#that's me in the (second row right) corner. that's me in the shadows. spotted by a human🎶 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafeandonlyrafe · 5 months ago

Text

kiss of death

words: 2.9k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, alternative universe, soulmates, grim reaper!rafe, talk of death, superstitions, reader kind of dies (its explained in the fic)

you swallow deeply as you step into the graveyard. the darkness is creeping into every corner, but you know it's not midnight, not yet.

you feel a pang of guilt as you walk through the rows of graves, briefly glancing at the names to distract your focus from the anxiety filling your chest.

it's an old superstition, but you're beyond desperate.

you stop at the hole in the ground and the temporary headstone, ready for burial tomorrow.

“sorry mr. crawford.” you whisper. you barely knew him, the town psychologist currently kept in the morgue. you could probably use him right now as you move carefully to your knees.

you recite the words from the local town lure, the promise of your true love showing up to kiss you awake at sunrise if you laid in the grave at exactly midnight.

all your other friends have found love, love that is so pure and beautiful it makes your chest ache with jealousy and wanting.

you look at your watch and let out a sigh. five minutes of looking into the grave until the hands of the clock point straight up, five minutes to change and regret your decision.

the minutes tick by but your resolve only grows. you're beyond desperate and the worst thing that could come of it is you spend the night sleeping in a hole under the stars.

you climb down the second the minute hand crawls to the 12 and lay back in the grave, blinking upwards towards the starless night sky, the bright sunlight reflecting off the moon blocking out any other suns.

you close your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that you're exposed to worms and bugs and whatever else happens to be lurking in the graveyard at night. certainly nothing you want to come across.

soulmate. your soulmate. your one true love is worth one night in a grave as you fall into a deep slumber.

you can feel the light against your eyelids, but before you can open them, it's blocked out by a shadow.

you gasp as lips are pressed against yours, cold but soft lips. you want to open your eyes but they feel so heavy as you kiss back, hands reaching upwards but you feel nothing, just pressing into the freezing cold air despite it being the middle of summer.

you finally force your eyelids open and you realize who you have been kissing as he pulls away, more of a black figure then a true human form.

“no.” your voice quivers. “no!”

“did you not want your one true love to wake you with a kiss?” he smirks down at you, hovering directly over your body.

“my-my true love is not death.” you thought it was just another superstition, the grim reaper, the one to facilitate your crossing to the other side, but when looking up you know that the mans face that looks back down upon you is nothing but pure and utter death.

“then tell me why i was called to this spot only to find you laying here.” his voice is smooth but deep in tone, not what you expected from the grim reaper as you almost find comfort in his soft words.

“this can't be right.” you look around you, realizing that all light from the rising sun has disappeared, along with the walls of dirt around you, replaced with darkness so thick it's like you could reach out and touch it. “am i?”

you can't make the word out fully. “kind of.” the reaper shrugs.

reality shifts and despite you not changing positions, you can tell in the inky blackness that you're now on your feet.

“come with me.” the grim reapers legs push out from the black mass, appearing and disappearing as he begins to walk, somehow able to find his way, walking with the purpose of a destination that is unseen to you.

“what if i don't want to?” you question, even though your heart is pulling you towards him, telling you to follow and stay close.

“i will give you this option only once.” the reaper turns to you. “you can turn around and walk away, or you may follow me and be with your one true love and rule the underworld as my queen.”

you know your back should be towards the reaper as you begin to walk, but you can't go back to your earthly reality after discovering the grim reaper is just waiting for you to die, for you to take your place.

as you walk alongside the grim reaper, you begin to make out shapes moving through the darkness.

the first one scared you so bad as you whipped your head to the side, trying to make out what appeared to be someone walking the opposite direction.

“what is this place?” you ask, voice quiet, feeling as though you don't want to interrupt the figures pushing through the dark.

“the place between life and death. the farther we walk, the closer we are to death and my-our kingdom.”

“and the people walking the other way?” you turn to look over your shoulder as your feet continue forward.

“some have been revived. by doctors or desperate loved ones. but most made a choice. most got to the final step and realized it wasn't there time.”

“and is it my time?”

