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backtobackbakubabe · 3 years ago

Text

Speak Easy Part 12

Dabi x Reader , Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4221

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

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It had been a little over a week since the incident in the parking lot. You were more than eager to start your training with Dabi, but he kept insisting you needed to fully heal your ribs first.

Today you weren’t taking no for an answer. You had used your new fancy collar to call Katsuki and ask him to bring you some things. He made a few comments about not being your personal errand bitch, but he agreed none the less.

You were flipping through channels as you lounged on the couch when the doorbell rang.

Dabi immediately went on the offensive, hands lighting up as walked over to the security monitor to check the cameras. You made a mad dash for the front door. You knew it was Katsuki and you wanted to get to him before Dabi did.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Dabi’s hand that wasn’t currently on fire reached out to try and grab you as you ran by, but you easily avoided it.

“Relax it’s for me! It’s just Katsuki.”

“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?” You could hear how annoyed he was, but this is what he gets for refusing to start your training.

You opened the door to an equally annoyed looking Katsuki. “Hey! Did you bring the stuff I asked for?”

He rolled his eyes, “Do you think I’d come all the way out here if I didn’t” He handed you a gym bag that was way heavier than he made it look. You took it from him and almost toppled over with how heavy it was.

He smirked as he grabbed your elbow to steady you. “So… you’re getting back into shape? You know I wouldn’t mind training with you like we used to. You were always a good work out.”

You beamed at him, “Seriously? That would be awesome! Dabi said he doesn’t want to.”

Dabi growled in displeasure, “Oh fuck off. I never said that. I’m going to train with you AFTER your ribs are done healing.” He pointed to the bag that was now slung over your shoulder. “What’s in the bag?”

You started backing up towards your room. “Just some work out stuff. You know so Katsuki and I can start training.” You sprinted towards the room before Dabi could argue with you.

“FUCKING BRAT!” Dabi rolled his eyes before looking at an amused Bakugo. “I swear to god If you show up here unannounced one more fucking time, I’ll move us somewhere far away where you can’t find us.”

Bakugo crossed his arms over his chest and huffed, “Yeah good luck with that. Besides I was invited.” He gave Dabi a shit eating grin. “I know she only called me to get under your skin. She wanted something, you said no, and now here I am giving her what she wanted.” He shrugged, “And I’ll keep giving her what she wants. Again and Again. As long as I have to.”

Dabi’s nostrils flared as he attempted to keep his temper in check. “Sounds pretty pathetic if you ask me.”

Dabi expected that to light Bakugo’s infamous short fuse, but instead the man just chuckled. “No pathetic is what you’re going to be after she’s done with you.” Bakugo took a step closer and lowered his voice. “Take it from someone who trained with her almost every day for years… She will chew you up and spit you out.” He gave Dabi a cocky grin, “I wasn’t kidding when I said she was a good workout. I almost wish I had time to stick around and watch her kick your ass.” He checked his watch, “If she hurries I might have time to watch for a little while.”

“First you listen to us have sex, now you want to watch us work out. You are such a little perv.”

Bakugo opened his mouth but before he could make a retort you were skipping back into the living room doing a little twirl to show off your new workout clothes. You wore a matching burgundy sports bra and biker shorts, brand new black sneakers, and to Dabi’s surprise your collar. “Thank you so much Katsuki! They fit perfectly, even the sports bra!”

Dabi’s eyes cut to Bakugo’s, “Like I said… Perv.”

“My parents work in fashion idiot.” He rolled his eyes before turning back to you and giving you a genuine smile. “You look good. Remember to stretch, drink lots of water, and do a proper cool down. It’s been a long time since you worked out. Don’t try and go all plus ultra your first time.”

You returned his smile, “No promises. But I will try to go easy.” You leaned over and started to stretch giving Dabi and excellent view of your ass in your compression shorts. He was mesmerized by the way your muscles stretched and flexed under your skin. He knew you were strong, but he was about to find out how strong.

His eyes were glued to your ass until an annoying blonde boy cleared his throat. “What was that about me being a perv?” Bakugo quirked an eyebrow at Dabi. “If you can’t even watch her stretch… then you won’t stand a chance fighting her.”

Dabi scoffed, “No offense to you doll, but I think I have a little more composure then your pervy little friend here.”

You finished up your stretching and made your way to the backyard. “I don’t know… Katsuki may have struggled at first. But by the time we graduated he got really good at thwarting my attacks.” You gave Dabi a cocky smirk as the boys joined you in the yard. “I hope you’re ready because I can honestly say I’ve been looking forward to this for a while.”

Bakugo took a seat in one of the pool chairs and kicked his feet up like he was about to watch a movie, “And so have I.” He chuckled as he leaned back putting his hands behind his head, “It’s a shame Icy Hot’s not here to see this.”

You loved that Katsuki was so confident in you, but it was also making you really nervous. If the parking lot fight was any indictor, your fighting skills weren’t as sharp as they used to be. You slowly made your way to stand across from Dabi who was doing everything in his power to look unaffected and bored. His only give away was the subtle way his fingers twitched with your every movement.

You cracked your knuckles and took a fighting stance, “I’m not going easy on you.”

The look in your eyes was enough to make Dabi want to kneel at your feet. You looked dangerous and determined. You looked like a queen ready to hand out a death sentence. He closed his eyes for a brief second to collect his thoughts and in those few seconds you dove at him sweeping his feet out from under him.

You could hear Bakugo laughing loudly from his chair, “She hasn’t even activated her quirk yet and you’re already jelly!”

You quickly rolled on top of him using your knee to pin his shoulder down. You activated your quirk, “See isn’t it just easier to submit to me? You could just let me tie you up and-“

Your words swam around in his head, it was the only thing he could concentrate on. He could think of nothing else other pleasing you. Doing what you said. You were right after all. It would be so much easier to just lay here with you. He didn’t even want to fight you to begin with. NO! This wasn’t right. You wouldn’t get any better if he didn’t try. He couldn’t give up so easily.

His hand came up and covered your mouth rolling over and pining you down. “Damnit that’s freaky.” He was still trying to clear his head when your tongue darted out from between your lips and started licking his palm.”

Bakugo was practically hollering over in his chair, “Oh you fucked up now!”

Dabi’s hand started to go numb. “Wait what? What the HELL! I thought it was only if I like drank your blood or some weird shit like that! How- How are you-”

Your eyes locked with his and you began a mental battle of trying to push into his head. You hand pressed into his side and started to overwhelm him with feelings of regret. You found it was the easiest way to break someone. Lots of people could push through pain. Lots of people push through lust. But regret was an emotion that ate away at a person over time. It only grew and festered until it drove people crazy. You saw a flash of fear in his eyes and you could only imagine what memories it was bringing up. This was supposed to be fun. You didn’t want to traumatize him, so you changed tactics.

Things were about to get really uncomfortable for Katsuki.

You switched up the emotion you were flooding him with to desire, and almost immediately regretted it. His hips snapped forward of their own accord as a growl left his lips. “Fuck! You really want to do this in front of blondie?”

You saw his composure start to slip and you used it to push past that last mental barrier. “Sumbit DABI!” You clouded his head with memories of the two of you making love and pushed harder, “Submit to me. Come on baby I know you want to.”

Dabi’s hold started to loosen, but once again he was hyper aware that this was you underneath him. His goal was to protect you. Giving in now wouldn’t help. He needed to help. So he started repeating that like a life-saving mantra in his head, “I can’t give up, I can’t give up, I can’t give up.”

You snapped out of his head so quickly that is startled you. “What the-?”

Dabi jumped away from you and scurried backwards. “Come on baby girl. You got to do better than that? You thought making me horny would cloud my judgement? I’m basically horny all the time around you.” He got to his feet, dismayed that not only was his hand still numb but he couldn’t seem to get his quirk to work in that hand either. “Your quirk won’t always be able to save you. Fight me one on one. No quirks.”

You jumped to your feet as well. “Oh, but I thought we were trying to not hurt my ribs?” He could hear the sass in your voice, and it made him want to spank you. He used the hand that wasn’t currently paralyzed to create a ring of blue fire around the two of you. He focused on the sound of flames, the way it smelled as it burned the ground below. He looked at you but not in the eye.

You dove out of the way as he swung at you. It was like a dance between the two of you. His attacks came at you full force and it was all you could do just to avoid him. You were permanently on the defense. You could seem to catch your breath long enough to switch to offensive. You were getting tired and your sore ribs were screaming at you to stop. But you couldn’t. You needed to push through it. He must have seen the way you were wincing because his eyes darted to your ribs.

You screeched as he started to shrink the circle, dragging you closer to him. “You weren’t complaining about your ribs when I bent you over the kitchen counter last night.” He shrank the circle even more. You reached out desperately to touch him, but he moved out of the way. Swatting your hands away at every move. The fire was getting closer and you were starting to panic. He could see it on your face. He reached out and grabbed the back of your head and pulled you to him. Intentionally locking eyes with you. “There is nothing you could show me, say to me, or make me feel, that would break me.” Your hands darted out and cupped his cheeks. You tried to fill him with fear, but in your panicked state his emotions overwhelmed yours instead.

All you could feel was determination, defensiveness, fondness, and a deep-rooted need to protect. You locked eyes with him again this time you knew his weakness. You stared him in the eyes with yours full of fear. The blue fire inched closer and closer until it singed your back and you screamed out in pain.

There was horror in Dabi’s eyes as he looked at his hands. “I’m not doing this. Y/n! Y/n I promise I’m not doing this. He attempted to extinguish his flames, but they only got hotter and closer.

You were sobbing into his chest now. “Please put them out… please!” Your screams echoed in his ears and the only thing he could do was panic. He was hurting you. It was his quirk and yet he couldn’t stop it. “DABI IT HURTS!”

The pain in your voice was like a cold water in his veins. It pushed him into action as he managed to finally retract his quirk. He felt the flames smother out, he heard your soft sniffles. But something didn’t make sense… There’s no way Bakugo would have let this happen.

All of the sudden his eyes snapped open and you were sitting on top of him. Perfectly fine. It took him a minute to register what had just happened. “I didn’t mean to play dirty, but you’re one hard dude to crack.”

He gripped the back of your neck and pulled you down to him and smothered you with a kiss. When he pulled back your face was red, and your expression was flustered. “I’m just happy you’re okay.” He pulled you to him as he rocked you back and forth. “I thought I hurt you. Shit….” He pulled you away from him and gave you a stern look, “You’re a fucking asshole for that. What is your problem?! I already have fucking nightmares about this shit and you want to make it worse?!”

You didn’t know if you should feel ashamed or laugh. “Look I said I’m sorry! I knew that was the quickest way to get you to submit! Psychological warfare is my specialty.” His eyes remained cold, but his hands were reassuring as they traveled up and down your back. You pushed some of his sweaty hair away from his face. “I can admit I went a little too far.”

“I’m leaving before this gets too fucking sappy!” Bakugo patted your head. “Good job. You’re definitely a little rusty, but better than I thought you’d be.” He gave Dabi a sly smile, “As much as I enjoyed watching you toy with staples, I want to spar with you next time I’m here. For old times sake.”

You wiped some sweat off of your forehead as you nodded at him, “Okay! I’d love that. Maybe you could teach Dabi some of our old combo attack. Your quirks are a little similar, so some of them might work.”

Bakugo shrugged, “I doubt he could pull them off like I can, but we can try if that’s what you want.”

You nodded enthusiastically looking from Bakugo to Dabi. You were still sitting in his lap and he was suddenly feeling very territorial. His arms reached out and caged you to him, “If it’s going to end up in a pissing contest, I don’t want any part of it.”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t be so broody. Gosh it’s times like this that you remind me of your brother.”

Dabi shoved you off his lap and started to make his way back to the house. “I’m not fucking broody. You literally just made me think I was burning you alive. So, forgive me if I need some time to get my shit together.”

He brushed past a smug looking Bakugo, “I tried to warn you. She’s ruthless man. I am impressed you figured out her loophole so quickly. Once you focus on a concrete goal it’s easier to tune her quirk out. I wonder what your goal was?”

Dabi glared at him, “Don’t you have someplace you need to be?”

Bakugo sighed, “Yeah, I’m actually going out of town. So, I won’t be back for a little while. I think Icy Hot wants to come visit soon though.” He nudged you with his foot. “So, you behave until I get back.”

You waved as he made his way back into the house, “No promises! Be safe on your trip!”

A few minutes of silence passes while Dabi still stood with his arms crossed refusing to look at you. “How long are you going to pout?”

“I’m not pouting. I’m resisting the urge to bend you over my knee, spank you, and edge you until you cry.” He finally looked at you, eyes not looking nearly as angry as his voice sounded. “But as a rational adult, I think I just might go drink until I forget what you made me see.”

You wrapped your arms around his middle and pressed your face into his back. “I’m sorry. I took it too far.” Your hands snaked under his shirt and pressed to his abs. You released a calm and content feeling. He immediately sank into your touch.

His breath hitched, “While I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I’d rather you not use your quirk on me right now.”

You reached up on your tippy toes and kissed the back of his neck. “Wanna go cuddle and watch TV?”

He took your hand from under his shirt and pulled you with him back into the house. “None of that romance shit.”

That’s how you ended up on the couch with Dabi laying on top of you with his head nuzzled into your breasts. His arms were tight around your middle and your fingers slowly trailed through his hair. You knew how exhausting it was for people when you messed around with their heads. It’s exhausting and disorienting, and while you weren’t at full capacity yet, you still had gone a little rough on Dabi today. You traced patterns on his shirtless back, and you listened to his steady breathing. He had passed out halfway into the first episode of whatever show he had insisted you watch.

You still had a lot of work to do to get back into shape. Not just with your quirk but physically as well. Dabi was right when he said you couldn’t rely on your quirk for everything. You’d have to start building your strength and stamina. You had a feeling Dabi might be hesitant to train with you again any time soon, but maybe you could convince him to do some cardio or something.

You softly chuckled as you imagined what kind of cardio he would have in mind. You felt him stir on your chest, his eyes remaining shut as he burrowed further into your chest. “What’s so funny?”

Your fingers kept playing with the ends of his hair. “What would you say if I asked you to do some cardio with me?”

He rolled over a little bit and bit your nipple through your shirt. “I’d say why are you still dressed.”

He was honestly adorable when he was this sleepy. It was the only time he seemed vulnerable. “I meant like going for a run.” His face scrunched up and your hand froze in his hair. “Oh, does that not sound like fun?”

His hand grabbed yours that had stopped, and forced it to keep running through his hair. “Not at all. Especially when there’s way better ways to get your cardio in…” He started kissing your chest, and then your neck. His hands moved to your ass picking it up off the couch to slot himself deeper between your legs. “We should test how far we can push you until your collar alerts me that you might need help.”

His fingers found the waistband of your shorts and started to pull them down. You hummed as his lips continued to mouth kisses at your neck. He was very affectionate and its not that you didn’t like it, you just felt like something was still bothering him. “Hey Dabi? What did you mean earlier when you said you had nightmares?”

He growled as he picked his head up to look at you, “You really know how to ruin the mood don’t you?”

You quirked an eyebrow at him, “We said we were going to open up more remember?” He shoved his head back to its spot on your chest, using you breasts as pillows.

“Ever since the pool incident… I get nightmares. I’m sure it fucked you with you too. I basically killed you. I honestly don’t know how you even come near me.” His voice was muffled and his grip on you tightened. “Today… what you did outside… please don’t ever do that again. I’m already a monster. I have enough nightmare fuel as it is. I’ve done really fucked up things and I can handle facing most of my demons. But whether I like it or not, you are definitely a soft spot for me.”

He kissed your neck as he made his way down lifting your shirt as he went. “You have gotten under my skin.” He kissed right above your still slightly sore ribs. “You have knocked down my walls.” His fingers found the waistband of your shorts again and yanked them down. “You drive me fucking crazy.”

In a burst of speed, he had your knees over his shoulders and your ass lifted in his hands. He kissed the inside of you left knee followed by the right. His kisses trailed down to the inside of your thigh giving it quick bite that had your hips bucking.

“I know that blonde idiot has confessed his feeling to you.” His thumb started rubbing circles into your clit. “So, I need you to know. That you are more than just a way to pass the time.” You felt a finger press at your entrance. “You are more than just some girl I’m supposed to protect.” His fingers plunged into you and started pumping. “You are more than some infatuation.” His fingers curled, hitting that spot inside you making you cry out. “You are more than I ever thought I deserved.” He gave your clit a hard lick. “But I have you now and I don’t fucking intend on losing you.”

Your fingers knotted in his hair as he began sucking your clit while he fucked you with his fingers. You instinctively knew how he felt. Of course you did, you’ve felt his emotions before. But to hear him say it made your heart skip, it made your head spin. He ate you out like he hadn’t eaten in days. One hand reached up and started pulling on your nipple and you lost it. Your hipped bucked up harshly and your legs shook. You came hard and he continued to lap up every last drop, riding you through it until you finally collapsed back onto the couch.

He grinned up at you, his chin still slick, “Good giiiiirl.” He sucked his fingers into his mouth cleaning them off before reaching for his belt. “Now let’s do some of that cardio you were begging for.”

Dabi was pressing his dick at your entrance when the doorbell rang.

You both froze.

Your shorts were yanked back up as Dabi grabbed his phone to check the security system. You watched his eyes narrow at his screen before his nostrils flared. “What the fuck!” Before you could even ask who it was the front door opened and in walked Shoto who apparently had his own key.

“Oh… Am I… Interrupting something?” He closed the door behind him, “Bakugo said he told you I was coming.”

“HE SAID SOON! NOT TODAY!” Dabi threw a pillow at his younger brother, obviously pissed off about the interruption.

Shoto ignored him and made himself comfortable on the recliner next to you. “Oh, well I wasn’t planning on coming today, but there’s been some developments you need to be aware of.”

You reluctantly sat up and separated from Dabi so he could face his brother. Dabi sighed as he gestured for Shoto to continue.

“There’s several people who are avidly looking for you. And some of them have gotten too close for comfort. That’s actually what Bakugo is doing right now. He’s hunting down a lead. He’s hoping to catch some of these so-called heroes in the act so we can start dismantling their accusations against you.”

The smell of smoke filled your nostrils as Dabi’s temper started showing. “What do you mean they’ve gotten close? How close? How many of them are looking?”

Shoto gave you a sad look. “They’ve made it a top priority. Your agency released a bounty to the underground. It seems every villain and crooked hero is currently looking for you. Shigaraki is one of them… and he somehow has a list of all of your safehouses.”

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Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe @unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry @dabislittlemouse @aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi

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hrhbella · 3 years ago

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Spoken For

Pairing: Lucius Malfoy x Reader

Word Count: 730 words

Summary: From a prompt list; no idea what were the prompts, or where I found them, but Lucius is married.

Warnings: N/A

Author’s Note: A work from some time ago that I still hold dear. -B

——

The heavy doors fly open as she marches towards his office, startling the man sitting behind the walnut desk. Their eyes meet temporarily as she passes the threshold, the light click of the doors shutting behind her is the only sound, aside from her heavy breathing, that fills the space.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” she exhales, pacing behind two perfectly acceptable armchairs.

He waves the memos and proposals into a neat, ordered stack as he rises from his station. She glares into his side as he reaches the bar cart, pouring himself a finger of Firewhiskey. He elegantly throws his liquor back before responding, “You are entirely too intelligent to not find something out, I did no-“

“You told Lord Nott that I was damaged goods.” Her voice is composed, though he isn’t sure how she’s managed to keep it in check, “That Theodore needed to find an unblemished witch?”

Pouring himself two additional fingers, he pours half of his original amount into a new tumbler and offers it to the young woman, “Whiskey, darling?”

“Darling? Oh, you don’t get to call me darling.” She smiles towards the older man, “I am not your darling, Lucius. I’m damaged goods, haven’t you heard?” She swipes the glass from his hand, resuming her pacing as she takes a minute sip.

Lucius sighs, moving to lean against his desk as he watches her grimace at the taste. “I apologize for not having your gin. I did not expect you this evening.”

“How can you drink that stuff?” She mumbles, looking harshly at the offensive glass in her hand. She stops in front of Lucius, setting her tumbler next to this hand as she shoves her finger into his chest, “I had to hear from Draco, who heard from Theodore, who, I’m hoping, heard from his father about how I sleep through the purebloods!” She throws her hands up, though quickly rights herself, “Draco assured me he told Theodore I had only slept with one wizard, as if that was supposed to make the situation right itself. But that wasn’t good enough! Nott has always been such a gossip, but I truly didn’t think Draco would think explaining to him that in our two-year spell we did, in fact, share a bed. I can only imagine the absurd chatter that will come from that.”

