#that makes it harder to freely change from one language to another

[octochick]

pancks (xaninho and agent 18 ex admin) is streaming and man. im not the the type to really like the portuguese accent but i find his adorable idrkw

[mistress-of-the-arts]

The End

Breaking down I sob and cry, and all these words tune themselves into my mind, a mad mad whisper of collective consciousness coming all through me, or maybe it’s nothing but my own craziness after all. I remember my plant babies, so neglected, and stepping into the dark bedroom to water them I feel the coziness of the rug I bought right before leaving and already forgot about. It makes me cry all the more, as everything right now it’s perfectly heartbreaking. My tree has leaves now, and I remember analyzing its buds with a boy I wish I hadn’t given myself to so freely. Just another one on the list, I’m ridden by a deep feeling of guilt. Not even shame, not right now at least, it’s betrayal to myself and the beauty I am, and to all my friends too, we want better for each other. Sometimes that is all that keeps me alive, sometimes I can only wonder if it will ever be enough. Are we all just lost? Tell me, are we insane? Better off dead?

And I go back into the living room, lighting the Thailand incense and bringing the pistachio stone from Austin in, holding it coldly against my breast as I burst out again at the sight of the blanket still with his shape in it, I don’t want to think about him lying there laughing, and taking all that he can while he can. He’s a lost soul too, and nothing I can do about it but to let him go, another charming manchild, some decades older and none the wiser than me. I sob and sob and sob for all of them – I asked for Kali, so innocently, so confidently walking the sunny texan streets on my own, now she is visiting. No more bullshit, she says. “My only friend, the end” Jim’s reciting in the background. He is always there somehow when I am reborn, because he knows the game. He went right to the end and the culture followed. Down down and down I go. I don’t want to be him but sometimes it feels as if there is no choice but to take the mad life movie as it comes, and as that it’s full of pain and non-coincidences, “and all the children are insane”. The more I move on the more I understand the process of the shedding and that it just has to happen over and over and over again, the deceptions growing all the more subtle and harder to perceive, and I am here to follow them and go into them, for what I seek is understanding and to understand I need to experience. It is not a logical process, it’s intuitive and magical, and for now it involves boys and drugs, boys and drugs, that’s what these streets are all about. “The West is the best” just fuck fuck fuck the pain away, out of me and into the ether. 

I am one with all of my girlfriends. Right now I cannot feel any distinction. We are all on the same path and now it’s time to turn it into magic. To understand just how united we are. To understand that we are made from the same stuff, and I want us to remember that. I am looking for a language to put it all in, a language for us to excavate the deepest shit within each other, to exorcise. I cannot sit around in strange cafes anymore and try to make sense of it all but never take it anywhere. There is too much meaning in all our stories, too much to be unpacked and it’s not about us even, it’s about what is happening all around us. All of us are magical pearls waiting to shine and we are made of something else, we feel things differently. We can never come together as one, yet I want to see that beauty shine, I want to see what it can be all combined, I want to dance and share and laugh, I want something deeper and it’s there, I’m just slowly feeling out how to reach it. We are all artists, after all, and is that not something to work with? There’s an unlocking to be done of powers which I can’t even fathom. I’m not saying all this will change much for anyone else, but for us it can change the world if only we do it right, and only for a moment, until things will have to move again. Right here and now feels so potent. Berlin does not feel potent anymore, but my community does, my lonely apartment right outside of town does too. It is turning into a magical place, slow but steady. We are all just about to explode. We need to create meaning by ourselves. We need to become the community we so long for. We need to be the blueprint. And I want to show you what I really am finally, somehow, if I can. I have no idea where all this is coming from and where it is going, it’s just flowing through me and I wonder if it will be there tomorrow. I wonder what these letters will mean to me tomorrow, and to people who will read them. I will never really know. Meaning is only in the now, and impossible to grasp with words. I am forever and ever and ever swirling around it, and there’s nothing I’d rather do. Now Pink Floyd is playing. Words and music words and music. It’s all I ever wanted. Oh Kali, when and why did I start looking for more? The magic is not in someone else’s eyes but somewhere deep inside, and I am here now to honor it.

[laeorinel]

FFXIV Write 2023 - Day 27 - Sole

Another day of struggle writing done.

Shadowbringers spoilers aplenty.

As Samara lurked around the upper walkways of the Crystarium, she occasionally glanced down at the people below. There was an excited buzz in the air; word had spread of the night sky returning to yet another area of Norvrandt. It had been a while since she had seen The Wandering Stairs so busy. Drinks flowed freely, and she would not be surprised if the partying continued all through the night. She would spot her fellow Scions every so often, darting through the crowds to either get their own drinks and join in with the revelry or moving onto somewhere else.

She spotted Ryne off to the side with Thancred. While it was hard to make out all too much from the distance from what she could tell from their body language, both of them were at peace and, for once, looked comfortable in each other's company. She did not miss, however, the occasional glance from one or both of them in her direction.

A part of her wanted to join them, but it was safer for her to keep a distance. She did not want to worry them further, especially now that hiding the changes the Light was causing was becoming more complicated. She knew Ryne would offer to share the burden of being the host to the Lightwardens aether. She would not let that happen.

No, this was how it had to be. She had the sole responsibility of keeping the Light at bay. She would not condemn the young woman who had only just carved out a name and place for herself to this fate. Nor would she condemn the man so dear to her to lose another one he loved. If her life was the price that needed to be paid to save this world from destruction, then so be it, but that did not mean they needed to see every moment of her decline.

The physical changes were becoming harder to disguise. Her hair was becoming more brittle and paler as the days went on. At first, it was just a few stray hairs tinged a horrid pale bright yellow; now, most of her hair was tinted white at the root. She could easily cover it up with various dyes, but the changes to her eyes and scales were harder to conceal. She doubted the others had not noticed the changes in her attire, with every shred of scale and skin hidden beneath cloth, leather and metal. Her eyes she could do little about.

Still, the external changes paled in comparison to the ones happening inside. She was partly keeping herself separate from everyone else because she could feel herself coming undone at the seams. Her emotions were harder to keep in check, and her already tempestuous anger was always a hair's breadth away from being unleashed on anyone for even the most minor of things. Then there was the paranoia. The First had changed her friends; how could it not? Regardless, she still trusted them. Or did. Now, there were moments when she questioned their motives and wondered if they were friend or foe. On more than one occasion, she had found herself reaching for a weapon, ready and willing to fight any or all of them. It was a feral state of mind she had not felt in years, and to say it unnerved her was an understatement.

Then there was the hunger. She would need to go out hunting again soon. It was easier to hide the increase in her appetite that way, though she imagined sooner or later someone would come across the string of animal corpses felled across Lakeland or catch her mid-hunt or feast. That is assuming none were aware already. She knew the Exarch had a means of keeping an eye on her. Not to mention, a certain ghost was never too far away.

"Yet again, I find you alone. Want some company?" as if one cue said ghost made his appearance. Ardbert made his way over to Samara, taking his place by her side at the railing.

"Are you saying that more for my sake or yours?" Samara did not take her eyes off the crowds below as she spoke.

"Does it matter? How are you feeling? You're looking a little pale."

Samara sighed, leaning heavily against the railing and staring vaguely toward Thancred and Ryne. "Before, when I thought of the Light, I thought of the sun, a force that nourishes life but could also snuff it out in an instant of fire and flame. Compassion and fury in equal measure. I was wrong. It is cold and unyielding. I feel like I am in the middle of a snowstorm, the cold robbing me of my senses with each passing moment until nothing is left but the still of winter."

"Not good then. I assume you know what is happening?"

"That I am becoming a Sin eater, or that I am dying?" Samara idly picked at a patch of off-colour scales. She tried to not dwell on it, even if they were starting to turn a discomforting shade of gold.

The question went unanswered, with Ardbert quickly changing the topic. "What will you do?"

"Keep fighting for as long as I can. Pray whatever scheme the Exarch has in mind works, and if not…take matters into my own hands."

"What the hells does that mean?"

"If I fall to the Light, both this world and the Source are doomed to calamity. However, the calamity the Ascians wish to bring about can only happen if I, or something harbouring this damn Light, exists."

"So you would return to the Source before you turn. You realise that could cause what is happening here to repeat there. The aether would pass onto another, and then two worlds would be full of Sin eaters."

"Unless the aether was destroyed or absorbed in a single moment." her gaze turned up to the night sky. She knew it was not Nhamma up in the inky black sky, but it was a comfort all the same.

"On the Source, the land I hail from is known as the Azim Steppe. There is a sacred place up in the mountains known as the House of the Crooked Coin. Inside, you can find a fragment of the Dusk Mother, Nhamma, one of my people's deities. People from Tribes all over the steppe travel there when…when everything becomes too much. We throw ourselves at Mother Nhamma's mercy. Literally. Everything a person is, was, or could ever be is destroyed."

"That's your plan? Suicide?"

"What other choice is there? I either live and am freed of this burden or become the doom of this world and everyone on it. I refuse to let the latter happen. Not if I have a way of stopping it."

"Except you don't! You have no way of knowing if your plan will work."

"It is better than the alternative. What sounds better? Guaranteed destruction or the faint hope of averting it? I'm dead either way."

"I just don't want to take everyone down with me…"

[forever-rogue]

omggg so if I may ask for a request🥺 don’t feel pressured to do it! I have no idea of your requests are even open or not! Anywho, can I request Javier x female reader? You know how everyone has a thing for javiers neck and chest and how his shirts are always open exposing that? I was wondering if you do a smut or something where the reader marks his neck up and everything and it’s all hot cos she’s like so turned on by just his neck and the next day, he walks into work and Steve teases him for the hickies and all😂 you can choose whether he wears em proudly or if he becomes shy and flustered about it😌 just smutty/playful!✨

Javi and his glorious neck 🥺 this got soft but enjoy! 

Javier Peña x Fem!Reader ; warnings: language, mentions of sex

Javier Masterlist 

»»————-　♡　————-««

“I’ve missed you,” your whisper was hot and breathy in his ear as Javier worked to get you out of your dress, and you did the same to him, tugging on his tight black button up. You finally won the struggle to rid him of clothing first, hands moving sweetly to undo each button as he tried to kiss you, making it just that much harder, but you were both giggling nonetheless, “Javi!”

“Come on, Dulzura,” he whispered in between kisses, “we’ve been apart for a week. Need you now.”

“Are you forgetting that I was without you as well?” you managed to undo several of the buttons and just went ahead and ripped open his shirt before pulling it off his shoulders. It was quickly discarded onto the floor, along with your dress that he managed to pull over your head, “always miss you so much, Javier. Hate when you guys leave me behind.”

“It was too dangerous for you,” he insisted as he reached for the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down and trying to see how wet you were. Your efforts to keep them away were in vain, and a small moan escaped your lips at the gentle contact, “want to keep you safe.”

“I know,” you promised as you pulled his wandering hands away from your body, “still missed you like crazy.”

While it was normally Javier took control at this point, you decided it was your turn to do so. When he reached behind you to undo your bra, you grabbed his hand and shook your head, causing him to groan loudly, “you’re fucking killing me right now.”

“Good,” you grinned at him, a wicked, wonderful little thing. Running a hand through his dark locks, you pulled him close and brushed yours lips over his, “now take off your pants and get on the bed. No touching. It’s my turn to make you feel good.”

“Baby…” he practically moaned your name at this point, but did as you asked, eager to see what was in store. Quickly undoing his jeans and pulled them down his legs, you almost laughed in amusement when you realized he wasn’t wearing underwear, “what?”

“Jesus, Javi,” you gently pushed him onto the bed, grinning as he laid against the pillows, looking at you with nothing but love and adoration in his dark eyes, “aren’t you ever worried about your...you know what? Never mind. I’m just glad you’re home.”

“Me too baby,” he agreed as you crawled onto the bed and effortlessly straddled his waist. His hands found purchase on your hips as you tried to get some friction against him. The sound from the back of his throat was low and guttural, and you leaned down to kiss him, starting with his lips and then his jaw, before finding your way down to the glory that was his neck. His breath hitched in his throat as soon as you pressed that first kiss to the hollow of his throat, “shit.”

“You’re all mine, Javier,” you whispered against his delicious, golden skin, “and I’m going to make sure everyone knows it.”

“Fuck.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

"Oh my God," you grinned at the sound of his surprised voice filtering back to you from the bathroom. You were still in bed, bare and wrapped up in the big, soft duvet. While you worked together, you'd decided to hang back and let him get a head start and get into the office first, just so it wasn't totally obvious that you were together. 

Although after today, it might have been painfully obvious. Just as you had intended.

You laid back, folding your hands behind your head as you waited for him to rush back in. Trying to keep the victorious little smirk off your face was proving to be a challenge.

"What's wrong, Javi?" you called out before you heard a heavy sigh as he trudged back into the bedroom. And what a glorious sight it was to behold. He was wearing nothing but a pair of tight jeans, and an exasperated look on his face as pointed at his neck and chest, "mhmm...a good look. What's the problem, baby?"

"You," he waggled his finger at you, attempting to put on a serious face, but you could still see the amusement hidden underneath, "you are a menace! You did this one purpose!"

Sliding out of the bed, you flounced over to him, moving to stand behind him and wrapping him up in your arms. Despite his best efforts, a small sigh escaped his lips as you steered him towards the mirror. You let your hands roam his body as you pressed gentle kisses along his shoulder. He relaxed against you, closed his eyes as he hummed in content.

"I love you so much, Javier," you whispered softly. Trailing your hand up his body, you gently touched some of the love bites that were liberally sprinkled all over him. There was definitely no mistaking what they were, and you were proud of the job you had done, "so, so much, Javier. I don't care who knows, I don't want to hide it anymore."

"Do you have any idea how incredible you are?" he slowly opened his eyes as you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his hands moving to cover yours, "I love you, Dulzura. You know that if people find out things might have to change."

"I know," you promised, "but I don't care. I just want to be able to love you openly and freely. Nothing else matters."

"Yeah?" he asked as he slowly turned around and grabbed your face delicately in his hands as you nodded, "alright. Let's do this then. I love you too."

»»————-　♡　————-««

Javier strolled into the office, wearing his bright pink button up, making it a point to leave the top buttons open to expose his chest.

You walked in a few moments after, holding coffee for yourself and your partners. Setting your own on your desk, going over to Steve and setting his cup down before doing the same to Javi. 

Steve greeted you with a small hello and a smile. He looked over at Javi, opening his mouth to say something but instantly stopping and staring at him.

"Umm," he stood up and came around to sit on his desk. Remaining silent, you walked to your own space and sank into your chair, curious to see what would go down. Javier raised an eyebrow at his partner, calmly sipping his coffee, "what the hell happened to you? Good night?"

"Yeah," Javier leaned back in his seat and set up his legs on the desk. He caught your eye and gave you a cheeky wink, "you could say that."

"Where'd you go?" Steve shook his head with laughter, assuming it was the same old Javi he had always known, "one of your favorites?"

"Yeah," he answered with a knowing little smirk, "she's a favorite of mine."

"Where's she from? A new girl?" you almost snorted with laughter as Javier shrugged lightly, unsure of how much you wanted to tell Steve then and there, "she must like you!"

"She does," you said suddenly, taking the two of them by surprise as you stood up and walked over to Javier’s desk, "she's a big fan, and I think she might even be in love with him."

"Oh...do you know her too?" Steve still wasn't putting two and two together, his brows knitted together in confusion, "or…"

"Yeah," you hopped on Javi's desk and sat down, offering him a small smile, "I know her."

"Oh...oh?" his mind was reeling as he watched you lean down and gently kiss Javi. Javi made it a point to lean up and deepen the kiss, standing you up and holding your face his hands before grinning at you, "wait...what the fuck?"

"I was with my favorite girl last night," Javi turned to Steve and it seemed like everything suddenly clicked as his bright eyes widened, "in our bed, in the apartment we've been sharing for a while." 

"You mean…" a small grin spread on his features as you nodded, "you're together?"

"Mhmm," you admitted, "I just didn't feel like hiding it any longer. Now let the chips fall where they may."

"I knew it!" he practically shouted as he jumped and headed to the door, "Rogers owes me a hundred bucks!"

"Wait!" you shouted as Javier just broke into laughter, "you guys bet on us?!"

"Of course," Steve said with a smirk, "it was always going to happen wasn’t it? You two were inevitable!"

Without another word he ran out of the shared office space, leaving just the two of you there. Turning back to Javi, you threw your hands up as if to say what the hell? 

"I guess that went better than expected," he offered as you shrugged lightly before going back over to him and sitting in front of him on the desk, "now we don't have to worry about it. None of them are going to do anything about it."

"Apparently we're inevitable," you laughed as he scooted his chair closer and put his hands on your waist, "cherish the thought. Would you have ever thought that?"

"That we would end up together?" he asked as you nodded, "hell no."

"Wow, Javier Peña! Really making me feel loved here!"

"I knew you were much too good for me the moment I met you," he admitted, "right from when I asked you to get me coffee and you told me to fuck off."

"In my defense," you held up a finger, "I was brand new and you treated me like a personal assistant and I was not having it. I couldn't let you get away with it!"

"And good thing you didn't," he whispered, "stubborn and bullheaded to the death. I didn't think you'd ever give me the time of the day."

"I'm glad I did," you beamed before giving him a saccharine kiss, "I love you, Javier."

"I love you too, Dulzura," he whispered, "inevitably and undeniably."

»»————-　♡　————-««

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[gaysimpsstuff]

Flightless Birds Chapter One: Feathers in Fukuoka

Chapter Two Here

Chapter Three Here

Chapter Four Here

Chapter Five Here

Summary: Y/n unexpectedly meets the current number two hero Hawks in Fukuoka. The grayish blue Parakeet catches the eye of the speedy hero, who promises himself he’ll meet them again.

Word Count: 2.5K words

Warnings: Child abuse, Karens, blood, Hawks being creepy, chaotic best friend, gore, shitty parents, deadbeat dad

Other: The amount of research I put into this, wing anatomy, feather anatomy, types of birds, parakeet behaviors, cities in Japan, I even found a good Japanese name for the best friend, since this does take place in Japan. If you wanna know, Izanagi, the name of Y/n’s best friend in this fic, means ‘First male, god of creation’ and I love that name. Actually, I love anything in the Japanese language, it’s such a beautiful language and I cannot wait to learn it. Also, there was a problem with the spacing in the flashback scene so I just fixed that real quick, sorry for the inconvenience!

Taglist: @smolchildfangirl @combat-wombatus @cathy8taffy @1small-frogs @catcherisvibin @waffleareniceandfluffy @mandalorian-baby-bird @theblueslytherin (If you want to be added/removed from the taglist let me know).

You stared out the window. It had taken forever but you’d convinced him to let you look down at the streets surrounding his penthouse. You rested one hand on the cool glass, letting out a breath. Your other hand was tracing the scars on your legs, You had long given up on getting them to heal.