“you will not truly be dead.” he states, and you find yourself swaying to walk closer to him, his cold presence comforting as the only thing around you can truly make out. “i will keep you in the state that you are now for as long as you please. you will be in limbo, in status. your earthly body will still be yours.”

“so no one will know what happened to me?” you can tell that your body isn't left in the grave, that you're whole and complete right here, soul included.

“no.” he sounds almost regretful as the blackness ahead of you turns into a swirl of dark grey, making out the rolling hills as you get closer.

“your final choice.” the reaper says, and you don't mention that he already gave you what he claimed to be your final choice before you began walking.

it hits you then. the reaper is in just as new of a position as you are in, and your nerves don't outweigh him.

“what is your choice?” you parrot the question back. “do you want me… to rule with you?”

“i have waited an eternity for you. so long that the memory of how i came to be the reaper is no longer available to me.” the grim reaper pauses for a moment before continuing. “yes. i want you alongside me always.”

you nod and then take a step past what you can tell is the final film, the one separating you from whatever rolling hills of gray grass await.

a weight you didn't realize you were carrying leaves you as the grim reaper steps out next to you, the black mass of his body gone as he appears as a fully realized man, legs and all.

you don't mean to, but you reach out and touch him, seeing if your arms would move through him as they did before during your kiss, but your fingers just press against the soft fabric of his black long sleeved shirt.

“welcome to the underworld.” he says, taking your hand in his and pulling you to continue walking.

you can make out a castle in the distance, and the closer you walk towards it, the warmer the hand in yours gets and the less gray seems to be blotting out the world as the grass turns green beneath your feet.

you gasp the first time you see one, stepping closer to the reaper.

“they won't hurt you.” he clarifies quickly as the large wolf runs past you in the distance, several hills away.

“you control them?” you question.

“yes.” he nods. “and all the wolves on earth as well. they are part of my domain.”

“i thought it was going to be a three headed dog.” you whisper slightly sheepishly as you realize your hand has been intertwined with the grim reaper the entire walk, feeling so natural that you don't question the fingers snug between yours.

“everyone got something partially right.” he says. “the egyptians, the greeks, the christians. they all had pieces.”

“oh.” you don't care to question more, not yet. you're already overloaded with all the information.

you pause as you get to the door of the castle. it's not dead quite like you expected, you can hear voices chattering inside and when you look up you can occasionally see people passing by windows.

“people do what suits them best after death. what would make them most happy. for most, that's reincarnation. for some, that's helping others cross or serving me in other ways. everyone inside this home is dead.”

you like that he calls it a home and a slight smile stretches across your cheeks.

“do not ask them how they died or their life on earth. if they wish to reveal it to you, it will be on their own time.”

“okay.” you nod, looking to the grim reaper, your soulmate. “what should i call you?”

you certainly can't continue to call him the grim reaper, it would just be an upsetting reminder.

“rafe.” he smiles down at you, not the terrifying soulless being you thought he would be. “you may call me rafe.”

the tour of the expansive home is long, but you find yourself only half listening as you look at rafe.

his appearance is so different from when you saw him first, he looks less harsh, kinder, more alive.

“are you tired?” he asks as he pushes the doors open to what you assume is the master bedroom. “i know you just awoke but if you need to rest-”

“how does time work here?”

“there's night and day just as there is on earth. it's still morning.” he places a gentle hand on your back, pushing gently to get you to enter the room.

“this is our chamber.” he explains. “you may rest, or bathe, or eat.”

“i…” you look down at your clothes, dirt still covering your pants. “id like to change.”

a maid ushers in, and you try to see if you can get any visual clue that she's passed, but theres nothing as she opens up a cabinet and begins to grab out various jewel toned options.