He reaches out, running his hands from her shoulders down to her wrists, and brings her hands up to place a peck on each of her palms, “That was not my intention.”

Her head tilts to the side as she steps back, withdrawing from his warm embrace, “Not your-,” she laughs, “Lucius. What could have possibly been your intention, hm? Your son didn’t help anything, that’s for sure, but you’ve made my father’s expedition of pairing me off exponentially trickier by maki-”

“You don’t know what you do to me, do you?” Lucius murmurs, shifting forward to bring the witch back into his grip. He pulls her tight against himself and she goes stiff,

“Don’t.”

“I had absolutely no self-control when Nott brought up inquiring after you.” He rests his chin on her top of her crown, gently running a hand through the ends of her hair, “I did not want to humor even the thought that boy having what’s mine.”

She softly slips her arms around his hips, allowing Lucius’ grip to tighten, “You already have a wife.”

The breath Lucius lets out comes from deep within his person, as the emotions that come with wrap tightly around his lungs, “Which I have told you was arranged,”

“Much like what my father is trying to arrange for me.”

“Yes, and-“

“And exactly like what you’ve been plotting to do for Draco.”

“But-“

“But nothing. You’re married. You’re married, Lucius. And you’re trying to act as if it is horrible that I’m trying to do the same thing.” She buries her head into his robes, his cologne overpowering her senses, “Even if the only person I want to marry is unavailable.”

He barely catches the last of what she says, his frustration running fervently through his mind, clouding his better judgement and stomping out most of his sensible thoughts. All Lucius can will himself to do is hold her close and hope that this isn’t the last time he gets to have his witch in his arms.

——

> If you wish to write a formal letter to Her Royal Highness, please do so here.

> If you wish to see Her Royal Highness’ completed list of works, please do so here.

> If you wish to see some of Her Royal Highness’ most frequently asked questions, please do so here.

#harry potter imagine #lucius malfoy imagine #lucius malfoy x reader #lucius malfoy x you #lucius malfoy fanfiction

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songbirdsingingthings · 4 years ago

Text

Pocket Watch - Levi Ackerman x Reader

A/N: I forgot to mention this! You are Erwin’s sister in this, but that doesn’t have to mean you are his biological sister! Feel free to interpret this fic in any way that you would like <3

WARNINGS: Angst, swearing, S3 spoilers, ends in fluff

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5K

It was dark outside, and it was pouring rain too. Even through the thick layer of glass that served as a window, you could hear the wind whipping with the storm and smattering the raindrops against the buildings. On the inside, where you were currently, was quite the contrast though. There was not a sound to be heard inside your quarters. The fire that once crackled in the brick laid fireplace had long since burned out and you hadn’t moved from your spot on the couch - your eyes still trained on the charred wood that once harbored a flame. You hadn’t bothered to check the little pocket watch that had been shoved into your pocket earlier that day - you were quite sure that it would tell you it was far past your bedtime, but you just couldn’t bear to see the familiar golden thing.

First it was your father’s, but then he was killed, so it was passed onto your older brother. Erwin. He held it and kept it close to him with pride every day since then, making note to polish it on a regular basis so that its glint always shone strongly. Now it was covered in his blood. It was probably dry now, possibly even caked to the little clasp so that it couldn’t open properly anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to wash it off. You refused to even touch it. That moment when you saw the new cadet, you think his name was Floch, bring him upon that disheveled roof caused you to go silent. Your movements ceased as you watched your brother take labored breaths… dying. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the young members of the 104th division, Mikasa Ackerman and Eren Yeager, take a sharp inhale as they held their own dying friend. It was clear to anyone, that when the man holding the syringe that would grant life paused, an internal battle started to wage war in his mind. You don’t remember much - it was as if you were in a comatose state. All you know was that Erwin, your now dying big brother, reached into his breast pocket with what strength he had left, and shoved his little watch into your own. After that… a blur.

A quiet knock sounded on that measly wooden door that separated your office and adjoining bedroom from the rest of the building. You remain quiet. If they truly needed something, and were composed enough to talk to the girl who’s older brother just died, then they would come in without asking questions anyways. And that they did. The door creaked a bit and more light filtered into your office space through the opening, but went away just as quickly as it was closed. Footsteps made their way over to you and the person’s shadow was soon cast over you.

“Have you moved at all?” The voice was smooth and sullen. They knew the answer to the question as soon as they asked, you figured, but nonetheless it was spoken. As much as you thought you could answer, no words were able to be formed, much less a simple squeak. You simply opted to shake your head. With a sigh, they sat down next to you.“Have you eaten?” Another shake of the head. “Bathed?” You began to feel that your head would be moving like this forever if they kept asking you these questions. There was a beat of silence that passed through the two of you before they cupped your chin with their hand, rather roughly you might add, and wrenched your head so that it was looking at theirs. As soon as your Y/E/C eyes met his silver irises, you felt your body begin to thaw a little. Levi.

“My pocket,” you murmur, earning a confused expression from him.

“What about your pocket,” he says simply, his voice as gruff as ever. You come to the conclusion that he wasn’t going to bend to your wants, so you shakily reach your hand and grab Erwin’s pocket watch and drop it into Levi’s hands. Much to your surprise, he doesn’t recoil as the blood-caked watch meets his skin. Instead, he looks at it and then back up to you.

“Please take it.” Levi is quick to refuse.

“No. It’s yours, he gave it to you.”

“He would hate for it to be dirty, and we both know that you have a knack for cleanliness,” you quip, no humor present in your eyes. Levi huffs and takes out a little handkerchief and begins to gently rub away the dried blood.

“I’m sorry,” he says softly. You stay still but your eyes go back to the charred log of wood.

“Levi,” you start but he is quick to interrupt.

“Y/N, I’m the one who killed him and now you’re giving me his prized possession. That makes me feel like an asshole.” He says, scowling to himself. As blunt as his words were, you knew he was hurting. Hurting like he was when his old friends were killed.

“You’re an asshole but not for what happened.” You say. “I… I don’t remember what he said.” You feel your eyes begin to well with tears. Why couldn’t you have cracked in private? Why did he have to be here?

“You mean before he…” Levi started, earning a nod from you. He didn’t know what Erwin had said either, letting silence grace the room.

“What happens when I forget?” You confess shakily, finally letting your eyes meet his again. Levi stops his movements and lets the pocket watch rest on the handkerchief, carefully placing it on the low coffee table in front of the two of you. “What happens when I forget what his face looked like, or what his voice used to sound like.” The tears finally broke from their prison and began to rush down your cheeks. Wordlessly, Levi brought you into his arms. Your cries became vocal now as you let everything out. No longer were you just the shell of yourself - no, you were now revealing it all to Levi. Your head fell onto his strong shoulder as your hands grasped onto his shirt, sobbing.

He could hear his heart break. Of course he was absolutely devastated at seeing Erwin, one of his closest confidants and last remaining friends meet his end, but to see you like this was a strike to his soul. You were like sunshine on a rainy day, as cliche as that might sound - always there to brighten his spirits on gruelling days when he was annoyed with everyone else. Now it seemed like you were one of those gray clouds up in the sky, void of the cheer you used to possess. He held you tighter and laid his chin on the top of your head. Levi felt his shoulder begin to grow damp but he didn’t care. Nor did he mind the fact that your dirt and mud stained hands were grabbing onto his pristine and newly laundered white shirt, surely making it dirty once more. Your cries began to die down a bit, now just shaky whimpers escaping your mouth. He presses a soft kiss onto your hair and moves his hands so that they’re cradling you.

“I’m gonna lift you up, ‘kay?” He mumbles. He feels your nods against his chest and stands, walking you over to your bedroom. You’re just sniffling now as he sets you down on your bed and starts to rummage through your clothing drawer, throwing you a new set of sleepwear along with a pair of clean panties. Much to your better judgement and current state of grief, you bark out a laugh. Levi turns around slowly, his eyes narrowed, thinking you’ve gone mad now. You raise your hands up in defense and shake your head, a small smile crossing your face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just… he would be fucking furious if he knew you were touching my panties.” You couldn’t help it now, you were snickering as you grabbed the fresh set of clothes. He gives you a deadpanned look, sighs, and walks out of your room.

“Just change, you brat.” He says, clearly tired. You slowly peel your uniform off of your body and let it pool on the floor. Stepping into the clean clothes slowly, you exhale and slump onto the bed and close your eyes.

“Okay,” you call softly. You see Levi step back in and make his way over to the side of your bed. He looks down at you, an unknown emotion swimming in his eyes.

“When the nightmares start, just knock. Doesn’t matter what time.” He says simply.

“How do you know they’ll start?” You inquire.

“They always do.” He murmurs, closing his eyes for a second. An unspoken agreement becomes solidified between the two of you as you hold his gaze. He gives you a nod before he leans down and gives you a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And what about this?” You ask, motioning between the two of you. Levi’s face remains neutral as he steps away.

“A conversation for another day.” You see his figure walk out of your room and into the office space.

“You keep that safe,” you say, regarding the pocket watch, “and clean.”

“Go to sleep, brat.” Levi calls back.

Just like Levi had predicted the nightmares did come, and didn’t stop for weeks on end. Both you and him had them about Erwin, and both you and him knocked on each other's doors when they came. But, whenever it happened, Levi pulled out the pocket watch so that you and him could listen to the faint ticking, letting you know that he would be with you, always. Although, he might not be as fond to know that you were all wrapped up in the captain’s arms.

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haikyuucute · 4 years ago

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Hi!! I have been following your work and I know you are into omegaverse... Would It be possible to request an omegaverse with an oikawa or ushijima alpha's in which one of their fans make his omega believe that he has marked her too? So the Omega has her heart crushed and confronts them about It in anger but It the end he manages to find up what happened therefore making up with the omega in a smut way? Only if u feel confy with it please! And inspired! Manu many thanks un advance if u take it!

Warning: Smut, mirror sex, choking, little bit of angst

yoyoyoyo I just wanna say I LOVE this request!!

Anywho~

I decided to go with flat ass Oikawa

BASICALLY it was inevitable that his fan club would come to hate you when they first found out you two had a thing going on

You knew this

He knew this

So you both took it in stride when you received glares from jealous omegas whenever they saw you two together or when they smelled his scent all over you

But the real issues started arising the day Oikawa claimed you

It was one thing when he was just marking you through his scent, it wasn’t the first time he had had a girlfriend after all

So everyone naturally thought that you’d both eventually break up

but when they spotted a bond mark peeking out from under your collar

that was it

you had basically taken Oikawa off the market

Forever

So now those omegas REALLY couldn’t stand you

And there was a certain friend group that really just wanted to hurt you and make you regret letting Oikawa claim you

One of the omegas had left you a letter, asking to speak with you after school on the roof

And so you went

But the minute you stepped onto the roof and spotted the girl you immediately regretted it since you knew she practically lead Oikawa’s fan club and as a result despised you the most

But before you could leave she had spotted you and got right to the point

“Do you think you’re special?” “... W-what?” “Do you think you’re special because Oikawa-kun claimed you?” “I d-don’t—“ “Because you’re not— see-“

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion when she pulled down the collar of her uniform to reveal a bond mark, but what she said next had you stomach dropping to the pit of your stomach

”Oikawa claimed me too, so you’re not as special as you think”

You were immediately filled with shock, horror, and betrayal

She had to be lying but at the same time your judgement was too clouded by this sudden claim to think clearly

And if she was telling the truth, then that had meant Oikawa would probably leave you too, not caring that you’d be forever marked by him

You attempted to argue with her, but she completely shut you down and in a flurry of emotions, completely blinded by this supposed betrayal, you searched for him

You found him in the gym as his practice was about to start

Your distressed scent hit him before he actually saw you, immediately being filled with worry, especially when his eyes landed on you and he saw how angry and upset you were and on the verge of crying

You completely blew up at him right then and there in front of his whole team

You claimed that he was an asshole for not telling you about that other omega he claimed, especially since he had claimed you

Overall you had left him vv confused and his teammates shocked, wondering if this revelation was true or not— and if it was, the third years were already planning on how they’d get away with murdering Oikawa for hurting you like that

But once you finally mentioned this omega’s name everything suddenly clicked together and he understood what had happened

And quite honestly he was pretty insulted that you ever believed something like that

You must’ve not thought much of him as an alpha if you believed he’d claim another omega, leave them, and not tell you about it

Not to mention the insinuation that he would’ve done the same thing to you

Oh— and not to mention the little fact you practically humiliated him in front of his team

When his eyes darkened you immediately shut up

And with that simple look, you realized how wrong you were

So now, Oikawa would have to prove himself as an Alpha

And that meant a very long and drawn out punishment for you~

“Keep your eyes open, Omega,” Oikawa growled against your ear, hand tightening around your throat.

You wrenched your eyelids open, immediately coming face to face with yours and Oikawa’s reflection in the mirror in front of you.

You were a mess, your back to his chest as your sweaty figure trembled in his arms while he thrust up into you. The sight of his cock disappearing in your cunt upon every thrust, left you dizzy and lightheaded.

But he had a point to make, and if he had to show you in the most literal way that you were his only omega, then he would.

The hand on your throat slid up to grasp your jaw and tilt your head to the side, placing your bond mark on full display.

”Are you embarrassed by the little show you put on this afternoon?” Oikawa taunted, voice taking on a more airy tone, “Hm Omega? Or did you like making your Alpha look bad in front of his teammates?”

”N-no Alpha— m’ s-sorry,” you managed to choke out with a sob, nearing the verge of incoherency.

He hummed, continuing his slow and torturous pace as he watched your reflection. Your hooded eyelids trying to resist falling closed, his eyes lingered on your heaving chest and he relished in the sounds of your whimpering cries. The pretty sight was topped off by the sight of his mark left on your neck, making a wave of possession wash through him as he tightened his grip on you.

It made him question how you could possibly think he’d waste his time by having marked another omega. No other omega could compare to the one in his arms.

He sped up his thrusts, forcing more high pitched cries from your lips and a low groan to emit from his throat.

“Y’know... ‘m insulted ‘Mega,” Oikawa panted out, the soft, velety walls of your cunt driving him insane, “That you think... I’d waste my time with any omega that walked my way.”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you still fought the urge to shut your eyes, and the dark look you found lingering behind Oikawa’s eyes made you nervous— but it was hard to feel stupid over the misunderstanding like you had been earlier when your mind was completely consumed by a hazy lust.

But you knew it was wrong to question Oikawa like you had.

”’M sorry,” you tried again in a broken sob, “I didn’t m-mean it—“

”Quiet,” he snapped, his eyes glued to your still healing bond mark— he knew what he needed to do to drive the fact that you were his one and only. His voice dropped to a rumble, “...Put more trust in your Alpha, Omega.”

With that he had sunk his teeth into the still healing wound, ripping a loud cry from your throat.

But he knew once it scarred over, you’d never question his loyalties again.

—

Taglist:

@shiguraaa @tycrackculture @kynyta @cuddlesslut @baeshijima @yams046 @cutepet09 @kkimoka @elegant-gypsophilia @mrkoala4prsdnt @sapphy-taffy6969 @yougivemebutterfliess @melanieacademy @yeet-these-hoez @nekomasmeow @thirsthourdemon @nekoma-hoe @curiouslilbeast @badboysdoitbetter2 @nervousenergyy @coupsieddori @mizuchan24-blog @ly-nia @mer92 @voids-universe @savemesteeb @bokurotrash @basicallyberry @cherryonigiri @k-eijiakaashi @ethylalcoholforfandoms @sanemisthiccbih @a-book-lover-things @rue-was-here @prod983 @reject-tinkerbell @emotionalfangirl2002 @kawaiipotatochan @alienatian-blog @mortifiedmoon @amirahroronoa @wholeasswhore @asahi-is-jesus-periodt @fake-id-69 @kkoalaworld @hithisismina @lilidrawz @hatanaka-shiori @royalmuffinsworld

#haikyuu #omegaverse #haikyuu omegaverse #haikyuu smut #oikawa tooru #oikawa #tooru #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa x reader #tooru x reader #alpha!oikawa

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folkloreguk · 4 years ago

Text

Shower Thoughts

A/N: I like writing about personal emotions a lot…this feels a little like writing a diary but also like self-therapy and it really helps me. I hope anyone who also feels this way knows that they’re not alone with those feelings. Also happy birthday to the sweetest @sunghoonied!! I wrote this thinking of you and I hope you have the best day ♡ PS. I didn't proofread this so if you find errors kindly lmk please! x

genre: optional bias (male), meant to comfort you, angst, fluff, talk of loneliness / anxiety but with a good ending!

words: ~ 2.5 k

taglist: @lovely-ateez, @mochi-ficz, @soundsofminho, @runaway-fics

People said that walking was supposed to clear your mind. But then why was it, that you had gotten so lost in your worst thoughts out there? The time spent in fresh air was meant to let your mind wander to calm places and smiling at strangers should have made you feel less lonely. But with every step you took and with every passing face your body felt heavier. Not only did you carry your figure, but the crushing burden that had been nagging at you for weeks.

Watching others stroll around the streets seemed so easy. And perhaps it should have been easy, after all. It made you wonder, maybe you were the only one whose mind was constantly covered in dark rain clouds. Maybe everyone had their place in the world, and they knew just where and with whom they belonged. Surely, they didn’t overthink every conversation they had with a random stranger. Did their brain also function merely on autopilot in public, while the back of your mind was chaos of doubt and fear? Was there anybody else who spent day to day worrying about never finding someone who could deal with the burden of you and your issues? How was somebody else going to love you if you were this sad?

Those people that care about you are the ones you should be honest with, after all. There was no brushing off the How Are You question with a quick “I’m fine”. How could someone deal with the real answer you would give? You didn’t want to pull anybody down with you when you were hurting. So then again, maybe it was for the better your apartment was always empty when you came home. With no one to ask you about your feelings, you couldn’t cause anyone else agony and worry. Your own pain was enough – one person was enough to deal with it.

You shoved your shoes in the corner next to your door. If it wasn’t for your mental state, you would’ve guessed your jacket was a hundred kilos heavy. But even after you had peeled it off, nothing changed. You dragged your body to the bathroom.

You’d be so proud if only you could go one day without crying. And you had almost made it, had it not been for the godforsaken shower water. There was something about seeing the droplets on your skin and on the tiles that caused your tears to come out freely. The noise of the shower made you feel shut off from the rest of the world. Now it was just you and your salty ocean tears. The tears united with the shower water. It was hard to tell which drops on your cheek had originated in your swollen eyes and which had fallen from the shower head. This way, it seemed almost as if there was an invisible force that was wiping over your face, trying to appease your sobs.

But there was nobody. And that was why you only cried harder. If only you had listened to your own words when you tried to cheer yourself up. Then maybe you would feel better when you wrapped your arms around your own body. You were desperate. The notion that someone could hold you like this, one day, should have gifted you at least some form of hope. But no, you knew it wouldn’t happen any time soon. Not with this mindset and your sadness.

You hiccupped helplessly. This was all so tiring. Before you knew it, you sat down on the shower floor under the hot stream. At least there was no one waiting to get into the shower after you. So you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about blocking the bathroom and wasting all the hot water. For a few minutes you remained on the floor, drowning out your cries under the splashing sound. You felt the impulse to scream. Look, I’m here! I’m a person with interests and passions and emotions! Doesn’t anybody see me? I’m sick of only existing! Won’t somebody teach me how to live?

But at most, that would cause you a noise complaint. If only you weren’t so terrible at talking to people. Maybe you could make a friend someday – when your anxiety got better. Like in a trance, you finally switched off the water and grabbed your towel. You were so utterly lost in your thoughts, that everything went by as if you were only watching from the sidelines. You got out of the shower, dried off, put on some body lotion – an attempt at self-care – and got dressed in the most comfortable, baggy clothes you owned.

What on earth would you do tonight? There really were only so many ways you could have fun (or rather distract yourself from feeling down) when you were all by yourself and everything reminded you of how lonely you were. The option of just going to sleep slipped past you. But you weren’t tired enough. You knew you’d lie awake for hours, left alone with your thoughts. And crying yourself to sleep was the last thing you wanted right now.

So you opted for the most mainstream idea: Netflix. You plopped down on the sofa, a steaming hot cup of tea on the small table in front of you. Now you only had one thing left to do. You needed to choose some stupid show and let the problems of tv characters invade your brain and pray they would shove out your own issues. You weren’t even hungry. Although there was a part of you that wished it could have eaten your weight in chocolate, but you knew that had little to do with hunger.