You fluttered your wings, or what was left of them. No matter how many times your primary flying feathers would grow back, it would never deter your captor from simply clipping them off again. Thankfully, he did a better job than other people. He would never cut a blood feather. Well, mostly.

You closed your eyes, the house was so stifling at times, despite the large open rooms, and the fact that your captor would occasionally allow you out into the garden. You attempted to recall the last time you were free in Fukuoka. You remembered a bright sky, blue as your wings, and clouds fluffy and soft as your feathers. You remembered the ache in your body from working yourself all day, and just how heavy your legs felt. You remembered a kid’s joyful cheers when she saw you….

“Mommy! Look, look at the pretty bird! Can I touch it please?” you were standing on the street, waiting for a friend to pick you up and take you over to their house to watch movies and eat popcorn. You looked up from your phone at the sound of the child’s loud, innocent voice. 

“Go right ahead, Kaneko!” a woman’s voice this time. You frowned. Whatever bird they were talking about it probably wasn’t a good idea for the kid to just run up and touch it. You were forcibly removed from your thoughts when sharp pain shot up through your wing. Oh, you were the ‘pretty bird’ the kid was talking about.

Your quirk was Parakeet, and that was fine by itself, but it came with pros and cons. Some pros were that you could fly, even though you couldn’t do that in public in most places in Japan. Some cities in Japan had laws that allowed flyers to take to the skies under strict sky traffic laws, but Fukuoka was not one of those cities. Maybe you would have been better off in Miyagi or Fukui, where you could fly freely, but at the same time, you had lived your whole life near Fukuoka, plus it was such a beautiful city, it was easier to stay here.

Another pro was simple, the thing most people think about when they say they want a mutant-type quirk. The looks. Your wings had three different colors, but the base color was a beautiful summer sky blue. At the very top of your wings, your marginal coverts were a curious shade of gray. Not dark enough to be black but not light enough to be white. Underneath were your secondary coverts, which were white as the clouds in the sky. The rest of your feathers were pretty blue colors. Your tail feathers followed the same pattern as your wings.

Everything else about your quirk wasn’t very fun. Behavioral issues that had gotten you in trouble in school and at work, especially during mating season. Plus the sheer amount of people with prejudice against mutant quirks. You’d heard it all. People thinking they had the right to touch your wings and tail, people shouting to you in a high-pitched voice to force you to repeat their words, people claiming you weren’t human, people insisting you fly them somewhere, etc etc. This was unfortunately something you dealt with on the daily.

Just like this kid grabbing your wing. 

“OW! Don’t do that!” you shrieked, yanking your wing away from the kid, spinning around to see her. Her little hand was wrapped around one of your darker feathers. Fuck. Of course, she grabbed a blood feather. The little girl’s eyes welled up in tears, and she turned and ran back to her mom. Thank the stars, she let go of your feather.

You sighed, running your fingers through your wings to smooth the ruffled feathers. 

“Excuse me, bird!” the mother of the child grabbed your shoulder, forcibly spinning you around to face her. She was middle-aged, and furious. “What did you do to my dear Kaneko?”

You glanced between the woman and the girl, Kaneko. Kaneko was in tears, holding onto her mother’s leg. She had to have only been three or four, she probably didn’t know any better.

“I didn’t do anything to your child, ma’am. She ran up to me and grabbed my wing, which is very painful, and actually very rude in case you were unaware.”

“I don’t give a shit!” the woman screeched. You flinched away from her. She was cursing in front of her toddler? Irresponsible. “It’s my dear Kaneko’s birthday, and I say she gets whatever she wants! You’re just a fucking bird, so why can’t you sit still and let my daughter pet you!?”

Great, she was a fucking Karen. This was just what you needed after dealing with co-workers and clients at work. Getting your feather pulled and a crazy lady all up in your face, freaking out at you. Because her daughter hurt you.

“Because it’s painful, and I’d prefer not to let strangers touch my wings.” You explained yourself calmly.

“You fucking bitch!” the woman was screaming, her finger in your face. “You selfish, greedy little pig! She’s a child, let her live her life!” Shadows danced in your peripherals as her words faded from your ears. 

Cold metal was pressed up against your feathers, you dreaded the snipping noise that meant she was cutting. You could feel the scissors press into the stem of your feather before the metal blades connected, severing the feather from your wing. 

“Ow! Mommy that hurts!” hot, wet, salty tears stained your cheeks. “Mommy please stop it!” You were five, getting your wings clipped for the first time.

“Shut up! Don’t be so fucking selfish!” a harsh voice snapped at you, the aggression making you shudder as you sobbed. Your pupils were blown wide in fear as you screamed.  “Stop, Mommy that one hurts more!” your mother didn’t even hesitate, cutting off another feather. It hit the ground like the rest of them, but something else came with it. Blood dripped down your wings, staining the pretty blues and plopping onto the ground.

“You’re dirtying my clean floors!” mother screeched behind you. “When I finish with your wings, you’ll clean that up!”

“Mommy?” you sniffled, trying to hold back your chest-heaving sobs. “Why do I hafta have my wings clipped?”

“So you don’t fly away like your jackass of a father. I won’t let you leave Mommy.”

“Get your finger out of my face, woman!” you shouted at her, you were just seconds away from biting it off of her ugly hand. You were trembling, and you could hardly breathe what with the marching drums hammering away at your ribcage

“Don’t you tell me what to do, you inhuman!” The little girl shied away from her mom, crying harder. You opened your mouth to retort against the crazy Karen, but stopped when you saw the girl’s reaction. You knew she probably felt bad for hurting you, and now her mother was screaming and cursing, you knew how scary that was.

Your train of thought was interrupted by a whoosh of wind and a flash of red. Something wrapped around your arms, tugging you away from the woman, and something tugged the woman away from you. You looked down, seeing red feathers curled around your biceps. You’d only seen red feathers in one other place. When your own feathers were soaked in blood from your mom’s clippings. You shook your head, pushing the dark memories from your mind as you grabbed the feather and pulled it off of you as quick as possible, it flew away from you almost immediately, heading towards a man far taller than you. His golden hair was messy but very soft-looking. His slitted eyes glanced between you and the woman behind his golden goggles. His hands rested in the pockets of his large brown jacket. But none of that compared to his intimidatingly large red wings. It would be impossible not to recognize him, he was your best friend’s favorite.

Number Two Pro-Hero in Japan; Hawks

“What’s going on here?” he asked. “I heard shouting.” he said, a lazy smile resting on his face.

“This crazy bird-bitch hit my daughter!” the Karen screamed hysterically.

“Are you kidding me?” you thought she’d at least be above that, but it looked this woman didn’t give a shit about morality. “I didn’t touch her at all! She grabbed my wing then you freaked out when it hurt me!” 

“Hey, now, no need to get upset.” Hawks turned to you, and something in him changed. His wings shivered, and his eyes slitted, before blowing back out to normal size. “Birdie, tell me your side of the story.” you took a step away from the hero, something about his reaction to seeing you didn’t seem natural. It creeped you out. Also, why was he calling you ‘birdie?’

“I was standing around, waiting for my friend, then this kid saw me. She must have thought my wings were pretty because she ran up to be and grabbed one of my feathers. A blood feather, actually. It hurt and I yanked my wing back and told her not to do that. This woman seemed to have some delusion that her daughter has every right to touch and hurt me and I’m supposed to- and I now quote- ‘sit still and let her pet me.’” You explained.

“Ah I see.” Hawks nodded, turning to a young man on the street. “Sir, who’s explanation is correct?” he asked.

“Uh- the bird’s?” the guy seemed out of it, just staring at the hero.

“Thanks, sir. Ma’am, could you and your daughter apologize to this nice person?”

“No way in fucking hell!” the woman screamed. “Come on, Kaneko, we’re getting out of here. And I’m throwing away all your Hawks bobbleheads, now I know he’s a fucking biased pig.” The girl glanced up at her mom before quickly running to you, taking your hand.

“I’m sorry!” she cried. “I didn’t wanna hurt you, your wings just looked so pretty!” you softened a little, crouching down and patting the girl’s head, smiling at her.

“It’s alright, I forgive you. Next time you see something pretty, tell the person it’s pretty, then ask if you can touch it.” The girl lit up, nodding eagerly.

“I will!” she exclaimed before her mother dragged her away. 

“You didn’t need to apologize to that asshole. They were the one that made you cry.” she grumbled, walking down the street as she fumed. 

“Poor girl…” you muttered. “Having a Karen for a mom.” you stared after her empathetically. You didn’t notice the look in the hero’s eyes, staring you up and down, shifting from one leg to the next. “Oh um, thanks Hawks,” you said, turning back to him. “For helping me.”

You froze when you saw his face, eyes seemingly staring into your soul, expression blank. He seemed to be calculating something, scanning you for information. Your blood ran cold when you noticed his pupils, thinner than paper.

“Oh!” he was shaken out of his daze by your voice, a careless smile dawning his features as his pupils returned to normal. “No problem, Birdie.” you pursed your lips, nodding. You saw a small black car turn the corner, and you honed in on the license plate. Saved at last! Your friend was here!

“Alright, uh I’ve gotta be going now…” you chuckled nervously. 

“Wait, a sec, I’m gonna need your name for a report.” he dug around in his pocket, pulling out a small voice recorder and holding it up to you. “Just speak it in here.” Oh, yeah that made sense, Heroes had to make reports of everything they resolved in a day, so it was probably best to get the names of the people they help in case the PHSC needed to contact them.

“Y/n.” you spoke as clear as you could when he pressed the button on the side of the recorder. “Y/n L/n. Hawks helped me win a petty fight with a Karen.” you chuckled a little into the recorder. Hawks nodded, putting the recorder back into his pocket. He glanced back at you for a moment, expression aloof and apathetic.

“Thanks, Y/n!” he flashed you another smile before taking off into the sky, leaving you confused. 

Why did he use your personal name and not your family name?

The door to the small black car opened, and your friend stumbled out, running forward a few paces before cursing.

“You fuckin kidding me, Y/n? You got to meet Hawks?” he stared at you in disbelief. “You couldn’t have made him stay a minute longer? You know he’s my celebrity crush!” 

You couldn’t help but laugh. Your best friend since you were a young child, Izanagi Fujikawa. Bisexual, chaotic, and your mortal enemy. 

“Iza, he’s a pro hero. He’s got shit to do!” Izanagi pouted, crossing his arms.

“I know… I’m still mad at you though.” you rolled your eyes, scoffing. 

“We can deal with that.” you poked his cheek, climbing in the passenger seat before he grabbed your elbow, pulling you back towards him.

“Your wing’s all messed up- what happened?”

“I’ll explain in the car.” you shrugged him off, climbing in and buckling your seatbelt, unaware of the sharp golden eyes watching you.

Hawks was perched on a nearby building, eyes slitted as he glared down at your friend. You two were close, he could tell. Why did that make him so fucking furious? His feathers twitched as he played back the recording you’d given him. That laugh, golden and free. He looped it, your gentle voice blessing his ears and relaxing his body for him.

“Pff- hahahaha!” he closed his eyes, re-imagining your face, the soft smile gracing your angel-like features, the way your wings flapped slightly, the nearly inaudible purr vibrating in the back of your throat. He wanted you to laugh around him more, he wanted you to be around him more, he wanted you to be his. 

Even if he only got to talk to you for a minute, he felt like he already knew everything there was to know about you. You didn’t like causing trouble, seeing how polite you were at first to that crazy lady. You could stand your ground though, not afraid to stand up for yourself. You were kind, and forgiving, he got that from how you treated the kid. 

A sudden realization struck Hawks. It was frightening, terrifying even. He loved you. Breathtaking Y/n L/n, the pretty parakeet. Ah, but that guy. That guy was in the way. Not to worry, he could remove the… complication.

Soon.

You would belong just to him.

[danniburgh]

Rushingly Bittersweet (Javier Peña x f!reader) part 15

Pairing: Javier Peña x ofc//f!reader with name.

Summary: After the fall of Escobar everything starts happening way too fast for Javier; his raise, his new office, his new team, the Cali cartel’s operation, the sudden arrival of a new agent that was transferred to his team for no apparent reason, the way he was falling in love with her almost unintentionally.

And he couldn’t seem to stop any of that.

Word count: +4.1k

Chapter warnings: smut! unprotected sex (p in v), some rough touches, javi being soft and... secrets???

A/N: This chapter is set between season three, episode seven and eight. // yet another long one with plot but we have love!!!! keep bracing yourselves, next part is gonna be HEAVY

ao3 // fic index // Masterlist // fic playlist

comments and reblogs are eternally appreciated 💓 let me know if you wanna be tagged

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gif: @bestintheparsec

After you landed in Bogotá you and Javier hopped into his suv without even saying a word to Feistl and Van Ness.

You knew he was as or more exhausted as you but he still drove all the way to your building with a blank expression; you drifted off again in the passenger’s seat and when he pulled over he grabbed your hand to wake you up.

When you opened your eyes he pulled your hand to him and grabbed you by the nape of your neck, you whined out in surprise as he smashed his lips on yours. His mouth moved hungrily, his tongue invaded your mouth without your permission, you tried to keep up at the same time your body was waking up completely. You pushed him away by the chest when he bit your lip way harder than you would have liked.

“What’s going on?” you asked him, his face quirked in frustration, his brow furrowed, his eyes darkened by something else than just lust.

“Just let me touch you” he whispered and threw himself to you, his hand landed on your hip and the other on your breast, tugging hard through the shirt you were wearing, his shirt. You smacked his hand away again.

“Javier, stop!” he separated himself from you “I like things rough, I really do, but this is angry and I need to know what’s going on inside here” you raised your hand to his temple.

“Please, just let– just let me touch you” his voice was thinner than a thread, you cupped his face and he leaned into your hands, he looked incredibly tired, frustrated and angry, he grabbed your wrists and brushed a finger against the back of your hand, closing his eyes. You knew he was furious about what happened in Cali, you could see it in his body language, and the way he didn’t talk to anyone on the way back, not even with you, you could see it in the way he was forcing himself to move without breaking something or punching someone, he was just seeking physical contact, you knew that, that was something you had learned about him in the very short time you had been… whatever you were, he was a very touchy person, so it was logical that he wanted to touch you after feeling incredibly negative emotions about something going wrong at work, and then you wondered if that was why he was always going to brothels, just to fuck the negative feelings off. 

You moved your hands from his face to his neck and pulled him to you over the console in the middle, he let out a big sigh and dropped his hands to your waist and pulled you to him, clenching you in his embrace. You felt Javier hiding his face in the crook of your neck and you just held him, you moved one of your hands to his hair, waiting until he wanted to let go, just realizing your headache had disappeared.

Javier felt the fog inside his head clear slowly, he stopped thinking about everything that had gone wrong in the last ten hours and started thinking about when was the last time he had been held like that before you, thinking how good it felt to get drunk in someone else’s scent, to get drunk in your scent. After he relaxed his body he still cling to yours, loving the contact way too much to let go. He allowed himself to think more about you, to think on how fast you had become something… else, someone important, someone that felt real, someone safe, who he could really be himself with, he smiled slightly when he realized the amount of intimacy that was in the embrace you were entangled in, he wouldn’t rather have that with anybody else.

“Do you feel better?” you whispered to him when he started moving his hands through your back “you wanna talk about it or do you want something else?”

“I want to be inside you” he murmured against the skin of your neck.

“I’m pretty sure that can be arranged” you tugged his hair slightly and felt his smile on your skin.

Less than three minutes later you were opening your apartment’s door with Javier’s mouth nibbling on your neck and his arms wrapped around your waist. His touch wasn’t hurried like the kiss he had given you earlier, his kisses were now patient, slow and wet, waiting for you to open the door.

Once you did he walked you inside and he even took the time to appreciate your space and give you a small smile when you turned around in the embrace to face him.

“See why I like yours better?” you whispered before he could close the distance between your mouths, curling your arms around his neck.

“Your’s cozier” he mumbled, ripping a smile out of you then kissing it.

He pulled you impossibly closer to him, your chest was on his and his hip brushed your body, you could feel his bulge getting harder through the fabric of his jeans and your pants. You walked backwards towards the living room without breaking the kiss, his lips were taking your breath away and giving it back slowly, you could feel the warmness of his hands squeezing ever so slightly your waist and you thought you couldn’t get more wet.

You bit his lip softly and he let out a groan that made your legs feel like they were made of clay. Javier broke the kiss and snaked one hand through your body to cup your jaw. His gaze was pinned to yours and you let out a sigh when you noticed his pupils incredibly dilated, making his gorgeous brown eyes look black. His lips moved as if he was about to say something but was hesitating to, you saw his eyebrows relax and gave him a soft smile. You wanted to think that you knew what he was about to say and at the same time you were telling yourself that you didn’t. Even if you were reading it in his face, you lied to yourself that he wasn’t telling you anything.

Javier was sure you could read his expression and again, as he did everytime he got to be alone with you, he was counting on it. He had no words, he was bad with them in situations like those, so he was really trusting that you could read in his adoring gaze what he was feeling in the moment.

Your breath hitched and for a moment your instinct told you to run the hell away, but he kissed you again and you hated him for making you forget everything about everything. Even about yourself.

He tugged at your/his shirt and started unbuttoning it.

“Please wear my clothes everyday” he muttered against your lips, making you giggle.

“I could but they look better on you” you whispered back as he opened the garment that had quickly become one of your favorites of his, and slid it off your shoulders. His lips traced kisses from your mouth to your jaw and then to your neck, you tilted your head to the side to give him access to it and sighed when he gently bit the skin between your neck and your shoulder. His hands were roaming freely through your back and his fingers swiftly unhooked your bra, you took it off and moved to unbutton his shirt while one of his hands cupped your breast and his thumb played with your nipple. He was still attacking the skin of your neck and drawing out moans from your throat when you forced his hands away from your body to take his shirt off, he obliged and took a step back to strip off of it, letting out a groan at the brief loose of contact, you stood there for a moment, admiring his naked torso, your sight was blurred with desire for him but before he could grasp you and kiss you again you grabbed his hand and guided him to your room with a smirk adorning your face.

Javier stood in front of you and cupped your face in both hands to steal your breath away once again, your hands slid from his chest to his waist to unbuckle his belt and work on getting him out of his insultingly tight jeans. He shivered under your touch once your hand got inside his pants and you brushed his erection with your fingers painfully gently while the other played with the hem of his pants.

“Take this off, please” you whispered, without a word he obeyed and pulled them down along with his briefs to his ankles, stepping out of them and forgetting the garment on one of the corners of your bedroom.

You didn’t hesitate to follow, you smiled to yourself when you remembered you hadn’t had the chance to change out of your clothes since the night you slept with him for the first time and that somehow turned you on even more.

Javier was pumping himself while taking the sight of you stripping out of your clothes and shoes, you bit your lower lip at him and without a second's notice, his lips were flush against yours once more, his hands, hot and heavy, wrapped themselves on your waist, you turned him around and walked towards the bed. Your palms rested on his chest and once you knew the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress you pushed him delicately and made him sit in front of you.