“i must attend to some business.” rafe says. “ill be back soon.”

you get changed and dismiss the maid, wondering what kind of person chooses to serve like this for all of eternity and actually enjoy it, but you're too distracted with exploring your surroundings to think too hard about it.

you find a sitting room with walls covered in bookshelves, the grand bathroom, and a door that leads to a balcony.

you step out and look over the rolling hills, seeing as they turn to gray the farther away it is from the castle, seemingly encircled completely by the void.

you occasionally see a wolf running, or a figure floating, but you can tell none of them are your reaper. that must be the other helpers he was talking about. despite not being able to see their faces, you know it's not him.

you take a seat on the lush couch on the balcony. they must not have true weather here or it would certainly be ruined by the rain.

before you notice it, now dressed in clean clothes similar to rafes, your eyes are closing and you're falling into a deep sleep.

you yawn as you wake up, stretching as you realize you'd been moved to the bed at some point.

you sit up suddenly only to come face to face with rafe who is sitting in an armchair moved from the sitting room to the foot of the bed.

“did you move me?”

“yes.” he nods as you blink, looking outside, unable to tell how long you've been asleep. like he's reading your mind, rafe speaks. “it's the next morning. you were exhausted from the journey.”

“did you sleep in the bed with me?”

“i do not need sleep.” rafe answers, jolting you slightly before you remember who you are here with.

“then why have this bed?”

rafe gives you a pointed look as you replay his words in your head. of course it's for you. he's been waiting.

“come.” rafe stands, imposing his tall height again.

you slide out of bed, only then realizing that your clothes have been changed.

“a maid changed you.” he says quickly. “i will escort you to breakfast and as you eat i will finish my work for the day. then we can…”

he trails off like he doesn't know what the options are. “get to know each other.” you offer. “since you're my one true love i suppose we should… go on a date?”

a smile stretches across the reapers face. “yes. a date.”

“what is it you'd like to know?” rafe asks as you're sat in the front of the boat, moving slowly down a river that winds through the hills.

it scared you at first, but rafe certainly wouldn't be taking you anywhere where you couldn't come back.

“uh…” there's a million questions you have about life and death, about heaven and hell, but that's not what you truly want to know. “what's your favorite color? do you have to eat? can you sleep even if you don't have to?”

“well…” rafe chuckles. “i love deep blue. i don't have to eat but i can, same with sleeping. and your favorite color?”

“also blue.” you swallow deeply, eyes turning upward as the invisible force keeps the boat moving steadily in the water. “but sky blue. like on a warm summer day.”

you're about to wonder if you'll ever truly see the sky again when you can make out a cloud in the distance.

“i-”

“for you.” rafe says as the color of the sky shifts, matching the exact shade you were thinking of. “everything here can be changed for you.”

the conversation flows naturally, you suppose it should between soulmates. every time rafe smiles, you get butterflies in your stomach, and by the time you're back where the river meets the castle, you have a question brewing on the tip of your tongue.

“can we… can we kiss again?” you need to know what it feels like, if it's the same cold lips despite his hands now feeling warm.

the smile comes back to rafes face, and then it gets closer and closer until he's kissing you, deeply.

you almost instinctively wrap your arms around his shoulders, able to fully touch him now as he kisses you, warm lips gliding against each other's.

you pull yourself closer until you can't get any nearer without climbing onto his lap, which you do next as you cling to him.

you thought your friends talking about the instant connection with their one true love was ridiculous, but you know what is between you and rafe is complete and real and right.

there's a woosh of air and when you pull away, you're still straddling rafe, but now in your bedroom.

“please.” he said softly, and the word comes out a little strange, like he's not used to saying it. “i need you.”

your fingers grasp the bottom of your shirt before you lift and pull it off your body, revealing the bra somehow already in your size that the maid got out after breakfast.

rafes hands stop yours when you go to unclasp it. “let me.” he says.

his hands are large and warm as they undo your bra and push the straps off your shoulders so it falls between the two of you.

“can i-”

“yes.” you answer quickly. “do anything you want to me.”

you take rafes cheeks in your hands as you look in his deep blue eyes. “do everything.”

your reaper transports you again, this time only feet as you're laid on your back, head rested against the pillows as he hovers over top of you.

your clothes as well as rafes are completely gone, and you're both silent, breathing heavily as you admire each other's bodies. if someone would have asked you what your perfect mate looks like, you'd absolutely describe rafe in this state.