Just as you reached for the remote control, the sound of your doorbell made you jump. I’ll just let it be. They’ll think I’m not home and leave. Those thoughts came right away. It made you curse yourself. You had just cried over feeling alone, but now you’re shutting out some random neighbor who probably just needs some tiny favor from you. Way to go. So, more to prove a point to yourself than to be friendly, you stepped to your door and opened it.

“Hi.” It was your neighbor. Your handsome, kind neighbor, who you always met at the local grocery store. You were so mentally exhausted you didn’t even feel self-conscious about looking the way you did. Although you hoped your eyes had recovered from the redness, at least a little. “Hi,” you greeted him back.

“Look, I really don’t want to be intrusive. And if you want me to leave, I will,” he said. He fumbled with his hands, as if he was nervous about his words. “But I kind of heard you…cry…in the shower. And I know you live alone, and I figured if you’re crying you probably don’t have any company. I guess I just wanted to check whether you’re okay. Do you have someone to talk to?”

With every word your heart only sped up. You felt like a trapped rabbit in a corner and the meaning of his message only sunk in slowly. Yes, of course. I’ll call my friend and talk to them,you wanted to say. But that would have been a massive lie. And you just couldn’t lie to him. Not when he stood there, in his fuzzy sweater and fresh-out-the-shower damp hair, with eyes so worried and attentive. You weren’t sure if it was from how touched you were by his concern for you, or if it was your sadness catching up to you again. Before you could swallow your tears, your eyes filled to the brim and your vision turned blurry.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, not sure what for. Hurriedly, you used your sweater paw to wipe your leaking eyes. You didn’t want him to feel bad for you, but now you had achieved just that and more. Your embarrassment set in and you finally came out with the truth. “I don’t have anyone to talk to.”

“No need to be sorry. It’s alright. We all have those days, don’t we? I just want you to know that you’re not alone. And I have nothing to do…so if you need someone to talk to, or even just to keep you company…I can stay with you for a bit…or you can come over to mine. I just don’t want you to feel alone. But if you would prefer to be by yourself, that’s okay. People deal with things differently.”

You were so baffled that your ability to speak completely fell through. The idea of someone, an almost-stranger, going so out of their way to make sure you were okay blew you away. He knew nothing about you. But here he was, taking a chance on you, nonetheless. Only then you realized you probably looked like a fool, staring at him but failing to answer. Quickly, you prompted yourself to open your mouth to speak, but he beat you to it.

“What were you doing just now?” he asked. “Any plans for the evening?”

“I was going to watch a movie, I guess,” you said. “And I think some company would be very nice.”

He smiled at you like was your childhood best friend and you had just reconnected after years of being apart. That’s why it felt the more natural to let him enter your apartment. You got into small talk about what it was like living in the building and how his apartment had a mirrored structure to yours. The simplest conversation took your mind off your sorrow right away. You felt like thanking him would be a little dramatic after he had barely settled on your sofa, so you kept it to yourself. Either way, the small smile on your face felt like warm, soothing sunlight on your skin after eight consecutive days of rain.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” he asked. You thought for a moment.

“No, I think I’d rather just distract myself,” you said. Even though you were grateful for having him here, you feared if you spilled your guts to him you would only scare him away.

“Alright,” he said without judgement. “What film were you planning on watching?”

And so you started your movie. There was a respectful distance between you on the sofa. But his simple presence next to you was more than you could have asked for tonight. He was like a heater, providing safety and comfort in the coldest winter. Hearing someone else chuckle at the jokes in the movie along with you was magnificent. His laughter sounded like a rainbow. It seeped into your body and your soul straightened up and bloomed like a parched flower being watered after all this loneliness.

But even under all the light, your problems were still here, waiting to nag at you. You knew they would consume you when he returned to his own apartment later. They would laugh at you for trying to socialize but staying closed off as always. Just because someone saw you didn’t mean they understood you and who you are. And how was one supposed to make human connections if they treated their thoughts like strictly confidential information in front of everybody? No, you had to tell him.Impulsively, you pressed the stop-button on the remote. He shot you a questioning gaze.

“I- I think maybe I do want to talk about something,” you confessed.

“You can tell me anything. I promise it’ll be safe with me. Let out whatever bothers you,” he said. His lovely, warm eyes were inviting like a haven for you. So you just started to talk. All your frustrations and reasons for anxiety were exiting your lips, floating all around you in the room. Airing out your weary brain finally, after holding everything in for weeks, was uncaging and nothing had felt this good in so long. Although your sadness wasn’t something that could be fixed by doing a task, the more thoughts and worries you explained to him, the easier it became. It wasn’t long before you felt your tears well up once more.

“It’s okay,” he said with his hand on your shoulder. This time, you didn’t try so hard to blink them away. Where there were emotions, there were tears, and he was right. It was fine to let them out. Through sniffles you finished telling him your issues.

“Is this okay?” he asked, gently putting his arm around your shoulder to hold your shaking figure. You hummed and nodded in agreement. His warmth was like a blanket to shelter you from the anxiety, if even just for a short while.

“I don’t expect you to know a solution,” you said. “I need to wait for it to get better. It’ll get better, eventually.”

“You’re right. It will all resolve,” he said. “I’m sorry things are so difficult. But you’re not alone, okay?”

You nodded again.

“Time will heal, I promise,” he said. “And until then, you have to hold on and keep going. The world’s a little cruel sometimes, when it shuts out the ones who struggle and don’t do as well as others. But you’re as much of a part of it as any other human on the street. And you’re just as important as them. You weren’t born to be successful or to achieve things. You’re here to live and be happy. So promise me to take care of yourself, and be gentle to yourself. Because you’re the only person that will be with yourself every second until the end. Please don’t be hard on yourself and have patience for good things to come around. And if it all feels like it’s too much for you, don’t feel guilty about reaching out for help. You can always ring my doorbell if you need something.”

“Thank you so much,” you cried. Your cheek rested on his shoulder and you sat in silence for a while. It was unbelievable which wonders such a small conversation between two people could do. Your heart felt lighter and the thoughts were no longer racing through your head. Peace was settling in, and you welcomed it more than ever.

“Now that I’ve told you about me, what kind of person are you?” you asked through tears. He chuckled a little. All you knew until now was that he had a heart of gold. Which, to be fair, meant your impression of him was off to a pretty good start already. Your thoughts were cautious as you wondered…Maybe he could be my friend.

You abandoned the movie. Instead, you spent all evening chatting about whatever came to your mind. You discussed childhood dreams, favorite dishes, your best playlists down to the cutes dog breeds you had ever seen. It felt great, getting to know somebody. And your suspicions came true. His big heart wasn’t the only thing admirable about him. He was funny and knew just what to say when you felt awkward or shy. When you slipped into bed that night, you did so with a smile on your face. You had always told yourself that you weren’t alone. But sometimes, the most optimistic person needed a small reminder coming from somebody else. Here was yours.

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lesbian-ed · 3 years ago

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i just broke up with my long term girlfriend, and this is definitely my first real heartbreak. i feel like there were still things we could have done to save our relationship, and that maybe we should have just taken a break instead of cutting off entirely, and i want to text and tell her that, but it's only a few days after and i think it's way too soon. any advice for a heartbroken baby dyke 🥺

Breaking up a long term relationship an certainly feel like the end of the world, if only because after some time every plan and every step you take is usually around or towards that relationship.

My advice is to try to be alone for now. It can be hard after years of being with someone. Reconnect with yourself, with what you like to do, spend time with friends, vent, forget about it, etc. Take account of who you are. Are you still the same person? Did this relationship change you? Are you sure that the breakup was reversible, that things could really work out? Do you actually want them to work out? What would you sacrifice in trying to get back together? Is that worth it?

I don't know the circumstances of your breakup ofc, but if it happened, there must have been some reason. Right now, your emotions and feelings are raw and vulnerable, and maybe you can only see the one way out of these blues because you're still so entrenched in it. It's very easy to take decisions without thinking them true, because everything feels so strong.

So yeah, introspection is my number one suggestion. Take note of how you feel, what you expected from this relationship, how it failed that and why. Take note of who you wanna be in a month, in 6, in a year. Is this woman a part of those plans? Do you want her to be? Would she be willing to be, if you hadn't broken up?

I know these may all sound like obvious things, but sometimes our grief over losing a relationship that meant so much to us can cloud our judgement and even our self preservation instincts.

So yeah, talk to someone. Talk to your therapist about it, if you have one. Vent to friends. Try to make sense of why things turned out the way they did, and if this is really a bad thing.

Like always am ending can signify rebirth. An automatic start for a new era, a new path. I'm sorry that you've lost this person whom you loved and cherished. If after some soul searching you find you still think you want to get back together... Talk to her. I'd recommend having this conversation irl, because texting can be impersonal. But reach out.

You've shared a large chunk of your lives, and it makes all the sense in the world to want to fight for each other.

I had a breakup a few years ago, and we got back together ~6 months after breaking up. I wanted time to take account of myself, my needs, and I wanted her to truly consider what she wanted. In the end, we needed each other, and we're still together. But I think taking some time apart to truly rebuild your sense of self can be really invaluable. In our case it was indispensable. We might have not lasted at all if we hadn't had this break up.

I hope this advice makes sense to you! @ our other followers, please leave your own advice for handling a break up in this post 💖

/Mod A

#mod a #break ups #breakup advice #breaking up #breakups #break up #relationship advice #relationships #answered asks

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bloomyagi · 4 years ago

Text

bewitched (m)

summary: bakugou has always loved you.

pairings: bakugou katsuki x f!reader, hawks x f!reader (nsfw)

genre: characters are aged up, 20+, pro heroes au

warnings: allusions to cheating, angst, porn w/ lots of feelings, shower sex, kinda subby bakugou, he’s basically lovesick n soft for u, keigo is a good birdie, he would never do this irl

length: 3,518

notes: hello! my first bnha fic, please be kind <3 please let me know what you think! i’ve been so obsessed w/ jjk & bnha recently skdjkjf. send help

It comes down softly at first. The droplets whispering against windshields, ghosting across bare arms, a trick of the light. Then a pause, like the darkening clouds are reconsidering their decisions. There is no wind, no anger in the way it pelts down, darkens the concrete. Like resignation, like relief. It soaks bone, sends most civilians packing as they duck under awnings and flee into shops in anticipation of a short-lived flare.

But it is summer, and the rain is welcome as a remedy against the oppressive heat. Many onlookers merely move their belongings closer to avoid the stream, gaze out glass windows longingly. Some find inspiration, others find peace.

You stand in the middle of it all, drenched and unmoving as you watch your lover wrap his arms around his secretary, and you wonder whose mood this pathetic fallacy is expected to reflect as you look across to meet familiar eyes.

He, too, mirrors your stance. Clothes sodden, yet the nature of its designs only lends to plaster themselves closer to his skin. His irises are that bright, burning red. He is not fizzling, heated against the affair before him. Instead, his gaze is trained on you.

There is no fury, no sadness, no emptiness. His gaze is not hollow, it is instead strangely warm. Your chest squeezes, tightening in the way you experience when you read a novel laced in tragedy, that welling feeling of anguish and sorrow.

His hands are shoved in his pockets, and though his eyes remain fastened to you, he makes no step to move closer.

The sky lightens, a thin streak of sun peering through in a solitary beam. The sounds seem to press close again, like a bubble popping in your ear.

The summer storm is tempered as quickly as it appeared, the sound of life—laughter, the splashing of sneakers drowning in newly formed puddles—and the lingering smell of renewed earth and the chirping of birds as they shake off their wings to take flight.

Water drips silently down the pair of gorgeous wings before you. They flutter briefly, flicking off the thin layer that pooled on its surface, before unfurling to fold over her. He pulls her closer, separating only every so often to breathe.

Shameless, is all you think plainly. And you are—ashamed. That feeling catches you by surprise, breath caught in your throat as the feeling expands, takes root in your lungs. It is that hindsight, that disappointment—at yourself—that has you lowering your eyes.

He is still looking at you, even as someone squeals and a crowd gathers, pushing and shoving to press close, stays rooted to his spot, watching you, even as the couple finally break apart, dishevelled—she adjusts her pencil skirt, re-buttons her blouse; he runs a hand through his golden locks, fixes his half-open shirt—and Hawks’ chuckle rings across the street, one arm braced around her waist as he signs autographs and takes photos. She is glowing beside him, all smiles and shrill laughter. Her nails, perfectly manicured and sharp, digs into his chest. He doesn’t even flinch. He likes it.

You stifle a dry laugh. Turning on your heel, you disappear into the thickening crowd.

He himself is being pawed at, hands fawning at his exposed arms, clutching at him like he is fresh off the conveyer belt.

He waits until he can no longer discern your retreating figure before bearing a half-smile at the crowd. He takes the pen that is shoved into his face, and he begins signing autographs.

Time and experience have tempered his constitution. He has accepted his flaws, worked on them until he could proudly stand on the same stage as his—friends. Because that is what they are—these people that have helped him grow, comforted his trauma, stayed with him despite it all. What else could he call them but the very things they are—they are the pillar of his strength. Because of you, I learned I could be strong for the things I care about.

He is not number one. He has no need for such a title, no need for such a goal anymore. He is no longer the brash, easily angered teenager that charged for the strongest.

“I don’t care what they call me, what rank I am, or what they think of me. I only want the power to protect these people. That’s it.” He thinks back to your words.

You are not often solemn. You laughed a lot, the slow-appearing crinkles to the corner of your eyes a physical testament to your innate joy. You liked to take delight in the ordinary things. Perhaps that is what drew him to you—that strength. To shoulder the burden of your chosen role in this society, to have the bravery to smile amongst the suffering.

There was always an unbidden heat that surged in his chest when he thought of you. That odd feeling of a knot tying itself in his stomach when his skin brushed yours. When you fell from the height of a skyscraper, half-conscious from defeating a new breed of nomu, his heart stuttered and leapt in halting beats to throat as he split from his team, their screams for you ringing in his ears, the rush of badump-badump closing in rapidly, pushing his beaten body to its limits, faster, faster, faster—please! Who was he praying to at the time? He was begging anyone who was listening to give him that push—the gap was too big, you were too far, he was too tired, too useless, too broken—he slammed into you with enough force to compel blood up his throat.

He spat it to the side quickly, not bothering to wipe himself clean before he turned to you. The first thing he registered was warmth. You were limp in his hold, on the edge of passing out, exhaustion lining every curve of your face. Your lips quirked, eyes closed.

“Hurts like hell,” you slurred. “Falling from heaven.”

He stared at you, blinking the blood from his lashes.

And then he threw his back and laughed. It was a full-bodied, uproarish laughter. The type that rumbled from his chest. He shook, though he was careful not to jostle you, and you managed a quiet chuckle.

The adrenaline faded from his body, and he hiccupped as he slumped onto the concrete beam behind him. The ice receded from his veins.

“Don’t scare me like that again,” he murmured. It was a quiet plea. Don’t do that ever again, is what he really wanted to say, but how could he? This was the occupational hazard of your shared line of work. This was the risk. His eyes burned, half-lidded as he held you closer.

You couldn’t lift a single limb on your body, so you lean into him.

“No promises.”

It was enough. Your voice was raspy, drained, but there was a sincere lilt to it.

He wanted to say something more, then, but first responders arrived and whisked you separate ways before he could gather his thoughts.

He regrets it, to this day. Perhaps if he had said something then, said something sooner, the scene would have played out differently.

He does not have many regrets, have long resolved to move on from his past and mistakes. “What a useless emotion,” you once told him. “Don’t wallow. Mourn and move on. Do better. That’s what you owe. That is what you are owed.”

But this—this he will always regret.

He finds you on the roof of your penthouse.

“I like it. Being able to see everything from up here.” The first time he’d peered over the edge, he’d been enlisted for furniture rearranging. You handed him a beer, beckoning him over, jerking your head to the scenery below. And it was—breathtaking. You were breathtaking. He hadn’t even bothered to entertain a cursory glance. It was summer then, too, and the evening breeze was light as it brushed your locks back. Lights began to flicker as the sun dipped lower into the horizon. He briefly considered making a similar move.

But moving was a hassle, only further proven by the efforts of today, so he dismissed the thought quickly, taking another swig. He was sweaty, a layer of grime a film over his skin from the manual labour he’d been voluntold for most of the afternoon. It was petty work compared to his—their—day job, but it was still a strangely refreshing workout.

“What are you feeling?” His steps are muted, voice faint. It carries on the back of a shallow gust.

You don’t spare him a look, staring into the distance. You’re sitting, one leg thrown casually over the ledge, the other pulled to your stomach. He’d made an off-hand comment once about adding some railings, but you’d rolled your eyes and pushed him playfully.

Pussy, you called. He chuckled. Like we don’t experience enough life-threatening dangers on a regular basis, he snarked.

All the more reason, then, you shot back. He fell silent then, the pulsing in his throat returning.

He could never really read you. Eyes are the window to the soul. He scoffs internally. Whoever said that must’ve known it was a load of bullshit. Your eyes never said anything. But his—his said everything he couldn’t, and more.

You hum. “Would it be cliché if I said I wasn’t surprised, only disappointed?”

“No.”

“Then I’m disappointed. I had hoped, I suppose, that he would choose differently.”

He tastes the words that I would be enough between, and the sigh of to change him that escapes your lips.

“You knew who he was when you went into this,” he says quietly. No judgement—he is not reminding you of your poor decisions, rather striking a conversation in the same manner one would inquire about the weather.

Quant, you think. And a few years ago, you would have added out of character. But now it is not so—he has grown into himself well.

You tilt your head back. He leans against the wall, arms crossed across that well-built chest of his, shirt straining against the muscle. He’s so tall now—so much taller than anyone had expected him to be. That wild, unruly blond hair of his has remained the same, appearing spiky but soft to the touch. And his eyes—they are gentle but retain the ferocity he is well-known for.

“Yes,” you say after a while. “That is why I am not surprised. But these feelings won’t just disappear overnight because of this.”

He’s quiet for a while, those crimson orbs of his trailing over your expression. You don’t know what he finds, but he must understand your position because he nods.

“I’ll wait for you.”

This—this is a surprise. Somehow, he always manages to surprise you.

“After all this time?” You ask softly.

“Always,” he says quietly.

He leaves, and when you return to the house, you pick up the keys he left on your counter. Twirling them on one finger, you smile to yourself.

Thank you. You know he knows.

“I tried to be the person you wanted me to be,” he says.

“I tried, I really did. But this is who I am, who they made me. I can’t change. I’m sorry,” he says.

He says a lot more, you think, but you’ve long since stopped listening. He knows these are only flimsy barriers that excuse his behaviour. He knows he is not this person. He is not broken, he is worthy of much, much more. He just needs to believe it. They took everything from him. That is what he thinks, how he lives. Like he has no real purpose.

Instead, he is stopped, wings flaring as you reach for him. You smell familiar, and that ache in his heart deepens. He will forever regret losing you, but you deserve more. He is not good for you, and he is not your responsibility. His growth is his obligation. Perhaps, when he is ready, he will find you again.

But by then, he thinks, burying his face into your shoulder, you will have already chosen differently.

“I love you, baby bird. I will always love you,” he presses these words against your neck in a soft whisper, voice cracking, like a prayer, he tries to sear his truth into your skin. He tastes salt on his tongue.

And, between it all, he traces I’m sorry.

You squeeze him once.

You know.

“Hey.”

You’re uncharacteristically shy, cheeks puffing in that sweet smile of yours.

That sharp, familiar warmth blooms in his chest at the sight of you perched on the arm of his leather couch. You look comfortable, relaxed, like you—belonged here, his mind supplies helpfully.

He steps out of his boots, unbuckling his support items and setting them on the counter to clean later. He’s a little worse for wear tonight, shoulders tight from chasing rogue villains the past few hours. The tension seeps away steadily, though, the longer he drinks you in.

You look good. You always look good. Gorgeous, even more so when you’re tired and dirty, covered in blood and dust and debris. It’s been so long since you patrolled together, pulled to opposite ends of the city the past few months.

“Hey,” he says back.

“Shower?” You take his hand.

He trails behind you, nearly tripping over in his haste to follow, failing to register your words in time. This must be a dream, he decides. And he will play along, as he always does in these fits of delirium. He will hold you and have you and love you in ways he cannot begin to describe, and then he will lose you as dawn breaks and he wakes to an empty bed. But he falls anyway, does it over and over until he feels like he will go insane from the sheer longing. He is addicted to you.

You haven’t spoken, not really, since that night on the rooftop. So you, being here, without any prior warning, touching him, smiling at him, leading him to his fucking shower—this must be a dream, right?

You push open the door to his bathroom. It’s big, he’s always been meticulous about his health, and enjoys his fair share of long soaks and hot showers.

He realizes a beat too late that you’re undressing him. He exhales sharply when you tug his shirt off, but before he could say anything, you murmur, “You smell like caramel. You always do. It’s just a little stronger than usual.”

“Oh.” He sounds a little breathless, a little strangled. Unlike him, but he has never really been anything but himself with you. He’s still discovering new sides to himself, it seems.

Oddly enough, he’s the farthest thing from embarrassed as he steps out of his pants and boxers. He’s flushed, but the heat that floods his veins is nothing short of delicious. It makes his head spin, makes him lean into your touch.

You strip quickly, tossing your costume fabric aside his for laundry. He sucks in an audible breath at the sight of your nude body. Beautiful, he wants to say, but the words are stuck in his throat, and he reaches out with a shaky hand to thumb the smear of grease on your cheek.

You smile, pushing open the frosted glass doors and pull him inside.

The temperature is perfect. He likes it hot on days like today, muscles relaxing as the water washes away his fatigue.

“You know me so well,” he says.

You push him under the stream, water cascading between the two of you. His locks flatten under the pressure, falling over his eyes. You run a hand through his hair, pushing it back as you press yourself flush against him.

“Yes,” you answer. “I do.”

And then you kiss him. A low purring echoes through the space. Ah, it’s me, some part of him thinks absently. He opens his mouth instantly, tongue lapping at yours, arms coming around to hold you close. He can distinctly feel the way your perked nipples rub against his pectorals. He can taste you. And you are sweet, so sweet and the lewd sounds of your make out reverberating in the room so vividly he knows this is not, in fact, a mere conjuration of imagination after all.

He loathes to part from you, but he does. His fingers dig into your waist, anchoring him to reality. He looks at you searchingly, beseechingly. If you are here, you can only be here for one reason.

“I’m sorry I took so long. I’m sorry, I know it must’ve been painful. I’m here now, I promise I’ll never leave again,” you say, cupping his cheek.

His breath catches. His eyes flutter shut.

“You promise?” He sounds so small, so weak. Vulnerable. He would’ve hated that, once, but he is no longer that person. Today, he can accept he is weak for you. Always has been. And that’s okay, he thinks. He doesn’t have to be strong all the time.

“Yes. I promise, Katsuki.” You press your forehead against him, standing on your tippy toes.

He kisses you again, swallows your dreamy sigh, one hand on the back of your head, the other crushing your body against his. He wants you close, needs you close. Needs to feel you, this is real, right?

“Yes,” you whisper, and he realizes belatedly that he spoke aloud. “This is real. I’m here. I’m right in front of you.” You take his hand and press it against your upper rib cage, where your heart beats. Fast, like the wings of a hummingbird.

He can’t help it. He takes you against the wall, so pent up from years of pining he can hardly think, rutting into you like a teenager in heat, feeling like he’s a virgin again, every trace of your skin so new, he maps them out first with his eyes, then his hands and mouth. He slows down when you call his name in a haze of pleasure, takes the time to worship you, find what makes you tick, watches your expression raptly as he rolls his hips, as he tweaks your nipples, palms your ass, litters a necklace of freshly bloomed violets on your collarbone.

He’s panting your name, you’re murmuring praises in his ear, tugging at his locks and biting down on his shoulder and he cums so hard his vision whitens.

The two of you slide down, his legs giving out in the aftershocks, until he’s sitting on the floor of his shower and you’re curled up on his lap.

The water is—miraculously—still hot.

You lay there for a while, and he catches his breath between lazy kisses, enjoying the way your hands roam his chest languidly.

Finally, he stands, letting you down reluctantly to actually clean yourselves. You giggle at the pout that forms when your feet touch the ground once more.

You wash his hair, massaging methodically as he dips his head back to let the foam drain. He takes great pleasure in this, at the way you spread a generous amount of body wash on your palms and begin scrubbing the grime from his skin.

He jolts forward, letting out a low groan as you squeeze his flaccid cock teasingly. He glances away, eyes half-lidded, at the heated look you give him when his cock hardens immediately.

“You underestimate how easily you turn me on,” he says plainly. Not a hint of embarrassment. And why should he be? You kiss the corner of his mouth. “I love it,” you murmur.

You rinse him off before turning. His length presses against your ass, but he makes no move to seek anything further, focused on washing you.

Satisfied, he turns off the water.

You step out, toweling each other off. He pulls you to him, inhaling deeply. He likes that you smell like him now.

Afterwards, you are tucked in close, covers pulled up and he’s buried his face in your chest, bare legs tangled.

Perhaps it’s the novelty, the feeling of finally, but you can’t get enough of one another. You wake each other multiple times throughout the night, clawing at each other, ripping his boxers and your—his—shirt from each other until you were pressed tightly together, bare, a thin sheen of sweet already coating your bodies.

A thin strip of moonlight peeks through the cream curtains. He gazes up at you, thinks everything in his life has been leading up to this moment. That warmth swelling again, as it always does, so intense it has him arching his back. You touch his cheek, smiling. Something lands on the side of his pillow. Ah. You lean down, lips warm as they kiss away his tears.

“I love you, Katsuki.”

He closes his eyes.

Thank you.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #bakugo smut #hawks smut #bakugo x you #hawks x you #bakugou x reader

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sisterspooky1013 · 3 years ago

Text

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 14

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

“It was so good to see you, Will,” Valerie says in a muffled voice against his chest as he has her wrapped up tightly in a bear hug.

“I know, I’m so glad I ran into you,” Mulder replies, brushing his hands over her back. He pulls away and kisses her softly on the cheek.

“It makes me really happy to see you so happy,” she says with a smile, her long brunette hair lifting softly in the breeze, brown eyes holding affection that can only be held between two people who have the type of bond that can withstand a breakup and then a transition from lovers to friends.

“Likewise,” he says, nodding towards the small swell of her growing belly.

“I’d love to meet your girlfriend someday, if you think she’d be okay with that,” she says, collecting her purse.

“Yes, I’d really like that. I think you two would get along really well, actually,” he says, and she smirks at him.

“You’re not afraid we’ll bond over having to sit through your shitty movie collection?” she teases, and he laughs good-naturedly.

“Hey, Scully likes my shitty movies, that’s why we’re a perfect match,” he retorts.

She squeezes his arm.

“Call me sometime, okay?”

He nods and watches her walk away, feeling like he’s on cloud nine. A great friendship with his ex-girlfriend, a promising new love with the woman of his dreams; he can only imagine what lies in store next. He practically skips on the walk back to his car, wondering if Scully might let him come by tonight, hoping that he won’t have to wait until the weekend to see her again. He decides to call her as soon as he gets home.

The first few times he gets her machine, he assumes she must be at her mother’s. When she still hasn’t answered or called back by 9:00 pm, he’s confused. When he emails her the next morning and still hasn’t gotten a response at 10:00am, he’s officially worried.

Something is wrong.

———

She had eventually turned off the ringer on her phone and put the volume all the way down on her answering machine so she wouldn’t have to hear his increasingly obsessive attempts to get ahold of her, then slept fitfully all night.

She knows that she needs to give him some kind of response or he’ll show up on her doorstep, but she can’t bring herself to face him, even in voice. Every time the image of him with that woman pops back into her head, she feels a lump form in her throat immediately, a sick sadness welling in her belly. She’s pored over every memory in her mind, every interaction they’ve had, searching for signs. Signs that he was seeing someone else, that he wasn’t interested in anything other than getting in her pants, that he was lying to her. Her thorough inventory brings up next to nothing, which almost makes it worse; how adept he must have been at creating a false reality for her to exist in. Perhaps he’s garnered some tips from the sociopaths he studies, or maybe his background in psychology allowed him to manipulate her.

When she arrives at work, she is unsurprised though still dismayed to see an email waiting for her.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5, 1997 7:57 am

To: [email protected]

Subject: Where are you?

Scully, you’re freaking me out. Are you okay? Please respond.

She deletes it immediately and tries to focus on work. She performs an autopsy and teaches a class, both welcome distractions from her emotional torment. Just before 11:00 am, the phone rings.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy…yep, she’s here, one second.”

Trudy turns and opens her mouth to speak, but sees Dana waving her arms and shaking her head. She makes a confused face and puts the phone back to her ear.

“Oh, actually she just stepped out, sorry. Can I take a message?”

She watches as Trudy scribbles something on a piece of paper.

“Uh huh…yes. Okay, I’ll tell her…you have my word.”

She replaces the phone on the receiver and hands Dana the paper with a sympathetic frown.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asks rhetorically.

Dana looks down and deciphers Trudy’s messy scrawl.

Call Mulder immediately. Send a sign of life.

She crumples it up and tosses it into the trash can.

“You wanna talk about it?” Trudy asks.

“Nope,” Dana replies, turning back to the computer.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:03am

To: [email protected]

Subject: PLEASE RESPOND

Scully, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but if you don’t reply to this within an hour I’m driving down there.

Please respond

She feels fresh tears well in her eyes. Why is he trying so hard if he’s seeing someone else anyway? Why is he doing this to her? With a surge of anger, she hits reply.

From: [email protected]

Sent: May 5th, 1997 11:05am

To: [email protected]

Subject: RE:PLEASE RESPOND

I’m fine, Mulder. Please just give me some space.

With that she closes her email, begs someone to take her second class of the day, and goes home.

———

He feels like he’s stepped into an alternate universe. He’d left her happy and satisfied, and out of nowhere she’s shutting him out. What does she need space for? Space from him? Why? Did he come on too strong and freak her out? He thought they’d moved past that. He picks up the phone again.

“Autopsy bay, this is Trudy.”

“Trudy, it’s Agent Mulder again. Look, I don’t want to put you in an awkward position, but is Dana there?”

She pauses. “No, she went home for the day. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Do you have any idea why?” he implores.

“No, other than the fact that it seems to be directed at you.”

“Yeah, that much I gathered. Thanks, Trudy, sorry to bother you.”

“No worries, good luck.”

He slams the phone down, grabs his jacket off the back of his chair and leaves.

———

She is half expecting his knock, but it still makes her jump, nearly causing her to spill her wine. She wants to just ignore him until he goes away, but she knows his proclivity towards persistence won’t let him do that. Better to just get it over with, she thinks as she slumps towards the door.

The second she lays eyes on him in his slacks and dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and his tie discarded, she feels her chin pucker and tears threaten her eyes. As angry as she is, she immediately wants to go to him, to curl up within his embrace so he can comfort her. The problem is, what she needs comforting from is him.

“What is going on?” he says with a mix of frustration and fear.

She stands in the open doorway, not making space for him to enter.

“I saw you,” she says, her voice strained with emotion.

“You saw me...what?” he asks, his face a mask of confusion.

She lifts her chin, clenching her jaw and summoning strength.

“I saw you with her. Yesterday, at the Bluebird Cafe. After I had lunch with my family.” her voice holds steady, anger carrying her through.

His face falls and her gut twists. She wishes she didn’t have to watch this.

“THAT is what this is about?” he asks, but there’s no shame or regret in his voice. If anything, he sounds a little mad.

She nods curtly.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he spits out, and she recoils a little at his vitriol. “Let me in, Scully. Right now,” he demands, and against her better judgement she moves aside.

He pushes past her into the apartment and she closes the door softly, leaving it unlocked in case either of them decides to make a hasty exit.

“Did you consider,” he begins, his back to her, “maybe, I don’t know, asking me about what you saw?” He turns to face her, one hand on his hip and his face contorted with anger. “Or were you just planning to avoid me until I gave up and went away again?”

She doesn’t know what to say. She’s confused about why he’s yelling at her when he’s the one who did something wrong. She just looks at him, expressionless.

He juts his chin out expectantly, waiting for an answer, but gets none. She averts her eyes.

“Is that all this is worth to you, Scully?” he continues, “you’re ready to throw this away over a simple misunderstanding, without even talking to me?”

She lifts her head and looks at him with a pained expression. “Okay then, talk,” she gets out.

He drops his head in frustration. “The woman you saw me with,” he says flatly, lifting his head to meet her eye, “was my ex-girlfriend, Valerie. I ran into her while I was running errands yesterday, and we had lunch. She has a boyfriend and is three months pregnant. We spent the majority of our meal together talking about you.”

She shakes her head gently, her throat closing as a tear rolls down her cheek. “I saw you kiss her,” she whispers, her jaw quivering.

“You saw me kiss her on the cheek? I also kiss my mother on the cheek, Scully, it’s hardly an intimate gesture.”

She feels a new wave of sickness pass over her, but this time it’s entirely different. This time it’s the sick feeling of realizing that she was very, very, wrong, and that she has, yet again, hurt the man who loves her. She opens her mouth to speak but she can’t find the right words.

He steps forward but doesn’t touch her. When he speaks, his voice is softer, more defeated than anything else.

“I’m sorry that you saw something that upset you. But if you actually thought for a single second that I want to be with anyone but you, you’re fucking insane. I meant what I said the day you left my apartment last year. I felt it then, and I feel it now. I want this to work more than anything, Scully, but for that to be possible you have to trust me. I can’t live with the knowledge that you might just shut me out at a moment’s notice when you get scared.”

She keeps her head down, overwhelmed by a combination of shame, embarrassment, and gratitude that he wouldn’t let her walk away. She does not deserve this man, but she wants to.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, still unable to meet his eye.

“I know you are,” he replies, moving towards the door. “Take the space you need, and let me know when you’re ready to trust me.”

When she hears the click of the door closing behind him, she collapses to the floor, sobbing for so many reasons she couldn’t possibly name them all. When it’s faded to snivels and hiccups, she stands and goes to the hallway, picking up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Missy,” she chokes out, “Can you come over?”

———

He’s not sure if leaving was the right thing to do. The risk that she might not come back around is one that sends his stomach into knots, but at the same time he finds it hard to accept that she wasn’t even going to give him the opportunity to explain. He’s been actively working to temper expressing his feelings so he doesn’t overwhelm her, but then she gets it in her head that he’s not invested. It feels like he can’t win.

He goes back to work and stops by Kirkbride’s office to apologize for disappearing. Kirkbride just gives him a quizzical look, clearly not having noticed he had left. The rest of the day he buckles down on his caseload, distracting himself from the catastrophic thoughts that dance through his head, and gets more work done than he has in quite a while. When he leaves the office just after 5:00 pm, he feels melancholy and grouchy, and annoyed that he left the ball in her court.

The elevator dings to announce his arrival on the fourth floor and he steps out with a takeout bag in his hand, eyes downcast. Halfway down the hall, he readies his key and looks up, startling when he sees Scully sitting on the floor against his door, knees tucked up against her chest and her forehead resting on her kneecaps. She’s very still, and as he gets closer he realizes that she’s asleep. His heart aches knowing that she’s been waiting that long, that she didn’t want to leave without talking to him.

He crouches down beside her, setting his dinner on the floor, and gently touches her shoulder. She jerks, her head snapping up and her eyes wild for a moment while she tries to orient herself. When she focuses on him, she immediately starts crying, reaching out to wrap her arms around his neck. He’s surprised by her uncharacteristically emotional response, but says nothing and just holds her until his knees start to ache, at which point he sits down on the floor and pulls her into his lap. They stay this way for several minutes, long enough for one of his neighbors to walk by and politely avert their eyes, entering their apartment as though there was nothing out of the ordinary happening in the hallway. When the crying seems to have subsided a bit, he gives her a little squeeze.

“Wanna go inside?” he asks, and she nods against his chest, his shirt damp from her tears.

She stands unsteadily and he follows her, grabbing the takeout bag off the floor. They enter the apartment and Priscilla plods up to them with an excited meow. Scully leans down and picks her up, tucking the cat against her neck as they nuzzle each other. Mulder smiles at them with a bemused expression.

“She was talking to me through the door,” Scully says with a small smile, “she heard me knocking and was meowing from the other side. We had a conversation.”

Affection swells in his chest and he steps forward to kiss her. Her shoulders drop and she lets Priscilla down so she can get closer, threading her arms around his waist and kissing him back in earnest. Desperate, thought I’d lost you again kisses that are as arousing as they are a relief, because he knows that they will be okay.

He pulls back a little and she makes a whimpering sound in protest.

“I’m gonna go change really quick, okay? Then can we talk?” he asks, and she sighs and nods. “You can have half my Chinese,” he adds, and she gives him a tight-lipped smile.

When he sits on the couch beside her five minutes later, she scoots closer so they are pressed against each other, and he gathers that she needs physical closeness right now. He loops an arm around her shoulder and she crawls right back into his lap, curled against him as though trying to fuse her body to his own. Her head tucked beneath his chin, she holds one of his hands in her lap, fingers laced tightly together, and begins to speak.

“After you left, Missy came over and we talked for a long time. I’ve come to realize how much I’m still affected by...what happened last year. I harbor a lot of guilt for being unfaithful to Ethan, and that’s actually largely why I married him even though I knew my heart wasn’t in it.” She pulls in a deep breath, pressing their joined hands tight against her belly, trying to get even closer. “When you and I reconnected, in a way it felt like a chance to validate it. As though things working out with us would mean that what I did wasn’t as bad, because there was something real between us. But at the same time, a big part of me doesn’t believe that I deserve to be happy.” Her voice remains steady, but he feels the wet drop of a tear on the back of his hand.

He tightens his arm around her waist. “I’ve always been a person who values doing the right thing, and integrity was something that was very important to my father. It was his measure of a person’s character, and that’s something he instilled in me as well.” She sits up a bit so she can look at him, and his heart breaks at her red-rimmed eyes, her icy irises so mournful. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, Mulder. You haven’t given me any reason not to. It’s just that I don’t feel like I deserve this, especially with you, and I’m waiting for the moment it all comes crashing down. So when I saw you with that woman, it was almost like I’d been waiting for it, expecting it. Getting what I deserved.”

He brings his palms to her cheeks, brushing away the tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he says softly. “I wish I could change how you feel, but I know that I can’t. I do know how it feels to spend your life harboring guilt over something you could have done differently, and I can tell you that punishing yourself won’t make it any easier. It makes me really sad that you’ll always regret how we met.”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head gently. When she opens them, her expression is more tender than it is mournful.

“I don’t regret it, Mulder. I do feel guilt, and shame, for not ending it with Ethan so we could have done things the right way, but I could never regret meeting you.”

He pulls her back into an embrace, her arms wrapping around his ribcage, and plants a kiss to the top of her head.

“Are we okay?” he asks softly.

“I hope so,” she says hoarsely.

“Is this a bad time to tell you that Valerie wants to meet you sometime?” he asks, and she laughs.

“I don’t know, did you tell her that I freaked out on you because you had lunch with her?” she replies, and he can already hear her tone shifting back to their typical lighthearted banter.

“No, of course not. That’ll be our little secret. Well, plus Trudy. I think Trudy knows too much honestly.”

She laughs again, and god he could spend the rest of his life trying to make her laugh. In fact, that’s exactly what he hopes to do.

“Speaking of meeting people,” she continues, “Missy mentioned you to my mother yesterday and she wants to meet you.”

A grin stretches across his mouth, but he doesn’t say anything. She pulls back to look at his face, to gauge his reaction, and smiles softly in response.

“You want me to meet your mom?” he asks, the delight on his face carrying over to his voice.

Her mouth screws up shyly. “My little brother will probably be there too, and Missy. Is that too much?”

He shakes his head. “Sounds perfect. But, there are some friends I’d like you to meet too, if we’re meeting people.”

“The Lone Gunmen?” she asks with a skeptical lilt.

“Those are the ones. They’re my only friends, actually. Aside from Val.” Just then, Priscilla hops up onto the couch beside them. “Oh, and you Priscilla, sorry,” he adds.

Scully smiles at the cat, and then at him. “Can I bring Missy as a human buffer?” she asks hopefully.

“Of course. You may set a record for the highest number of female visitors to their lair in a day.”

“Lair?” she asks with wide eyes.

He chuckles. “They’ll grow on you, I promise.”

#the x files #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #txf #msr #sculder #x files fanfic #alternate universe

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stxrshxpxd · 4 years ago

Text

professor x 90s!damon

Pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

Word count: 2.521

Warnings: smut (professor x adult student)

* * *

It had all begun last week. My english professor had asked me to stay behind after his class to discuss the ever-decreasing quality in my essays over the past few weeks. I had fallen into a rant about my personal life and family relations and everything that had been distracting me. I must’ve come off as extremely unstable (and desperate to not lose my high grade in his glass), and Damon must’ve nodded understandingly and hummed quietly about a hundred times. Nothing out of the ordinary had happened between us, but it was nearing winter so the sun had begun to set while we sat in his classroom that afternoon. It had felt inappropriate to see him in that lighting. He had looked so beautiful with the last rays of sunlight laid across his face. He’d always had a soft and deep voice but I had never before heard it speak so quietly and in such an empty room.

I had had several dreams about him ever since that long talk, some less appropriate than others. I was happy I had an excuse to look at him for hours on end, seeing as he was the professor. But I realised at the end of class that I had barely taken any notes, except all the mental ones I had made about Damon’s body and its language. How he caressed his jaw with his entire hand, how he licked his lips every other minute, how he toyed with the golden ring on his left index finger when he listened to a student answer a question, and how his eyes lit up when one of his favourite authors were brought up in discussions.

He couldn’t have been more than a couple years older than me. I knew he had just graduated from uni a year prior to taking this teaching position. He was maybe 26 or 27 years old, I speculated in my head as I was packing up my textbook and closing my untouched notebook. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts about this man’s age that he had to call on me twice before I heard him. I dropped my books on my desk and looked up through attentive eyes and a tensed jaw.

“Yes?”

“Can I have a little chat with you?”

I nodded, still frozen in my seat. The last few students exited the classroom and then we were alone again in the uncomfortable silence.

“What happened to trying harder to focus in class?” he asked in a kind voice from behind a soft smile. His head was tilted down and to the side and his eyebrows were raised. It was a playful remark. He had obviously noticed my vacant stares and how I had only ever picked up my pencil to gnaw at the end of it and then eventually put it back down.

“I don’t know,” I squeaked. It made me frustrated. I was never this modest in my dreams. But Damon was standing on the other side of my desk with his fingertips sitting on the edge of it, and I felt so small in my seat.

“Is it still your family?” he asked carefully but there was a bit of something else in his voice. I didn’t trust myself to read him correctly, as I was heavily influenced by the part of me that was already mentally undressing him. His white button up shirt with rolled up sleeves, the dark blue tie, the black trousers and the dark brown belt that hugged his hips snugly. All of it was on the floor in my head before I answered.

“Yeah..” I said quietly. It almost came out as a question. I was confused with the whole situation and didn’t know if the sexual tension was just in my head.

“Are you sure?” Damon asked tilting his head back to expose his jaw for a second or two before he turned around and headed back to his desk, letting his fingertips linger for a moment on my desk before they slipped off and left with the rest of him.

“Sir..” I began while not knowing where I was going with my sentence. Neither did I have any idea why I had just called him ‘sir’. No one called the professors ‘sir’ or ‘ma’am’ at my university. Damon and I were both equally as shocked at my utterance. He turned around with two raised brows and his hands shoved in his pockets as he leaned back to sit on the edge of his desk. He couldn’t help but smile in a sort of mischievous way. I almost trusted my intuition regarding his emotions now, but after my last line I was unsure if I was ever going to let myself speak to him again.

Damon looked down and broke into a small laugh. It almost looked like he was blushing.

“Sorry,” he chuckled under his breath, flustered. His voice cracked slightly but it was equally as deep as always.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, leaning in over my desk. I suddenly felt brave. Damon shook his head and forcefully wiped his smile off his face.

“...Nothing,” he said. He tensed his jaw and his jaw muscles were very prominent for a moment before he untensed them again. My breath became shaky and artificially deep to keep myself from fainting. I was sure my cheeks were red now as I was back to undressing him in my mind. I enjoyed the part where I imagined him slowly unbuttoning his shirt the best. I had played that scene in various different settings and scenarios many times in my head.

“Are you sure?” I repeated his own question from earlier.

A long moment of eye contact ensued. To my surprise I wasn’t the first one to look away. Damon tilted his head up again and studied the ceiling for a second, and then looked down again.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked the question back at me. It was getting a bit juvenile and ridiculous at this point, but I was still too scared to say it out loud.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Can’t tell me specifically, or can’t tell anyone?”

“You specifically.”

Everything was about as quiet as a classroom could be between our short lines. I was still leaning forward over my desk and my arms were crossed under my chest. I caught him stealing one short glance of said chest.

“Why?”

He was trying to stay professional. I was trying to stay out of the sexual gutter in my head that was toxifying our conversation and clouding my judgement.

“It’s about you.”

“Figured,” he chuckled and nodded at my, rather obvious at this point, confession. He looked down at his shoes and moved his feet awkwardly as he pondered.

“What’s the best that could happen if you tell me?” Damon asked as he turned his head up again to look at me.

I was caught off guard by his unusual question. I felt frozen in my seat but on the verge of sweating at the same time as another scene played out in my head. Damon’s hands on my wrists pinning me to the top of his desk and his hips crashing into mine at a slow controlled pace and his dirty words spilling out from his mouth to cover my body. Best case scenario.

I realised I was the one smiling mischievously now. I stopped immediately but he had already seen and studied my grin in detail. He gave one in return and narrowed his eyes.

“Go on,” he egged me on to answer his question. There was not much professionalism left in him now.

“Best case scenario…” I began and I finally moved. I sank down in my seat a bit and nervously played with my pencil.

“We, um..”

We fuck on your desk, sir.

“We?” Damon asked. I had lost all my previous bravery and couldn’t look him in the eyes any longer.

“We... well, you-”

“What, y/n?”

He was getting impatient now. The last thing I wanted was for him to give up on me and let the whole thing go. So, I said it.

“We-we sleep together. Like, sex. On top of your desk maybe.”

Every single muscle in my body was tensed and my gaze turned as far away from Damon’s as possible. But I heard him laugh quietly, which made me want to look up. His smile was one of the prettiest smiles I had ever seen.

“Come here then.”

Now I looked up. I didn’t just look up. I snapped my head up and straightened my posture all in one nervous swift movement.

“Sorry?” I asked.

“I figured that was the case, what with all the staring. None of the other students look at me like you do.”

He was in complete control of the situation now and wasn’t blushing like before.

“No one calls me sir either,” he joked and walked up closer to me. My lips were dry and I had to lick them several times before I could speak.

“Did you like it?” I asked quietly, shying away from his eye contact once again.

“I think you could tell I liked it.”

I mustered up all the strength I had in me to stand up. He was closer than I had imagined and his breath was tickling my face now. I licked my lips a few more times. His hand caressed my cheek and then he tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. I was suddenly aware of the fact I couldn’t recall us ever having touched before. Then we did, a lot. His lips touched mine, his right hand touched the side of my neck, his chest almost touched mine, his left fingertips touched my waist, and my fingers nervously touched the sides of his torso.

He was warm and his hands felt like how his voice sounded. They slid down my side and held my waist as he backed me up towards his desk. The rational part of my brain had never thought this would ever happen, but I was indeed sitting on the edge of his desk with Damon’s hips between my legs.

“Tell me what you want me to do to you again,” he ordered.

“I want you to fuck me, sir.”

He grinned into our kiss as I called him by his new favourite nickname. I almost lost my ability to speak when he unzipped my jeans and then stuck his hand inside.

“How many times have you touched yourself thinking about me?” Damon asked in a pleased growl as he felt the outside of my wet underwear. I whimpered and grabbed a hold of his surprisingly strong biceps. He was skinny but clearly muscular under his white button-up. He began to help me wriggle out of my jeans.

“Too many times,” I admitted with a pair of blushing cheeks. Damon left a whisper in my ear and then backed a step or two away from me.

“Show me how.”

It made me nervous to look at him as he was unbuttoning his shirt, exactly like how I had imagined, as he stood and watched me rub circles around my clit. I eventually couldn’t hold myself up any longer. My back was resting on his desk and I wasn’t left alone for much longer. When I opened my eyes Damon’s face and bare shoulders was the only thing I saw. He had never looked prettier or hotter. His small stubbly hairs, the gorgeous colour in his eyes, his adorable nose and the sharp breaths that escaped it to fall on my face.

He pulled my hand out of my underwear and before he pinned it to his desk he stuck my middle and ring finger into his mouth. He sucked them clean and smiled devilishly.

“You taste lovely,” he purred and I choked on my own breath. I could’ve never imagined just how giddy it would actually make me feel to hear him talk like this.

Damon moved my pants to the side and pushed two of his fingers inside me. I could feel the cold metal of his ring in contrast to my warmth and stickiness.

“Fuck… Sir, please,” I whimpered. I wanted to see everything he was doing but it was hard to keep from screwing my eyes shut every time he curled his long fingers inside me.

“What do you want, darling?”

“Your cock. Inside me. Now. Please.”

My breaths were sharp and every single one was cut short by the next one.

“Oh, you sound so sexy when you beg.”

His voice only seemed to grow deeper and more gravelly with every moment that passed. And just like that I couldn’t think of anything other than the sensation of his cock pushing into me. He felt massive, and I realised he was indeed massive when I crunched up to look down on our bodies. He was only just halfway inside me, but with every thrust he went deeper and deeper and all I could do was moan and whimper and squirm under him.

Damon’s eyes met mine and he smirked before he clasped his hand around my throat and forced me down to lay on my back again. He accidentally smashed the back of my head quite violently against the wooden surface.

“Oh God, sorry,” he gushed under his breath and I laughed lightly. Damon leaned forward to leave a few gentle kisses on the side of my neck.

“It’s okay,” I chuckled, my heart growing soft for his affectionate side. The softness didn’t last long though, as he was soon growling and breathing heavily again.

“You feel so fucking good,” he sighed into my neck.

Damon’s hand slid up inside my top and then yanked my bra down to expose my breasts to his mouth. He began kissing harshly around my nipples and then sucked at my right one.

I clawed my nails into his sturdy back as I felt all my insides tense up and tingle with excitement.

“Damon, sir, I’m so close,” I squirmed in a small voice. I felt him smile and hum against the skin on my chest, sending amazing little vibrations throughout my body that affected me more than I could’ve ever imagined. Finally I was brought over the edge and Damon pressed his lips against mine again. I moaned into his mouth and he kept kissing me sloppily as I came down from my high and Damon’s was just around the corner.

“Fuck,” he mumbled into the kiss and then pulled away from me. He pulled out and pressed his throbbing head against my lower stomach and I watched him in awe as he spilled out over my stomach.

Damon breathed heavily and I sat up to pick his head up. I pulled my fingers through his short dirty blonde fringe and we melted into a kiss again as my hand fell to rest on the back of his neck.

“We’re definitely gonna have to do this again,” Damon sighed with a smile.

#i have a severe teacher kink i cant believe it took me so long to write something like this #90s #britpop #blur #damon albarn #graham coxon #dave rowntree #alex james #imagine #fic #au #smut #fluff #writing #blurb #damon albarn x reader

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whitexwingedxdoves · 4 years ago

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the other side | part 1 [request]

Pairing: Negan x Reader Pronouns: She/Her Warnings: Language, Death, Unrequited Love Summary: After being saved, you devoted your time to becoming the best saviour you could be until Eugene lets you in on a secret. A/N: Requested by @jinxeee im excited about the next couple of parts. ITS A FUN ONE I PROMISE. - I hope you like it <3 Click to read the next chapter

Covered in a thick paste made up of blood and mud you laid against a stone, staring up into the clouds. Surrounding you were piles of the fallen dead, some newly executed, some days old. You couldn’t remember how many days you had been there, fighting for your life but it had been long enough for the hunger to start eating away at you and the thirst to turn your throat into sand.

“Holy shit!” a voice echoed through the empty field and left you feeling even more vulnerable, which you had once thought was impossible. Using every bit of energy you had, you pushed yourself into a sitting position looking for the source. Your eyes met with a rather tall man, wearing a leather jacket and what seemed to be a bat hung from his shoulder. Behind the man were two others, though they didn’t quite hold the same confidence that the man in front did. You watched as he approached you, kicking a few of the dead out of his way, he levelled with you now crouching in front of you using the bat as some sort of crutch. “You’re one badass bitch” a smirk creased his features as he stared at you, you were too dazed to fight anymore you accepted your fate with these men as you laid back down on the rock to find peace in the clouds allowing your eyes to flutter shut.

Once your eyes opened again you started to panic, not feeling the liberating breeze that you allowed yourself to fall asleep too. You felt much more rested, fitter to fight again. Your eyes darted around the room you now laid in, taking in the medical equipment and the grey concrete walls, you had never seen this place before and though it felt like a miracle that somewhere like this existed in this world you still remained sceptical. You pulled the needles from your hand that connected to a drip bag and pushed yourself out of the bed, taking light quiet steps as you came closer to the door. You grabbed one of the tools from the medical bench, a scalpel, just in case and turned the knob on the door slowly, peering out of the crack you made. It seemed safe enough to leave having not seen or heard anyone in the corridor.

You stood against the wall in the hallway, the tip of your toes holding you weight. “Hey!” your head snapped behind you as you saw a man run towards you, you held the scalpel close to you, your grip tightening the closer he got. Once he was close enough you jammed the tool into his forearm, sending your knee into his delicates. Your plan was to run but before you could even turn you felt arms wrap around you, holding you in place. Thrashing as much as you could to be released from their grip only caused them to hold you tighter.

“Well fuck!” you recognised the voice that ran through the hallway, it was the voice of the man back at the field. You stopped trying to free yourself when your eyes met with his. “I was right, you ARE a badass!” his laughter filled the silent halls as he stepped over an injured man to come face to face with you. “I like you” he whispered into your ear.

You were escorted back to the medical room by a woman and the man, a doctor who seemed to be waiting for your arrival as you sat back down on the bed. “Who are you?” you whispered as the doctor checked your vitals, not baring to look up at any of them.

“We’re Negan!” the woman spoke, your brow cocked at her words. “We save people… Negan saves people” she finished, your eyes now darted to the man in the leather jacket. You’d never let the way he smirked leave your mind, it was infectious. He seemed to be full of pride as the woman bragged about his work here. Your eyes welling at the sound of it all, she made him sound like such a saint. “He saved you” she added causing the tears to fall down your cheek, his eyes now met yours.

“Thank you” almost choking on your words, you allowed yourself to relax a little more.

After the doctor cleared you to leave, the woman you’d now learned was named Laura took you to your new room, though it was to be shared with her. That night you spent a lot of time thinking about Negan and how incredibly lucky you were that he found you. Your heart seemed to swell when you thought of him and the way his leather jacket fit snug to his body, the stubble on his jawline and the way it highlighted his smirk. You were ready to be one hundred percent devoted to him.

It had been a while since Negan saved you and you had spent every second of your time since then trying to prove your loyalty to him. He placed you with Laura for a reason, to teach you about the way things worked and to teach you the ropes on how to be the best saviour you could possibly be and you were, one of the best. You did everything Negan asked you to without even batting an eyelash, you would never deny him anything. Your love for him grew stronger every day, it hurt sometimes that you couldn’t call him yours but at least you could be by his side and protect him.

Today your job was to watch over Dr Eugene, make sure he was getting everything he needed and to keep him safe. You didn’t mind this job so much, Eugene never really spoke too much to you, he only ever told you things that you had no interest in knowing but he was easy to block out most of the time. Today he seemed different, a little off from his usual self, he paced his room and seemed a lot more jumpy. You really didn’t like it, it was like he was up to something he shouldn’t be. “What’s going on smarty pants?” Eugene even jumped at your question causing you to smirk a little. He shook his head and insisted nothing was the matter. “Sure doesn’t seem like nothing! Come on, spill the beans otherwise I’ll have to get Simon in here and he doesn’t play quite as nice as I do” you teased tapping your foot on the floor awaiting his explanation but when he responded with silence you turned on your heel and headed for the door. “Fair enough, SIM-“ the man cut you off mid sentence, clearly scared for his life.

“No… no need.” Turning back around you took a seat on the armchair and gave him a smile. “The wives…” he started, almost second guessing his choice to tell you about what had happened.

You sat in complete silence as Eugene told you all about the wives plans to kill Negan with some sort of pill and how they made them before fully thinking it through. He held the two tablets in a zip lock bag in front of you, you took them from him with force, your cheeks turning red at the story he just told you couldn’t say you didn’t believe it or that you didn’t see this coming, you saw how his wives acted around him and heard what they would say when he wasn’t there. Ungrateful bitches. You pushed yourself onto your feet and gave the fragile southerner a warning look and he took a couple of steps away from you and out of your reach. “You ever try this shit again, I’ll have your head on a pike.” You whispered in his direction before leaving the room. You shouted to the guards on his door to keep an eye on him and make sure he didn’t leave his room as you stormed towards the wives bedrooms.

Fuelled only by anger you ripped one of the doors open, the zip lock back still in your hold. The girls looked over at you, like deer in headlights noticing the pills in your hand and as the door shut one of the girls took her chance at wrestling you for the poison in your hand. When the others realised what was happening and that she couldn’t fight you on her own, the rest joined in piling on top of you scratching and pulling at your hair, pushing you down to the floor as you tried to scream and fight your way out of them. Without even thinking you pulled out your handgun and started shooting rounds into the women who hovered over you. It felt like a curse being such a good shot as you watched each wife drop, a few falling on top of you. You laid there for a moment, like you did in the field, completely speechless, your body now covered in their blood. You heard the door swing open but you didn’t dare look to see who it was. You just laid there, allowing the blood to soak into your clothes.

You recognised the next set of footsteps that came through the door, you knew for a fact it was Negan. Swallowing the lump in your throat you pushed the girls off you and sat up right, your eyes following Negan as he made his way across the room. Your eyes filling with tears as he witnessed the massacre. “I'm sorry” you croaked but you didn’t seem to grab his attention as he looked down at his fallen wives in pure disbelief. “I had no choice” the guilt had crept up now, strangling you with every breath you took. That’s when he looked at you, a look you could never forget. He looked so confused yet angry at the same time as he took in the sight of you, bathed in his late wife's blood, he didn’t talk, he just looked in the direction of the door before turning his back to you.

“Put her away” he spoke softly, not allowing his emotions to better his judgement. You shook your head as you stood up to your feet, attempting to avoid the other saviours.

“No, you don’t understand. Please let me explain! They were trying to kill you, they had pills. You have to believe me.” you cried but it was no use.

You had been in the small box room for a while now, still covered in blood, you sat in the corner of the dark room, holding onto your knees as tightly as you could replaying the last couple of years in your head. You never felt so much shame before after everything he did for you, you go and kill his wives. Why you didn’t tell him before you went in there all Rambo you’ll never understand. The anger got too much for you to process. The sound of the door unlocking broke your concentration. You looked up hoping and praying they would let you out now. The light stung your eyes a little, causing your arm to act as a barricade as they adjusted to the new light. “We didn’t find any pills” the voice that once made you melt like butter now only causes you tears, you looked at the man in disbelief, though all you could see was his silhouette.

“No, no… you have to look again. Ask Eugene, he made them. Please Negan you have to believe me” you pleaded as he leant down to your eye level… similar to the way he did when he first found you.

“He doesn’t know what you’re talking about” his tone was soft which only made you more anxious. You shook your head vigorously, why would Eugene lie like that

“No, please. I would never lie to you, Negan. Please.” Your tears seemed to clean your bloody face as you reached forward to place your hands on his but he pulled away. “Please, I love you. I would never try to hurt you like this” you almost skipped passing, admitting your feelings for the man as you sat there pleading but the butterflies swam in your stomach as you heard his breathing getting heavier.

“So you did all this… all this because your a jealous fuck?” he screamed at you, you could hear the sound of your heart breaking. “You’re pathetic.” He finished before turning on his heels and shut the door behind him. You heard the lock on the door turn once more but you bolted towards it anyway, slamming your fists into the door attempting to speak under your cries but to no avail. You sat back in your corner, attempting to catch just one breath but you couldn’t… all you could do was rock back and forth… hoping one day he would see sense and free you from this cage.

#negan smith #negan #twd negan #negan x reader #negan x y/n #negan x you #twd fanfiction #negan fanfiction

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sazc94 · 4 years ago

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Bad Idea, a Bucky Fanfic

Requested by @lannycleave

A/N Sensitive themes including injury, smut and kidnapping/suggestions of abuse. 18+

Also I'm still new at this so any feedback is appreciated.

Prologue, Part 1

Words 2886

Part 2

Present day earlier that evening, NYC.

It had been six months since that mission in Boston, Bucky never came back into the bedroom that evening and had been avoiding you since. The intel you and Bucky had gathered had been a huge help in bringing down the trafficking ring of HYDRA. You had gotten back from a Mission with Tony, Steve, Wanda and Nat earlier that day which had been the big take down, to your disappointment but not a surprise Bucky hadn’t attended.

Stark had insisted on throwing a party to celebrate the take down of one of the most despicable HYDRA divisions he’d ever had the mis pleasure of dealing with. Nat had pulled you into her room before you’d had time to slip out after the debrief knowing you would ditch the party to avoid Bucky given half a chance.

So that was how you ended up wearing the slinky black strappy dress and black thigh high boots, sat at the bar on your fifth glass of wine, moping. The party was dying down and you had put on a brave face but seeing Bucky actively avoid you had hurt more than you were willing to admit.

“Y/N!” Said Steve joyfully, bending down to kiss your cheek, “mmm you smell delicious” he said before sitting down on the empty barstool next to you. You offered a small sad smile in return.

“Y/N? What’s wrong” he asked. He placed his hand on your knee in a comforting gesture. You knew you should not have mixed your wine with those two tequila shots, suddenly the damn burst and you were spilling the entire story to Steve about Boston, including the part about how you’d nearly blown your cover, how if he hadn’t called Bucky and Tony called you then your certain you would have fucked each other there and then.

By the time you had finished the story you had sobered up but Steve, seeing you so emotional had insisted on driving you home, the super soldier couldn’t get drunk on normal Alcohol and as Thor hadn’t been around with his Asgardian wine, he was sober. Handing you his keys and advising you he was just going to grab his jacket you said your goodbyes to Wanda and Nat. Little did you know Bucky saw you leaving with Steve wearing his jacket and arm round your waist.

Steve dropped you off insisting you keep his jacket and drop it off at the compound in a few days. You brushed your hair out, cleaned your teeth and make up off. You were exhausted the combination of: alcohol, a mission and your tears had worn you out. So, you shimmied out of Nat’s dress and climbed into bed in your underwear. As you snuggled down into your bed exhaustion pulled you under.

Against better judgement, knowing that Steve and Natasha would never let you live it down if you got your ass handed to you. You opened the door without hesitation, gun pointed.

You woke up with a start, you looked at the time on your alarm clock. 02:30.

The rain was crashing at your window. *Thump Thump*. You jumped at the sound of someone banging on your door, they were banging so loud it sounded like they were about to break the door down. At least you knew you hadn’t been imagining the sound in your sleep.

“Who the fuck is banging on my door at 2:30 in the goddamn morning” you mumbled to yourself, grabbing your gun from your bedside table and silk robe of the door you made your way quietly to your door.

“Bucky, what the actual fuck, you scared the shit out of me” you yelled. Bucky was stood at your door, pale and soaked through. This whole scene made no sense Bucky had been ignoring you for 6 months.

“Are you insane?” You asked.

“Look Y/N. I know I fucked up back in Boston, but you didn’t have to go home with my best friend!” Bucky shouted his face bitter and twisted with pain.

“Fuck You Bucky” You shouted you went to slam the door in his face but he wedged his foot between the door and frame.

“No, where is he?!?!” he demanded to know, “Steve? I know you’re here I saw you leave with her” Bucky shouted pushing past you to your open bedroom door.

You didn’t follow, Bucky had been ignoring you since that night in Boston and suddenly he’s here accusing you of sleeping with his best friend, like he had a claim on you. Bucky returned after a few seconds; anger flared in his eyes when he spotted Steve's jacket on your sofa.

“Where is he? Y/N!?!” Bucky whispered looking betrayed.

“He’s not here you fucking idiot! He brought me home after I poured my soul out to him about how you have been avoiding me for 6 months, he lent me his jacket because I didn’t have one, now if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave” you said snatching Steve's jacket from Bucky’s hands. You started to walk back to your bedroom, you didn’t want to spend another second more in Bucky’s presence, you may not have slept together back in Boston but you thought he would at least think of you with enough dignity to not sleep with his best friend.

Before you could make it to your bedroom Bucky grabbed your wrist and spun you round crashing his lips on to yours, the kiss took you by surprise you welcomed his kiss for a few seconds before you came to your senses. You shoved Bucky away from you and walked towards the door.

“Repeat that last bit again” he said his piercing blue eyes had clouded over. You felt your breath catch, not sure whether James sorry Bucky was pissed or turned on, you swallowed slowly,.

“I cant do this James, I am not something you toy with, you may I am not a doll that you will break if you touch me, but I will not have you ignore for me for six months, turn up here in a rage and kiss me just for you to ignore me again. Either fuck me or leave but do not fuck me over James.” You said, your chest heaving.

You could not believe you had called Bucky James. Bucky walked over to you and pushed the door shut with one hand.

“Either fuck me or leave but do not fuck me over James” you said. Bucky growled a low moan and pushed himself against you. You squeezed your legs together as you felt your cunt throb and betray you. Bucky grabbed you by the throat, not with enough force to cut of your air supply but with enough of a grip to send a buzz to your head.

“One more time doll” Bucky moaned.

“Either fuck me or leave but do not fuck me over James” you whispered.

“Oh god, fuck yes, that feels amazing” you managed to squeak out, Bucky, smirked. Slowing his pace down he once again pulled almost out entirely before slamming back into you, repeating this a couple of times, he felt your walls tighten around him your back and neck arched, crying out for him to fill you up with every single delectable inch. Bucky kissed your neck and dug his right hand into your hip.

With that Bucky undid his trousers letting them fall to the floor with his boxers, whilst he stepped out of them, he ripped your panties from your body, he swiped one finger along your slip and then pushed his throbbing cock into you. You cried out at the surprise and intrusion; Bucky waited a few seconds before he ordered you to lift your legs. You complied and brought your leg up whilst Bucky cupped your ass urging you to bring your other up and wrap them round him, reassuring you that he had hold of you. Just as you had wrapped your legs wrapped around Bucky’s waist he pulled back and slammed into you, Bucky undid your bra pulling it down and throwing it to the side. Bucky once again pulled almost all the way out before slamming back into you, grabbing your breasts in his right had whilst his cool Vibrainium arm cupped your ass.

He quickened his pace the feel of his cock stroking your insides over and over had you mewling. You grabbed your hands around his neck and kissed Bucky moaning his name into the kiss, you leant back as Bucky pounded into you over and over, lowering his mouth to your breasts he took one of them into his mouth swirling his tongue over your nipples.

“Fuck Y/N that feels so good do it again” he said bringing his Vibrainium hand down his thumb began circling your clit, you felt yourself tighten again, that coil inside you was close to snapping, remembering Boston and feeling how close you were you lifted your head and fixed your eyes on Bucky.

“Bucky I’m so close, please let me cum” you whined. Bucky sped up once more, harder and faster the cool Vibrainium rubbing your clit compared to the polar opposite feel of his warm cock rearranging your insides was too much and you were just about hanging on. Bucky felt you tighten around him again and he nearly lost it there and then, but this was about you and making up for the six months he had ignored you, god it had been torture for him.

“Cum for me doll” he said and with that the coil in you snapped, Bucky’s pace slowed as he coaxed you through the orgasm as you screamed his name over and over in ecstasy.

Bucky slowly pulled out before untangling your legs from around his waist. In one swift movement Bukcy chucked you over his shoulder and walked into the bedroom. Throwing you down on the bed you squealed. Before you could even get comfortable Bucky had flipped you over so you were on your back. He left a trail of blazing hot kisses down your neck, breasts and stomach before ducking his head down between your legs.

“Oh-god” you squeaked. You felt Bucky chuckle as he wound his tongue inside you making you squirm. That familiar coil was building in you and as if Bucky could tell his thumb brushed your clit, slowly but then it started building whilst Bucky drank every last drop you offered him up. Bucky suddenly pressed his thumb into your clit and began rubbing back and forth, it was too much and before you could ask for permission you were cuming again. Bucky didn’t seem to mind though as he continued fucking you with his tongue.

“Oh doll, look how gorgeous you look glistening like this for me” Bucky said, before pushing a finger inside of you. “Really doll I had no idea just how much of a slut you truly are” Bucky hummed against your sensitive bud. He slowly curled his finger up and started pumping stroking your G Spot watching you squirm as he hit it over and over, then he lowered his mouth to your cunt. He started by kissing you, then he moved to slowly swirling his tongue around your clit. Whilst one finger became two and then began to suck your clit, you felt your legs shake, this was even better than the first time he had touched you those six months ago.

Your fingers tangled in Bucky’s brown hair as you started to grind against his face. Bucky moaned, removing his fingers before replacing them with his tongue.

Bucky lifted your ass slightly allowing him to get that bit deeper this new position had you clenching around him again, every inch of you still on fire from the previous two orgasm’s you knew you wouldn’t last long especially as he kept stroking your G spot with every purposeful stroke.

Bucky slowly withdrew his face and stood up, his eyes looked at you with an animalistic hunger, removing his top he then gave his cock a few quick tugs before spreading your legs with his vibranium arm, the feel of the metal and anticipation of having Bucky’s cock inside you again made you shiver. Bucky slowly lowered himself onto the bed using his arm to prop him up so he didn’t crush you, he leant down and kissed you. You could taste yourself on Bucky and that only made you groan, without breaking the kiss you felt your way down to Bucky’s cock guiding him into you, he entered slowly until every single inch of you sheathed him.

Bucky started to rock back and forth slowly whilst you adjusted to him again, there was touch of passion mixed within his hunger this time, the urgency of wanting to be inside you slightly subdued after you had fucked his face. Once Bucky was confident you had adjusted to him his pace quickened again. He kissed you again wanting you to swallow him hole, fuck it felt so good to be fucking you, he had wanted nothing more than to claim you like this since Boston but like the arse he is, he had convinced himself he would break you if he touched you again. He hadn’t realised he had already broken part of your soul by ignoring you for six months.

“Bucky” his name caught in your throat as Bucky once again sped up and pounded into you.

“I’m close not sure I can hold out” you said between gasps for breath. Bucky moved his thumb down to your clit again, knowing this would throw you over the edge he began to swipe slow purposeful circles round it.

Bucky waited a few moments for your breathing to steady before he withdrew from you, he kissed your head before pushing of the bed. You felt a brief stir of panic when he didn’t immediately wrap you in his arms, before you could panic too much he returned with damp wash cloth and gently cleaned you up. You couldn’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief when you realised he wasn’t leaving you. After he returned the washcloth to your bathroom he chucked his shirt at you with a smile.

“That’s not a problem Y/N, I wanna feel your tight little pussy milk my cock dry, now cum for me Y/N” he said with that you slammed yourself up to him chasing the orgasm you knew was about to rip through you. Suddenly you just didn’t feel quite full enough and pulled Bucky into you with your legs, Bucky slammed into you hard and fast and with that the orgasm ripped through you.

Your cunt tightened around Bucky’s cock and he couldn’t hold back any more moaning your name he let himself release his hot cum inside you. Thrusting into you as he released his pace slowing as he emptied himself.

“Put that on Y/N I want to wake up to the sight of you wearing it in the morning” he said whilst he lowered himself on to your bed.

You felt a lump form in the back of your throat had you hoped he would stick around after? Yes. Did you expect him to stay the night? Hell no. Were you ecstatic about the fact he wanted to wake up next to you. Fuck yes.

You pulled his shirt on over your head and curled into Bucky’s side nuzzling into the crook between his neck and chest. He snaked his arm around you pulling you that bit closer, he then kissed your forehead before lightly kissing your lips.

“Look Y/N. I’m sorry about the last 6 months and how I acted after Boston I should have treated you with more respect than I have been, I know you’re not a breakable little doll and I do genuinely care about you. I just” Bucky sighed. You lifted your head to look at him with your eyes baring into him.

“I just, worry about hurting people I care about, what HYDRA did, it fucked me up pretty good and I sometimes feel like I don’t deserve to have people like you care about me” he finished. Seeing Bucky so vulnerable made your heart ache.

Knowing in this moment he didn’t need words he need actions, you pushed yourself up so you were sitting up, you straddled him, before gripping his face in between your hands. You stroked his face gently with compassion and adoration, you lowered your face and kissed him, passionately, slow and firm. Pouring your heart into the kiss. Bucky pulled you closer to this kiss encasing you with his arms.

He broke the kiss first and you rolled of him pulling him with you as you rolled onto your side. He snaked his arm over you pulling you close to him till you were flush with him. With his left arm he snaked his cool metal fingers into yours. You smiled to yourself and snuggled your back that bit closer to him wanting him to know you were his and he was yours.

Bucky kissed your neck and shoulder lightly which sent butterflies through your stomach. Eventually once your heart had finished pounding in your chest you drifted off to sleep.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #avengers fanfiction #bucky x y/n #avengers

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crab-in-a-pocket · 4 years ago

Note

Greetings fellow wizard fucker👋 I am very glad to find someone else who appreciates mr. Magic man! I would also like to request some headcanons of wizard and a shy farmer, please! Cause I would much rather hang out in a tower doing spells rather than overwhelm myself trying to befriend an entire town. Thank you!

aw shit this is so cute. not as general as the wizard and the (shy) farmer chilling but more specific as to how they got into a relationship mwah. lowkey based on the romanceable rasmodius mod and always @iniro's wizard portrait mod. quite long so you can check it out under the cut!

the first time you met him, there was a sort of relaxing feeling to his place. sure, cold stone walls and all that wizard jazz, but he wasn't pushy or too nice or judgemental. he was just... there

you liked that feeling. he didn't expect anything from you and you didn't expect anything from him. and he was rather good at ending conversations without making you feel awkward.

making friends with the townsfolk is cool but it's weird making friends with them just one at a time— you couldn't handle that. you had to choose.

the first time you visit the wizard for no reason in particular is a rainy, rainy day. lightning lights up the dark clouds and the thunderclaps are so loud it threatens to tear the sky apart.

you wanted to show the wizard some things you had found in the mines. a tiny, warm orb of swirling golden light, and a tiny, icy ball of pitch black ink. and you made sure to leave before it rained but by the time you stood at his doorstep, you were already soaked to the bone.

you hesitate a little— it was always like this at the start— and then knock firmly. once, then twice.

he is shocked to see you standing there, dripling wet at his doorstep. but he ushers you in after a slightly suspicious squint, and when he offers you tea and you hold the little orbs out to him as if sharing marbles, he is so, so, surprised.

he shows you what the orbs do, teaches you little snippets of magic, and then it carries on like so. it becomes a routine, a steady habit you didn't wan't to break.

he eventually tells you to call him by his name. magnus, you say, letting it roll off your tongue, practicing it. magnus, magnus, magnus. i like your name.

his amused smile helps you say with more certainty.

you didn't really want to go to the flower dance. you had no one to dance with and you had chores to do. but attending community gatherings is the first step to forging friendships, isn't it?

your hellos are weak and half-hearted. you finally crack— you don't want to be here ans you're desperately looking for a way out without getting spotted (bridge? pierre. river? willy, pam, leah, and elliott.)

eyeing a crack through the fences, you duck and slip past it, pushung past thick brambles and sidling past trees ubtil you reach what appears to be a steep sort of natural staircase. you climb it and, much to your surprise, you see a familiar face.

you aren't supposed to be up here, the wizard tells you. neither are you, you reply.

did you ask anyone to dance?

laughing, you say, no, i don't think any of them would like to dance with me.

funnily enough, he smiles back (though with a different sort of emotion, you couldn't quite tell which) and says, you could be wrong. you could be a very good dance partner for all you know.

oh, then, would you like to dance with me? you rib, grinning at him now.

the expression on his face shifts and it becomes unreadable. you're hardly surprised when he says, i wouldn't know the steps.

it is his polite way of rejecting you. you're quite sure of that. smiling, you tell him, well, i wouldn't know them either.

sometimes, you just watch him while he works on enchantments and spells. it's nice, watching him work on his craft while you read about firemaking, something you've been working on for a while. you've made a few crops bloom early and even grew a fruit out of season, but you've never tried making fire, something made of raw emotion and passion and magic.

you need to let the energy burst from you, magnus says. then, you need to pull it back in just so. he sounds like a broken radio at this point, always repeating it.

like a lighter? you ask, as if you haven't asked it a thousand times before.

yes, just like that.

you try every emotion. you try when you're happy, when you're sad, when you're angry, when you're not feeling a single thing at all, and when you can feel every damned feeling in the world. it doesn't work.

my hand is broken, you grumble, clutching your cup of tea so fiercely your knuckles are white. or it could be my feelings. probably my feelings.

don't be silly. your hand can't possibly be broken, magnus scoffs, taking the seat across you and picking up his own cup of tea.

incredulously, you ask, you think my feelings are broken? seriously?

magnus shrugs. yes, maybe, i don't know. put down your tea cup and give me your hand.

you oblige and lean across the table, outstretching your arm. he takes your hand in his (you've always admired his hands, rather large and long-fingered but still elegant. you imagined them to be soft... you didn't think you'd be right.) and you're taken aback at the sudden flare of emotion rushing through you. not one you've never known, but one you didn't quite expect.

he flips your hand over and his thumb presses into your palm. he is so, so, so focused on your hand (is that dirt under your nails?) that he fails to see you struggling not to blush

he tells you to flatten your hand, as flat as it can go, then he says something surprising.

how about you try and think of someone you hate? think of burning their face into ash. his face colors a little but his smile is razor sharp. that's how i first did it.

you laugh at that, startled, then you realize he's being serious. you try, trying to see your ex's face hovering over your palm being burnt to a crisp. you try and try and try until you're blue in the face.

it's not working, you tell him angrily.

a pensive look falls across his face. magnus has a tendency to stick out his lower lip as if he was pouting when he thinks. you feel your anger ebbing away at the silly face he's making. your heart pounds harder than ever and you can hardly look at him, your cheeks flushing.

he is still holding onto your hand when a fire bursts into life, white hot. it cools to a pale shade of blue, flickering like a kitchen flame. it is as hot as the summer sun on your shoulders, so hot it could burn.

magnus yelps. so do you, and the fire dies. your hand is unmarred but, clearly, at magnus' hisses of pain, you've singed his fingers.

i'm sorry, i didn't mean to! you cry out, a worried look on your face. to your utter shock, he smiles.

what did you think of? he asks, a pleased smile on his lips. your flame was as blue as spirit fire.

i- i- i didn't think of anything, really. i'm not sure, you stutter out, avoiding his eyes. fuck. you're screwed. he's always been good at seeing lies and he didn't like any kind of them.

his frown tells you that he didn't not believe your weak excuse.

you avoid magnus for a while. you break your comforting routine and you thrust yourself into making friends with people in town. it helps just a little, lifting your spirits. one day, in the forest, you see leah asking for your help-- she wants to reach a fruit on a tree. you never looked in the direction of magnus' tower anymore. you hesitate for a moment, then you help leah, your gaze anywhere but on the tower.

try as you might, your gaze is on the tower. how could it not be, when what you are drawn to is its sharp little roof and the large telescope sticking out of it, and the ivy creeping up and down its stone brick walls? how could you not be drawn to it when it was a place you could almost call home?

i shouldn't be prying, leah says all of a sudden once you've let her down and you turn to walk away. but you used to visit the tower's occupant, didn't you? i just always saw you walking back and forth.

you stare at her for a moment, and then two. yes, i did, you finally reply. i'll visit soon. just... not now.

you are far too confused to go back. not yet. did you really like magnus that way? or was it a fluke, just a lonely, touch-starved person reaching for a body to hold on to, friendships be damned? you didn't want to fuck this up. you haven't made a proper fire in a week. you miss the surge of energy, of power, of emotion. you miss him.

pierre has taken to selling bouquets. bright, colorful flowers. they're for a special someone, he says to you when he catches you looking at them curiously. for heartfelt confessions, if i couldn't be any plainer.

you buy one and keep it in your house, in a vase with water to keep it alive. you wonder if it is worth the risk. you can see the tower's roof from the second floor of your house. you settle in with the bouquet at your right hand and a cup of tea in the left.

it has been an entire two weeks since you've last seen him. in fairness, it is nearing the end of fall and most of your heavy rumination has been during your farm chores as you work to keep in pace with your harvest to prepare for the incoming winter season.

you decide to tell him that you like him romantically. and if he doesn't care for you in that way, you will try and salvage your friendship to the best of your abilities. it is a foolhardy plan, as magnus would put it, but it is the best plan you have.

the last autumn rain is slowly falling and you pick up the pace, not wanting to get the bouquet dripping wet. your bag hangs at your side, filled to the brim with glittering balls of light and darkness.

when you finally stand at his dooratep, lightning lights up the dark clouds and the thunderclaps are so loud it threatens to tear the sky apart. you are soaked to the bone, but you have heated up your hand just enough to dry your clothes at a pat and touch.

you hesitate a little— just like at the start— and then knock firmly. once, then twice.

the door swings open and the surprise on magnus' face would have been comedic, if it were not for the circumstances. he stares at you, lamely carrying a bouquet upside down, dripping wet.

can i come in? you ask, surprised at the unwavering tone of your voice. unless you're busy. then i'll go.

magnus nods mutely (you're confused for a second there, and he steps aside to let you in before locking the door behind you. for a moment, you two just stand there silently, drowning in the awkward silence. then, he breaks it just as you do.

let me get some tea for you, you're dripping water on my floor, you might get sick—

i brought something for you, you weren't actually doing—

for a moment, everything is back as it was and you laugh and he chuckles at the predicament. then, you try and stomp off as much water as possible right at his door. you keep drying yourself with your heated hand and you remove your shoes and socks, marveling at the warmth of the floor. magnus disappeared to make tea— you follow after him, careful not to ruin the bouquet.

so, why are you here? he asks, his tone careful, once you seat yourself at his tea table. you've been gone a while. busy with the fall harvest?

yes, i was busy. but i was also avoiding you, you tell him honestly, and you can see him stiffen at that.

why? did i do something?

no, i did. i was confused and scared... i didn't want to lose my only friend, you know. it wasn't right for me to just up and leave for 2 weeks, though, i'm sorry.

he sits across you and hands you your cup of hot, steaming tea. what did you do?

i acted like a fool, you say, taking a sip to warm yourself. you feel your confidence waning. you have never been so straightforward in your life— what on earth is wrong with you? so you see, magnus, this is for you. you jerk your head in the direction of the bouquet on its side, flowers a little limp and raindrops on its many bright petals.

he looks confused. confused but appreciative. er, thank you for the bouquet. it's lovely. and he leaves it at that.

you stare at him, bewildered. then, you start to laugh. you... you don't know what it means, then? you move your tea cup of the saucer and you rip your bag open, fumbling for the balls of solar and void essence.

no, i'm afraid i don't, he replies, starting to sound a little annoyed and exasperated. care to enlighten me?

you put the solar and void essence on the saucer and push it towards him. you smile a little mournfully at the sudden surprise on his face and say, it means i like you, magnus. romantically.

the room falls silent. he looks up at you and you can hear him thinking and you can see the flush on his face as he stammers out a response, but you shake your head, i was thinking we could still be friends if you didn't like me back. but that’s not fair for either of us, is it? you’re right and you know it, but that doesn’t mean you don’t feel the hot shame prickling under your skin.

you turn to leave. i’m really sorry about this. i’m so sorry i had to ruin it.

no, no, don’t go. i didn’t know what the bouquet meant, really, i didn’t. i’m glad you were honest with me. look, i didn’t say i didn’t like you back that way. don’t go. please? he says all this in a rush and you freeze, trying to comprehend what he just said.

you... like me back? you ask, your voice suddenly meek.

i haven’t ‘liked’ anyone since i was a teenager, magnus says, mirth in his voice. but, yes, it could be just that.

a hand clasps your wrist and you turn around to look at him, his eyes shining with warmth and his cheeks a soft pink. are you still going? he asks, his brows knotting. you know he’s referring to the storm.

no. no, i think i can stay, you tell him, and you take your seat once more. to your utter surprise an amusement, you hear the scrape of his chair and find him sitting next instead of across you this time.

making friends becomes easier during the winter. you don’t have much to do, really, and so you split your time between the mines, fishing, the pub, and the tower.

you didn't really want to go to the flower dance. you had no one to dance with in particular and you had chores to do. but attending community gatherings is important, especially because you’re part of the said community.

you greet everyone cheerfully and they ask you about your farm. you’re grateful that they are too eager for the festivities to begin to make any more conversation aside from small talk. it is time to make your exit, you think

eyeing a crack through the fences, you duck and slip past it, pushing past thick brambles and sidling past trees until you reach what appears to be a steep sort of natural staircase. you climb it and, to your amusement, you see a familiar face.

you aren't supposed to be up here, magnus tells you. neither are you, you say cheerfully.

did you ask anyone to dance? he says, and you can hear the jesting undertone.

laughing, you say, no, i’d much rather dance with one person in particular.

he smiles back (though with a different sort of emotion, you still couldn't quite tell which, but you know it is something warm and sweet) and says, not that i would dance down there, but i think i’d rather dance with a very specific person, too.

oh, then, would you like to dance with me? you rib, grinning at him now.

the expression on his face shifts and he huffs out a laugh. you're hardly surprised when he says, i wouldn't know the steps.

you shrug, then reply, well, i could teach you. what do you say?

he blushes, but smiles in return. later, perhaps. when we are alone.

leaning towards magnus, you press a kiss to his lips, one he gladly returns.

#sdv headcanons #stardew headcanons #sdv hcs #stardew hcs #sdv wizard #this is so long but i love it anyways #anon im sorry i warped ur req to what i wanted to write #but if you squint you will definitely see the shy farmer #long af SJSJSJS #i had such a good time writing this #i hope you guys like this too!!#wizard fucker squad RISE #sdv rasmodius

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glitter-x-gold · 3 years ago

Text

requested: sarò la luce di sera (Måneskin)

requested by @/Sheruie on Archive of Our Own! (link on the blog!)

in which Cora doesn’t think she can do it anymore, but thankfully, there’s always family to show her that she can

@/Sheruie requested, here it is :)

Cora is a female character on this case, as an obvious reference to the song. However, how you perceive and interpret Cora is your own choice.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

- suicide attempt (nothing explicit, but still, implied)

~ * ~

Outside the hotel room, the night was dark and silent, the chilly breeze from the slightly opened window making Cora shiver slightly. She took a deep breath, followed by a sharp exhale, as she faced the unlabelled bottles that stood on the nightstand, at arm’s reach.

Some kind of dark, freezing void had taken over her chest, killing anything else, any other happy feeling that dared growing. It had been like that for weeks, maybe months, and she just didn’t believe there was any other way to live anymore. She just didn’t feel like she was strong enough to keep going. They certainly wouldn’t miss her much, right? No one wanted a broken someone, a person who could no longer put their own pieces back together, or at least pretend things were okay.

Laying abandoned on the bed, her phone buzzed, once, twice, the screen lighting up with unspoken urgency.Cora had told them she didn’t feel like going out that day.

Non mi va, raga’. Sono troppo stanca.

Ethan and Vic had respected her decision, though making sure she knew they’d come back running if she needed them; they had noticed how Cora hadn’t been herself for the past days. Maybe a little rest would help her get back on her feet. Thomas had kissed her forehead before going; a silent “Please be okay”. Damiano had stayed behind for a second longer to take her hand in his and squeeze it lightly, to then look her in the eyes with such intensity he had said everything without words. It didn’t matter how much she tried to hide it; he could see right through her. Now her phone was buzzing again. And she was ignoring it, still fighting an internal battle as to what she was about to do. She looked at the wrinkled paper she had left beside her, her shaky handwriting barely intelligible. She wasn’t sure if she should; however, she didn’t know if, come the time, she’d be brave enough to proceed. To finally stop burdening everyone. When Cora felt the dampness on her cheeks, she realized she was crying; her throat seemed to be closing, and an irrational panic arose to her brain. For the first time in weeks, she could feel, and what she felt was fear. She had the pill bottle in a firm grip, but something paralyzed her, so she remained there, sitting on the bed, crying, unable to do anything. A raging fire had replaced the numbness, destroying everything in its path, and Cora just wasn’t sure what was worse anymore.

The door to the room opened before she could process what was happening; she could hear the guys’ voices, chatting and bantering. She’d recognize Damiano’s laugh anywhere. Cora couldn’t even move, all she could do was cry, her breath in short, shaky puffs that hurt her aching chest. The sounds ceased abruptly when two friends fell silent, as they noticed her presence on the other side of the dimly lit bedroom.

“Cora?” - she heard Thomas call - “Cora?”

As they noticed she didn’t react, their calls for her grew louder and more worried. All of a sudden, before she could realize, a hand was placed on her shoulder, the cold contrasting with the excessive warmth of her skin.

“Cora… baby, what happened?”

Damiano was the first to notice the bottle Cora was holding in her hand; then, his gaze settled on the wrinkled sheet of paper placed beside her. Given her current state, it wasn’t at all hard for him to put two and two together. Setting all his heartbreak aside, he knew he had to think quick, so he brought himself down to his knees in front of her, while Thomas sat beside him, unable to hide his shock.

“Look at me” - Damiano asked, softly - “Cora, can you please look at me?”

While still gasping for air like a fish out of water, Cora made an effort to meet his gaze, focusing on something, anything but the thoughts that flooded her head. Moving gently, slowly, he placed his hands on top of hers, trying to unclench her fist and ease her grip on the pill bottle.

“We’re going to let this go, okay, amore?” - he said, while still trying to pry her fingers away from the object

Without realizing, the girl was whimpering, when she finally gave in to Damiano’s touch and opened her hand, releasing her grip on the pills, letting the container fall to the carpet with a soft thud, as it was replaced with the boy’s hand on hers. Damiano had climbed up on the bed to sit beside her.

“Did you take anything?”

Cora shook her head hastily, finally abandoning herself to the crying, no longer fighting her feelings, struck by the thought that she had almost done it. Thomas, still sitting in his place on the floor, was suddenly overwhelmed by the realization that if they had come home a minute too late…The girl was now huddled against Damiano’s chest, as he tightened his hold on her ever so gently, tears running down his own face, smudging his makeup.

“Andrà tutto bene, piccola” - he whispered, voice thick with his own overload of emotion - “We’re here now. Andrà tutto bene”

Cora tried to speak, to say something, anything, but instead all that left her chest was a loud, completely broken sob. Thomas took her hand, he too still confused and trying to fight past the shock that clouded his judgement momentarily.

“Perdonami”

It was, at last, the first intelligible word she was able to say.

The blond boy finally found it in himself to speak.

“There’s nothing to forgive. We love you so much”

They heard the door open again, Ethan and Vic’s voices speaking softly. They, too, fell silent, their features suddenly heavy, as they saw Damiano still holding on to Cora, both crying like children, and Thomas’ hand interlocked with hers, quiet tears, too, running down his pale cheeks. Exchanging a look, they took a step forward, making their presence known.

“Cora? Damià?” - Vic asked, confusion and worry in her voice - “Thomas… what’s happening?”

Ethan was the quickest of the two to catch a glimpse of the pill bottle laying forgotten on the carpet beside her. Then, he saw the note, and a hand flew up to cover his mouth in shock. Vic followed quickly. In a moment, both were, too, sitting next to the rest; Ethan on the bed, beside Cora, Vic on the floor, right next to Thomas, looking up at the pair. Damiano just felt thankful to have the girl safe in his arms; that they hadn’t been too late. Her cries had quieted down a little. The older boy left a gentle kiss on her forehead.

“How did you know?” - she asked, almost whispering

Thomas was quick to reply.

“You weren’t taking our calls. We were worried”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m a burden. I just thought you would be better off without me”

It was Ethan’s turn to speak up.

“Don’t say that again. Please” - he asked, hurt - “we love you, Cora. You’re our sister. We want to help you”

Then, Victoria:

“Don’t shut us out. We’ll fix this, we promise you”

Finally, Damiano cleared his throat and seemed to take a moment to think of how to phrase his thoughts.

“Sorellina mia, non sei mai sola… trust us on this one. Let us take care of you. We’ll make it okay”

For the first time in weeks, Cora felt an overwhelming amount of love replace the void that had been sucking all happiness out of her. A tiny little spark of warmth flickered on her heart, fueled by her family’s soft touches and kind words.

Damiano wiped the tears from her cheeks while his own still rolled down his face.As they huddled up together, taking comfort in each other, she knew they wouldn’t leave her. She had love. Something worth staying for.

--------

translations:

“Non mi va, raga’. Sono troppo stanca.” - “I don’t feel like it, guys. I’m too tired”

“amore (mio)” - (my) love

“Andrà tutto bene, piccola” - “Eveything’s going to be alright, baby”

“Perdonami” - forgive me

"Sorellina mia, non sei mai sola” - “My little sister... you are never alone”

(A/N): this is a very, very sensitive topic I would not normally write about. however, if this is a way to, somehow, bring any sort of comfort to someone going through a rough time, I am happy to provide it for you. let this be your reminder that there is always something worth fighting for.

this is a small story that in no way, shape or form glorifies mental illness. not only is it unrealistic and irresponsible to take it lightly, it is dangerous.

last but not least, everyone struggles at some point in life. bad days don’t last forever. you’re never alone. you’re so so loved. if you, like Cora, are not in a good place right now, remember there’s no shame in asking for help.

you can do this. it gets better. my inbox is open if you need a friend.

#måneskin imagine #please mind the trigger warnings!!!#måneskin #damiano david #vic de angelis #thomas raggi #ethan torchio #fic #short fic #drabble #requests open

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wisteriashouse · 4 years ago

Text

falling (ii).

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: dark

word count: 6184

remarks: this was so un-fluffy and its probably what i’ve struggled most with writing to date skdfgd as usual, please like, comment or reblog if you like it <3

ii. into your trap

One mistake is all it would take for everything to come crashing down.

That’s what had happened to the man before you, the man whose blood you’d spent hours scrubbing out of the carpet until every bit of crimson had been washed away. Because of a single moment of greed, he’d stolen a coat off a customer who’d ended up as the demon’s next meal - and that very coat had been a dead giveaway to the demon slayer investigating the disappearance of his relative. You wouldn’t be like that, you remind yourself, a tray in your hands as you make your way down the corridors of the brothel. You would never let a moment of emotion cloud your judgement and cause you to slip up. You can’t afford to.

It's all just for survival. That’s the reason why you’re the only one still alive today.

The rest before you have all been devoured.

Shifting your tray to one hand, you take a deep, slow exhale and smile, curving the corners of your mouth up at just the right angle. The mask you’ve perfected over years of deception falls seamlessly into place. You raise your hand to the door.

“Rengoku-san?” You knock, raising your voice to a bright and energetic timbre. “Are you still asleep? May I come in?”

Rengoku Kyoujurou. The man with burning conviction in his eyes. The demon slayer here to destroy the only life you know. The person who you have to kill with your own hands.

The demon you serve isn’t a fool, in fact, far from that - it is more than aware of the power and skill a person would have to possess to earn the title of a Pillar, and it knows that it has no chance of winning in a direct confrontation with him. That’s why the task has been relegated to you. Demon slayers might know breathing techniques that allow their physical prowess to surpass even demons, but that’s the very flaw with their training - that they��ve been taught to battle demons, and only demons.

You, on the other hand, are very much human, with the ability to slip between the gaps in their guard, the chink in their armour - the kindest ones have always the easiest to fool, after all.

Which is why you’re taken by surprise when there’s no answer from within. Wary at the lack of response, you rap your knuckles against the door once again, more urgent this time. Worry gnaws at your insides - what if he’s somehow already discovered the truth of this place, and has decided to flee before you can accomplish your task? The thought of the consequences you’d have to bear turns your stomach, and your knocking turns slightly more urgent. “Rengoku-san? Rengoku-san, are you inside?”

“Is there something you need from me?”

You whirl around in surprise at the voice, heart leaping into your mouth. Behind you, Kyoujurou stands in the hallway, bathed in the early morning light streaming in through the open windows. When your eyes meet his, he smiles at you in greeting, lips curving up naturally in a radiant grin. “It’s a beautiful morning today, so I went for a walk to watch the sunrise!”

“That sounds lovely.” You tell him with a smile of your own, relief seeping into your bones - he’s none the wiser than he was when he first stepped into the brothel, and you intend to keep it that way until you slit his throat. Holding up the tray in your hands, you’re quick to observe the way his eyes fall first on the plate of roasted sweet potatoes cubes - so you were right about the scent you picked up on him when he saved you from falling yesterday. “I was about to bring breakfast up to your room, but I didn’t think you would be awake this early. I’ll get up earlier next time so you can eat before you start your day. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, you know!”

“There’s no need to force yourself to wake up early for my sake!” Kyoujurou laughs, stepping over to slide open the door to his room for you. “Please, come in!”

The bedding has already been kept away in the oshiire, his few belongings neatly arranged on the low table in the corner of the room. When Kyoujurou moves to clear them so that you can put the tray down, you catch a glimpse of several sheets of paper with scribbles all over them, a stray black feather peeping out from under the corner of the tatami.

Your eyes narrow at the sight. The kasugai crow might turn out to be a problem, almost as bad as having unintended witnesses, but you have plenty of ways to ensure its message never gets back to the demon slayer corps, just as you had done with the previous one.

For now, the crow is the least of your worries - it’s nothing compared to the danger the man before you poses.

Completely oblivious to the thoughts running through your mind, Kyoujurou gestures at the table with a hand. “Feel free to put it down here!”

Your smile is painted back onto your face the very instant he glances at you, as easily as a brush dancing across paper. “Please excuse how simple it is. The potatoes aren’t cut very well, so they might not be evenly cooked.” You say, dropping your voice to a more shy, apologetic tone, just like how the entertainers from last night had tuned their instruments. “It was a little difficult to use a knife, so forgive me for that.”

Your words seem to jolt Kyoujurou into remembering the events from yesterday, and his eyes instantly dart down to inspect your hands as you set the tray down before him. They’re bandaged lightly with white gauze, something that you’d gotten up early to do this morning, and yet even with them on, making the potatoes convincingly uneven had still taken you multiple attempts. “Don’t worry about the potatoes. I’m sure they’ll taste wonderful, if your cooking last night was anything to go by! Do your hands still hurt?” Kyoujurou’s gaze is soft and filled with concern as he looks up at you, and you glance away with an appropriate degree of shyness in response.

“The scalding was a little more severe than I expected, but that was my fault. You don’t have to worry about it!” You reassure him, and as expected, he only gets more concerned when you try to brush off his kindness. “It’s just a minor inconvenience, and the worst that’ll happen is Masako-san’s nagging.” You sigh wistfully, the words murmured softly under your breath. “Ahh… I wish we had more hands in the kitchen here. It would be a lot easier to handle the cooking.”

From the way Kyoujurou’s eyes glance up at you, he’s heard every word you said.

You’ve set your trap.

“Well, I suppose that’s just how it is! It’s totally alright, though, I’ll just make do with what I have!” You smile energetically at the man sitting before you, although from the troubled expression on his face, there’s still more that he wants to say. “What I am sorry about is that you might have to wait for a while to have the meal I promised to make for you. I want to be in a good condition when I cook for you, so that you eat only my best!”

He seems taken aback by your enthusiasm for a moment, before his smile widens. “Take all the time you need!” Kyoujurou says kindly. “I’m sure that I can wait.”

From the way he beams at you, you’re confident that he knows nothing of your true intentions - relieved with how you’ve been doing so far, a silent sigh of relief leaves your mouth. Rising to your feet, you give him a small wave. “Well then, I’ll be going first. You can just leave the dishes here, I’ll come back for them later-”

“Have you eaten?” Kyoujurou asks.

The sudden question takes you by surprise. Preparing the sweet potatoes had taken longer than you’d thought it would, so you had quite forgotten about your own food in your rush to bring Kyoujurou’s food to his room. “Well, no, but I’m sure I can find something in the kitchen-”

“If you are available, then please eat with me!” He gestures opposite him at the table. You clutch the tray tightly in your hands while your mind races. Offering to let you sit with him at the table, to share his meal with you, does he perhaps suspect that you’ve tampered with his food?

Cold sweat prickles at the nape of your neck, but you fight to keep your voice light. “Oh? Did I make too much food for you to finish, Rengoku-san?”

Rengoku Kyoujurou, the man who holds your very life in his hands, only smiles warmly in response to your question.

“Food always tastes better when shared!” He explains to you jovially. There is no sign of any hidden intention or agenda in his gaze, his eyes clear and honest. His smile turns a hint amused as he regards you. “And was it not you who said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day? You should take care of yourself too!”

You take a seat in front of him, glad to have a reason to hide your shaky knees. Calm down, calm down, you repeat to yourself in an attempt to slow your racing heart. He hasn’t noticed a thing. Don’t panic and give yourself away. “I suppose I did,” you say, smiling at the man opposite you as you raise your chopsticks to take some natto for yourself. Kyoujurou grins and immediately reaches for the sweet potatoes, popping them into his mouth. This time, when he begins to exclaim ‘delicious!’ once more, you let yourself breathe, chewing slowly on the food in your mouth.

Everything, you think, as you watch Kyoujurou compliment your cooking with vigour, is going smoothly.

On the second day, just as you’d planned, Kyoujurou joins you in the kitchen after breakfast.

At the sight of him grinning at you in the doorway, you feign pleasant surprise and gratitude by clasping your bandaged hands over your mouth, eagerly welcoming him into your kitchen. Behind you, the door to the meat storage is locked tight with a padlock, hidden from view with several crates of spices to mask the smell.

He doesn’t have a clue that his fellow slayer’s head sat on your kitchen table last night.

By your estimates, you have roughly a week to kill Rengoku Kyoujurou, probably less. You’ve stayed up for the entirety of last night after your meeting with it, wracking your mind for reasons and excuses to get him to stay - but regardless of how many lies you might be able to manipulate him into believing, he will eventually figure out that Yugou Fukuzashi isn’t coming back, and when he does, you know his suspicion of this place will increase hundredfold.

That would make your job a whole lot harder, so with the deadline of a week hanging over your head, you set the first part of your plan to lower his guard around you into motion.

While you’ve heard of the near supernatural strength of the demon slayers, you’ve never actually met one in person aside from Yugou Fukuzashi (who by the time of your encounter had already been dying from blunt force to the head, courtesy of the man whose mistake had gotten you into this mess in the first place). However, you have no doubt that any of them, much less Kyoujurou, would be able to overpower you with ease. All you have on your side is your identity as a human and your cunning.

You’ll just have to make the best of what you have.

Hence, you think it’s more prudent to take things slow - like a spider approaching the prey wandering onto its web, you cannot allow yourself to move recklessly, or you’ll get caught in your own threads and fall to a demise of your own creation.

Kyoujurou fumbles with the knife at first, when you set him to work scraping the scales off some tuna, and part of you almost hesitates if you’ve gotten the wrong man - surely no Pillar trained in swordsmanship would be so awkward holding a blade. Still, you correct and guide him patiently, and he progresses under your tutelage faster than you expect. With his help, you finish lunch preparations slightly earlier than you expected to, leaving both of you with a small window of free time to sit down for a bit of a break.

“You learn fast, Rengoku-san.” You comment brightly as he sits at your kitchen table, his fingers drumming idly next to a dark stain in the tabletop. At your compliment, he pauses to grin, clearly pleased.

“Well, I had a good teacher.” He says and you laugh, picking up the knife you’d be using to put it aside. On the surface of the cold steel, the reflection of your smile is twisted, distorted. Casually, you lean forward. “Well then, how about letting your teacher give you a little test?”

Kyoujurou blinks, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile. “Sure!” He agrees, amicably. “What test would you have me participate in?”

You rise to your feet. “Close your eyes, it’s a surprise.” You urge. For a moment, Kyoujurou holds your gaze, before his eyes slip shut slowly, his breathing slow and even. “Yes?”

Your hand drifts along the shelves, your fingers coming to rest against the lid of a tightly sealed jar, tucked out of sight in a corner. There’s no label on it, but you’re more than familiar with the substance that lies inside. You’ve used it plenty of times now, after all.

Cyanide.

Should you try it now? With Total Concentration Breathing, a demon slayer should be able to slow the spread of poison by slowing their circulation, but you have no idea how effective it will be on a man of Kyoujurou’s caliber. Chewing on your bottom lip, you hesitate, torn between wanting to get your job done as fast as possible and worrying that you might fail.

If you do fail, you’ll be as good as dead. He wouldn’t even need his sword, with the strength in his arms alone, he could probably tear your head clean off your shoulders.

The thought makes cold sweat slide down the back of your neck.

“Are you going to make me taste test something?” Kyoujurou asks curiously, and your hand jerks off the jar in an instant, so quickly you almost knock the bowl adjacent to it onto the ground. “Should I continue to keep my eyes closed?”

“Of course! Patience, Rengoku-san.” You say, trying to hide the tremble of your hands, even though you can see his eyes are still firmly shut. The demon had warned you about the demon slayers’ strong survival instinct, but this should be just coincidence… mere coincidence, that must be it. Still, because you’re wary now, you turn away from the jar on your shelf. Not now.

Reaching for the fruit basket instead, your shaking fingers close around a fruit and you turn back to hold it to Kyoujurou’s nose. A guileless smile still sits on his lips, as if he has no idea about the internal turmoil churning deep in you at the very moment. You take a deep breath and swallow, eyes fixed intently on his face.

“Guess what this is.” Kyoujurou’s nose twitches slightly for a moment, brows furrowing as he attempts to place the scent. Barely a second later, a triumphant grin passes his lips and he states his answer with full confidence. “Peach.”

“Wow, you’re good at this.” You say, exchanging the peach in your hands for something else. Kyoujurou beams excitedly at the praise. “Here, what about this?”

“Sweet potato!”

“Right again. What about this one?”

You hold up a mushroom under his nose, and instantly you see his lips pull into a frown. “It… doesn’t smell good. I seem to remember Kochou telling me something about this scent before…”

All of the hairs at the nape of your neck prick at once and you press your lips, trying your best to subdue the feeling of terror churning in the pit of your belly. “Of course it doesn’t.” You say, forcing your voice to take on a light, innocent tone. “Open your eyes.”

Kyoujurou opens his eyes slowly, staring down curiously at the mushroom you have in your hands before his eyes widen in shock. “[name], put that down, that’s poisonous!”

You lick your lips, taking a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Of course it’s poisonous.” You hum lightly, waving the mushroom at him. “The first rule of cooking that my student should learn is to never eat things you don’t recognise, especially when it comes to mushrooms and berries. This is the death cap, probably one of the most poisonous mushrooms in the country! I’m surprised you could recognise it by its scent.”

He nods, listening intently. “Most people wouldn’t, but I have a… friend who is a pharmaceuticals expert! She deals with all manner of poisons and their cures, so I have some knowledge about them.” He tells you, and you have to contain your sigh of frustration. This new tidbit of information makes your job a whole lot harder.

“You have a lot of… interesting friends.” You make sure he sees you toss it into the bin before he can ask you what lethally poisonous mushrooms are doing in your kitchen.

Kyoujurou only grins. “They’re all very honourable people! I am blessed to have met each and every one of them!” His smile widens as he looks at you. “It is my fortune to have met someone like you here as well!”

You stare at him in the middle of taking a seat opposite him, taken completely off guard for a moment. “What?”

“When I first got here, looking for my friend, I was actually rather concerned about him! He’s investigating something dangerous, you see, so I was sent to provide him with some support.” Kyoujurou explains, and your hands fist the cloth of your hakama under the table. “Since there is nothing for me to do but wait, I thought that I might spend the next few days in worry! However, cooking with you makes time fly by, so thank you for that!”

You bite your lip at his words, before you smile at him, trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling that has suddenly lodged itself in the back of your throat.

“It’s my pleasure, Rengoku-san.”

That night, after Kyoujurou has long gone to bed, you stand over the table the two of you had sat at together this morning, knife in hand as you slice carefully at the fish on your cutting board. The fugu meat falls away in clean chunks, but the meat isn’t what you’re after - reaching inside, you pull out its inner organs with a pair of tweezers, putting them in a bowl next to you, careful not to get any on your gloves.

It takes much longer than cyanide to extract, but it’s over a thousand times more potent. Only twenty five milligrams of it is needed to kill an adult man, according to your experience. The victim first experiences paralysis of the muscles, before the poison moves to the diaphragm and the muscles of that move the ribs, ultimately leading to failure of the lungs. The victim then dies from asphyxiation.

Without his lungs, all his Total Concentration Breathing will be rendered useless.

Tetrodotoxin is a water soluble toxin, it is odourless and tasteless, and most importantly, there is no known antidote to it.

You set down the knife. One of the eyeballs you’d removed stares at you from the bowl, accusation in its shiny, bloody depths, but you swallow and pick up the bowl anyway, moving towards the distiller to extract what you need from its contents.

“It’s nothing personal, Rengoku-san.” You mutter to yourself.

It’s just a matter of survival here, after all.

On the second day, the robbery happens.

Or rather, well, it attempts to happen.

You had planned to collect some ingredients from your usual vendor outside the gate, dropping slight hints to Kyoujurou here and there when he’d been helping you with dinner preparation the day before. The moment you stepped out of the back door of the brothel, you had found Kyoujurou already waiting there with his usual bright grin, the early rays of the breaking dawn setting him alight in a blaze of red and gold.

This time, you could not bring yourself to feign surprise, instead smiling and telling him of your gratitude as the two of you began walking down the street. Due to the early hour, the red light district is oddly quiet, empty streets almost peaceful except for the occasional drunkard reeking of alcohol stumbling from one tavern to another.

The third time you see Kyoujurou wrinkle his nose at the smell, you turn to him, head tilted.

“Are you not fond of alcohol?”

He shakes his head, and out of the corner of your eye, you see that his usual smile has dimmed. “Alcohol muddles the mind and dulls the reflexes! It would compromise my capabilities.” Kyoujurou tells you, as the two of you walk side by side. You steer him into a narrow side alley, your shoulders brushing against each others. “I prefer not to drink unless the occasion calls for it, since I must always be at my peak physical condition at any given time.”

You let your mouth pull into a confused frown. “Why would you need to be-”

Something steps into the alley in front of you, blocking out the sunlight and casting long shadows across the ground. You glance up to see two ruffians standing in your path, leering grins on their faces. Your footsteps falter, before coming to a stop completely. Next to you, Kyoujurou does the same.

“Oi.” One of the men call, his sneer only growing. “Pay up! Don’t you know that you’re stepping on our territory?”

Kyoujurou frowns at their words, turning to whisper into your ear. “Are we intruding on their territory?” He asks, and you shake your head, stepping forward to confront them.

“This is a back alley behind Momoshizu.” You say, your voice level as you point at the brothel right next to them. “Unless you’re a dog guarding the back entrance to a brothel or a stray cat chasing rats for a living, you don’t have territory here. If you want to extort money from someone, do it outside the walls of the pleasure district.” Your eyes narrow. “Penniless trash like you don’t belong here.”

“[name]!” Kyoujurou sounds aghast at your barbed words, but you lean back to whisper to him. “If you give in even a little, they’ll start harassing you for more. It’s better to turn them down from the start.”

“Yes, of course,” Kyoujurou says, brows furrowed in worry as he regards the two men before you, “but this could turn out dangerous, wouldn’t it be better to call the law enforcement instead?”

“Well, yes, if there was any law enforcement in the first place-”

A low chuckle interrupts the two of you, and you turn around to see one of the men pulling something from his pocket. Silver glints in the early morning light and you take a step back, eyes widening. “Rengoku-san, they have a knife!”

Kyoujurou’s face is impassive, and for a moment you wonder what he’s thinking about when he suddenly smiles again, his usual grin returning to his face as he rests a hand on your shoulder. Its weight and warmth brings with it a certain peace that leaves you stunned. “It’s alright, there’s no need to worry!” He booms, almost radiant in the shadowed alley. Gently, he nudges you behind him and steps forward protectively, shielding you completely from their sight with his large frame. “You have me! I promise I won’t let any harm come to you!”

Come with me, a soft, poisonous voice echoes from the edges of your memory. It’s a cold, frostbitten night, but the blood on your hands is so, so hot. I won’t let any harm come to you. Come with me, little human. I’ll fill your stomach and give you a place to sleep. You just want to live…

Don’t you?

Bile rises in your throat, but luckily for you, Kyoujurou isn’t looking at you, his eyes trained on the men before you instead, his back straight and head raised. Bitter resentment at the fates gnaws at you, your hands clenching tightly into fists.

On that cold night, why couldn’t you have met someone like Rengoku instead?

“Kindly move out of the way.” You hear Kyoujurou say. His hands remain calmly by his sides, neither in a defensive nor offensive stance. “The alley is not large enough for the two of us to pass at the same time.”

“Hah?” The ruffian holding the knife steps closer so that he’s in Kyoujurou’s face, their noses almost touching. Still, Kyoujurou does not make a move to remove the knife from him. “Do you need your ears cleaned, idiot? I said, this is our territory. You’re the one who needs to pay up, scum!”

“I repeat, please move aside, or I will have to use force.” In spite of the insults being thrown in his face, Kyoujurou’s tone is still firmly polite, but now his words are edged with steel. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

“Hurt us? You’re making me laugh here, man.” The ruffian spits in his face, pressing the point of his blade to Kyoujurou’s throat.

“Rengoku-san!” You exclaim, in shock, yet Kyoujurou still doesn’t move, hands pressed solidly to his sides as he looks at the man in the eye, dead calm.

“Get the other one, too. That fucking mouth needs some payback. If we sell her, we might be able to get some money out of that too.”

Your eyes widen. The man’s partner turns his gaze on you, and he grins, pulling out a knife as well. Biting on your lower lip, you take a step back.

“Rengoku-san?” You reach out to tug at his sleeve. “We should probably run-”

Your fingers close around empty air.

Hours later, you’ll sit in your room, playing back your memories of this moment and yet still have no idea what you’ve just witnessed. All you see if a blur of orange, and then suddenly the man who was holding his knife to Kyoujurou’s throat is flat on his back, hands empty of any weapons. You��ve barely begun to shift your gaze when you see that the second man has already met with much the same fate, and for a moment, you can only stand there and stare in horror when you realise just what you’ve been tasked with killing.

He’s a monster.

Kyoujurou stands over them, not a strand of hair disheveled or out of place, the rise and fall of his shoulders still even and calm - he doesn’t look like he’s moved an inch.

You have to kill him? Someone like him? Impossible. Your hand clasps over your mouth to contain your voice before it can flee your throat, eyes wide. No, no, no. You’ll die if you try to take him on. But if you don’t, you’ll...

Rows of jagged teeth fill your vision, crimson blood splattering over the carpet, a looming grin on the walls-

“It’s alright now!” A gentle voice cuts through your panic, and you look up to see Kyoujurou standing over you. You didn’t even realise when your legs had lost their ability to keep you standing, your behind planted in the dirt and your knees weak. With a reassuring grin, he holds out his hand to you. “Come, stand!”

You stare at his outstretched hand for a moment before tentatively placing your own hand in his. He pulls you to your feet, his other hand supporting you gently. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” The words are wooden in your mouth. “You protected me, after all.”

Kyoujurou grins at you. “That’s good to know!” Turning back to the two men still groaning on the ground, Kyoujurou holds up the two knives. “I’ll be taking these now.” His voice is stern. “I don’t want to see the two of you threatening innocent people again. Understood?”

Nodding frantically, the two men pick themselves up and scramble away, almost falling over their own feet in their bid to escape. As he watches them go, Kyoujurou lets out a sigh and pockets the knives in his sleeves, shaking his head. “Truly terrible, that people would try to hurt others this way for their own benefit.”

You swallow at his comment.

“Unbelievable.” Compose yourself. Taking a deep breath, you affix a smile onto your face once more. “Well, now I see what you mean by needing to stay at the peak of your physical abilities. You’re very strong!” You say, trying to lighten the mood. It works, because Kyoujurou lets out a laugh at your words, his eyes crinkling as he smiles.

“I’m flattered!” He says cheerfully. “Now, shall we get going? There’s still lunch to prepare, after all!”

The sun is steadily climbing up the sky when you look up at it, and you yelp, tugging at his sleeve. “Oh no! Hurry, Rengoku-san! We’re late!”

The two of you run through the streets of the red light district together.

“You didn’t warn us about him!”

You hold your breath at the sound of the door being thrown wide open, exhaling in an attempt to stay calm. Turning around, you pick up a ceramic jar of sake from next to you. “It’s a nice night out, isn’t it?” From the open window, you can see the full moon hanging in the sky outside.

“I don’t have time for your nonsense.” One of the two ruffians from this morning snarls. You pause in opening the jar to compose yourself, before you invite him into the room with a wave of your hand.

“Sit down and we’ll talk.” You say, pouring out three cups of alcohol. Both of them glare at you from opposite the room before they stomp up to you, unceremoniously sitting themselves onto the ground and scowls still painted on their faces. “Here, have a drink. I make the alcohol at this brothel myself.”

They don’t touch their cups, eyes full of mistrust as they stare at you. With a sigh, you shake your head.

“I’ll take the first drink, then.”

They watch you warily as you pick up a cup on your own, taking a long sip to enjoy its taste before placing the cup back down on the table. So different from Kyoujurou, you wonder to yourself, remembering the time you’d offered him wagashi during your first meeting and he had downed all of them without a second thought. Now that you think about it, you probably should have struck at that very moment. Evil truly expects evil from others.

“I want out of this job.” The first man snaps the second you put down the cup, grabbing a cup of sake from the table and taking a gulp. His partner, in contrast, downs the entire cup in an instant. “And I want compensation.”

You pour both of them another cup. “I can agree with the first one.” You say, trying to keep your voice even. “Not with the second.”

“You didn’t tell us that your target was going to be a fuckin’ monster!”

The two of you eye each other for a moment, neither willing to budge. Behind him, his partner picks up his refilled cup and downs it once again

“You never asked.” You answer. Your voice only wavers once. “Furthermore, you didn’t even manage to kill him. The only thing the two of you were good for was your acting, and even then kabuki dancers would have done a better job.”

“What the fuck was the point of the entire staged robbery anyway?” He snaps, knocking back another cup of alcohol. “If you meant for us to kill him, you wouldn’t have…”

The man’s eyes darken in realisation as he says it, his arm reaching across the table to grip at the collar of your clothes, yanking you forward hard so that the two of you are face to face. Your ribs knock painfully against the edge of the low table, but you don’t let your gaze leave his, forcing your expression to stay neutral.

“You were playing us the entire time.” His voice is a low, raspy snarl. “You knew we weren’t going to be able to kill him.”

You don’t reply, but your lack of denial is more than confirmation enough for him.

He hurls the cup at you. You barely manage to duck in time and it only clips your shoulder, its contents dripping all over the front of your kimono. The slight, bitter scent of almonds permeates the air. “I’m going to kill you.” He snarls, getting to his feet. Like this, he towers over you easily. “You’re going to regret messing with the wrong type of people, missy.”

He shoves you hard and you go crashing to the ground painfully with a yelp, your head knocking against the corner of the table and you see stars flash before your eyes. Before you can regain your balance, he swings one leg over your hips, pinning you down to the ground and before pulling another knife from his sleeve - this time, a sharp, single edged blade that could easily slice your neck to ribbons.

He presses it against your throat, and you swallow, trying not to tremble and cut yourself on the edge of his blade. You don’t know how you’d explain such a wound to Kyoujurou tomorrow.

“Now,” his breath is rancid, his knee pressing painfully into your hip - you know bruises will form there tomorrow, “I’m going to show you what exactly happens when you waste our time like this, you fucking-”

“Fujita!”

The grip on your robe loosens ever so slightly as the man whips around to glare at his partner. “I’m talking here, man, what the hell do you...” his partner is writhing on the tatami mats, clawing at his throat, desperate, breathless screams leaving his mouth. “Saburo! Saburo, what’s happening to you?”

You shove him off you with all your strength and he topples to the ground with a heavy thud. Shaking your head as you stagger to your feet, you wipe at the stain on your kimono before eyeing it with disappointment. “This is going to take ages for me to clean now.” You exhale as Saburo flails wildly, choking on air as he attempts to breathe. Fujita whirls around to stare at you.

“What did you do?” He roars, but when he tries to stand, he staggers to the side, nearly falling before he manages to catch his balance. His eyes go wide, and he looks up at you in horror.

“Poison in your cups, but not mine, of course. It would be a waste of alcohol to poison the entire jar.” You say wearily, picking up your own cup from the table and taking another sip. “Cyanide, if you want me to be specific.”

Fujita chokes, grasping desperately at his own throat, before he stumbles and falls onto his knees, eyes wide with terror. You watch as the knife falls from his hands and clatters onto the tabletop. Saburo is already still, aside from the occasional twitch. “The two of you made useful test dummies, I suppose. Well, I could pay the two of you for that… but you won’t have much need for money in a few moments, anyway.”

Still, Fujita tries to claw his way to the door, struggling to put one hand in front of the other as he fights to force air into his lungs. You watch him for a few moments and wonder if you should have used a higher dosage instead to finish him off more quickly. Picking up the jar of alcohol, you cross the room in three quick strides and bring it down on his head with all the force you can muster.

The heavy ceramic jar of alcohol shatters the second it connects with the back of his skull, and Fujita crumples to the ground one final time. For a moment, the room is silent except for the sound of your heavy breathing, and when you look down at your hands, a shallow cut bleeds red over your palm before the blood falls to the tatami below in little, crimson drops.

Looking at the mess before you, you can only shake your head and sigh.

“It’s nothing personal.” You say, out loud. “You tried to kill me, after all.”

The corpses on the ground have no reply.

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