He immediately buried his face on your chest and started leaving soft wet kisses on your skin, his saliva felt incredibly hot on you and you sighed when his mouth got hold of one of your nipples.

You straddled him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting your hands play with his hair and burrow themselves in the short brown curls.

Javier moved from one breast to the other, his arms trapping you against him, you let out a gasp when he gently tugged your nipple with his teeth.

You could feel his hands exploring the skin of your back, sending shivers down your spine, you tugged softly the hair of his nape to make him look at you and you kissed the bridge of his nose, he smiled at you and you slid your hand to brush the wrinkles in the corner of his eye with your thumb.

“You’re really pretty” you whispered, moving your hips to the front so your core grazed slowly against his erection, he closed his eyes and moaned out loud.

He had never been called pretty before without any other adjective after it, and he felt quite surprised at himself because he liked it. Javier didn’t consider himself as a conventionally handsome man, he knew he had an appeal, he had worked on his flirt game for years until almost perfect it, he knew what he could offer and he knew what he could do to somebody, but the idea of him being perceived as other than handsome or hot never crossed his mind. Yet, hearing it in your voice, he settled in the fact that he didn’t want any other person to call him like that but you. There were a lot of things he only wanted to happen with you. And the sudden realization that you, somehow, even with the little time you’ve known each other, knew exactly how to love him, hit him like a scorching wave of hot air.

One of his hands left your back and got between your bodies to align himself up to you, there would be another time to play more and to get to know your body in other ways than just burying himself inside you, but in that moment he needed to feel you clench around him, he needed to anchor himself to you and you only. You felt him throb as he looked at you and rubbed the tip through your wet folds; you sighed in anticipation and patiently waited for him to slide inside you. He filled you slowly, you could feel the way he was stretching you as you sank into him, his eyes not leaving yours and his free hand covering your upper back to hold you close to him.

“Perfect” he mumbled against you, resting his forehead against yours as his now freed hand snaked to your shoulders and placed itself on your nape, you felt a familiar sting in your throat at his praise, you wanted to tell him you weren’t at all perfect. And again, in that moment, with him inside of you and making you feel fuller than ever, with his large hands cherishing as much of your skin as they could reach, with his smoky breath mixing with yours and his tired eyes taking you in, there wasn’t another thing you wanted more than to tell him the truth.

You started rolling your hips slowly and almost absentmindedly, Javier let out a sigh and closed his eyes, letting you take control of him again, he tightened his embrace and you could feel the thin layer of sweat that made his chest glisten under the daylight that came in through your bedroom window.

He kissed you, his plush lips moved softly on yours, you let his tongue enter and roam around your mouth as one of his hands traveled down to your hip and gripped your flesh lightly to guide your movements. His kiss was making you forget every thought you had inside your head, the way he was leading your hips made him bottom up and reach higher inside you, grazing against that specific sweet spot that made you shudder on top of him, you sighed his name once, twice, three times against his lips and he smiled.

Javier moved his hand from your hip to the small of your back and stood up, he turned around to lay you down on the bed, hovering over you, still filling you, still kissing you. He leaned on his elbow to avoid crushing you with his body, you wrapped your legs around his waist and he started rocking his hips, dangerously slow, incredibly steady, as if he was trying to reach further inside you, as if he was trying to bury his whole body in you.

He savored the feeling of your core accommodating itself to the new angle, he took in every single one of the noises you were letting out, his hands tried to roam all over your body, his eyes outlined the shape of your body under his and he tried to memorize every sensation, every gasp and moan and shudder, yours and his, he tried to breathe in as much of your scent as he could, he broke the kiss and tried to store in his mind the way your face quirked in pleasure, your eyes closed shut, your mouth half opened, your cheeks blushed and your forehead covered in a barely noticeable layer of sweat.

You realized you had your eyes closed when he kissed your lids, then the bridge of your nose as you had kissed his before, then each cheek, then your chin, and finally your lips again. You tried to remember the last time you had felt that full, the last time you had felt as cared and worshiped as you were feeling under him and you failed. You snaked your hands on his back and dug your nails smoothly on his skin, he groaned and you thought of that sound as one of the most beautiful things you had ever heard.

He tried to lift your leg higher on his back, you let out a gasp, feeling a tug on the muscle of your calf.

“Ouch, ouch” you whined, Javier stopped moving and opened his eyes to look at your face, frowning.

“Did I hurt you?” he whispered worrily, you smiled and shook your head, trying to move your leg from his grip.

“Cramp” Javier smiled at your chuckle, he pushed himself back and kneeled on the bed, pulling out of you almost completely, he grabbed your ankle and stretched your leg, you laughed when you felt your toes curl.

“Does it hurt?” he smirked at you, you shook your head again, watching him as he put your ankle on his shoulder and started massaging your tightened muscles. You moaned at the touch, at the loss of him inside you and at the relief in your muscle and threw your head back on the bed, he kept kneading your flesh and you laughed again. “what?”

“I just realized how tired I am” you muttered, he chuckled.

“You wanna stop?” you looked back at him with a playful frown, fuck no. His smile grew wider and he placed two kisses on the skin of your calf “better?”

“Much” you bit your lip “c’mere” you opened your arms for him and he leaned down forward, you reached down to grip his cock and align it again, he got inside easier than before and without a second thought renewed his movements, rolling his hips to bottom up rougher. You moaned his name again and the burning sensation inside you made you close your eyes.

Javier’s picked up the pace and started thrusting faster, in a way you could feel him graze against your cervix.

“Harder” you sighed, if you hadn’t closed your eyes you could had seen the satisfied smirk that crossed his face, he bit his lip as he shifted on top of you to rock inside you with more strength, he let out a moan when he felt your breath hitch and your walls clench him in, he could feel you were close so he slid his hand from the mattress to your breast, cupped the flesh and played with a nipple “more” you breathed out he leaned closer to you and licked your lips open, the wet brush of his tongue made you clench again and his hand snaked to your clit, rubbing painfully slowly with one finger. 

You stopped breathing for a brief moment when you felt a bundle of flames forming inside your lower belly and as if he was reading your mind instead of your body he circled his finger faster.

“Oh my– Javier!” you cried his name like a prayer as you felt your body explode from the inside out on his ear made him lose rhythm for less than a second.

“Come on, preciosa,” he felt you shaking and clenching and gasping and panting under him and when your walls tightened around his throbbing length for the last time as you rode out your orgasm, he let go, spilling himself inside with a loud moan, “oh, baby” he crashed on top of you and you held him against your body, the thought of you being his crossed his mind ever so briefly and he smiled with his face hiding inside the crook of your neck, your hand burying itself on his sweat-wet hair, his hand brushing your shoulder, your chest rising in need for air, you felt his lips brushing lightly on your skin and for the briefest of moments you felt three hazardous words wanting to slip out of your mouth.

Not now, not today. Most probably, not ever.

You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until you felt the loss of his body weight, you opened your eyes and found him sitting next to you, just looking at your body, bare and spreaded out on the wrinkled duvet. He smiled at you and without a word stood up and walked naked out of the room, you sighed for the thousandth time that day and grinned when you heard the shower turning on.

A half hour shared shower later that was hot and steamy solely because of the water, he was getting dressed while you were standing in front of your closet with only a grey pair of dress pants and a white bra on, browsing for something to wear to the meeting you had later with the ambassador. You pulled out two button up blouses and held them next to each other, one was baby blue and the other plain white.

You felt his arms curling around your naked waist and his chin resting on your shoulder, his stubble grazing over the shoulder bone, he pressed his chest against your back and you smiled at the comforting sensation of his body heat against your nearly bare back.

“I like the blue one better,” he whispered, you let out a chuckle.

“You think?” you tilted your head to consider his choice, he took advantage of your movement and buried his face on your neck, he hummed in affirmation as he licked over your jugular, making you moan and laugh at the same time “Javi, stop, it tickles”

He chuckled, let a gentle kiss just below your jaw and broke the embrace so you could put on the blue shirt.

“I have to go home to change” he brushed his mustache with his thumb as he looked at your deft fingers buttoning the shirt, you nodded.

“Have you seen my phone?” he looked around the bedroom floor.

“Your satelital?” you asked as he walked out of the room into the living room.

“No, the other one, I can’t find it” he lifted your/his discarded shirt from the floor and threw it to the couch when the device wasn’t under.

“Maybe in the truck?” you suggested, he walked in back and raised an eyebrow “why don’t you go check, I’m gonna dial so it rings” he hummed, agreeing, took a step closer to you, gave you a quick kiss and walked out of the room, you followed him and went to grab the phone from the kitchen wall, you saw him getting out of your apartment and waited a few minutes to let him reach the suv. You dialed his phone number and he picked up at the third tone “where was it?”

“Under the seat” you chuckled “a’right, pick you up in fifteen, okay?” you frowned, in the middle of his sentence the line cut for less than a second, barely noticeable, you had heard something like that before.

“Great, what are you gonna wear?” you asked, stalling, trying to make him talk more to maybe hear the cut again and confirm what you were suspecting, you listened and gripped the receiver as close to your ear as you could, you heard him getting inside the truck and starting the ignition, the line cut again, you choked down a grunt.

“I don’t really care” he replied, his voice cut again, you tried to keep the line open for a few more seconds.

“Wear something pretty” you tried to tease him, you heard him chuckle and the line cut again, fuck “see you later, handsome” you hung up the phone and disconnected the telephone wire you took down the whole thing off the wall. You put it on the counter and found the small hole to open the cradle. Inside, beside the circuits, the button pad and the amplifier, there was a small black square connected to the commutator. “fuck” you hissed, taking in out, it could be held just on the tip of your finger, it was significantly smaller than the other’s you had seen before. 

For a moment you actually put thought on who would have tapped your phone and laughed humorlessly because you already knew the answer. You put the little device on the counter and shook your head, intercepting your home phone was stupid as fuck because you never used it.

And then, like flicking a switch, it came to you. They knew that. They didn’t just tap your phone. I was almost certain that they had wired your house.

“Shit” you hissed again, louder. Where the fuck would the microphones be hidden?, you started roaming around the outlets on the walls, looking for something slightly moved or out of the ordinary. 

You walked inside your bedroom and towards one of the end tables, the one with the lamp, you moved it and found a thin gray wire sliding inside the socket on the wall “dammit” you grumbled. Your fingers followed the wire to the base of the lamp, you lifted it and under it you found an almost too small microphone. Right in the bedroom.

Right in the bedroom where you just made love with Javier, screamed his name and gave yourself to him for the second time.

You pulled it out with a frustrated grunt, rolled it on your fingers and stuffed it inside your pocket.

How you didn’t see it coming was beyond you, you knew what they were capable of, but didn’t actually think they would doubt you that much.

Everything was starting to get messy, and before you could wonder how much time those taps had been inside your house, you knew you had to call them out. You knew from there the only way was down.

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[aprilsrant]

Lay all your love on me | Oliver Wood x Slytherin!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: (Y/N)’s been crushing on the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for over three years. Now, in their seventh and last year of Hogwarts, her friends are determined to get them together.

WORD COUNT: 2,833.

WARNINGS: underage drinking. (If there are more and I didn’t put them, let me know).

NEXT PARTS:

Honey Honey! (part two)

When I kissed the teacher (part three).

A/N: so, this came out because of a random idea and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. For some reason, I like to imagine wizards dancing to ABBA, of course it’s the muggleborns and maybe halfbloods that know about them. This was written while I listened to Lay all your love on me, slowed down, on repeat. I algo gave the reader’s friends name because it was easier, and I may or mat not based their personality on my own close friends…

English is not my first language so if there are any mistakes, I’m sorry! Reblog if you can, and if you have any suggestions or requests just DM!

Masterlist.

tags: @peeves-a-legend​ (thank you for everything).

The Ravenclaw vs Hufflepuff Quidditch match had ended with a win for the eagle’s house, although the other team did not make it easy for them. The Hufflepuffs were known for their patience and hard working nature, giving up easily was not one of their traits and that’s exactly what everyone had seen on the match this afternoon. They knew their opponent’s Seeker, Cho Chang was getting better with each game  she played, so the Captain of the Hufflepuff Team decided their best chance was, if he wasn’t fast enough to catch the snitch that is, to lash out against the poor Keeper. 

And so they did. 

The Chasers, Preece, Macavoy and Applebee, were unstoppable. On the occasion the Quaffle landed in their hands, which had been like seventy percent of the time, they would use many different strategies to confuse the other players, including the Keeper, and score a goal.

Even after their brilliant performance, Ravenclaw still won by twenty points ahead when Cho Chang caught the snitch. A small distraction from the Hufflepuff Seeker and Captain had cost them the victory, but that didn’t discourage the badgers, hell, (Y/N) thought nothing could after how well they had played. She had never felt so much respect for the usually overlooked House. 

That was pretty much the reason why the Ravenclaws were so eager to celebrate their win and had invited the whole school, or at least everyone up to the age of fifteen, to their Common Room. Many people believed they weren’t capable of throwing a good party since they were supposed to be smart and have their head on a book every minute, but (Y/N) never doubted them. One of her best friends was a Ravenclaw and that girl sure knew how to have fun, school and good grades being the last thing on her mind whenever she got sight of the Firewhisky. 

If you had asked for (Y/N)’s opinion, she would tell you Ravenclaws were the seconds best at Hogwarts on the matter of hosting parties, Slytherins right up to them. Albeit that may have been biased, she herself was a Slytherin and, thinking about it, she never went to any Gryffindor parties because, well, no one except her other friend wanted a Slytherin there. Many of them thought they were some kind of saints just because they were brave and didn’t realise they were, instead, a bunch of reckless and prejudiced twats. The remaining house, Hufflepuff, took parties to a whole other level and sometimes it became all a little too much. She wasn’t much of a party person but she still enjoyed them from time to time, but they went insane any time alcohol was in the room and started to come up with crazy ideas that would, with no doubt, get them expelled. 

After waiting ten minutes for a member of the house to step out and answer the riddle for her, which (Y/N) knew you didn’t need to be part of the house to reply but even as a Slytherin and having, supposedly, a cunning and intelligent mind she sucked at those kind of questions; she, and twenty others,  finally entered the Ravenclaw Common Room, which was completely renovated since the last time she had visited it.

The circular and wide room was filled with students from all the four houses making it seem smaller than it actually was. The moon shone, filtering through the arched windows, barely illuminated but some flickering and colour changing lights on the ceiling made it work. The furniture was against the wall on the left side so people could dance freely in the middle, while the tables on the right bursted with food and bottles of alcohol. A muggle radio had been placed on one of the large table’s corner and to (Y/N)’s delight, it wasn’t playing any songs by the Weird Sisters. She loathed that band since last year when some students, presumably Gryffindors, enchanted the speakers on the hallways to repeatedly play one of the group’s songs. 

The girl started to move towards the left side of the room, avoiding the crowd growing larger and larger. Trying to catch some familiar faces, she stood on her tiptoes and observed the room, but the lack of light and her problem with seeing things from afar, made her search harder. A couple of minutes had passed when she recognized the trio she was friends with. They were waving and screaming her name, trying to catch her attention, right beside the door that led to the dormitories.  

(Y/N) grinned at them while walking in their direction. Once she settled on Isla’s side, her best friend since childhood, some of her nerves were washed away a little. It was easier for her to be in a place packed with people if she had her close friends as company. Dorian, the last one to join the group in their fifth year, offered her a black cup with, judging by the smell, Quintin Black, her favourite. The corners of her mouth quirking up as a way of saying thanks without having to shout at him to make herself be heard through the loud music.

The Multicolour Quartet — name they all despised but stood with it because it was one of Dorian’s drunk comments when he realised how they were all from different houses; (Y/N) was the Slytherin, he was the Gryffindor, and the other two, Isla and Ethan, were both Ravenclaws — easily fell in a conversation about Isla’s brilliant performance as Chaser for her House’s Team, the other three complimenting her whenever she started to list all the errors that almost allowed the Hufflepuffs to win.

Spacing out of her friend’s chat, (Y/N)’s eyes peer round the room looking, nearly in a desperate way, for someone in particular. Answering the comments the other three made with a simple nod of her head or a yes to seem like she was paying attention, her eyes fixated in a figure directly across from them, supporting it’s body’s weight on a wall. He was surrounded by some of his classmates and friends from the same house, but she could still see, albeit with great trouble, his short brown hair and his right hand holding a black cup, equal to the one she had. 

She failed to realise that her friends had noticed where her attention travelled to. Sharing knowing glances and smirks they knew it was time for (Y/N) to talk to the boy she’d been crushing on for three years now. Isla and Ethan left saying some people were starting to cause trouble, not that (Y/N) had actually listened to them, too lost in attempting to catch another glimpse of the boy. That ended on Dorian, the most chaotic of the four, finding the way to make them, at least, share two or three words.

Suddenly, she felt a hand on her left arm dragging her along the room and pushing people on the way. That belonged to Dorian and it didn’t take long for her to understand what he was doing, his mischievous smile betraying him. Her eyes widened and she shook her head while planting her feet on the floor, putting all her strength on them so he wouldn’t move her. She didn’t succeed. Obviously because of his friend’s stronger hands. 

A chant of pleas and several no exited from her mouth, but it was useless. If something got inside Dorian’s head, then nothing could stop him from doing it. A trait they both shared and the cause of a few of their arguments, neither of them knew when to back the hell down. Not even the promise of (Y/N) doing his Arithmancy homework for two weeks made him stop on his tracks. Dorian had really compromised to the cause because she knew how much he detested that subject, only taking it to please his father. 

Before she could raise the offer to a month, they were already in front of him and the group he was chatting with. 

Oliver Wood smiled at the two friends, recognizing only one of them but still being kind and inviting towards her, whose heart was about to jump out of her chest from how fast it was beating. 

“Hey, Wood, how’re you doing?,” Dorian greeted him first and then nodded at the others as if he was saying hi, “preparing for the Quidditch match next week?”

(Y/N) stood awkwardly by Dorian’s side, looking and smiling shyly at people she had never interacted with. She was going to cut this boy’s head of the minute everyone left.

“Yeah, the Hufflepuffs played like hell today.” She heard Oliver say. His words tumbling with each other. Was he already starting to get drunk? “I think I’ll need to book more practices if we want to win next week”.

Luckily, or not, Dorian noticed he hadn’t introduced his friend to the group yet. And even if she didn’t like to just stand there like a rigid stick, she hated the new attention.

“This is (Y/N) (Y/L/N), by the way,” he announced while placing his right hand on the upper side of her back and pushing her body to the front. And the shy smile made an appearance on her face once more. 

She whispered a small hello, looking at everyone but Oliver, and instantly felt the need to jump off the Astronomy Tower, not long after making Dorian the next designated Gryffindor Ghost. 