“i will spend eternity pleasuring you, but you'll have to forgive me for not being able to wait a moment longer.”

rafes cock lines up with your entrance, and then he's pushing inside, his eyes shutting as he lets out a moan that makes you surge forward to kiss his lips and swallow the sound as his hips glide all the way in, fitting exactly inside of you like he's been your missing part all along.

“you're so- warm.” rafe manages to choke out. “ive never felt warmth like this.”

it makes you sad to think rafe spent so long as the cold and lonely reaper. you pull him into you, pressing your chests together as his hips begin to move, your moans growing and becoming in sync, creating a beautiful chorus even to your own ears.

you don't know what your future will hold. there will no doubt be ups and downs, hard times and great times, but you will face it all together with your reaper, your rafe.

506 notes · View notes

yourfavoritewitchbitch · 4 months ago

Text

Midnight Temptation

Sweet Seduction

An encounter with a handsome, intriguing stranger who has his eyes set on you. Are you prey... Or something more.

This will be a series of blurbs featuring Vampy Steve!

As always, my works are 18+ MDNI! This one does not contain any smut.

CW: This one is pretty mild. Smoking. Mentions feeding on humans/blood lust. Vampires. No use of Y/N.

WC: 1.6K

The chilled autumn breeze catches you off guard, as you tighten your coat around yourself. Early October winds stripped most of the reds and yellows from the trees, littering the sidewalk with its array of discarded foliage. A pity none crunch under your feet, dampened by the rain that seems to be never ending this week.

It's only another few blocks but the sudden drop in temperature wasn't what you expected today. Then again, you hardly ever caught the weather forecast.

Glancing at your watch, you picked up the pace, trying to avoid another earful from your boss for being late. It was just a shitty dive bar, you could easily pick up another shift at a handful of places around the city, but you’d just gotten the job a month ago and didn’t want to start looking again so soon.

Arriving just in time, you barreled through the door to avoid any backlash, but your spirits were immediately dashed when your boss told you the other waitress called out with no replacement, leaving you alone for the night.

It started out easy enough, a few regulars filtering in that were easy going but before long the place had gotten packed. You were making a mad dash around the place to keep up for the rest of the evening into the late night.

He had slipped in easily, going unnoticed, weaving through the crowd with sure and measured steps. Women took notice as he passed by, along with a few men, as he navigated to the dimly lit booth in the far corner of the bar making himself at home, spreading out and making himself more comfortable. His long legs stretched beneath the table, crossing as the ankle.

You were taking a couple's drink order, pausing mid-sentence when his eyes caught yours. He was shrouded by the dark, but for a moment you could have sworn his eyes were glowing amber before he looked away.

“Are you even listening to me?” The blonde bimbo squeaked, snapping her perfectly manicured fingers in front of your face pulling your attention back to her.

“Shit, yeah, sorry. That was a gin and tonic for him and a cosmopolitan for you, right?” Plastering your best fake smile across your face as you said it. She rolled her eyes replying with an annoyed “yeah.”

You nodded, eyes drifting back over to him as you walked away but he was gone. It had only been a mere few seconds and somehow, he had managed to sneak away. Quickly surveying the room, trying to catch a glimpse of this mystery man, you spot a head caramel highlighted tresses slipping out the door into the night.

Weird.

You checked the rest of your tables before telling your boss you were taking a smoke break, walking through the kitchen and out into the back alley.

He was walking downtown late one evening, making his usual rounds. Local dive bars, near the east side, frequented by vagrants and some homeless. They were easy prey, though he had to watch the addicts, their essence tasted like battery acid, burning the entire way down.

He looked for people that weren't believable. The ones that if his mind manipulation failed, no one would bat an eye at thinking an actual vampire lurked in the streets and shadows of Indy. His thoughts drifted to Eddie, how easily he could ease into someone's thoughts, simply by gazing into their eyes. He had always been so much better at making sure no one remembered his late night visits.

He was close to his usual spot, a small diner situated near an alley that was backed up to a row of abandoned warehouses when he caught a scent of someone intoxicating that hit him so hard and potent it stopped him in his tracks.

His body was on autopilot following his nose and blood lust to a small dive bar on the edge of town. He stepped in, eyes quickly searching everyone in the dimly lit bar, but no one stood out right away.

He grabbed a booth at the far end, half shrouded so he could watch the room without being noticed and that's when you stepped out from the back.

His senses were flooded, causing him to close his eyes and take a deep breath. Why you? Why were you so special?

When he allowed himself to look back up, you were staring directly at him. He knew his eyes were burning embers as his canines suddenly pierced his bottom lip, hissing to himself from losing control as he looked away.

You were distracted once he had regained composure, so he quickly moved to leave.

His cold, dead heart suddenly felt like it was pumping blood through his body again, coursing through his veins at a rapid pace. That nervous trepidation when meeting someone that made your stomach flip overtook him. He hadn’t felt like this in years, not since he was still alive.

He HAD to get out of there.

He turned the corner to take the alleyway to stay away from the crowds on the main strip and maybe snag a quick late night snack.

He was taking his time but then you walked out. He moved lightning fast, his back pressed up against the brick exterior of the adjacent building, silently watching you from the shadows.

Inhaling another deep breath, he willed his lungs to expand, relishing your scent this close and personal without the obstruction of other people.

He'd never smelled anything like it. It was sweet. Strawberries and honey, an alluring mixture that called to him like a siren's song, one that he couldn't ignore. It was too tempting to steer himself away before crashing into the rocks and letting you drown him.

He couldn’t stop the words from tumbling from his mouth as he stepped out of his hiding place.

There were a couple of old crates stacked in the corner by the dumpster that everyone used as a makeshift stool. You plopped yourself down onto with a heavy sigh, pulling out a crumpled pack of smokes and lighter.

“Great.” Huffing to yourself pulling out the last one and placing the filter between your lips, lighting the end with a cherry red glow illuminating your face.

The back alley was dark, except for one streetlight to the left at the main road. It was quiet. You relished in the few peaceful moments you could steal away from the loud music that faintly trickled out.

You took a long drag, holding the nicotine laced smoke in your lungs for a few seconds, slowly releasing it, when you heard a gravelly voice from the shadows.

“Those things’ll kill you.”

Your head shot toward the sound, heart rate ticking up slightly with the knowledge that he had obviously been watching you.

Slowly he stepped out into the light, worn denim jeans on long legs, slim waist and an expansive chest, clad in a simple black v neck t-shirt under his matching leather jacket. Your eyes trailed slowly up, a silver chain around his neck catching the light and reflecting it back to you when his face was finally revealed.

He was handsome. Too handsome for a place like this.

From your vantage point, you made out his strong jawline and aquiline nose. His dark eyes seemed to look straight through you.

“Sorry, if I spooked you.” Rushing out as if he could feel the tension suddenly radiating from you, making a show of his hands taking another step in your direction.

“You make it a habit of skulking around in dark alleyways?” You smirked, sliding the cigarette back between your lips. There was something about him that intrigued you, your eyes shifting to examine his charming exterior, but it felt like there was something more dark lurking just below the surface.

The words slipped out before you realized it, that snarky, tough girl attitude seeping through but he simply grinned, amused with you.

“Not usually.” He kept his gaze firmly fixated on you as he spoke, giving no other explanation. “Got a smoke I could bum?”

“Sorry, fresh out.” Making a show of crumpling the empty pack and tossing into the dumpster as you stood, finishing the last of yours before stubbing it out. “And I need to get back to work.”

“Right.” He nodded. “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, sure, pretty boy. Yo—”

“What'd you just call me?” His suddenly demanding voice cut you off as you turned back around, suddenly face to face with him, startling you once again wondering how the hell he got across the alleyway so quickly.

“Wha— I,” your brows marry with confusion. “I— pretty boy?”

“Why'd you call me that?” He asked, leaning further into your space. This close you could see his eyes were a golden array of warmth.

“I don't know. It just— your eyes are really… beautiful.” Blurting out without a second thought, as if those eyes had you pinned under some sort of spell.

He suddenly took a couple steps back, looking away and breaking whatever the moment was.

“I'm sorry, I— you should go back to work. Sorry I bothered you.” He backed further away and turned, working his way towards the shadow. Hoping it wouldn't be the last time you'd see him; you spoke back up.

“Aren't you coming back in?” You rushed out.

“Maybe some other time.” He lamented, a hint of regret in his voice as he stopped but didn’t turn back around.

“Well, can I at least get a name, or do you just prefer pretty boy?” You smirked.

“It's Steve.” If only you could see the smile that split his face. It had been a long time since he'd told anyone his real name and he's still not quite sure why he told you.

“Well, Steve, guess I’ll see you around.” You smiled, as you headed back toward the door without waiting for a response. You gripped the handle and peered back in the direction he had just been walking, but much to your surprise he was already gone.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #vampire!steve #vampire!steve harrington #vampire!steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #vampire!eddie #vampire!eddie munson #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fic #joe keery #midnight temptation #modern!steve harrington #modern au #vampire au

120 notes · View notes

rogueshadow1124 · 5 months ago

Text

DARK TERRITORY

Tom riddle x reader

Summary: After a hard day, Y/N pays a visit to the girls restroom to freshen up, only to find an open passage way.

Word count: 2325

Warnings: mentions of blood/injury.

"Stupid potions always blowing up on me." A Y/H/C haired girl stumbled through one of the long corridors within the castle, dusting off her robes. Her face was contorted into one of annoyance, a low grumble setting in her throat before she let out a long exaggerated puff of air. This was the second time today a potion had blew up in her face, Professor slughorn had assured her that all she needed was practise but she was very uncertain, even when she read of the instructions- multiple times at that- nothingvseemed to go right and she for sure was nothing like the boy who was top of the class. Tom riddle.

Riddle. There was no one quite like him. He was considered the top of all his classes, he was practically a high class genius. Y/N had known Tom for a long time, she had observed him from a far and even had the guts to not only approach him but actually interact with him on several occasions and although at first he hadn't been too keen on her breaking his bubble of solitary and peace, she had somehow managed to catch his attention in other ways. What the girl hadn't seemed to notice was how Tom also observed her but he was sneaky, he stayed in the shadows, in the corners, watching her when she was in her own little world not even noticing the prying eyes that pierced her being from a day to day basis.

Y/N came to a stop outside the girls restroom, pushing through the heavy wooden double doors clumsily. She stompted towards the sink, and turned the brass tap roughly making it squeak at the harsh pressure that she applied. She leaned over slightly at a hunch, cupping hands under the stream of water and splashed her face to refresh herself and get off the excess dust that had cast over her cheeks and chin. A sudden clicking noise caught her attention, her head slowly turning at an angle in the direction of what sounded like the churning of locks and tics was coming from.

She squinted her eyes at what looked to be a now open passage way, the inside dark and eerie as it looked like an endless void of nothingness, there was no single slither of light but only the dimly lit yellow casting through that the restroom had. She stood straight, hands dropping to her sides and fisting at her robes, she couldnt help but step closer towards the crack between the two mirrors on the circular row of sinks. She reached out a hand, grasping at one of the frames on the side, the tip of her shoes just at the edge of the opening and just as she had gone to step inside she suddenly slipped, a scream erupting from her throat as she slid down into the darkness.

Her hands reached out in an attempt to grip onto anything in a panic, this didnt at all feel safe. She felt herself glide off of what felt like a step and landed on a stack of hard stick like figures; her eyes were screwed shut, breathes ragged and heavy as her body shook lightly among the masses beneath her. She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth in a motion to steady her breathing, her hands pushed down on the sharp hard lengths so she could push herself up and onto her feet.

Only then when she came to a stand did she open her eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the dim and brisked room that she ended up in. It looked like a widely open space but something like a sewer at the same time. Her eyes moved down to the ground cement floor, bright Y/E/C orbs widening when she spotted what she had landed on, a gasp past her lips as she stumbled back only to hit a wall that she was sure hadn't been behind her before- whilst wide eyes stayed cast on the pile of bones a loud hiss broke the silence, making Y/N lurch forward with a jump, she took one glance behind her shoulder, screeching when she saw an oversized serpent covering above her.

Flight or fight kicked in, adrenaline surfacing to her blood stream as she set off into a sprint, tears coming to her eyes as she pushed her burning legs to take her away from the giant creature. Around the corner was a large stone opening where she had to climb through and over a step to get inside, there she saw a walkway that had staues of snakes along the length, leading to a wall that was in the shape of a man with an open mouth, he looked familiar too her almost an exact replica to who she had seen only in books and pictures. Salzar Slytherin.

Another hiss echoed through the room, followed by a crackle. She stumbled forwards quickly and set into a run again, but she ended up tripping over a crack on the floor, falling face first on her hands and knees, crying out at the heated pain that now spread through her palms and knees from the fall. She pushed up, turning so she sat on her backside, looking up at the serpent that stood stiff only feet away from her, Y/N started to push backwards, open wounds pushing against the floor leaving droplets and stains of her red blooded essence behind.

Out the corner of her eyes she spotted a figure, standing tall and dressed in a familiar robe that was similar to her own. Blurry eyes set on none other than Tom Marvolo Riddle- she hushed out his name but he seemed to take no notice of her, his lips moving slowly in motion but she didnt hear words at all, she could only make out long demeanering hisses and a hint of sharp tone that shone through a different language. At that the overly sized snake hissed back lowly, but didnt move an inch.

Tom turned to the girl, dark eyes looking down at her shaking form. A small smile twitched at his lips when he noticed her teary eyes but not at all did it seem kind, more so mocking and smug. She met his gaze, with wide doe eyes, looking like a deer caught in headlights more so a little bambi, small, innocent, scared. His shoes clicked against the stone geou d as she moved in her direction, crouching at her feet with his head tilted towards her.

"What are you doing down here Y/L/N." His voice rung in her ears, a shiver shooting through her spine at the cold motionless tone. She let out what sounded to be a whimper when she leaned back on her hands pulling them up and into her lap quickly, looking down at the irritated skin that was covered in the warmth of her blood that pooled to the surface slightly.

"Tom..." she whispered his name with a shake in her breath.

His eyes squinted, the way his name flowed from her tongue sounded so good- he enjoyed the shake in her voice, the scarce in her body language. It's what he craved, he wanted people to be scared of him, to he at his will but with Y/N, oh she intrigued him, he wanted her to be scared and at his will but not like others, no. He wanted her by his side almost as a companion, she made efforts to speak to him, even at the times he had pushed her away, she came back the next day more determined for him to give any kind of response; she was innocent, sweet but also cold and quiet, calculating and captivating, he didnt understand how someone like her could be a slytherin, he was very much so invested. He wanted to know every little detail about her, he had never been interested in anyone even merely but Y/N Y/L/N, she was one of a kind, someone with so many hidden secrets. He wanted to taint her, ruin her, in a way that he would have full control and she would need to rely on him in every way. "You shouldn't have been snooping, darling."

"I-i wasn't snooping, I sw-swear." She went to reel back as his hand rest on her ankle, but he had gripped her fast and roughly allowing her no room to remove his grip. He tugged her towards his crouched form, her robe sliding up her legs at the movement when she was pulled to him, her lower thighs resting at his legs, his hand hovering up and over her body until it reached up to her neck, his fingers feathering a touch on her soft skin just before his hand grasped her jaw, tilting her head to look up at him.

"If you wasn't snooping as you claim, then you wouldnt be down here. You would have ignored the open passage and minded your buisness." She pushed her face away, standing tall again begrudgingly reaching out his hand which she stared at with furrowed brows and a frown. Her eyes switched quickly to his gaze, meeting dark stern eyes as he rose a brow and nodded at his hand expectantly, Y/N sighed with a shake reaching up to his hand, letting out a noise when he pulled her up suddenly.

"Ouch.." she groaned, tugging her hand away from him and to her chest. Tom looked at her unammused but something behind the cold, darkened gaze softened, he hummed and pulled his wand from his robe pocket reaching for her hand but this time he didnt wait and took it in his hold in an instant. He pointed the tip of his wand down at the open skin of her hand grumbling out the word 'Episky' and in seconds Y/N watched as the wounds started to close up, sending a tingling sensation through her hand. Her eyes darted up to Tom's but he was looking down, her mouth opened and closed a couple of times, gaping before she uttered a "Thank you."

"Mhmm.." his eyes flickered up to her face, taking in her features; sure he had done this plenty of times but never had he been so close. He noticed how her eyes, they had a certain shine to them but not at all did they seem fully happy, they were vibrant, carrying some form of lonesome appeal behind a built surface, metaphorically she was an iceberg there was only so much that was in the open, at the top, the surface- however there were so many things that nobody knew, or understood, buried deep behind closed walls. He studied her every chance he got and all he had been able to figure was that she kept to herself, most of the time anyway but for some reasosn she chose to interact with him, sit by him, even if it was in silence nothing between the two was uncomfortable. "Why are you so fixated on being around me?"

It was more so a question to himself really, something that he spoke without thinking. She narrowed her eyes for a second, raising her brows softly with a hum. "I find solace in your company. Sure you're mysterious but I like that you keep to yourself, your not like anyone I have ever interacted with." Her eyes were quick to shift to the serpent that still hovered away from them, noticing how it never even left but stayed only watching from the short distance-

"Don't. Don't look into its eyes.." Tom's hand reached up and moved her face to look up at him instead, her face contorted into a look of confusion. "Wouldn't want you to be petrified, hmm?" Y/N's eyes widened slightly, her breathing picked up within seconds of hearing his words, suddenly becoming scared again after calming herself prior this moment, he smirked down at her. "You'll be fine. Just don't look into it's eyes."

"W-what is it?" Her eyes stayed focused of Tom's dark ones, air stuttering in her lungs.

"She is a basilisk- Nagini." He hushed out, the last part sounding with an elongated hiss at the end which made the creature let out a guttural hiss at his words but it still only stayed in its spot, standing stiff in place. His smirk widened when he saw the girl gulp, eyes being trained on his as she didnt know where to look- he enjoyed the fact she hadn't looked away, the feeling was so intense yet it was so good at the same time. "Y/N..." She seemed to snap out of the state she was in at the call of her name, beckoning her back to reality. Her eyelashes flickered as she allowed herself to blink, moving her eyes so she was no longer gazing up at Tom but over one of his shoulders the one opposite to which the basilisk was on. "You're going to forget about this..."

"I-I dont understand?" She tilted her head, leaning into his hand as he placed it on her cheek lightly, shifting so he could rest his lips against her forehead, not in a kiss but just hovering over. He turned her head to the side, moving his face to rest beside her own so his lips were now in line with her ear. "T-Tom?"

"Shhhh..." his hand trailed down over her neck and to rest against her collarbone. His other hand that was free brought up his wand, pointing it directly at her- the only thing was, it was out of sight so she couldnt exactly know what he was doing- he placed a delicate kiss on the skin beneath her ear before whispering the words 'obliviate' making her world turn black.

#tom riddle #harry potter #chamber of secrets #tom riddle x reader #x reader #x you #character x reader #x y/n #dark romance #obliviate #slytherin boys #slytherin #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry

70 notes · View notes

soulren · 1 year ago

Text

There's bad places in the world, you know. I heard an old man tell me this, through a migraine aura so bad I felt like the sun was coming straight towards me and me alone. There are bad people in the world, he said, but those were simple. Thoughts and bad ideas, childhood shit that was never worked out curled like uncut fingernails into harm. Bad places are dramatically different. Somewhere you feel short of breath, for no reason at all. Somewhere a detail sticks out, unnerves you where it really shouldn't. Your feet crunch heavy in the snow beneath a bridge where someone spray-painted the words "daddy longlegs" into the wall. The second "l" is faded. The paint is thin, black. Too thin. They must've done it from afar, or had a lot of control. Thinking about those details helps you. You can almost pretend the cold on your skin is the only sensation the darker and damper parts of your brain is sending. Does it remind you of the attic? Most kids have an attic. Not their own, not their attic or your attic. The attic. The one they went up into with a friend or all alone, at a house that might've been their parents or someone else's. