringed at the notion, sitting down and looking away from her. Floyd began panicking more trying to get out more than ever, but of course. It wasn't working. He needed the perfect family harmony.

Without much of a second thought. Velvet threw you out of the window. Watching you fall and then dusting her hands off. She looked at Veneer. “Well? We have a show to put on. We have to get ready! Come on!” She walked out, leaving Veneer with Floyd. Veneer looked down at the troll and was going to comfort him when he decided, it probably wasn't for the best.

Veneer left, leaving Floyd all alone. Floyd was looking out the window. Thinking about you, thinking about all the fun you had in your worst situation, and he realized it was false hope. Being with you for the rest of your lives. He then realized there was no platonic explanation for his feelings.

He had loved you, but he didn't know it until you were gone.

Pt 3?

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heartach3d · 3 months ago

Text

Your safe now.

newt x reader

requested by @that-choir-girl as a part two to their last request! (go read it here weak)

probably around 500 words might be a blurb idk cuz I haven't written it yet (this is past vivi)

since we got here it seems like newt hasn't sleeped one bit. I mean he doezed off a few times on the way here but that's different.

he's changed and maybe for the worse and it's all because of wckd.

it's been like two days where he's like this. not falling asleep, even when I try and try again to get him to bed.

even I've been losing sleep over it because he just deserves so much and I'm sorry I couldn't save him fast enough.

"newt please it's been almost three nights already" I was getting ready for bed like changing, doing my hair up and all of that stuff.

he was just sitting in the chair in the corner. not doing anything just rocking back and forth.

I sigh before walking over to him and sitting sideways on his lap. "I'm sorry that I wasn't able to save you faster you know that?" I say running a finger down his jaw.

it makes him stop rocking and he looks into my eyes. "but I promise. I promise to you I got you now and nothing will ever hurt you again."

"it wasn't your fault that it happened."

"I know but I shouldn't have let them take you like that." I put my hand on the side of his face lightly caressing his cheek with my thumb.

"can I-.." he started before stopping and I stopped moving my hand to ensure him I was listening.

"can I talk about it.. you know tomorrow though, of course." he asked and I smiled at him which would just ensure his answer right then and there.

"of course newt your safe now remember that." I say curling his hair up onto my finger like a coil.

"can we get to bed now?" I ask getting up from my spot and ready to get onto the little cot set up.

he also got up and I mentally celebrated finally getting him to go to sleep. I got in bed and held my arms out to him.

a light smirk appeared on his face and he laid in my arms with his head on my chest comfortingly.

as he started falling more and more in depth to sleep he started mumbling stuff.

the thing that caught my eye the most was when he said "I really think I love you.." as his breathing settled.

I smiled to myself and kissed his forehead "you know I really think I love you too" I say caressing the back of his head lightly.

he mumbled an almost incoherent goodnight and we both dozed off for the night peacefully.

as tomorrow came he held his truth and started talking about what they did to him.

I tried not to let him see how saddened I was getting to be as he told me this. but it really did break my heart.

I ensured he had a good day surrounded by everyone he liked to help him try and recover faster.

later he also told me it gives him comfort to listen to my heartbeat as he fell asleep.

so naturally that's what we did every night from there on out. always so close to each other meant always so close to peace.

hellooo this is might be short idk yet cuz I didn't get the words yet but sorryy if it iss

omg it is so short 😞 im soooo sorry

#pls give requests more #the maze runner x reader #tmr x reader #newt #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt #newt x reader

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chibinightowl · 1 year ago

Text

Today has been a day. Just a lot of hospital stress this week between my mom and my husband's surgeries and this is how it's coming out (they're both fine and are recovering well).

~~~

Dick finds Tim in a waiting room at Gotham General, slumped in a faded blue plastic chair that's seen better days. At some point during the day, his brother had been immaculately dressed for the office. But now, his blue pin-striped suit is wrinkled, his collar is unbuttoned, and his shirtsleeves have been rolled up. There was a tie somewhere as Dick knows Tim never leaves home without one on an office day, but it's anyone's guess as to where it currently is.

"Hey. I got here as fast as I could," he says, taking the open seat beside Tim. He did too, calling Wally as soon as he got the news from Barbara. "How's Jason?"

Tim opens his eyes, giving him a look that is more dead than alive. "Still critical."

Pain lances through Dick at the two words. He'd lost Jason once before and the guilt from being off world when his Little Wing needed him the most still ate at him in the darkest parts of his psyche. And now, here he is sitting with another brother he never thought he'd have, one who's been through so much trauma and loss of his own--and who is on the verge of possibly losing another loved one.

A car-pedestrian accident. The gall of something so normal and mundane having the potential to take out the Red Hood--or any of them for that matter--is enough to make Dick want to punch the taupe wall of this dreary waiting room.

To be honest, he's rather surprised none of the others are here yet. Well, expect Bruce. He's off world with the JL and...

Oh.

"Do you think Bruce knows yet?"

Tim's shrug is so minute Dick might have missed it if he wasn't watching closely. "Can't say I care right now. He and Jay got into another of their big fights before he left. Said if Jay can't clean up his act, then don't bother coming back."

Dick winces and easily reads between the lines of what Tim isn't saying given their semi-public place. Even in Bludhaven, he'd heard about the execution-style murder of a known pedophile--and that it was the Red Hood who'd done it.

"He didn't do it, Dick," Tim whispers, catching his gaze as tears build in his eyes. "I was there. I know he didn't. But Bruce didn't listen to either of us, said I was covering for him because he's in my pants." Those last words are practically spat out. "I think this is the first time I've ever felt like I hate him. He just doesn't listen!"

That's a feeling Dick knows all too well. He also knows now why the others aren't here--that Barbara called him first because Tim doesn't need just comfort.

He needs his big brother.

Dick slides from the chair to kneel on the floor in front of Tim. "Now that is something I know a lot about." He takes Tim's hands and squeezes them firmly. "I'm not going to tell you it'll get better. I'm also not going to say you need to be the bigger person and forgive him. What I am going to tell you is that I believe you and that I believe in Jason."

Tim's breath hitches and he falls into Dick's open arms sobbing. Thank yous fall from his lips and into Dick's jacket. Tears fill his own eyes as he remembers another time where he didn't believe this little bird, his first Robin.

Time hasn't necessarily dulled the guilt, but it has given him perspective. He'd done what he thought best at the time and owned up to it when he'd been proven wrong--a trait not shared by their mentor and father-figure.

"We'll get through this together," Dick soothes, running a hand up and down Tim's back. "You, me, and everyone else. We're all here for you and we're all pulling for Jason."

As he speaks, he glances up and spots Alfred hurrying down the hall with Damian and Duke in tow. Both boys are still dressed in their school uniforms, so Alfred must have pulled them out early. Behind them are Cass and Steph, hands held tightly.

"We're all here," he repeats, nudging Tim's chin to make him look up. "And we're not going anywhere."

#chibinightowl writes #dick grayson #tim drake #background JayTim #there's a lot to unpack here #but it's mostly just brotherly bonding #and me needing to word vomit in some capacity #stress is a bitch #yes I'm fine #just need sleep

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dawnrider · 1 year ago

Note

For the bodyguard au prompt, can I please request InuKag:

"You're not paid enough to die."

"Sometimes it's not about the money."

I love all of your stories by the way! You’re an incredible writer!

@somegoodcrumbs you are so sweet! Thank you!🥰

This one-shot... very much got away from me. 😅 I started it this morning and well... 😐

In The Blood || 3375 Words || CW: Injury, blood, villain death

Inuyasha groaned, cursing the way his vision blurred for a moment. He had to pull it together, and fast. Kagome was depending on him. As it was, she was fussing over him, trying to bind his shoulder so it would stop bleeding everywhere and to stabilize the joint a little. “A sword! In this day and age!” She was ranting at an inconsistent volume, sometimes mumbling, sometimes stage whispering loudly in his ear. She knew to keep quiet so as not to give away their position, but she was obviously upset.

“They’re youkai, Kagome. They don’t give… ah… a shit about modern social conventions.” He gasped as she cinched the makeshift bandage particularly tight to add compression to the wound. While grateful for her help, and that she knew what to do, he hated that she was so proficient at it. He was supposed to be strong enough not to need tending, but it had happened enough times in his tenure as her personal guard that it had become old hat to her at this point.

That didn’t mean he didn’t get an earful about it every single time.

“You really should be…” he grunted as he shifted against the wall, twisting his ears to listen for any pursuers, “making a run for it. While you can. I don’t know how long it’ll be before they recover enough to follow.”

She huffed at him. “I’m not leaving you here to die.”

“It’s my job to die for you if it means you are safe,” he reminded her. Except it was far more than his job at this point. His very being thrummed with the need to make sure she was safe. Which really made him want to move, to get her to safety, but his body just couldn’t cooperate yet.

Kagome barely restrained herself from punching him in the shoulder. “You're not paid enough to die,” she reminded him, trying to sound lighthearted. Inuyasha could hear the tremble in her voice, smell the tears collecting in her eyes. He caught her cheek, turning her toward him.

"Sometimes it's not about the money."

She sucked in a breath, swallowing a sob. He both loved and hated that she was trying so hard to be brave for his sake. It spoke to who she was, strong and kind. But it broke his heart that he was so weak that they were in this situation now. “You idiot,” she breathed.

Inuyasha froze when her lips found his unsuspecting. Her breath was soft, shaky, but he could feel the conviction behind it. Why? echoed in his brain, rattling around in his skull. So stunned by her kiss, it didn’t truly register that it was happening until it was over.

He didn’t miss the embarrassment that flickered on her face, but was quickly squashed by a serious frown. “Can you stand at least? I think I can get to a car.”

“Kagome…”

“I remember how to hotwire it and I can pull it up so you can get in.” Inuyasha growled. “Then we can get out of here and…”

“Kagome!” She jolted, turning to look at him. She was wide eyed and a little pale. Inuyasha never wanted her to look at him like that again. She was just close enough that he could tug her shirt, pulling her off balance and into his lap. He tucked her head under his chin, his good arm looping around her shoulders to hold her against him. “Just give me a little more time. I’ll be ready soon.” She nodded.

Inuyasha wasn’t sure how long they sat there in silence, the cold concrete of the parking garage pillar against his back. His ears were constantly on a swivel, listening for any sign that they’d been found by the youkai out to destroy the one geneticist who could finally make it so youkai didn’t outlive their human partners by centuries. Or lose them to illness or injury. A discovery that harmed no one had become the source of a spattering of rallies and attempts to get her lab shut down.

Inuyasha didn’t understand why it infuriated them so much. It would benefit so many. Even other youkai who were not as long-lived! It was rare, but hanyou with youkai partners could stay with their mates as well. There were too many youkai that had withered away after the loss of their mates to ignore the benefit to youkai. Their numbers weren’t exactly growing exponentially…

A few of the more vocal rabble rousers had been screaming about human vampires stealing their blood, but he had discounted them as anti-science misanthropes. The kinds of people who refused to actually read what the science said, or even attempt to understand it.

Today they learned the hard way that some were willing to take it further than yelling…

In hindsight, the press conference to try to clear up misunderstandings had been a mistake. It had given the enemy a chance to corner them out in public with advanced notice of when and where she would be. The lab had organized a relatively small crowd of journalists, not wanting to overwhelm Kagome. She was a scientist, not a public figure. She was a better speaker than one might have guessed, and she handled all the questions accurately and gracefully. It wasn’t until the end when they were leaving that disaster struck.

Fortunately, the attackers hadn’t expected a hanyou bodyguard.

Unfortunately for Inuyasha, one of them carried a sword and knew how to use it.

He managed to beat them off, incapacitate them just enough that he’d been able to scoop Kagome up and make a run for it. After leaping several tall buildings in more than a few bounds, he’d lost too much blood to keep going, forcing him to find a place to hide them until he could recoup some strength.

The itchiness woke him, startling him when he couldn’t recall having drifted off. The soft hands against his chest soothed him enough to keep from jumping up, looking around wildly. “It’s ok. We’re ok,” she whispered. She was still in his lap, still curled against his chest, whispering soothingly to calm his racing heart. “There’s an access door over there. I think I can get it open.”

“How long have you been thinking about that?” He took in a sharp breath as the itching became nearly unbearable. Good, it’s healing. “How long have I been out?”

“Only about twenty minutes, really.” He frowned. That was a lie, but he wasn’t going to call her on it. “Are you alright if I…”

“I can move now, I think,” he murmured, gently shifting her off his lap and taking a minute to press his fingers to the wound to try to lessen the itch. There was only minor discomfort instead of pain now, a dramatic improvement, but he could tell that if he tried to use the arm too much, it would reopen the stab wound. His next goal was to get on his feet at least, a feat in itself, but he managed it without swaying. Mostly.

“Are you sure?” Kagome asked, her lower lip caught anxiously in her teeth. He nodded, then took several steps, making sure they didn’t echo on the concrete. “This way,” she breathed, hesitating before taking hold of his good hand. Inuyasha winced that she was suddenly so wary of him, but he understood.

He realized that she’d taken her heels off and stuffed them in her purse, now walking in her bare feet to make her steps as silent as possible. He wanted to lift her, keep her from potentially hurting herself… but he just couldn’t trust that shoulder yet.

The door was old, but it was clearly a security access. Which meant a phone.

Benefit of concrete structure: sturdy, blocked scents, muffled youki.

Drawback: Really, really, bad cell service.

Kagome found a small section of pipe near the stairwell and handed it over, Inuyasha using the leverage to pry open the door. There was an ungodly screech of rusted metal bending, but the lock popped in response to Inuyasha's inhuman strength. Grimacing at the racket, he ushered Kagome into the relatively small room, pulling the door shut behind them. It was dark and the lights didn’t work. Inuyasha was beginning to fear any phone they might find might not either.

He covered his eyes reflexively when a light popped up. “Phone’s good for something at least,” Kagome murmured. Shining it around the space, she made a small sound of triumph when she spotted a phone handset in the corner. She was quick to pick it up, sighing in relief when the distinct sound of a dial tone filled their ears. The line ringing was like music and Miroku’s voice on the other end sounded heavenly. “Yes, we’re ok. Mostly. Well…” She glanced at him. Inuyasha gave her a look, wiggling his ears at her. Can hear every word. She sighed, then told him the building address where they were, going off of the information on the dusty old business cards on the desk. “We don’t know where they are, but they haven’t found us yet.” Miroku was silent for a long moment before conveying that the team would be there to pick them up within ten minutes. “We’re on the fourth level down. Can you… Yes I know but… Miroku, we’re lucky he’s standing.”

Inuyasha snarled at that. “I can get us to street level.”

“Inuyasha…”

“I can do that. I wouldn’t risk it if I couldn’t do it.”

Kagome sighed. “Alright. I’m trusting you.”

His golden eyes flashed. “Better be.”

She stayed on with Miroku as long as they could to make sure everything was going to plan until they needed to make their way up. The garage was still silent aside from the occasional drip of condensation from a ventilation unit and the small amount of outside noise that drifted down through the central spiral. Inuyasha insisted on going first, keeping her close at his back so she was behind him.

The warmer air from outside was just barely tangible once they reached the second floor down, the humidity feeling a little sickly. Inuyasha slowed his steps at the sound of something moving, as if shifting through paper. Kagome grabbed the back of his shirt and he lightly gripped her arm to pull her around to his front.

Not a moment too soon as a tail the size of a firehose came flying at them from over the sidewall of the ramp above.

Biting back a yelp, Inuyasha hauled Kagome off her feet into his arms and leapt out of the way. There wasn’t much room to move, and they weren’t high enough in the structure for there to be openings for him to escape through. Damned underground garage!

“You are trapped. Give usss the woman and you live, hanyou.” The sound of what they now knew to be scales over concrete made Kagome shiver in fear. “Ssshe will bleed usss all dry. Even you.” Inuyasha only held her closer.

“The fact that you refuse to understand the science is only part of why you’re stupid!” The snake didn’t take kindly to that, rearing up and hissing at them, baring its fangs. Inuyasha just barely tucked them out of the way as it lunged at them, ready to strike. He needed to get further up the ramp, get them closer to the team coming for them so he could at least pass Kagome off to friendly hands. He got them halfway to the spiral before the stomping of feet stopped him in his tracks. The distinct sound of metal scraping against the concrete made his ears flip back in discomfort.

The damned sword again… Kagome whimpered, turning toward him and instinctively covering his injured shoulder with her hand. “Got off light the first time, dog. Won’t make that mistake twice.” This youkai was more human in appearance and Inuyasha got the feeling he was some form of cursed-human-turned-youkai. Perhaps a warrior who went too far and was overtaken. It was a lot more common in centuries past but, as Kagome said before, in this day and age?

“Keh. You’re just pissed I got the best of both of you.”

The youkai grinned, baring sharpened teeth. “I considered letting you live to wallow in your failure after killing the scientist bitch, but now… I don’t care.” The change in his tone was all the warning Inuyasha got before the youkai was in motion, faster than expected, and his leap to the side went awry. Kagome tumbled from his hold, yelping in surprise as much as pain. Inuyasha felt the heat of blood bloom on his chest. His shoulder screamed as he scrambled to get up, tried to get to Kagome. But the youkai was there, slicing at him so that he had to dance out of the way, putting more distance between he and Kagome. Inuyasha snarled.

“Behind!” Kagome’s call gave him just enough warning to elude the snake trying to lunge for his back, leaping up and catching hold of a pipe and swinging out of the way. The snake couldn’t stop its momentum, sending it headfirst into the blade of its comrade who seemed to hold no regard for his compatriot.

“Stupid,” the blade-wielding youkai spat, flicking the blood onto the concrete and stepping over the snake now still on the ground. Inuyasha used his swing to his advantage, piking himself over the youkai’s head as he tried to take a swipe at him and took off toward Kagome.

“Move!” he commanded her, yanking her into his side as he continued up the ramp. The other youkai was not all that far behind, his heavy breathing and deranged laughter ringing in the echoey space. He wasn’t as fast over longer distances, the strategic part of Inuyasha’s mind noted. “No wonder you lost us before. Stupid and slow!” Part of him hoped the rage would cause the youkai to make a mistake. One he could take advantage of…

“Maybe don’t antagonize the asshole getting ready to swing a sword at you, Moron,” came a voice from above. Inuyasha didn’t believe in angels, and definitely not in the form of mangy wolves, but Kouga’s voice was a godsend.

“Take her, Dipshit!” Despite their banter, Kouga didn’t hesitate to leap down, landing lightly and scooping up Kagome on the fly. She squealed at the sudden change of pace, her eyes wide and face pale over Kouga’s shoulder as the distance between them increased. Inuyasha forced his eyes away from her and increased his speed just enough to outrun the youkai at his heels. He needed a better way to disarm his opponent. He couldn't move fast enough to knock him out the way he had before. Certainly not without getting another hole in his person for his trouble. As it was, his right arm was practically useless.

The blood isn't, the thought came unbidden.

Inuyasha glanced around, wondering if he was beginning to lose it from blood loss.

Blades of Blood. It was a command and one he seemed inclined to obey.

Without realizing, his left hand plunged his claws into his own wound. He rotated, continuing his backward momentum while flinging the blood coating his fingers toward the gnashing face of his pursuer. The youkai howled in pain, slowing to a stop and dropping the sword to the ground with a clatter. Inuyasha was stunned… But not as stunned as when he slammed backward into the sidewall of the ramp and knocked the wind out of himself.

He almost went over too, and would have had a hand not shot out to catch his torn and bloodied shirt. “Miss Kagome will be very upset if you fall, you know.”

“Y-Yea,” he rasped. Pretty sure there’s a broken rib or four in there… “Thanks, Jinenji.” The much larger hanyou nodded his head, hefting Inuyasha up and onto the next level of the ramp one handed. The youkai who had been chasing them was still screaming his rage, but Inuyasha saw the tail end of a black coat disappear around the corner.

A moment later and the youkai was silent.

Miroku wouldn’t kill him… probably. Tempting as it might be when he had ambushed them, tried to kill them both, and even killed his own partner. They needed information, and Miroku was very, very, good at getting it.

Sniffling sobs met his ears when he was able to focus again, grimacing when a soft weight collided with his side. “Inuyasha!” Her eyes were scrunched closed and she had a reddened scrape across her cheek and forehead. But she was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. She was alive, and mostly unharmed. “Now I have to wrap you up all over again!”

Inuyasha let out a weak laugh. Definitely a few broken ribs. “You can wrap me up as many times as you want.” He fought back a grin at the annoyed look on her face. “I know, I know, you wouldn’t have to if I was more careful.”

“Can you move?” Miroku’s voice asked distractedly. His eyes were on the bound youkai being carried out of the parking structure by Jinenji and Kouga, the wolf bitching the whole way about having to deal with a lowlife like this.

“Give me a few minutes?” The monk nodded, peeling off his coat and tossing it to Kagome. She rolled it up and put it under his head, pulling the last of her button down shirt from her purse to rip into skinny strips. “There’s a kit in the van, you know.”

“I’m worried you’re gonna leak out all over the floor before I can get to it,” she sucked in a sharp breath, trying admirably to pull herself together.

“Kagome?” She bit her lips, focusing on her task. “Hey, Kagome,” he said a little more softly.

Finally she let her eyes meet his. He winced as he reached across with his left hand to cup her cheek, bringing her face toward his as he stretched up as much as his position would allow. It was soft, and only a moment, but the press of their lips was exactly the reassurance they both needed. “Oh…”

“Hm. Next time, let’s try it without the near-death experiences, ok?”

She blinked at him, then rolled her eyes, laughing softly.

“Only if you promise to quit trying to die on me,” she scolded. Inuyasha smirked as he opened his mouth to tease her about liking him in this position because it meant she got to baby him, but was cut off by the clearing of a very large throat.

“The perpetrator is under control and the others are ready to leave.”

“Oh. Yes. We’re coming, Jinenji.”

“Miroku has requested that I ‘carry his ass like a baby’ if I have to.” He looked distinctly uncomfortable at the obvious order to repeat what the monk had said exactly. “I really do not want to…”

“Nah. I might need help to my feet, but after that, I’m good,” he confessed. Had the wolf been there, there was no way he would have admitted to that, but current company wouldn’t give him a hard time about it. Jinenji waited for Kagome to finish wrapping his shoulder before offering him a hand up. He had to swallow a yelp when his ribs and shoulder both protested. Loudly. But at least he was upright again. The three made their way the rest of the way up the ramp and to the waiting van, Inuyasha accepting a little more help to get in than he would have liked. Fortunately, Kouga kept his trap shut.

“First stop, holding cell, second stop, hospital!” Miroku called jovially from the driver’s seat. Inuyasha rolled his eyes and groaned, but didn’t argue. Kagome would lecture him about the risks he would be taking for misaligned bone growth or bacterial infections or punctured lungs… He’d happily listen to all of it for the sound of her voice, but he’d rather she do it after she was seen to at the hospital.

Then he could relax and listen to her all day.

Or forever. That’d be fine too.

#dawnrider fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha #kagome #inukag #Bodyguard AU #prompt asks

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clangenrising · 1 year ago

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Month 14 - Newleaf

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Goldenstar felt like everything was moving both extremely fast and excruciatingly slow. Time was slipping through her paws, racing towards an inevitable confrontation with Razor and his Rogues but somehow, most days, she looked around only to realize she had nothing to do that day but sit around. It was maddening, like a dream where she was being chased but couldn’t go anywhere.

She’d gone to see StarClan, seeking guidance for what to do to help Songdust. The results had been inconclusive. Apparently no one knew where she was. Smokyrose, looking lovely with her starry coat and more energized than Goldenstar had seen her in a long time, had explained that she and several others had been looking nonstop to no success. Poppyblaze insisted she wasn’t dead but didn’t have any clue where she was either. Some cats were starting to give up on her. Goldenstar promised Smokyrose she wouldn’t be one of them but that still didn’t leave her with a good idea of what to do.

Thankfully, Mystique hadn’t been causing any trouble. At her request, Goldenstar had allowed her to start training cats in combat - under Russetfrond’s supervision of course. She wasn’t a great teacher but she was a good fighter and Goldenstar had watched Floodpaw drift from total distrust and contempt to secret admiration for the kittypet. He didn’t even get mad when he lost a duel, he just got back up and demanded to go again until he was better. Goldenstar was proud of him. It wouldn’t be long until he and his littermates were ready to be warriors.

Before that, though, she was going to have to apprentice Slatekit and Fogkit. Poppybird was still coming by to check on them every so often, which Goldenstar was very grateful for. Thanks to her, Fogkit had come back out of her shell and was once again dragging her sister on adventures around the camp. Goldenstar had asked Poppybird what she thought about them, if they seemed to be leaning towards an apprenticeship as a healer or a mediator but Poppybird said they both seemed pretty eager to be warrior apprentices and so Goldenstar had started trying to pick out good mentors for them.

She had been considering Ospreymask for Fogkit but according to Poppybird, Fogkit had disliked her ever since she delivered the news of Smokyrose’s death, which was a shame. Slatekit seemed to need someone who was going to be extremely supportive, and Goldenstar had a few cats in mind, but Fogkit was going to need someone who could handle her rambunctious spirit, especially given how much time she had been trying to spend with Floodpaw lately. Goldenstar was at least grateful that Floodpaw seemed to have warmed up to the idea of hanging out with her. She had seen him teaching her some of the tricks he’d learned from Mystique and while she thought he tended to play a bit too rough, Fogkit seemed to enjoy it and that was what mattered.

Still, she wasn’t sure about a good mentor. She sat atop the Stoneperch, tail twitching, and puzzled over the different possible combinations. She was so deep in thought she didn’t notice Scorchplume had padded up beside her until she spoke.

“Busy?” asked Scorch with a slight tilt of her head.

Goldenstar flinched and hurried to recover. “Huh? Oh, uh, no not really. What’s up?”

“I wanted to go out past the eastern border, take a look around,” Scorch said flatly. “I thought you might accompany me.” Goldenstar swallowed. She still hadn’t been able to persuade Scorch to stay and the dread of losing her again twisted in her gut like a pit of snakes.

“Sure,” she smiled, hoping it was convincing. “Why not?”

Scorch smiled in return. “Great. Let’s go.”

Goldenstar stood and followed Scorch’s lead, feeling distant. She wished she could lean her head on Scorch’s shoulder and twine their tails as they walked, she ached for that closeness, but she still didn’t know where they stood. Scorch had been so reclusive since her return. She did her duties and then spent her time alone, like she didn’t want anything to do with anyone. Goldenstar wondered if she still resented her for the fight they had been having when she was taken. But then, out of the blue, she asked to go walking? Goldenstar was lost and confused.

“I hope you’ve been doing alright,” she tried. Scorch glanced over at her.

“I suppose so. As alright as you can be knowing an army could march on your home any day.” It may have been foolish, but Goldenstar brightened upon hearing Scorch call the Clan her home. That was a good sign.

“Yeah,” she hummed. “It isn’t great. Have you been training with Mystique at all?”

Scorch scoffed. “No. I’d be satisfied if I never saw her again.”

“Really?” Goldenstar asked. “I thought you two got along.”

“As well as I get along with anyone,” Scorch huffed and Goldenstar frowned. “She’s nice enough but I want nothing to do with her. You wouldn’t understand.” She swished her beautiful tail as if to put an end to the conversation.

“Try me,” said Goldenstar. Scorch frowned at her and then sighed.

“Fine. Razor basically made her my prison guard. I couldn’t go anywhere without her watching me. She’s not stupid. I know she saw through my happy-little-mate act but she never did anything to help me. I can’t forgive her for that.” Goldenstar listened, nodded to herself, and hummed thoughtfully.

“I see…” she said. “That sucks. I’m really sorry, Scorch.”

“What for?” Scorch snapped.

“That you had to go though that?” Goldenstar shrugged. “I’m not, like, guilty-sorry, just… sympathetic.” Scorch opened her mouth then hesitated. Her gaze flickered to the ground for a beat before she lifted her head confidently.

“Hm. I half expected a lecture about how I ought to forgive her.”

“No, you totally don’t have to,” Goldenstar said. “It would be super unfair to say that.”

“Hm,” Scorch said again. She focused on the path ahead of them again and Goldenstar squirmed in worry. Was she mad?

“Uh, hey,” she said, hopping a step forward to catch up with Scorch’s strides, “I wanted to say, uh… I’m sorry. I never got to apologize for the fight we had.” She swallowed, the snakes in her gut twisting more violently. “It’s my fault you got caught. I’m really sorry that I was pushing you so much and that I didn’t get back in time.”

Scorch looked over at her, face nearly mournful, and said, “It’s fine. I knew you wouldn’t get back in time.”

“Wait, what?” Goldenstar’s steps faltered for a second.

“The twolegs are always nearby when they use those traps,” said Scorch. “They got to me just after you left. I just didn’t want you to get caught too.”

Goldenstar didn’t know how to feel. “Oh. Okay. Well, I’m sorry for the other stuff at least.”

“It’s fine,” Scorch sighed again. “I was being stupid anyway. Can we just forget it? I hate it when you get all sorry and nervous.” That didn’t help to alleviate Goldenstar’s nerves.

“Okay,” she said, catching up. “Whatever you want, Scorch.”

“Ugh,” Scorch groaned.

“Sorry,” Goldenstar laughed nervously, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just, like, ‘okay, sounds good.’” Scorch’s tail lashed a little.

“You’re doing it again. You were doing this that day too! You keep doing that breathy little laugh and treading on eggshells like you’ve got no spine! What happened?”

Goldenstar swallowed. She’d realized she was in love is what happened but she couldn’t just say that could she? What if Scorch balked and left? Well, she was already planning on leaving… Goldenstar chewed her lip for a second, gathered her courage, and took a leap of faith.

“Well… Okay, this might sound weird, and don’t feel like you owe me any kind of response but, uh, that night you disappeared and came back late?”

“Yeah,” Scorch prompted.

“Well, when you came back I realized that I uh…” This was the hard part. No turning back! she thought. “I realized I have, uh, feelings for you.”

Scorch stopped walking. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Goldenstar laughed. “I’m sorry, I’m trying not to be weird, I just- I like you so much, I don’t want to ruin anything.” She shuffled her paws, not sure how to stand.

“Oh, please,” Scorch huffed. “If anything you’re ruining things by being so worried! Just be yourself, Goldie, that’s what I like.” That turned the snakes in her stomach to butterflies.

“You- you do?”

Scorch groaned loudly as she tilted her face skyward. “Yes, Goldie, I like you. Do I like you like that? I…” her exasperation softened and she looked away over her far shoulder. “I don’t know. I don’t really have room for that kind of thing in my life. Besides, I’m not interested in… in doing anything or-”

“Oh, you don’t have to!” Goldenstar blurted. “I mean, if you did feel the same, I still wouldn’t expect anything like that or- or anything at all!”

“Everyone has expectations,” Scorch glared.

“O-okay,” Goldenstar laughed. “Fair, but I mean like… If you didn’t want to do something I wouldn’t pressure you to. I mostly just want to like… twine tails and share a nest and stuff like that…” It wasn’t like she would say no to something more… exciting, but she had always cared more about the person than any one part of a relationship. That was part of the reason she’d gone her whole life without any kind of serious partner, it just hadn’t been important enough for her to compromise on the ‘who’ in order to get the ‘what’.

Scorch was still, her expression nigh unreadable but definitely skeptical. Goldenstar wanted to squirm but she forced herself to breathe slowly and calmly. She waited for Scorch to speak and tried to look as open as possible.

“Let me get this straight,” said Scorch slowly. “The only thing you want… is to do cutesy garbage together?”

Goldenstar blushed. “I guess you could say that, yeah,” she laughed. “I’d be open to other stuff but I’d be totally satisfied if that was all. But like, you can also say no, I totally understand.” Scorch sized her up for another moment.

“Alright,” Scorch said, turning to face Goldenstar directly and unfurling her tail up above her back, “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to try so here are my conditions.” Goldenstar gulped and nodded, standing equally straight. “One: I refuse to use any kind of labels and definitely no sappy pet names like sweetie or anything, got it?”

Goldenstar nodded again, “Got it.” She couldn’t believe what was happening.

“Two:” Scorch continued, tail starting to swish. “There will be absolutely no sexual advances of any kind.”

“Of course,” Goldenstar said immediately.

“Three: This is a temporary arrangement. When I leave, that’s that, assuming you’re still determined to stay here despite my warnings.”

Goldenstar pursed her lips. “Alright,” she said, hesitantly. “I still think you should stay, but, like, obviously you can end this… arrangement, I guess, whenever you want.” She thought but didn’t say, Even if I’ll probably die.

“Good,” Scorch said firmly. She shifted slightly, like a bird ruffling its feathers, and let out a small breath. “‘Cause I’m not staying. I’m not letting Razor get another chance to take me back there.” She turned and started walking towards the border again. Goldenstar followed, feeling bright and bubbly and lonesome at the same time.

“I understand,” she said sadly. “Is there anything I could do to change your mind?”

Scorch hummed in thought. “If Razor were dead then we could talk.”

“Okay,” Goldenstar’s mind was turning. “How would we do that?”

“I don’t know,” Scorch said, “That’s why I’m leaving.”

Goldenstar sighed, ears drooping. Scorch looked over and, after a beat of hesitation, wound her tail around Goldenstar’s. The action sent affection flooding through Goldenstar’s body and she leaned in to rest her head on Scorch’s shoulder, a small purr rumbling in her chest. Scorch stiffened slightly but eased into the gesture. Goldenstar’s heart soared.

“We’ll think of something,” she said. “I’m gonna do everything I can to keep people safe. I’m not giving up yet.”

“It’s not giving up to run away,” said Scorch. “It’s just a different strategy.”

“I guess,” Goldenstar hummed. “It’s just that these territories, this land, it has a lot of significance and meaning to us. It’s just as much a part of the Clan as any member. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Better than losing your lives,” said Scorch.

“I know,” said Goldenstar, taking a deep breath as she closed her eyes and let Scorch lead her along. “If it comes to it, I will leave if we have to. But I wanna try a few other things first.”

“Well, it will be good to take a look at what’s beyond the border in any case,” said Scorch.

“Yeah, I agree,” said Goldenstar. She opened her eyes and looked up at Scorch’s perfect blue ones and smiled. At least for now, she could imagine that this was a romantic little adventure to some place new.

Scorch raised an eyebrow at her. “Goldie, are you going to stare at me like that all the time now?”

“Maybe,” Goldenstar laughed. “Is it bad?”

“No, you just look ridiculous,” said Scorch, a touch of a humorous smile on her face.

“What can I say,” Goldenstar sighed dramatically, “I’m ridiculously in love with you.”

“No,” Scorch said, suddenly detaching herself from their little embrace, fast enough to make Goldenstar stumble. “No you aren’t.”

“Aww, is that not allowed?” she pouted playfully even though her heart sank.

“Yep,” said Scorch, “Rule Four: We are not using that word.”

Goldenstar thought it sounded like Scorch might be joking but she couldn’t tell and she didn’t want to push so she just sighed and said, “Alright… Can I at least say I think you’re beautiful?”

“Hmm,” Scorch glanced over her shoulder. “Yes. Do that.” She smirked and swished her tail - definitely playing.

“Scorchplume,” Goldenstar purred sweetly, “you are intensely beautiful. Seriously, your eyes, your fur, your voice, all of it. You take my breath away.”

Scorchplume rolled her eyes. “You’re too soft, Goldie.”

“If adoring every bit of you is soft then that’s fine with me,” said Goldenstar moving back in to twine tails with her. Scorch made a noncommittal noise and fell silent. Goldenstar was happy to just enjoy her presence.

They made their way to the border then out past the territories into the wider prairie. Here, wildflowers grew in thick patches and the grass was sparser and dryer. They found a short, wide little tree and scaled it to get a look at the surrounding area.

“Looks like a desert out there,” Scorch hummed. Goldenstar chewed her lip in thought. She’d heard old stories about deserts before but the concept still seemed alien to her, like a mystical land of suffering designed to try the cats who dared to wander across it.

“There’s bound to be coyotes out there,” she said, mostly to herself. “Not somewhere I would want to raise kits.”

“It’s not ideal for me either,” said Scorch. “But surely there’s something past it.”

“Maybe,” Goldenstar shrugged. “You could ask Oddstripe. He came from out this way, remember?”

“That’s right,” Scorchplume muttered under her breath. There was a storm of thoughts behind her eyes. Goldenstar pictured it rolling out across the desert and pouring much needed rain on the scraggly wildflowers and parched earth. She imagined letting that rain soak her to the skin and thought that she wouldn’t mind at all.

Scorch leapt down to the ground and started back towards the territories. “Maybe I’ll have to see about the lake over the mountains then,” she said.

“Or,” suggested Goldenstar, leaping down beside her, “you could stay and help us figure out how to beat Razor.”

“No, I don’t think so,” said Scorchplume curtly.

“Hear me out,” Goldenstar said, her own thoughts coalescing into rain clouds. She thought back to what Scorch had taught her about speechcraft and came up with a plan. “You hate him more than anyone and with good reason. On your own, there’s nothing you can do to stop him but I have a whole Clan, several Clans even, full of warriors who would gladly sink their claws into him.” Scorch hummed, unconvinced, and Goldenstar quickly continued. “You’re incredibly smart and you have first hand experience with his operation. You could teach us the best way to beat him and then we would do it. You wouldn’t even have to get close to him. Just tell us what to do and we’ll take all the risk ourselves. You’d be saving countless cats and securing your own safety all in one go.”

“You make a compelling argument,” Scorchplume said slowly. Her eyes were narrowed, calculating. Goldenstar held her breath and tried to maintain her casual facade. This was probably the highest stakes conversation she’d had in weeks and she wasn’t about to ruin it by looking too desperate.

Scorch stewed for a few moments then said, “Alright fine. We can give it a try.”

“Yes!” Goldenstar cried, butting her head joyously into Scorch’s side. So much for not looking desperate. “Thank you, Scorch!”

“Don’t thank me too much,” Scorch said. “I might have an idea but it involves using you as bait.”

Goldenstar smiled, ears perking. “Ooh, tell me.”

“Don’t look so excited,” Scorch huffed poutily.

“Sorry, I’m just- I am excited. I can’t wait for all of this to be over with so you and I can just be happy together.”

Scorch’s throat labored as she watched Goldenstar’s face. “Yeah… Me too, I guess.” Goldenstar rammed her with another loving headbutt. That was plenty for her. Visions of a bright and happy future were starting to form in her mind's eye, one where she and Scorch lived in RisingClan together for the rest of their lives, where Scorchplume felt happy and safe and knew just how much Goldenstar loved her. To her, there was no greater thought in the world.

UPDATES: - Goldenstar confessed her feelings to Scorchplume and they have become mates an unofficial no labels kind of thing

#clan gen #clangen #warrior cats #warriors #warrior cats oc #warriors oc #clangen oc #clan gen oc #Scorchplume #Goldenstar #Goldenscorch #Newleaf #clangenrising

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