“What house are you in? I’ve never seen you before,” questioned one of the boys next to Oliver with his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and a lost look on his eyes, as if he was trying to place her and remember the colours of the tie she used daily.

“She’s not a Gryffindor, maybe that’s why you haven’t seen her much,” Dorian answered before she had the chance to, “she’s actually a Slytherin.” A new expression on his face now, intimidating the others to see if they dared to express some kind of negative or stupid comment to his friend about the house she belonged to. No one said anything. She saw Dorian smiling proudly from the corner of her eye, but in that moment (Y/N) had the weird sensation she was some kind of prey to starving lions.

The group began to talk to each again, like nothing happened, all except Oliver, who was looking at her with his eyebrows raised and an intriguing sparkle in his dark brown eyes.

Dorian spoked once more.

Does he ever shut up?

“Remember the other day you said you were falling behind in Potions and Transfiguration?” Oliver nodded at him, signalising her friend to keep talking. “Well, I have the perfect person to help you with that. (Y/N) tutors me from time to time in those subjects too.”

Forget the Astronomy Tower, she desperately needed some kind of magical earthquake that could crack the floor beneath her feet and swallow her whole.

It’s not like Dorian was lying, she had helped him, and still did sometimes, to study for an important test, not only in Potions and Transfiguration, but also in the rest of the subjects they shared. Merlin knew that boy was a disaster when talking about paying attention to classes. But that didn’t mean she was good enough to tutor Oliver freaking Wood. (Y/N) could treat Dorian how she wanted if he wasn’t trying to, at least, know what she was talking about, they were friends and most of their time together was spent hitting each other, but how was she supposed to act around the precious Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?

“Great!,” Oliver exclaimed quickly. A sudden blush crept all the way from below his turtle neck to his cheeks, but she couldn’t identify if it happened because of the alcohol or embarrassment from sounding “too enthusiastic”. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “I was about to start looking for one. McGonagall said that if I don’t get my grades up to an Exceeds Expectations, I won’t be able to play the rest of the matches.”

“That sucks, but you’d found one already so you two can start immediately with the tutoring sessions”, Dorian commented slily while looking at her with the smile of a champion adorning his face.

He was trying exceptionally hard, she had to give him that.

In a swift movement, she drank the whole content of her cup to see if the knot that had formed on her stomach would go away. The blonde girl, perhaps a member of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, beside (Y/N) noticed her drink was missing and offered her to reach out for one of the bottles of the table across. The Slytherin nodded and asked for the bottle of Quintin Black if there was still one.

“So you like Scottish things?” Oliver observed, with his eyes lighted up and his bottom lip stuck beneath his teeth, when he saw her grab the bottle of alcohol filled to the middle with onyx liquid. 

“She sure does.” She heard Dorian mumble, he had tried to hide the smirk burying his face on his cup but (Y/N) took notice of that too. After giving him a pointed look, she turned her head towards Oliver, who, hopefully, hadn’t heard her friend’s remark; if he had, he was good at concealing it.

Her response was interrupted by the starting melody of “Lay all your love on me”, one of her favourite songs, and a voice that could only belong to her best friend, screaming her name. Out of nowhere, Isla took her hand, said something to Oliver and Dorian about returning her to them later, and yanked (Y/N) to the direction of the made up dance floor, making her almost drop the cup she was holding.

It was an unspoken rule between them, whenever one of their favourite songs was on the radio, they would stop what they were doing, important or not, and start to dance and sing, without caring about other people’s opinion. It was something like a ritual that had become a safe space and a signature of their friendship for both of the girls.

A few seconds through the song had played when Celine stopped dancing and approached her friend, whispering something in her ear.

“Okay, don’t look and don’t freak out, but Oliver hot stuff Wood is staring at you.”

“What? What do I do?” 

“Just keep dancing, I guess, maybe he likes it.”

“I don’t know how to dance, why would he like it?” 

Confusion and panic in her eyes, (Y/N) tried to think about all the logical reasons Oliver Wood, one of the most attractive guys in the school, could be watching her dance. The girl knew she wasn’t beautiful, even if her best friend repeatedly said so, she wasn’t funny or interesting and, on top of all, she belonged in Slytherin, the House with the worst reputation. 

“No idea, but whatever it is, keep doing it.” 

Her best friend winked at her, a large and contagious smile spreading over her face. Grabbing one of (Y/N)’s hands, she made her twirl around following the fast beat of the song. Seizing the opportunity, (Y/N) glanced at Oliver and discovered that he was, indeed, staring at her while he drank from his black cup.

A random and unexpected laugh flew out of her mouth. Her best friend, carefree as always, began to giggle with her while dancing around the room. She had never felt more alive, and some people would think she was ridiculous for actually thinking it, but singing her favourite song at the top of her lungs, dancing and laughing and just having fun with her best friend. Excitement running through her veins uniting with the nerves Oliver’s attention towards her had provoked; a slight headache caused by the alcohol mixing with the new confidence coming from the same thing. 

Aware of the dark brown eyes focusing on her, she turned around once more, but this time she didn’t look away. She kept singing, beaming at him from the middle of the dance floor, and maintaining eye contact. A sudden thought appeared on her mind, if she’d had maybe one more full cup of Quintin Black, perhaps she would’ve been confident enough to ask him on a date. 

Don’t go wasting your emotions, lay all your love on me.

Don’t go sharing your devotion, lay all your love on me.

(Y/N) didn’t think that he would take that as an invitation when she whispered the words while looking at him, it wasn’t even meant to be one, but Oliver Wood had left his cup on the table next to him and was now walking towards her.

A little small talk, a smile and baby I was stuck. 

I still don’t know what you’ve done with me.

[psycho-slytherin]

Strangers ch. 47

Hoseok puts his foot down.

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x Actress!Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: fluff, angst, slow burn, strangers to friends to ???

Warnings: Strong language

|mlist|

<–– Prev Next ––>

You follow Wonho out of the private lounge, your head fuzzy with alcohol and despair. How could you not make the connection sooner? Of course there was a reason the police never investigated Seoyeon for Lisa’s disappearance – and now Lisa’s laptop, the only proof that the two were connected, is in the hands of Detective Kang. Seoyeon’s father. Your eyes sweep the club in search of Yoongi. You have to tell him. Eventually you spot him in a corner of the dance floor, hand pressed to his ear. Alone. For a moment you actually start towards him, before the thought hits you like a brick to the skull. He’s dating Seoyeon. How can you trust him, or tell him anything? Hell, what if the rumors are right, and he’s with Seoyeon because Detective Kang has something on him?

“C’mon,” Wonho yells over the deafening bass, “Let’s dance!”

You trail behind him, your eyes still on Yoongi. You’re about to turn away when you notice Hoseok wade through the crowd, with an expression you can barely recognize on his face. Hoseok looks… angry.

The music shifts, and Wonho takes your hand as he dances. You join in halfheartedly, wanting so badly for him to distract you. But now that the police have apparently abandoned your only lead… Is Lisa lost to you forever?

~~~

“Hyung, may I speak to you for a moment?” Hoseok hisses, tugging on Yoongi’s sleeve. One of Yoongi’s hands is pressed to his ear, the other holding his phone. It takes a moment before Yoongi notices Hoseok, his eyes dazed.

“D, one sec,” he says into the phone before turning to the younger man. “Not now. Weren’t you keeping an eye on the girl?”

“That’s the thing. Hyung, she told me some stuff… I really need to talk to you.” Hoseok’s voice is urgent, but Yoongi looks unconvinced. “It’s about Y/n.”

That changes things. Yoongi holds the phone back up to his ear. “Lemme call you back”, he says before hanging up swiftly and turning back to Hoseok. “What is it?”

Hoseok looks around to make sure no one is paying attention to them, but it’s too much to wish for; even in a club exclusive to celebrities, they are members of BTS. They’re big anywhere. There are several sets of eyes turned toward them. “Shit. I can’t tell you everything now, but hyung… stay away from Y/n.”

“Huh?” Yoongi draws back. “You, of all people-”

Hoseok grits his teeth. “Look, I know what I said before, but think about it, hyung! She gains more than anyone from this – practically got famous off of it! Dating you, the drama, all of it. Seoyeon said she has a video from inside our apartment – who else has had access?”

Yoongi shakes his head. “No, you’re wrong.”

Hoseok pauses. “I know we need to take everything Seoyeon says with a big grain of salt, but think about it. Y/n’s an ARMY, remember. She lied to us, to you, this whole time. You only pretended to date because of that photo on Twitter – hyung, who gained the most from that? You need to ask yourself-”

“Just shut up, Jung Hoseok,” Yoongi snaps, his eyes narrowing. “You have no fucking clue what you’re talking about. None.”

“But hyung-”

“I’m done with this shit. I’m going home.” Hoseok watches Yoongi call their chauffeur and arrange to be picked up. He starts making his way back to the entrance, but Hobi grips his arm.

“I was trying to help, idiot!” Hoseok hisses. “All she’s done is lie to you. Have you ever considered you’re too lovesick to see right through her?”

Yoongi rips away from Hoseok, and for a second Hoseok thinks Yoongi might hit him. Instead he simply speaks, voice cold. “You don’t know anything.”

With that, Yoongi fights his way to the bar through the crowd of bodies, pulling a drunk Seoyeon along with him outside. Hoseok watches him go, mind racing. He had warned Y/n never to hurt Yoongi; Hoseok always protected his family, and the members were as much a part of that as his own sister. Hoseok had trusted Y/n – they all had. Had she truly been lying to them this whole time?

He looks around helplessly, just in time to see Jungkook pulling on Y/n. He and Taehyung join her and Wonho in dancing, and though Y/n is smiling, there’s a stiffness in her movements, and her focus seems far away. Hoseok can feel his blood begin to boil. If Seoyeon was telling the truth, then Y/n arranged her own attack and used it to manipulate Hoseok’s friends.

Almost unconsciously, he makes his way to the group. “Guys, let’s get going home!” He shouts over the music.

Jungkook whines and Taehyung laughs, clearly buzzed. “But we’re having fun!”

“It wasn’t a question,” Hoseok replies. Your eyes flick towards him – have you noticed something is wrong? “C’mon, Y/n.”

“I can drive you back later if you don’t want to leave right now, Y/n.” Wonho offers. Hoseok looks between you and him.

“No, she needs to come back with us.”

“Oh, I don’t mind it if Wonho drives me,” you say, barely heard over the beat.

“In case you’ve forgotten, that outfit you’re wearing isn’t yours, is it?” Hoseok snaps. “You need to return it.”

He sees you blink twice, clearly surprised. “Right. Okay. Let me grab my bag.”

“Taehyung, Kook, grab Joon and Jin hyung. I’ll get Jimin. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

When Y/n and the other members have wandered away, Wonho fixes Hoseok with a stare. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Sorry, why do you care?”

“Isn’t she your friend? Because you didn’t treat her like one just now. Or are you going the way of your asshole friend?”

Hoseok’s eyes narrow. So this is Yoongi’s reputation, thanks to Y/n? “I don’t answer to you.” If Wonho responds, he doesn’t hear him; Hoseok turns to track Jimin down. He’s dancing in the middle of the floor, his loose silk shirt exposing a collarbone shining with sweat. Stars surround him, whooping and clapping. Hoseok pushes his way through the crowd until he’s close enough that Jimin can hear him.

“We’re going,” Hoseok says, pulling at the younger man’s sleeve.

Jimin nods, panting, and follows them. It isn’t long until the eight of them are once more settled in the limo.

~~~

You anxiously twist the handles of your purse in your hands. The ride is much quieter than it was on the way to Club Xyon – although it was only hours prior, you feel like you’ve aged centuries. Taehyung has fallen asleep leaning on your shoulder, and Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, and Seokjin are playing some sort of rock-paper-scissors drinking game. You’re impressed by their tolerance. Hoseok sits in the corner, far more quiet than he had been this evening. You can’t blame him – you’ve barely spoken either since the realization that not even the police can help you find your best friend.

The driver stops in the parking garage of the boys’ apartment building. One by one, they stumble out, with Seokjin supporting a still-sleepy Taehyung. You move for the door as well, but for a voice behind you: “Just a minute, Y/n.”

You turn. Hoseok is still sitting in the car, eyes trained on you. The scene feels eerily familiar. “What’s up?”

“I was just talking to Seoyeon earlier,” Hoseok drawls, and you flinch at the name. “She said some very interesting things. That she wasn’t following Yoongi hyung; she was following orders to track you. She didn’t follow hyung to the lamppost – she was told where to go, to take that photo. And that whoever was giving her orders – that she has videos, taken from inside our apartment, of us.” Hoseok crosses his arms. “So tell me, Y/n, who might have that kind of access?”

Your heart is pounding in your chest. “I-”

Hoseok holds up a hand. “Let me ask you another question. Did it feel good, having his pity? Lying to him? That photo did mean you’d have to have a public relationship with hyung. And of course, there’s no better way to get famous, is there?”

“N-No, I didn’t-” It’s getting harder to breathe – is there no more air in the limo? And is this what he really thinks of you? “She’s lying – how could you believe her, over me?”

Hoseok stares at you. “You’ve lied to us too, Y/n.”

The tears you’ve been fighting well up and overflow, falling freely down your cheeks. Your chest heaves, and you feel yourself on the verge of panic. “Hobi, please – I thought we were friends. You said we’d always be friends.”

For a moment, you see Hoseok’s stoic expression crack. “That was before I knew you were the reason hyung is going half-crazy tracking down a girl he’s never met and tolerating the company of a fucking psychopath!”

“W-what?”

“He barely sleeps, barely talks to us…” Hobi’s voice lowers, but it’s still steely. “I warned you, Y/n. You’re our friend, and I really believed in you, but if you used hyung for fame, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

You reach for the handle of the door and find it locked. “Let me out,” you whisper. Hoseok doesn’t move for a moment. “Dammit, Jung Hoseok, let me out of this car!”

Hoseok knocks on the limo divider, and the car doors unlock. You grab for the handle and stumble out of the car, lip trembling as you walk away. “Your acting career would’ve gotten off the ground without using him, Y/n,” Hoseok calls behind you. “You’re a great liar.”

Once you’re out of the parking garage, you start running. Your feet ache in these boots, and your chest burns with holding off another episode as long as you have. Eventually you stop in a small park, gasping for breath. You’re completely lost, and for the first time, the darkness is more terrifying than comforting. Sinking down at last, you clutch at the Starry Night charm, sobbing freely. You’re so cold.

You’re crying so hard you barely hear footsteps approaching.

“Y/n?”

[mymostimaginaryfriend]

one inch from the edge of this bed

♛ 5x01: James dreams about Teresa. (1.6k words; rating Mature: language, violence, sexual situations) tags: james can have some magical realism as a treat, morphine is a helluva drug

 ➢ read on ao3 or below the cut:  

(note: I originally wrote this as part of a longer story about James’ journey to reunite with Teresa, so for the purpose of this drabble, morphine is making him forget he’s already seen her...cool? cool. thanks for reading!)

♛

James rarely sleeps deeply enough to dream. What starts as a coping mechanism in his childhood only gets cemented further by the military. Now no matter how tired he becomes, he can never quite turn off that last light in the back of his head. It’s for the best, probably. The things he’s seen—the shit he’s done. Who knows what nightmare would crawl out of the well of his subconscious if given half the chance.

The rare times he does dream, he’s usually able to wake himself up within a matter of seconds. It’s automatic now, like he’s rewired a shortcut in his brain. By the time he opens his eyes the dream is nothing more than a faint memory skipping across the surface of his mind without ever dropping an anchor.

The big, bad assassin and his built-in night light. He’d laugh if he didn’t count it as yet another valuable weapon in his arsenal.  It’s not like he doesn’t know this concession by his personal demons is only a layaway plan. Whatever he doesn’t pay for now will come due at least ten times over later.

Still, when he opens his eyes to see morning light filtered through breeze-stirred curtains, he doesn’t catch on right away. It’s not the sunshine that tips him off or the softness of the bed. It’s not the light breeze wafting through the open window, or even the dip of the mattress behind him.

It’s a sense of peace he hasn’t known in nearly a year. It’s the sound of her hushed voice, whispering his name.

“Don’t hide from me,” she says. “I know you’re awake.”

His heart leaps then plummets at the smile he hears in her words, sweet joy chased by sick panic. It’s not just the nightmares he’s been avoiding in his sleep. 

Dreaming of Teresa is an indulgence he can no longer afford.

When he left with Devon, he knew he’d need more than just physical distance between her and his new life, from what he’d have to do there and who he might have to become to do it. He couldn’t risk it warping his feelings for her.  He couldn’t let it twist his memories or cloud his purpose.

So in the last moments of his freedom, as Devon drove him away into the night, he allowed himself to hold close all that she meant to him: her innate goodness, her fierce bravery, how her eyes warmed whenever she smiled.

And then he built a room around those memories—built the wall brick by brick in his mind until they were shut away. He didn’t need a key. He didn’t even build a door. It was the only way of protecting both those memories and himself.

Leaving her meant leaving her behind.

One look at her now will undo all of his careful compartmentalization. One look at her, no matter if she’s real or imagined, will destroy those walls to dust.  He can’t get off mission, he has to stay on task, he has to—he can’t remember what exactly.  But it feels important, deathly so.

He closes his eyes and waits for the awareness of the dream to catapult him to consciousness but something is wrong. His mind refuses to obey the command.

Error: shortcut not found.

And with every passing second it’s harder to remember why it’s so important for him to resist, his urgency to awaken quickly replaced by an urgency of a different kind.  He can’t stop the hum in the back of his throat at the touch of her fingers brushing across his abdomen or how his body automatically angles itself toward the warmth of hers, inexorable like the tide.

She laughs and the sound of her joy hooks beneath his ribcage, turning him toward her.  They never had enough time.  Little things like lying in bed together, easing into the day with lazy touches and hushed sighs turned into something valuable, something to hold on to, something that’s supposed to be in a lockbox behind a fucking brick wall.

“Hmm, it’s like that is it?” she asks, voice like warm honey sending an anticipatory flare of heat up his spine. “Let’s see if I can’t wake you up.”

The drag of her hair across his chest is all the warning he needs before her lips find his and what’s left of his resistance falls away like tumblers in a lock.  There are no more walls left between them now. No air. Just heat, hands and skin so soft he can barely manage not to bruise it in his desperate need to get her even closer.

An alarm bell rings in some distant corner of his mind, but one hand has already buried itself in her hair, angling her head for better access to her mouth.  The other has slipped beneath her sleep worn shirt, fingers brushing up her ribs to the soft, warm weight of her breast.

This isn’t real.

He doesn’t fucking care.

The past year has been a brutally cold one, filled with blood-soaked ops and people he couldn’t trust.  He’s spent the last twelve months always on guard, either enacting violence, experiencing it or expecting it. To have Teresa here, tangibly safe in his arms, and so, so warm is almost more than he can take, let alone resist.

Her breath stutters against his lips and it feels like a hit of pure oxygen, like she’s reviving him from the dead.

He opens his eyes, pushing her hair back up and out of her face to take her in. She always smiled more freely in their quiet moments together, something that made him feel more powerful than any firearm ever had. Her lips curve now, soft and sweet, her eyes half lidded by pleasure and the knife that’s lodged in his heart tears a downward path, spilling all of his carefully contained emotions from the wound. His grip on her waist tightens too much to go unnoticed.

“What’s wrong?” Her eyes flicker quickly over his face, the ever present worry never too far from the surface of their lives.

He wants to reassure her, to hold onto the playfulness between them, but the ache of it makes him honest. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here,” she replies, voice barely a whisper, perhaps sensing the deadly seriousness of his words. He’s never missed anything half as much as her.  It used to scare him to think of what he’d be willing to do to have this once again. What lines he’d cross to get back to her, to this.

He no longer wonders anymore.  He knows.  The knowledge that he’d do it all over again if it kept her safe didn’t absolve his crimes.  It sure as hell didn’t silence the echo of screams in his head.

“Are you?” His voice is rough but he gentles his hand, smoothing it down her hip to lightly grip her thigh, relishing the strength he can feel beneath his fingertips. He forces a smirk, an attempt to salvage the lightheartedness, and though the slight narrowing of her eyes suggests she sees right through his façade, she concedes to his wishes with a soft smile, tossing her hair over one shoulder to lean down and nip his jawline.

“What do you miss?” she teases, biting gently at the tendon of his neck, sucking lightly at first then sharper.  “This?”

His breath catches in his throat and she hums her approval into his skin.  “Or maybe this?” she murmurs, shifting to run a flat palm down his belly, lower and lower until she’s cupping him through his boxer briefs.

He groans as she strokes him, and she smiles in delight as his hips reflexively rock up into her hand. Her eyes lock onto his, like she knows exactly what power she has over him, like she wants to see the exact moment he surrenders.  It won’t take long. It feels so fucking good that it’s only his pride that keeps him from panting.

Her eyes dance wickedly.  “Or maybe this?”

As quick as lightning, she releases him to grab at his waist, tickling in just the right spot to make him nearly levitate off the bed.

“Fuck,” he laughs, grabbing for her wrists to roll her underneath him, pinning her arms above her head. She’s breathless and beaming and so goddamned pleased with herself that he can’t take his eyes off of her.  She’s beautiful.

“This,” he murmurs, slotting himself between her legs, rolling his hips hard and slow, repeating the movement when her face goes slack with pleasure.

“This,” he breathes, as her heels dig into the back of his thighs, pressing him closer as he leans down to catch her moan with his mouth.

This, he thinks, losing himself in the hazy heat of her. This, this, this.

He senses it a split-second before it happens, like a sudden change in air pressure.  The distant urgency of his mission slamming into focus with the echo of a high powered rifle shot and the shattering glass of the window.

Fiery pain rips through his abdomen, but it's the soft cry beneath him that has him in agony.

He remembers now what was so important.  He remembers now what he was supposed to do.

“Teresa,” he chokes, slumping to the side to get himself fully between her and the window.  He's losing strength fast, barely able to prop himself up enough to assess the damage.  At first he thinks the blood covering her chest is his own, but then he sees it: the entry wound where the bullet passed through him into her.

Her eyes stare up at him in disbelief, words gurgling around the blood pooling in her throat. “James?”

He has to —

“James,” she repeats, blood trickling out the corner of her mouth, her voice growing faint.  

He has to —

“Save me.”

♛

ao3

[dannyboyzone]

samuel one shot?🥺

Note; This is angst with a happy end, it doesn't have a name, so if you would like to name it, you are free to do so. Since the topic is not specified, I wrote whatever I felt like writing. Y/n will have they/them pronouns so everyone feels comfortable. If you don't, just change it in your head.

TW - Depression, mentions of suicide.

Today has more than 7 billion stories. So many people are experiencing it differently, yet so similarly.

Someone died today, and another person was born. Maybe they will change the world, or destroy it.

A student is celebrating passing his exams, while an adult across the world is crying in their dark room thinking about that they never had the chance to tell their parents that 'hey, I am trans, please accept me.'

Everyone has their own struggles, so why?

Why is Y/n pitying themselves so much? They keep asking themselves that.

They are so stuck up on their own self, just hurting about minor things. Like small sentences, that their old neighbour probably already forgot about. Things their family already forgot about.

Yet they keep asking themselves; Why do they care so much?

Even now, when they are crying their eyes out. Their knees are pulled up to their chest, sitting on the edge of the rooftop. They can't bring themselves to jump off, even though they crave death so much.

Who are they to be in pain so much when others have to go through war, confrontation, missing someone they can never get back?

" AAAAAAAAAA "

Y/n yelled out to the thin air, even though they were sure even people from a few miles away could hear. It didn't really matter though, holding it back was harder than caring for other's around right now.

That what caused them to be a mess anyway, caring for others that much. Running a hand through their hair, they started to rip it and shake their head while continuing to cry.

How pathetic, Y/N thought to themselves, leaving no other option than to repeatedly slap their own cheek.

When no one in this world cares for you, it's hard to care for yourself.

" Hey, are you done putting on a show there? " they were interrupted by a deep, husky voice.

Y/n sniffed and turned around a bit. Hanging one of their legs freely off the rooftop, while resting the other on their lap.

They raised their brow at the sight of the unknown man coming closer to them.

Man.. ? The closer he got, the more obvious it was that he must be a teenager, just really buff.

He still had a bit of baby fat on his cheeks, which was quite cute, as Y/n would think.

It's quite funny though.

The neighbourhood they are in is pretty old, out dated and full of graffiti everywhere. Yet this stranger is wearing such an expensive suit, that doesn't even have a single spot of dust on it.

So, what is he doing here?

Y/n sniffed, while rubbing the tears with their palm away.

" Who are you? "

The boy leaned on the barrier of the rooftop which Y/n was sitting on top of. There were only a few inches between them.

The boy took a glance at the other's eyes, swollen and red from crying. Their eyelashes were stuck together at some parts at the end, it's such a pity.

It would be a lie if he said he didn't check the person's body language out, he didn't care much, but he noticed that they were holding onto the barrier tightly.

He then took out a cigarette from his pocket, placing it in his between his lips.

" Don't you have better problems than that? " , said he, as the cigarette got put on fire.

Y/n ran a tongue through the inside of their cheek, wanting to move closer. They didn't though, as they decided that's not worth it.

They were quite raged, yet calm at the same time.

For the best guess, they wanted to be though. It was quite embarrassing to let a stranger watch your very own melt down, let alone not even be aware of it.

" Well, I have the right to know! After all, you saw more of me than what I am comfortable with! "

" .. It's Samuel. "

" Well Samuel, will you leave? I am trying to do something here! "

Samuel couldn't help but... laugh.

Do something my ass, he thought.

He took a smoke from his cigarette, and looked up at the sky. It was a really sunny sunday, perfect to just sit back and enjoy life. Sadly, not everyone could.

" Go ahead then, jump. "

Y/n blinked, what the fuck?

" Excuse me, how fucking insensitive are you? "

Samuel just shrugged a shoulder, in a nonchalant way. " So what? "

He put his cigarette out, turning his head towards Y/n.

That moment, their face was met with smoke. They couldn't help but cough, it felt so terrible.

This guy, is a complete fucking asshole. How can a person be so.. heartless? It's like there is no soul in their eyes. Truly, no one cares.

Y/n wanted to slap him, but as soon as they raised their hand, their wrist was squeezed. Samuel held their hand in the air, making it feel stuck. Their eyes met, and Y/n got shivers down their spine.

He has to let go, now.

" Someone who wants to die doesn't mind smoke in their face. They will be dead anyway, won't they? "

Y/n was in disbelief, but they could barely hear.

They were so afraid of falling off, they couldn't help but shake.

The ground was so far away, it could kill anyone. If anything were to fall, it would end the lives of the people walking by.

Samuel walked a few steps closer, watching as Y/n's eyes got filled with tears and fear yet again.

" ... You are scared of falling of, now that you don't have anything to hold onto. "

Y/n's head was filled with different kind of thoughts, but what scared them above above anything else, that this guy is right.

There is something in him, that Y/n isn't quite aware of, but finds comfort in. Admitting it is not an option, for now, they kept moving, as much as they could.

" Let go of me! "

With that, their wrist was free again. It had quite a big red mark over it, which didn't matter all that much. It would fade by night anyway.

Y/n immediately faced the door to the stairs, which was quite far away. They backed up, their breath becoming quicker and quicker. Staring down at the people underneath them.

They couldn't move backwards for long, because Samuel stood their, pressing the front of their body to Y/n's back. At least they didn't fall backwards to the cement floor of the rooftop.

" Jump, if you wish so that bad. Don't let me stop you. "

He rested their chin on the top of their head, and slid his hands in the pockets of his pants.

" I don't get you, how am I different? The elderly couple you would fall on, the flower shop owner, the boy drawing graffiti on the walls and that little girl in the cherry socks who had met her dad for the first time today.. they would all see you fall. So why does it matter if I see you?... Actually, don't answer me. It's because you wouldn't have to face them, but would have to remember me. They would all remember you for a life though. "

Y/n shut their eyes tight.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

They were filled with hatred and frustration, moving their fingers on the barrier that they held so tightly onto. Y/n wanted to escape, but quite frankly, they didn't know how to react.

Because the shittiest part of it all? No matter how rough it sounds, he is right. No one likes confrontation, but it doesn't mean it's always a lie.

Jumping off would be no use to anyone here. Maybe sometimes, all of us just want someone to hear the desperate yell of our actions. To pull us back in. The universe may not always serve it as you would expect it though.

Y/n let out a sigh, more so to even their breath, and carry their thoughts in another direction.

" So, what do you want from me? "

" I don't know if you know, but you talk while thinking. Why do you care so much about others? They don't want to be pitied, and some people that are better off from you, have these exact same thoughts and might think of you. But they don't help, like you don't help their situation either. So why not help yourself? "

Huh.. He must break hearts often.

The voice belonging to the cold hard truth was like a river.

It was ice cold, causing either tragedies or beautiful memories.

He stepped back, fixing his messy hair. That was the first time Y/n noticed that his knuckles had bruises on them.

That left a lot of questions, is he a gangster? But he is too clean for that. Maybe a CEO? But what would he do there then?

Y/n could have paced out for a bit, because the next thing they have noticed is Samuel walking down the stairs, back facing them, holding his hand up as a sorry excuse of a wave.

" When you are able to admit that you want a new life instead of death, you can come and I will show you a whole new world. "

Y/n looked down on their hand, taking a glance at a tiny old toy. It was simply a tiny plastic chicken, from a happy meal. It sounds ridiculous, but it was from their father, who seems to spend less and less time with them until the point they became strangers.

They always carried it around, even if it only had a meaning to them and no one else in the world.

Y/n wiped their tear, pulling their leg to the other side of the rooftop, jumping onto it.

" You sure do talk a lot compared to other assholes. " they laughed.

Unknown to what would happen next, they followed Samuel. What's the worst that could happen? At least someone wanted them by his side.

They held onto his suit, just like a lost child would.

" So, are you a gangster Mr Know It All? "

" You will find out. "

END

Outro;

Yeah, this is like.. shitty and makes zero sense our of context. But how would you react to that level of confrontation? I sure as hell don't know.

Also, Sammy went there bc was stressed bc he HAS to find new members for his part of workers.. well guess what happened next 👀

Sorry anon, I feel like this wasn't quite what you wanted, if you want to look at it as romance, if not then do not. I just couldn't imagine Samuel being madly in love, so the machine threw out this I guess. Next time please specify if there is anything you want!

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

1. Red Tape and Red Lines

Nanefua lived before what they now call “The Fall.” She used to tell stories of green fields for miles and miles. Of trees that grew all sorts of fruits - each fruit from a different tree. Vegetables from the earth. Creatures that we see in picture books that used to live in the sea, and even roam the Earth. She would say, “But, that was a long time ago,” and top it all off with a sweet chuckle and a very inspiring, “And with the right leaders, it may be ahead of us again still.” 

She believed in a future where society could exist again, for all. She dreamed of a world where we all had what we needed to survive, as well as things that we wanted - pleasures of the world to grant us some happiness while we occupy our space here. I’ve always liked to think that she dreamed of this each time that she went to sleep. I like to think she was dreaming of it the last time she went to sleep, in our little hut in the Outskirts. I like to think that beyond this world, she went to another, one where she had trees with fruits again. 

As we buried her in the earth and I watched Baba draw himself a map of exactly where and put it into his favorite book, I let myself dream that Nanefua was in a better place. Not just in some homemade plot identified only by a hand drawn guide. That was the first dream that I can remember ever having, and I credit her stories. Because the world around me was nothing to build a dream upon. The world of my day was anything but fruitful, was as far from good as I can even describe to you…

.

The Fall. It happened before Shani was born. It happened when her parents were too young to even remember. They DIDN’T put it in new books. They didn’t make new books. They didn’t keep places open that did provide books. That was what made Nanefua faithfully believe that books were invaluable. She kept every one that she owned, collected every one that she found, and bought every one that she could afford. 

When the homeless were being relocated outside of the city and lower income households were being pushed further away from the city, Nanefua at least had a van to her name. She was content to live in it, as she wasn’t the best at haggling and that was what they were doing a lot of to get into homes in what was now called The Outskirts. She, like many women, paired up with a man to get into a space. It was a very small apartment, and he fortunately was good at maintenance, because The Fall stopped a lot of building ventures. Many of the apartments in the area were incomplete and abandoned. All of the empty homes of people who died were up for grabs. Squatters rushed into those, and landlords never came to collect. 

It was like people in the city refused to think about them for a while, probably simply hoping that they would just die, out of sight and out of mind. Having a male roommate was good for a lot of things. He built several shelves for all of the books she had, even though he didn’t know WHY she held on to something that was becoming obsolete, and he wasn’t bad looking, either. A little short, and stocky, but he was strong and had a nice smile.

Nanefua and her roommate were not in love. They barely even liked each other. But, they were human and they had needs. Baba was born in the beginning years of The Fall in a small apartment, with barely running water and scheduled electricity. When Baba was 3, the apartment’s original owner sent their emissary to collect payment. Nanefua thought this would eventually happen, so she had been saving up as much as she could. It wasn’t enough. They took what she had, gave a date for the rest and took her roommate to work for it.

She never saw that man again. Emissaries became the norm. They came with muscle behind them, with unfair contracts and rough consequences. She took her toddler and her books and they lived in a packed van and she posted near a well that she would steal water from. Every now and then, she would check the old apartment to see if Baba’s father had come back. When he was 6 was the last time. She saw the emissary bring in a construction team. They were going to work on the apartment, finish some things up... More people couldn’t live in the city and now, middle class folk were forced to live in these apartments.

Middle class no longer existed, they just didn’t realize that yet. Most of them began working JUST to be able to live in their homes. They had to hustle and scrape for other needs - food, water... She was content to build a little hut near the well. The owner of the well hired her to collect payment from anybody who wanted water from it and allotted her a certain amount herself. She used the land to grow food. The soil was better back then. The water was better back then. 

By the time Shani was born, the ecosystem outside of the city was abysmal. Working was done to survive. Rich people lived in the city and the further away from the city you lived, the further away from wealth, health and happiness, and the closer you were to death.

Shani wondered when she was little, “Was there a sickness? Like, a plague or pandemic? Was there a natural disaster? Was there an economic crash? How did things get so bad? What caused The Fall?”

“The rich was greedy and didn’t care if they killed everybody, as long as they had.”

Long story short, ALL of those things happened. Natural disasters, illnesses, every bit of misfortune... but they simply let them die. Pushed them out, forced them away. Let them die. The Fall is what they called it. They acted like it was something that happened. Like the system wasn’t up against these people all along. The system had been messed up. They just finely tuned it with the more money that they made.

That was the world that Shani inherited, but she also inherited the books. And Shani LOVED books. 

.

Her mind worked a little differently than the people around her. From the time she was able to recognize things and respond to others, that had been a truth about her. Her mother had learned to read before all of the school systems became privatized, and since her grandmother purchased as many books on teaching and learning as possible whenever bookstores began to go out of business and funding was cut for libraries - Shani never had a shortage. Reading became something that only the privileged had the best access to. The privileged, and Shani’s family... maybe a few other poor families.

Whenever libraries became obsolete and the buildings began being repurposed, only librarians cared enough to collect all of the now “useless” books and they banded together to get cheap properties and hold the books there. It would have been criminal to refer to these places as libraries. They didn’t receive funding. They couldn’t order other books, and they didn’t have fancy systems or regular staff to keep everything in the best order. 

So, after a few years, the Dewey decimal system was no longer at play. They simply had signs saying that if you dropped off books, you could trade them for others, and if you took any books to keep, to please try to leave another to borrow. After another few years, they had signs that just said: Free Books. Nanefua gathered as many as they could fit into the hut. Shani fortunately began reading very early as a result. 

True, learning to read from a book was extremely different from the computerized learning systems of the privatized schools, but the alphabet had not changed, and most people underestimated the purpose of books. By the time she was 4, she knew how to both read and speak in several languages, because she had been shown books since she was able to say her first word. Mama and Baba disagreed on what that word was, whether Mama or Nana, but the moment any of them heard it, Nanafue said the girl was ready to start looking at letters and words. She would teach her herself.

After all, she had survived mostly on things she learned just from looking into her own book collection.  Baba was a miner, and often had to travel and send money to them from wherever he was on location working. Shani got used to not seeing much of either of her parents as a small girl. Nanefua raised her for the most part for the first 6 years of her life. But, whenever Nanafue was gone, she had to get used to being alone. It was a long year. Time worked really different for little kids, whether or not they were having a ball. And she was not.

Her mother was bused into the city for gardening and landscaping. She did yard work through a firm and was sent to various properties to spend ours cultivating their yards and plant life. She had picked it whenever she was 5, and had been stuck doing it since then… only advancing to harder, more grueling work in fields and on large pieces of land as she got older. Whenever Shani was little, her mother spent most of her time working at a pomegranate farm. It was a very lucrative industry, and being one of the best, her mother made enough money to get her considered for schooling.

The tests for outsiders to get into city schools were much more difficult than they were for the rich people. Outskirts kids had to work harder and smarter to even get noticed, and their parents were charged brutally in order to take every potential step to gain access to a school.

It didn’t help that Shani’s mind didn’t work like other people’s did. They often thought that she was showing off, or trying to make them feel stupid whenever she would have conversations with them. It taught her not to speak too freely. But, that helped her learn to write things down. Sometimes, she couldn’t focus and needed to write many things down. Regardless of her speaking situation, or her focusing habits, she got into one of the best schools in the city whenever she was 5...

But her parents couldn’t afford to actually send her. 

Instead, they sent her to a less expensive Montessori school, on the merit of her acceptance into the Academy of Superiority. The school masters worked with them on paying her fees and she also was assigned several chores to help compensate. She was exceptionally good at organizing and cleaning up, and whenever she took summer breaks, her teachers would alert her of what they would expect to be known in the upcoming years so that she could homeschool for the summer while they saved up for tuition. 

They applied for the scholarship program each year since she qualified at age 7. It wasn’t until she was 10 that she both was granted access into AoS under the work program.

Riding into that part of the city sent her mind into a whirlwind…

[xechowritesx]

can i get a smutty bucky x reader with 41 and 15, pls?

15. “Well, you’re coming home with me whether you like it or not.”

41.  “You’re going out dressed like that?”

A/N → I changed #15 a bit to fit the story, but the concept is pretty much the same. As always, I got a little carried away. Maybe this will eventually turn into a full-length smut? Who knows, I just love me some Bucky. 

Warnings → Language, daddy kink, & unprotected sex. (Remember to cap it before you tap it, kiddos!) 

“You’re going out dressed liked that?”

Though the question sounds innocent enough, you know it’s anything but. Especially when you’re clad in a tight black dress that leaves little to the imagination. You watch with a mischievous grin as Bucky takes in your form, the spandex material of the garment accentuating your hourglass figure. 

“I can’t let you out of the house like that, doll.” Bucky continues, approaching you. His gait is wide and deliberate as he finishes clasping the last few buttons of his dress shirt. 

“What can I say, soldier?” You tease, smile morphing into a playful smirk. “I’m just trying to keep up with you.” Bucky can’t help but chuckle, shaking his head knowingly. 

At this rate, you’ll never make it to dinner. 

“C’mon, you’re practically naked.” Bucky reaches you, hands falling instinctively to your waist. He tugs you into his muscular chest and you’re quick to wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Might as well go nude, then.” Your lips brush against his as you speak, warm breath tickling his skin. “I’m sure it’d be hit with all the fellas.” 

You press your lips gently against Bucky’s, only for a moment, before pushing him playfully away. He sighs defeatedly at the action. You turn on your heel, reaching back for the zipper of your dress as you walk toward your shared bedroom. 

Screw dinner, you muse as you slowly and teasingly unzip yourself. 

“Doesn’t matter if you were a hit or not,” Bucky follows, enthralled, “you were gonna come home with me at the end of the night, whether you liked it or not.” 

You laugh as your dress falls and bunches around your ankles. This, the playful teasing and flirting, was one of your favorite sides of Bucky. Sure, he’d been hesitant when you’d first started dating. But with time, his suave and confident demeanor returned. He was everything he’d been rumored to be; smooth-talking, charming, and the best damn lay of your life. 

“You’re alway so sure of yourself.” You voice, in a sultry tone. 

As Bucky enters the bedroom, he’s already rid himself of his dress shirt. He groans at the sight of your naked form, a smirk on your lips as you sit at the foot of the bed.

“Ya know, you’re gonna be the death of me one day, Y/N.” Bucky makes quick work of his belt as he closes the gap between you. 

“But what a way to go, huh?” 

You tangle your hands in Bucky’s hair, pushing up onto your feet to connect your lips. He’s incredibly responsive, hands eager and exploratory. He deepens the kiss as his hands find your breasts, drawing a moan from your lips. The sound only encourages him. 

“Underwear,” he manages between kisses, “off.” It’s not a request, no. It’s a demand. 

Another whine escapes you as he shoves back onto the bed. You land with a gentle bounce and quickly obey, nearly ripping the already soaked panties off your body. Bucky moves just as quickly, freeing himself of his dress pants and briefs with impressive speed. 

“There’s my girl.” He’s smirking as he climbs onto the bed, thick, muscular frame hovering over yours.

Before you can protest to the lack of touch, his lips find yours. It’s different this time, far more urgent and passionate. His hands move freely all over your body and you’re grasping at him desperately. 

“Let me taste you.” You beg unabashedly between moans. 

“No time, doll.” Bucky groans, lips moving down past your jaw and finding your collar bone. He kisses and nips at the skin there, marking your skin. “I need to you feel you.”

With that, Bucky thrusts into your heated core. A ragged moan leaves your body at the sudden sensation of being filled to the brim. It’s almost too much to bear, but waves of pleasure wash over you. 

“Please, Bucky.” You gasp, as he sets an intolerably slow pace. His hips move slowly, dragging in and out of you, making ever inch meaningful. 

“Please what?” Bucky eggs you on, lips pressing open mouth kisses to your neck. “Use you words, baby girl.” 

“Please daddy, fuck me harder.” You words are broken and wrecked, back arching and hips rolling to find some kind of friction. 

Without another word, Bucky gladly obliges. His hips increase in both speed and power, drilling into your g-spot with expert precision. His hands move to cup the back of your knees, lifting your legs to gain leverage. 

“What a good girl, taking daddy’s dick so well.” Bucky praise into your ear, his voice sending shivers down your spine. “Aren’t you glad we skipped dinner?” 

Yes, you were so fucking glad. 

[grailfinders]

Fate and Phantasms Far Side #2: Tohno Shiki

We have another guest build today from u/Magical-Biche on Reddit! While I’ve been tackling Fate Grand Order characters, they’ve been hard at work making builds for other parts of the Nasuverse. Today, they’ve built Shiki! No, not that one. Not that one either. No, Tohno Shiki. No, the other- you know what? Forget it, I’ll let Magical-Biche take over from here. (I’ll put the level-by-level breakdown below the cut, or you can check out the spreadsheet here.)

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

Now that my personal favorite is done, today we’re attacking the main protagonist of that really good *anime* that is Tsukihime, Tohno Shiki. As with the previous build, this one will contain heavy spoilers for many routes of the visual novel. Read at your own risk! Also, this build works for Nanaya Shiki, just make sure you change the alignment from neutral good to like, chaotic or neutral evil. This build is based on Tsukihime, Kagetsu Tohya and Melty Blood. 

Tohno Shiki is a skilled demon slayer who fights with a knife. He’s merciless against his targets, as he falls into a trance while fighting them to tap into his latent potential. He can also use the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.

For this build, we’re looking for 3 main things, which are : 

Shiki’s bread and butter, the mystic eyes of death perception. While there is no simple way of having the MEoDP, we’ll try to maximize our damage on a single hit, on a single enemy. 

Shiki might not look like it, but he’s extremely agile. While we have low health, we’re pretty hard to hit, and good at simply avoiding damage. 

Shiki has a weird fighting style where he’ll fall into a trance when he’s fighting certain enemies, such as demons and undeads. We might not be able to get that as a feature, but we can easily get bonuses against our favored enemies. 

Race and Background 

Shiki is a plain old human, fighting with only his own limbs. And his OP Mystic Eyes, but we’ll come to that later. We’re playing the variant human, as we have little use for more than 2 stats on this build, and we’ll be using that extra feat. Shiki fits the Urchin background… okay-ish-ly. He’s an orphan, but he grew up playing outside in a gigantic mansion. However, he did know Arihiko the delinquent for a long time, which means he certainly did some illegal things once or twice. Anyway, the proficiencies are great for the build, and the bonus feature fits our role very well. We’ll be taking the alert feat so we’re better at not being surprised and pretty much always hit first. We also get a skill proficiency, and we’re going for Survival.

Stats

Going with the standard array, we are going to need a few stats for our multiclassing. However, all three classes we’ll be getting levels in are Dex based, and 2 uses wisdom heavily, so we won’t spread too much. We’ll start by getting as high Dex and Wis as possible, as those will be our main offensive stat, and main spellcasting stat. Shiki is nimble and agile, and when he’s not obsessed over a target, he makes wise decisions. As is needed for a harem protagonist, he has a decent charisma, so we should get that stat to at least 13. Next, we have our little quirk: Shiki has bad health because of “Anemia”. In truth, he’s only alive because his sister gives him half her life force, which explains why he tends to pass out. He’s actually resilient, but for the sake of fluff, we’re going to let our Con sit at 12, not bad, but not great either. Next, we’re not particularly intelligent nor are we stupid, so we’re leaving our Int at 10. Finally, we can dump our Str. Who needs strength when you can cut anything easily?

Class levels : 

1. Ranger 1: We’re starting by getting our first favored enemy with a few levels of ranger. At level 1, we get our favored enemy. We are taking the Fiends. That gives us an advantage on survival checks to find them, and on intelligence checks to recall information about them. It’s not really strong, but it can always prove handy. Additionally, we can take the Abyssal language, which is common among demons, and fiends in general, to communicate with them. We also get natural explorer, which helps us move in certain environments. For the sake of flavoring, try to convince your DM to let you choose the “city“ terrain, which doesn’t exist in the rules, but simply makes a lot of sense. If they refuse, we can take Mountains, as we grew on a forest on a mountain. 

You also get Str and Dex saving throws proficiency. The Dex is awesome, but we dumped Str, so that one won’t be too useful. We will keep our leather armor for now, since we might die if we are too underprotected, but we’ll get rid of it later. Also, you could play with a single knife, to stay true to the character, but let’s say that a shortsword is basically just a very long knife, or else our damage will really be pathetic. We won’t use the bow, but it doesn’t hurt to have it as an option on the side. 

2. Ranger 2: We get our fighting style and our spellcasting. We’re taking the Duelist style, which makes us hit harder when we wield a single weapon. We will have plenty of use for our bonus action later, but for now, we can stick with dual wielding when the party needs more DPS. For our spells, we’re taking Hunter’s mark, which is the closest thing we have from the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception: it boosts damage and it helps us tracking our target, as if we could see its lines of death. We’re also getting Fog Cloud, which is an amazing tool for our hit and run tactics we’ll only get better at with levels. 

3. Ranger 3: We finally chose our archetype, and we’re going one on one master with Monster Slayer. This archetype gives us a new spell, protection from evil and good, a great defensive spell that even works on allies. We’re also getting Hunter’s sense, which is another part of our Mystic Eyes. It lets us see a creature’s weaknesses a few times per long rest. We’re also gaining Slayer’s prey, which boosts our damage just a bit further beyond. Next, we’re getting our primeval awareness, which helps us track our arch nemesis, the fiends, and other creatures too. 

The last gift level 3 gives us is a new spell to learn, so we’re getting Jump, to further boost our movement.

4. Ranger 4: Our first ASI, and we’re getting our Dex as high as possible to boost our AC and damage. 

5. Ranger 5: This is why we haven’t multiclassed yet: we finally get our multiattack feature! Now, we can really start doing some big damage despite our weak weapon. 

Also, we get a new spell from our archetype, Zone of truth. It’s a… niche spell, if anything. It can help with interrogations, but that’s about it. We’re also taking darkvision, which helps our poor human eyes with a LOT of encounters, because demons hunt at night, usually. 

6. Monk 1: We’re taking a very short detour into the monk class. We’re here for the unarmored defense, which can give us a very high AC later on, which is great for our survivability. We should sell our leather armor at that point, as it’s no longer needed. Also, we get martial arts, which let us do an attack as a bonus action with our fists, as long as our other hand is wielding a monk weapon. Our fists now deal 1d4 damage, plus our Dex bonus, which is actually weaker than our other shortsword. However, it makes it so that we can still do three attacks, with our multiattack feature, and keep the bonus damage from dueling. In the end, the lower base damage of the fist is mitigated by the +2 of our fighting style. The multiclassing into monk only gives us proficiencies we already have, which is unfortunate.

7. Ranger 6: We get a new favored enemy, the undead. It gives us the same bonuses as before against undead, which includes vampires. Since undead don’t have a dedicated language, we’re taking undercommon as a new language, since it’s a common language enough that Undead might speak or understand it. Undercommon, undead, maybe they’re related?

 We also get a new terrain for our natural explorer, so we’re getting forest or mountain (if you could deal with your DM to have the city terrain for your first level). It honestly doesn’t matter much, as we’re a city-dweller, so we should go with what our party needs there, really. 

8. Rogue 1: We’re getting our final new class this level, the rogue. A level 1 rogue gets Expertise, which makes us experts at 2 skill checks. We’re taking Perception and Stealth, so we’re less likely to be surprised and more likely to surprise. That puts us, if we did take the Standard array, a whopping +10 on Stealth checks and +9 on perception checks. We also get our big boi damage with Sneak attack, which let us deal an additional 1d6 damage if we have advantage on our attack, or when we have an ally in melee range of our target. We also get the Thieves’ Cant, which we won’t use much because of our lore. We get a new skill proficiency, acrobatics, as well as a proficiency with thieves’ tools. 

9. Rogue 2: We get our cunning action, our main hit-and-run tool, which lets us dodge or disengage with our bonus action. It does not sound that great, but it can really save us in some situations, we can’t forget we have that!

10. Rogue 3: We get our roguish archetype: we’re a Swashbuckler, to further our ability to challenge a single opponent. This subclass gives us Fancy footwork, which lets us play around our enemies freely, as long as we hit them. Great when combined with our multitude of extra attacks. We also get something else that’s great: Rakish audacity. This feature allows us to duel pretty much anything and still deal our absurd sneak damage. This makes it that we can always sneak attack creatures if no other enemy is near our target. We also get our charisma modifier added to our initiative, which is cool, but we already have our starting feat which gives us plus 5, so it’s nothing more than icing on the cake. Also, our sneak attack goes to 2d6.

11. Ranger 7: We do a last detour, now that we have somewhat stable damage and nice utility, to complete our Ranger build. We get our second archetype feature, Supernatural Defense, which makes us extremely resilient to our prey’s grappling and skill-check-triggering spells. We also get our last spell, which will be Silence, to help us sneak around.. You know, it’s almost like we’re a Rogue or something. 

12. Ranger 8: Our last Ranger level gives us an ASI, which will go to Dex, maxing our base damage and pushing our AC to 18. We also get our last Ranger feature, Land’s stride, which is niche but helps us not to be grappled by plant monsters and plant based attacks, as well as crossing even difficult terrain really fast. 

13 Rogue 4: The only thing we get this level is another ASI, which we pump into Wis, which boosts our AC and that’s it, as we have no spell which requires or triggers checks. It also helps tracking our prey, and boosts our passive perception through the roof. 

14. Rogue 5: UNCANNY DODGE! Finally, we’re starting to get our survivability to the next level. Just react to halve damage, once per turn. Yes, it’s limited to enemies we can see, but just look at our perception. We just know where everybody is. We can face tank the big boss’ big hit, if it manages to even hit us, or just survive one more turn a dumb arrow who managed to hit a 20 on the dice. What’s more, we get a shiny new sneak attack dice, pushing it to 3d6. 

15. Rogue 6: A new layer of expertise. We can grab expertise in Insight, which will help us find out if Arcueid really is Arcueid, or some weird theatre obsessed 500 years old vampire, and Survival, so we just won’t lose track of our prey. 

16. Rogue 7: We gain another extremely useful defensive feature with Evasion. It simply allows us to completely negate incoming fireballs, most traps and a lot of other stuff by changing how we take damage from those effects. Whenever we need to make a dexterity saving throw to halve damage, we take 0 damage on success now, and half on a failure. Nothing much to say, it just is as strong as it sounds. Our sneak attack goes up to 4d6.

17. Rogue 8: Fourth ASI, we’re getting our damage even slightly higher with the martial adept feat. We gain a superiority dice we can use to trigger either the Disarming attack, to have an even greater advantage on our poor opponent, or the Precision attack, in case we’re 1 or 2 away on the dice to hit our opponent in a critical moment. 

18. Rogue 9: next is our final subclass feature, Panache. It’s… not the greatest. We’re taking this level mostly because of the last feature we can grab, but using this feature can quickly become dangerous, no matter how evasive we are. It can fail, as we have low Cha, and Wis saving throws are quite frequent. We should only use it as a last resort. It can help us get our harem outside of battle though, so there’s that. Our sneak attack now deals 5d6 damage. 

19. Rogue 10: ASI time! This time, we’re finishing our Wis, that goes up to 19. Our AC is high, our perception checks are even higher, and we have huge bonuses to even skill checks we aren’t proficient with, like medicine. We have a +15 bonus to our perception, so no one really can hide from us anymore, no matter how sneaky. 

20. Rogue 11: Our final upgrade before going to beat the hell out of Tarasque. We’re reliably talented, which means we can’t realistically fail skill checks we’re proficient with anymore. In other words, we will always have a minimal result of 27 in Insight, perception, Stealth and survival skill checks, and a minimum of 21 in sleight of hand checks. Finally, our sneak attack dice caps at 6d6. 

Pros : We’re a big damage dealer, without even using precious class resources. As long as there’s one creature at the edge of the pack, we can use our Sneak Attack as much as we want, once per turn. We have pretty good stats, excluding our Constitution, which makes us weirdly tanky. Bad dice RNG can fuck us up, but we have a way to mitigate most damage. We’re also great at escaping thanks to being a rogue with access to jump, even though a few more Monk levels would have made us an escapist expert. 

Cons : We have pretty low HP thanks to only a +1 modifier on our constitution, so we’re not great at long fights. We pretty much have exactly one way of attacking, which is slashing, slashing and slashing. Investing in special enchanted weapons might be a must past a certain level. Also, our fist attacks are a bit useless outside of using them for Fancy Footwork. Finally, our damage can fall off quickly if the enemy attacks in large numbers. 

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hi Evoe, can I ask for you to write this MCxVinca fic? The request is where mc made deal with demons by giving up ability to feel touch to obtain darkness and light powers so she can keep up with Vinca and her friends. However, demon magic corrupt mc’s soul. Mc went dark and betray her lover by using Vinca’s knife to kill her so she can become Pride and take her mind reading power. Mc made it looks like it’s from Vuzgamad’s ambush and claimed that Vinca made her a successor before her death

Written by: @evoedbd

PART 3

Warnings for

Bad Language

Violence

Blood and Gore

Death

Part One, Part Two

+++++++++++++++++++++

MEMENTO MORI

“Yvette is going to be devastated when you’re gone, Vinca. It only makes sense that Rae steps up, tries to comfort her best friend. It will be glorious, a love story for the ages. Born of tragedy, the dead best friend’s fiancée becoming the love of our heroine’s life. Of course, they will try to deny the feelings… Afterall, I killed you right in front of our new little Pride, she couldn’t save you, couldn’t save anyone. Rae is going to be so tragically broken… but her feelings will just be too strong for her to deny. Of course, this’ll only be once Yvette is nearly driven insane by her own longing for just ONE normal thing in her fucked up little life. Just like a fairy-tale, Yvette won’t be able to hurt Rae… not after Rae was able to “kill” me, to find a loophole in Yvette’s curse. Perhaps she’ll expose that with a kiss, on the anniversary of your death, over your grave. As if you blessed it from the beyond. Extra incentive to leave your little twin behind.” Vuzgamad’s taunting voice was enough to have Vinca hissing between blows. The demon was so sure, so confident as she lounged in a stolen body, across a dingy chair as if it were the unholy throne of hell. Honestly, who the fuck did this bitch think she was? Vinca would have snapped back, have retaliated, if Rae’s punch hadn’t come so close to connecting, only diverted by her sloppier form. The puppeteer too inexperienced, or the mind not committed.  That didn’t render her completely ineffective, not when the shadows played on the edge of Vinca’s vision one moment, and the next she was blinded.  She should have been blinded, only the fact Rae was fighting with everything left of her prevented that power unleashing, prevented her from completely devouring the current Pride assassin.

“Come on Rae, SNAP OUT OF IT.” Vinca pleaded between gasps, between punches and kicks.  Rae advanced viciously, pushing into Vinca’s guard, bringing them to collision after collision.  The safest way to give Vinca victory, but also the most costly.  Rae was good, too good, stronger in hand to hand than Vinca.  It was only Vinca’s blades that granted her leverage, but she didn’t want to use them.  How could she?   Every time she did, it was another slash across Rae’s flesh.  A cut designed to hurt without maiming or slaying, but Rae just kept pushing.  A terminator. The worst foe Vinca could ever face.  Her heart constricted in her chest, costing her precious time, lowering her guard a second too long.  She ducked the next kick, staggered, fell to a knee.  Before Rae’s foot even met the ground, she had raised her second in a brutal kick to Vinca’s chest.  Had she been human, Vinca knew that kick would have done more than sent her flying, arms flailing, knees bent awkwardly.   There was no time to stop, no time to make the answering blow softer.  One foot up, a kick from the ground straight into Rae’s groin.  She wasn’t a man, but society as a whole always underestimated how painful a kick to the vag truly was.  Sure, women were designed to push watermelons out of holes the size of a lemon but come on.   Predictably, Rae locked up with a pained grunt, leaving Vinca free to roll free of the conflict.

“Oh Pride, you sho- NO.  Vinc, RUN.  Please!  I c-can’t…” Rae’s entire body was at conflict.  Her voice changed, tone shifting from malicious to pleading.  The tears gathered within her dark eyes were not solely due to Vinca’s brutal kick, nor purely heartache.  It was the blood of war, blood from a battlefield within her mind spilling through the cracks of a human body. Rae strained; body perfectly exposed. Hesitation.  Rebellion.  A dare within her eyes.  A plea. The perfect opportunity.  One Vinca HAD to take.  A blade, a flick of the wrist, a bullseye waiting to happen.  Until the answering flash of light swallowed the darkness of Rae’s eyes.   It burned, a thousand fingers pulling at the fibre of Vinca’s muscles, the molecules in her bones.   She screamed, rolled across the cool concrete floor as her soul burned, melted along with the metal of her blade.  Said blade fell harmlessly to the concrete floor, bending as softened metal met the hard surface.  Severed from Vinca’s soul.  Another fragment lost.

“Like… Hell… Am I… leaving you.” Vinca gasped out, chipped nails biting into the concrete as she pulled herself to her knees.   Her once bedazzled eyes were now surrounded by smudged makeup, running eyeliner on trickles of blood.  Blush complimented by gravel rash.  Scraped, reduced to bared teeth in threat.

“There’s still a little bit of me left? Oh, I sound so convincing, don’t I? Nobody will see this coming, never in a million years. There’s nothing left, you stupi-”

Vinca reached, plunging herself back into the muck that greeted her when she reached for Rae’s mind. She was in a canyon, looking up at the two sides, unable to decipher which side of the chasm she should scale, only that the muck was pulling her down. A quagmire. Stuck. Trapped. But one side was crumbling, falling into the chasm, building it and filling it. It was too much, it was going to crush her if she didn’t run, didn’t get out. GET OUT! Get out, get out, get out! But she couldn’t. It was all too much. Too hard. So much pressure. Crushing and consuming. She was going to die. She was going to drown in this nothingness. She stared at two glaciers, but one was crumbling, sheets of ice falling away into the blackest ocean, which continued to rise, continued to consume. Which should she reach for? What did this even mean? Why? Why was Rae’s mind suddenly so different? At the bottom, a glint of iron caught her eye. Bars of a vicious cage ensnaring a lone form. A figure drowning, clawing at the bars weakly as the ability to fight drained away.   Vinca was desperate, screaming in a thousand voices, a thousand tongues across conceivable time as she dug.  She dug, hands scooping as she dove into the water, tried to dig deeper into the mud.  It was so thick, so heavy in her hands, yet slid as freely as water.  Like a dog, she dug, arms blurring as she screamed. A handful thrown aside, two more replaced it.  It was futile.  Like fighting the rising sun with nothing but a Pinto and a lasso.  Still, Vinca had to try.  She drove the spurs to the steed. She drunk, trying to swallow the mud, digging the water.  Absorb it, take it in, anything!  Anything to save Rae.

A punch to the breast broke her from the musings, earning an enraged shriek mere moments before she responded in kind.  Rae squeaked in a similar manner, horror flashing across her face, followed by a flush to her cheeks.  Typical of her, to blush like a schoolgirl the moment breasts were involved.  Still, she pushed, using her powerful legs to kick through Vinca’s guard, expensive canvas shoes thankfully taking the brunt of Vinca’s slashes.  The harder Rae attacked, the further onto the backfoot Vinca was forced.  A punch to the face, a slash to the bicep, a death of a thousand cuts.  One cut had two souls bleeding, each worth a thousand words that Pride could never express.   A kick to the ribs, a slash across the thigh.  Please don’t make me do this.  A knee deflected by a hard forearm, followed by a blow to the chin.   Please run.  A backhand across Rae’s face.  Two people flinching.  I’m not leaving you.

“You can try all you want, Vinca, but you can’t stop her unless you kill her… then, there are all these demons.” Vuzgamad pointed out, lifting a little from her makeshift throne.  The demons encircling them hissed and snarled, making themselves known as Vinca drew too close to the edge of their temporary arena. They kept her trapped, pushing her back into Rae’s range time and time again, but never once harming her.  Never causing her to stagger.  It was either a leering blade waved dangerously close, or knuckles cracking beneath wicked bracers.   A few even simply cocked guns at her, each grinning wickedly as she stepped back into the arena.  Back to fighting her heart. It was all a game. A FUCKING game.  That bubbled in her veins, leading her next blow to land a little too hard across Rae’s chest.

“You know, this was all Rae’s idea.  I admit, I never would have put so much effort into ensuring an entire gangs worth of demons prevented you leaving.  A stroke of genius, but that’s to be expected.  Rae truly thought long and hard on how to pick you apart over our time together.   It seems she truly does know you better than anybody alive, as you’ve said.  Even Onyx, bless the girl, couldn’t endure the darkness.  But Rae?  It’s a pity such a virtue has you as her vice… right to the bitter end.” Vuzgamad continued, pausing to snicker at Vinca’s cry of outrage.  A slash across a demon’s throat.  It fell, offering no resistance.  The sound of a gunshot.  A crumpled host.  Two more demons stepping up, pushing Vinca back with seething hatred beneath their almost gentle movement.  

“Do you honestly think you’re doing anything but delaying the inevitable? By hurting Rae, you’re only making it harder for her to fight.” Vuzgamad’s laughter followed another punch to Rae’s nose, one punctuated by a sickly crack. Vinca cringed, leaping backwards as Rae staggered. With a heavy heart she took aim. A flick of her wrist had a blade buried in Rae’s nerves, immobilising the Chinese woman. Before Vinca could even draw a second knife, Rae’s eyes were upon her, the room suddenly darkened, filling her with a chill that ate at her very bones. It was not simply darkness, but the complete absence of light. All save two terrifying eyes. Eyes which seemed to burn, just like the blade in her hand. Just like the blade hidden within Rae’s flesh. Those powers… something so simple yet versatile in Rae’s hands. Something eating at her humanity. The blade was too hot, burning Vinca’s flesh. She screamed, letting the blade fall to the concrete mere moments before her knees did.

The demons around them hissed and snarled, triumph radiating from the hideous visages. Each and every monster was strong and rested, just waiting to pick at the remains. Numerous, beyond what Vinca could see.  Beyond what she could read whilst ducking and weaving.  Whilst struggling to figure a way out.   She couldn’t fight them all, nor could she leave Rae behind.  She couldn’t… couldn’t kill Rae.  No matter what, no matter how pressured, she simply couldn’t.

“Accept it, Vinca Wren.  One of you is not leaving here alive.  Its either you, or her.”

“N- Vinc you have t…” Rae growled, her own hands raised to her eyes, nails biting into her brow as she pressed her palms into her eyesockets.  She trembled; a torn flag trapped within a hurricane.  A grain of sand upon a landslide, an earthquake.  Helpless to it all, no matter how hard she fought.

Vuzgamad was right.

Even if she could beat some sense into Rae, supress what was eroding her, they’d never manage to fight out of this. Sure, the others might find them… but what if they didn’t? Vinca already knew, no matter what, that one of them would be too battered to escape.  There it was, laid out so fricken clearly, the trap she’d ensnared herself in.  Vinca cussed, tears bitterly trailing down her cheeks.  She was only twenty-three.  She didn’t want to die.  Not here, not like this.  An animal in a cage.  She screamed, wordlessly, furiously.  This was so fucking unfair.  She’d given EVERYTHING she had to give.  Her soul.  Her humanity.  Her heart.  She’d given everything save the breath in her lungs and it was STILL not enough.  What more could be taken from her?  Why did fate demand such a thing?  Vinca had no doubt Vuzgamad would kill Rae if Vinca herself escaped. Rae was only useful as a tool. For the hearts bound to her… underestimated. As always. Everyone fucking underestimated Rae, right up until she kicked their ass.  Fuck.  Everyone fucking shat on Rae too, like the most popular latrine in a garrison of soldiers with gastro.   So many people passed her up, never bothering to look into those soulful dark eyes, to question what lingered behind them.  They underestimated her tenacity.  Her intelligence.  Her humanity.

Gods, Vinca fucking loved her. It wasn’t just the little underdog scrambling to every victory that was endearing. It was the gentleness in her eyes. How she trusted her heart so fearlessly. How she continued to sacrifice and fight, even when she was almost broken. Even against the erosion to her humanity. She fought. Even when it was hopeless, she fought, and not even for herself. Rae was throwing herself to the metaphoric wolves, willing to die to protect what she loved.  Vinca knew Rae understood their situation.  She was too smart not to know the moment they walked in.  The moment the teeth snapped shut.  Rae had tried to shove her own foot into that trap, tried to take the fall, to let herself be slain to spare Vinca an ounce of pain.

It couldn’t be Rae.  Vinca realised after one more glance at Rae’s strained features.   How her hand trembled, muscles strained as if held taught by ropes from a thousand directions.  How desperate she was not to grasp Vinca’s fallen blade.   She was so damn beautiful.  Dark eyes flashing with her own fury, clarity for brief flashes, lightning of a storm.  Lips cut, bleeding with every grimace, soaking her chin.  Why?  Rae was a virtue in all but power.  She was love, she was generosity and kindness and patience.  She was EVERYTHING Vinca was not, the counteracting part to a whole that never had truly had the chance to bloom.  The whole Vinca would have given more than herself to see recognised.   This… this was her heart, already torn from her chest, stolen by the cruellest of fates… but at least she had been given the chance to have a taste of paradise.  If only she’d recognised that sooner, instead of fighting herself.

Vinca sighed, slowly rising to her feet.  Determination burning through her veins.  Once chance.  One single chance was all she needed.  A way to break through, to give everything she had left.  The ring hiding in her pocket, a led feather.  It’d always felt so heavy, despite being so light.  Now, it was the wind beneath her broken wings, the only thing preventing her freefalling, plummeting to the earth like the lone tear gathering in her eye.  She watched, saw Rae grab her fallen knife. Stared over the precipice. She was not brave enough to watch, to see that moment unfold.  She had to close her eyes, to let that silly little tear fall as she plunged herself into the murky darkness surrounding Rae’s heart.

If there had to be a sacrifice, so be it.

It would not be Rae.

It would NEVER be Rae.

[nosferatvpussy]

distorted lullabies [chapter IV]

Word count: 4,113

Warnings: vulgar language

Pairing: Dracula x reader

AO3 link 

Author’s note:  Listen... I wrote this chapter this past week and I must say I'm not happy with it. My brain is mush due to work so that's all I could come up with. I wish I could've done better but I know if I delayed posting it I would never do it. Feedback would be greatly appreciated on this one (good or bad).

  “Oh my fucking God.”

My day had started out fine. I had woken up in a surprisingly good mood considering it was Monday and then I ruined it. 

With the exception of Count Dracula’s visit to my house, my weekend was pretty uneventful. Sunday was spent grocery shopping with Diana and reviewing cases to prepare myself for court sessions during the following week. Occupying myself with work was not only necessary but also served as a good distraction from the deal I had struck with the Count. 

Being arrogant had its advantages in my line of work but after proposing a deal to a vampire, I was starting to think how quickly that arrogance could turn into vanity and plain stupidity. A deal from which I had yet to glimpse a way out of? Could I outsmart a centuries old vampire and wiggle out of that deal? On Saturday night I was pretty sure I could. Now… Not so much.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I muttered, receiving ugly looks from people on the tube. 

My hand covered my mouth so I would stop cursing and to stop it from falling open.

Reconnaissance was part of any good lawyer’s job and that was what I had decided to do as my first course of action against Count Dracula. As soon as I had found a good spot to sit in the tube, I googled him by his title. All of the pages included the interesting moniker Vlad the Impaler followed by his actual name Vlad Dracula. That in itself was enough for a chill to run down my spine but each line I read managed to make it worse. 

He was born in the Middle Ages, more precisely in 1431, which put him somewhere over five hundred years old. So, I had made a deal with someone overly experienced in the matters of life, which wasn’t ideal but could be remedied. But then I was met with medieval drawings depicting him dining amongst a field of impaled people. One particular page had supposed accounts from Ottomans and Saxons describing the atrocities committed by him. Boiling people alive, nailing hats to people’s skulls so they wouldn’t take it off, setting beggars and thieves on fire to “cleanse” Wallachia were just some of his various lovely bedtime stories. Those tales had elicited my first string of curses, which yes evoked the name of God in a blasphemous way but at that point I didn’t care if I offended a higher power or not.

Not only was he abhorrently vile, he was smart. Smart enough to send people infected with the plague to infiltrate enemy camps, using them as biological warfare and weakening enemy numbers. Not many people would have thought of such a tactic in the Middle Ages. Apparently the sight of the impaled people put on display around the city Targoviste was so repulsive that the Ottoman Empire simply retreated. And albeit having half or sometimes a quarter of the army of his opponents, he still managed to win several battles because of his cunning. 

That was the part that made me curse several times as some sort of mantra. A ruthless and smart ruler that had been a monster long before he became a vampire, that was who I was up against. And he had five hundred years of practice under his belt. How nice for me. 

My body took control as my mind raced and I got off at Canary Wharf station, making my way to the overly modern glass plated building where I worked.

The Middle Ages were a long time ago and it was a notoriously dark and violent time. Desperate times call for desperate measures, one could say. It should serve as a logical explanation to make myself feel better but the cold sweat on the palms of my hands was an obvious sign that it wasn’t working. I resorted to my earbuds and played one of my favourite songs to try calm myself but I was barely paying any attention to it. The noise inside my head was far louder.

I willed my brain to catch up with my body once the elevator doors opened to the 17th floor. Work, now , I told myself. I could think about how to escape the Count’s grip later.  

Greeting my colleagues, I made my way to my desk at the far left of the office. We occupied half of the 17th floor while the other half was made up of a café and a small finance firm. Smelling croissants and fresh coffee, I placed my purse and briefcase on my chair and was already making a b-line for the café when Renfield peeked his head out of a meeting room and waved for me to join him. 

I threw my earbuds over my shoulders so the string could hang from around my neck and stuck my phone on my trousers' back pocket. Renfield promptly closed the door as soon as I stepped inside. He splayed his arms over the doorway, blocking it. Eyes with dilated pupils watched me from behind thick glasses. Frowning, I looked out through the blurred glass walls that outlined the meeting room we were standing on. If he was about to reprehend me for something I’d done then at least I wouldn’t have to deal with the embarrassment of the whole office witnessing it. 

Renfield had always been composed and taken great pride in his work and looks. For the past few days that stopped being true. Not only was he acting in a disturbing manner, he also appeared unwashed. His hair was greasy and a few strands stuck to his forehead. His suit had a stain on a lapel and he didn’t have a colourful handkerchief peeking out of his front pocket as he usually did. Overworked, I guessed, but never in all the years I knew him had I seen him this way. When I joined the firm as his intern, he let me write most of his opening and closing statements so I could learn and he would rehearse them on his office as I watched and explain why certain phrases should be changed to provide the necessary punch in court. He taught me the basics and all the clever little tricks one could use to dribble a prosecution. He was in the audience when I worked my first case alone in front of a judge. He was there when I won my first case and he took me out for a beer. And he was there when I lost for the first time and he took me out for whiskey. We still went out to celebrate whenever one of us won a case.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he rasped, barely sounding like himself. “Are the Mast-- the Count’s documents in your possession?”

The Master’s, that’s what he almost said. A little too late I remembered that Renfield was Dracula’s servant and automatically took a step back to put distance between us. The Count had arrived at London a week ago, which could explain my boss’ disheveled appearance. 

“They’re at my desk.”

He nodded and licked his lips in a way that made me think of a lizard. 

“And what did you think of him? Of Count Dracula?”

The lunatic gleam in Renfield’s eyes made my decision before I could think through it very much.

“He’s polite and handsome,” I said in the most neutral tone I could manage. “I’ll get the documents and bring them to you. Excuse me.”

I closed the distance between us with more confidence than I felt. Nudging Renfield’s shoulder to the side so he would make way, I tried to grab the doorknob and then he was on me. He pinned me against a glass wall before I had a chance to push him back and his hand yanked my shirt’s collar down, exposing my neck. 

“Ah! Ah!” he exclaimed loudly. “I knew it!”

I tried to fight him off, terrified of the crazed look on his bulging eyes, but he slammed me back on the glass. It trembled under my weight. 

“ Why … you ?” Spittle landed on my face as he spoke and I cringed. “Why would he bestow such a gift on you?!”

Understanding dawned on me and for a second I stopped trying to escape. He was infuriated because Count Dracula had bitten me and not him, like some sort of drug addict that had his vice taken away. 

“Let me go,” I said, summoning a calm semblance. “Ask him about it. It’s not like I offered him a drink.”

“No, not a drink. If he wanted just a drink he would have killed you. He’ll make you his bride. But I-- I have worked so hard, so so hard. I deserve it, I do, I do,” he was whimpering now and shaking his head to the sides like a child. 

“I know, I know,” I cooed but I had tears on my eyes. 

His hands wrapped around my neck and squeezed. My eyes instantly bugged out of my head and the tears flowed freely down my cheeks as I struggled. My hands found his face, trying to slap him or scratch him, anything that would get him off of me. I hit the glass wall with the back of my heel repeatedly to try to get someone’s attention outside. Air couldn’t reach my lungs anymore and my windpipe would probably collapse if he pressed harder. The pressure on my head was enormous. I could barely see and my face felt like it would explode at any second.

Several figures burst in the room. Two of them tried to pry Renfield off of me and the other three screamed for him to let me go. The crushing force on my neck ceased all of a sudden and I went down like a sack of potatoes, falling on my side as I gasped for air. 

“Master! Master!” Renfield howled, struggling against his captors. “I was good, I was good! MASTER!”

A hacking cough seized me as I tried to will air into my lungs but failed to do so in the speed I needed. Slowly my vision returned and I saw Henry and Mallory kneeling next to me, trying to get me to sit up. Renfield’s deafening screams filled my ears. 

“What happened?!” Mallory asked as Matthew, another colleague of mine, and a security guard tried to pin Renfield to the ground as he continued shouting.

“Not h-his fault,” I croaked, covering my neck with my hand. I would have a new bruise to match my bite now. 

Mallory and Henry started talking about what they should do while I found myself trapped in Renfield’s demented eyes. He wasn’t in there, not anymore. 

“A psychotic episode,” I whispered to Mallory. It hurt to talk. “Call medics, not the police. It’s not his fault.” Mallory and Henry exchanged a look and nodded.  

More people filed into the room to gawk at the scene. Several more people gathered around me, trying to be helpful to the point where they started to resemble vultures and not good samaritans. I allowed myself to be coddled by these people while my mind ran amok. 

My chest tightened as if the sorrow I felt hurt physically as well. The man I had looked up to as an outstanding lawyer, the man I inherited the poise and the commanding voice… was gone. Reduced to the likes of a mewling baby and a deranged man.

I hardly paid attention when paramedics arrived and took Renfield away but when a paramedic wanted to check my neck, I was pulled back to reality by the bond I had to Count Dracula. 

“No,” I told him, one hand securing my shirt’s collar to my neck so it was covered. “I’m fine, really.”

“Miss, please. By what your colleagues described he nearly choked you to death.” His hands hovered on the air around me as a second silent request to let him look at the bruise.

I shook my head vehemently but tears were welling in my eyes again. 

I wanted desperately to tell someone just then. To explain about Renfield and the bite on my neck that marked me as his . But I couldn’t. My voice wouldn’t leave my throat because that too had become his . Even if I was able to tell someone, I knew it wouldn’t be the right thing to do. Bitten by a vampire? Surely I would be thrown in the psychiatric ward as Renfield would.

“I can’t,” I said weakly before pushing him out of my way and running to the restroom. 

    London’s night lights kept me company as I worked overtime on the firm. After spending the rest of my day warding off preoccupied people, I decided that I would need to add extra hours of work. At home I would succumb to my bed’s embrace and wouldn’t get any work done. 

My desk lamp was the only source of light coming from inside the office and it illuminated the papers spread haphazardly in front of me. I had attended court earlier that day only to request an adjournment to Judge Llewellyn, who scowled and immediately demanded I explain myself. Matthew, my colleague, accompanied me to speak on my behalf since my voice box wasn’t strong enough yet to project my words to a courtroom. When Matthew explained the ordeal to Llewellyn I had the satisfaction of seeing the judge’s face dismantle in embarrassment for questioning me so harshly. It didn’t matter how much satisfaction it brought me because at the end of the day my case was delayed which impacted the life of a very dedicated mother who was disputing custody of her children with her ex. Catching up on cases and preparing future statements was my way of rectifying it.

I scribbled on a post-it and stuck it to a page before putting that pile to the side. I still had three more cases to review, draw up a plea bargain and think of a way to escape Count Dracula. I was procrastinating the latter.

The elevator opened with a ding on the other side of the floor and I raised my head to see who could it be at this time of night. A silhouette stepped out, standing in the darkness for only a moment before the hall’s motion activated lights came on. At once I sunk in my chair.

“Renfield... Where are you?” Count Dracula pitched his velvet voice in a mock song as he strolled in the office. 

My heartbeat shot up in response and I shrunk further, trusting the darkness to conceal me. He swiveled his head directly at me as if my fear had drawn him. The lights from the buildings outside only illuminated half of his face.

“Y/N,” he said. My name on his lips sent a shiver through my body. “Working in the dark, are we?” When no answer came from me, he clicked his tongue. “I can’t seem to get ahold of Renfield but I suppose you’ll do. My assets were supposed to have been released today. The bank said I need-” He had been strolling my way as he talked but he stopped abruptly, whiffing the air. “You’re scared. Of me?”

He resumed his pace slowly, almost dragging his steps. Just then, I truly understood the feeling of being stalked by a predator.

“Why… are you... scared?” 

He quickened his pace suddenly and covered over half the distance between us in seconds. I jumped from my seat and backed up as I searched frantically for a way out. The back of my knees hit a desk and I had to reach my hands back to stop me from toppling over it. I let out a squeak as I tried to regain my footing but it was too late. Dracula towered over me, so close I could smell his cologne. My face was turned away from him so I wouldn’t have to meet his eyes. I had a feeling that if I did he would devour me whole. 

“Tell me why,” a whisper. His breath smelled like copper. “I will not have you of all people cowering from me.”

“Renfield was committed to a psychiatric ward this morning,” I blurted. 

“Your voice,” he said.

Another squeak escaped my mouth as he grabbed my face and forced me to look at him. I expected to be met with a monstrous face but it was just him. Familiar dark eyes and lush lips. His stare fell from mine to my neck and he furrowed his eyebrows. His bite was well concealed under my shirt but the ligature mark was just beneath my jaw and in plain sight.

“He attacked me,” I provided in my frail voice. “Because you bit me.”

He pulled his lips down. Anger or disapproval, I wasn’t sure. 

“I see,” he muttered.

“Is that what will become of me?” I asked.

“I told you-- I would never make you a servant.”

“No. Will I become a monster like you? Will I be uncaring? Will I enslave people? Kill them, torture them?”

He squished my cheeks between his fingers with every word I spoke. Perhaps provoking him wasn't a smart choice but I wouldn't simply lower my head and accept my fate.

“Only if you wish," he replied.

“You won’t even try denying it?”

“If I did I would be a hypocrite. And you think you are without blame.”

“Me?! How am I to blame for anything?"

He loosened his grip on my face until he finally allowed his hand to rest on the side of my neck. 

“Yes, you. You the lawyer that defends robbers, murderers and rapists. And you know what’s interesting? I haven��t found much guilt about it in your blood. And now you accuse me of such things with disgust in your face? That, my dear, is a hypocrite.”

I swallowed his vitriol and it burned on the way down. Suddenly I didn’t like being provoked as much as I liked doing so. 

“You ruined Frank!” I blinked at using Renfield’s first name. “He went mental today! Never in his life--”

“He’s weak , always has been but you never saw it. One look. One look was what it took for him to practically kneel before me. You shouldn’t hold people like him in such high standards.”

“Doesn’t bloody matter, he’s my friend!" The threat of tears made my voice tremble and I caught hold of myself before they spilled. “I don’t suppose you understand what that means.”

The snarl on his face made me think he would kill me right there. 

“I should kill Renfield for what he did,” he murmured, stare searing into me. “But you wouldn’t like that.”

“Why does it matter what I like, Impaler?”

His brows softened as comprehension crossed his face and his lips parted in a grin.

“That is why you’re afraid, isn’t it? My darling, that was my human life, you have no need to worry.”

“And you’ve been an angel since then?”

“Oh never.”

I shifted uncomfortably. I was still supporting myself with my hands on the table behind me, slightly tipping backwards so the Count didn’t crawl on top of me. 

Did I see a monster when I looked at him? Quite honestly no, yet I knew I should. He had done horrible things and I only knew about the things history had kept record of. I had learnt over the years that people are complicated. I had never met one person that was fully good or bad. If I had to classify myself, I wouldn’t know. My entire job was one big gray area. I swiveled around the lines of good and bad, never fully committing to any of them because I was paid for it. That wasn’t to say I didn’t have my own moral compass outside of the law. Count Dracula however… I had yet to find out if he had any moral compass at all. 

“Will Renfield get better?” I questioned.

“He might. It’s difficult to predict how my power can affect some individuals, but he will remain my servant, that much I know. And he won’t attack you again, I’ll make sure of it.”

“Let him go.”

“I will not. He's quite good at being a servant.”

Renfield’s shouting replayed on my head.

“Let him go and I’ll let you feed from me whenever you want,” I said, shocking myself with my words. “But know this, I will never be yours.”

“Another deal? Tempting.” He licked his lips and my stomach coiled. “So very tempting.”

He reached to my waist, digging his fingers in my skin and I held back a gasp. 

“Take the deal,” I urged. 

Excitement grew within me. I preferred to believe that that was due to the possibility of tricking the Count into another deal but the tingling scar on my neck told a different story. I closed my eyes trying to concentrate and take full control of my body but it wasn’t responsive to rational thought. If he took the deal then it meant freedom for Renfield. That’s where my mind should be, not the rush of pleasure I had felt three nights ago when Count Dracula had bitten me. But by God, that’s what I wanted. I wanted to feel it again, feel his teeth sinking into my flesh and the dreamlike daze that followed. 

Dracula’s arm circled me and smashed my body to his in a single motion, causing the gasp I had been holding to escape my lips. His thumb caressed my jawline while his fingers teased the back of my neck. In the little light between us I saw his black eyes swimming in carmine red. My heartbeat quickened lower in me when his tongue snaked out once again to lick his lips. Suddenly his fingers found my scar and massaged it lightly, evoking a moan from me. I rose my hands to hold his shoulders as an attempt to balance myself.

I felt more than heard his laughter. 

“Look at you," he said. As he spoke I caught a flash of long and jagged teeth before it was gone. “‘I’ll never be yours .’ Liar, liar.”

I collected myself and pushed him away when I realised he was mocking me. He didn't move at fist but when I pushed him again he stepped back of his own volition, still laughing. 

“Are you taking the fucking deal or not?”

“No,” he enunciated the word slowly. “I like this game we’re playing and I don’t want it to be over just yet. As powerful as you think you are, you don’t have the power to control me with your blood. I’ve granted you enough as it is.”

“I wasn’t trying-”

“Don’t lie.”

I closed my hands in fists. 

“Fine. Can you at least say you’re sorry?”

“For what?” He raised his eyebrows.

“For Renfield,” I snapped, as if it wasn’t obvious.

“Do you want me to lie to make you feel better?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I want you to do.”

“I wish Renfield hadn’t attacked you,” he said, sticking his hands on his pockets.

“That wasn’t the apology I was looking for.”

“I know.”

Why did I even want an apology? Was I desperate to find some semblance of regret on him? Desperate to find anything remotely good in him to justify my desire for him? I bit the insides of my cheeks to keep the tears away, hating myself for letting him affect me like that. My whole body desired him while I knew I should hate him for what he did to Renfield, for what he was doing to me. It made me feel like his plaything. 

“Can you please leave? I have work to do.” 

He nodded.

“I assume you’ll take over as my lawyer to assort my affairs.”

“Not like I have an option, is it?”

“Quite. I’ll leave you to it. See you Wednesday!" 

He had already turned away, walking back to the elevator when I fully registered what he said.

“What happens on Wednesday?” I rose my voice to get his attention.

"I take you on a date," he answered over his shoulder.

I marched after him and stopped when I realised what I was doing. What could I possibly do or say to threaten a creature like him? I probably bothered him as much as soft wind did.

"I'm not going on a date with you after what happened today."

He slowly turned to face me again, a big grin on his face. A victorious grin. If he was winning, then I was on the losing side - of what, though?

“Oh but you are. Your deal clearly stated that I am to convince you that immortality is worth it. You didn’t express how I should do it. Therefore that end of the deal is mine to fulfill however I wish. ”

I groaned. Had I removed my brain at some point when I made that deal? I was used to being the winner inside courtrooms, and I had stupidly condemned myself by binding a contract between Count Dracula and I. As much as I would like to withdraw it, I didn't think he would be open to the idea. He had made it clear that he would make me a vampire whether I liked it or not. I had no choice but to abide by my own rules until I came up with a way out.

“I’d rather meet you," I said at last. "Where are we going?”

He smiled widely as he walked backwards, facing me.

“I’ll text you on Wednesday. Goodnight, darling.”

“Night, Dracula.”

   .

.

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Taglist: @festering-queen​ @mr-kisskiss-bangbang​ @thorin-smokin-shield​ @hoefordarkness​ @dreamer2381​ @girlonfireice

[unintentionalgenius]

so, I am a big music person, and while writing come then, and be broken I made a playlist for canon!verse buck + eddie, which I offer to you here:

Yes! Yes! Yes! // Hey Rosetta!

A Thousand Suns // Hey Rosetta!

The Fireman // George Strait

Brother // The Rural Alberta Advantage

Carry On // fun.

Texas Love Song // Slaid Cleaves

Is That Alright? // Lady Gaga (A Star is Born soundtrack)

Murder in the City // The Avett Brothers

Brand New Paradigm // Sons of Bill

Revolution Lover // Left at London

A Complete List of Fears Ages 5-28 (Aprox) // The Yellow Dress

Must Have Done Something Right // Relient K

Levi // Old Crow Medicine Show

When You Love Somebody // Fruit Bats

Ho Hey // The Lumineers

Headstart // Jade Bird

Autoclave // The Mountain Goats

Who Am I (Live) // NEEDTOBREATHE

Damn These Vampires // The Mountain Goats

commentary below the cut.

I freely admit some of my reasoning is inscrutable to anyone who isn't me, but some of these are absolute gems and I feel like they deserve more attention.

Yes! Yes! Yes! // Hey Rosetta!

I know it's messy but you'll make it right You don't want pity you want pride

The roof is falling in The roof is falling in I'm not kidding You can probably feel the wind No, no, not again Put your head on my legs It's not time for your untimely end, yet No no no no no no no not yet

Like. This is The Song for a man who keeps throwing his body at problems because that's how he gets love and for someone who just wants to save him.

A Thousand Suns // Hey Rosetta!

Everyone around wants to give you their hands Everyone around puts their hands on your back And they say: we want to thank you so much! we want to thank you so much! Cause all you did for them, you also did for us

What you've done is not yours alone What you've done echoes on and on

The argument for this one honestly feels self-explanatory. If they haven't used this in the show yet, they should. 911 music supervision team all I want is a mention in the credits.

The Fireman // George Strait

My friends, this is a song about a man who hooks up with broken-hearted people and goes "running around this town putting out old flames". I can't not. Also it firmly fits into my argument that because of how old he is and where he's from, Eddie is legally obligated to be into this period of country music.

Brother // The Rural Alberta Advantage

And I heard your final cry Through the dark tonight I'm coming back for you

There's a dream I had Where somebody watched out for me and you

Carry On // fun.

Though I've never been through hell like that I've closed enough windows To know you can never look back ...reads so much like something Eddie would say to Buck - your family sucks and mine sucks less but they still suck; sometimes you just gotta move on and build a new one. With me? 🥺

Texas Love Song // Slaid Cleaves

Once again I just like peppering in little reminders that Eddie is Southern, and I can't not use this song since I know it exists. It's literally a love song where every good aspect of the beloved is compared to something wonderful about Texas. I will not be taking questions at this time.

Is That Alright? // Lady Gaga (A Star is Born soundtrack)

Say whatever you want about Lady Gaga or this film (I like both but neither are hills I will die on), this is a gorgeous song about wanting the entire rest of your life with someone. It still manages to be bittersweet without ever encoding an unhappy ending in the lyrics themselves. It's just beautiful, idk.

Murder in the City // The Avett Brothers

If I get murdered in the city Don't go revengin' in my name One person dead from such is plenty No need to go get locked away When I leave your arms The things that I think of No need to get over-alarmed I'm comin' home This verse has big first responder energy in general, which also makes it good for the show (again music supervision team feel free to borrow this I just want credit). The second verse has big Buck energy though:

I wonder which brother is better Which one our parents love the most I sure did get in lots of trouble They seem to let the other go

Brand New Paradigm // Sons of Bill

The world will keep on turning without you burning out the gears Seconds still collecting into just another year No need for you to pay such close attention all the time Quit passing on the left, let the world go passing by and by

This one just in general feels like a plea to two people who carry the entire world on their shoulders to let someone else carry it, goddammit. Or better yet, understand that no one has to.

Revolution Lover // Left at London

I know that your hope's been missin' I know we both coulda almost died I know it's harder everyday to provide But it's gonna change, I can feel it comin' And when it's here, we’ll be side-by-side I know we'll make it out of this one alive

It is honestly just textual at this point. Also this one is an absolute bop, 10/10.

A Complete List of Fears Ages 5-28 (Aprox) // The Yellow Dress

This song is exactly what it says on the tin, and also a wonderful love song framed with such lush domesticity I could cry.

Must Have Done Something Right // Relient K

We should get jerseys 'Cause we make a good team But yours would look better than mine 'Cause you're outta my league And I know that it's so cliche to tell you that everyday I spend with you is the new best day of my life Everyone watching us just turns away with disgust It's jealousy, they can see that we've got it going on

Ok Buck and I are about the same age, and Eddie is only a few years younger, so this has the benefit of being completely correct for the music of their (our) youth and ALSO is absolutely lyrically on point. I could have pasted the entire lyrics in here but I made myself only pick one section.

Levi // Old Crow Medicine Show

It's a song about a good ol' Southern boy who gets sent to war out in the desert "a million miles from home" where they "shot him down". It's mournful as hell but still manages to be upbeat.

When You Love Somebody // Fruit Bats

When you love somebody and bite your tongue all you get is a mouthful of blood

Ho Hey // The Lumineers

So show me family All the blood that I will bleed I don't know where I belong I don't know where I went wrong

Headstart // Jade Bird

I've more pride than many This is kind of rare for me Everyone knows that it's true You're the only one in the room But you don't see me, do you? Must be blind not to That's alright I'll keep on Putting myself on the line

Just. the biggest pining vibes. It's beautiful. Also musically a 10/10 song!

Autoclave // The Mountain Goats

And I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam And no one in her right mind would make my home her home

This one is a big Buck song for me. The only problem is the gendered language in the lyrics but the vibe? Impeccable. It's just really anchored in this utter desperation to be seen and known and loved even when you think you don't deserve it.

Who Am I (Live) // NEEDTOBREATHE

Last night, confidence was shaken My wounds and my past was saying No one should ever love me like you do

Still I can't imagine that I've earned your trust I don't understand where your love comes from

horrifyingly, the deep dive I just did to grab these lyrics suggest this song?? is about??? God??? anyway all that aside it's SO good. Just pretend it's about a human relationship (idk that's probably heresy to the Christians don't @ me).

Damn These Vampires // The Mountain Goats

I cannot point you to an exact lyric or idea, but somehow this song just screams "sad city boys with a cowboy motif". Which - how could I not?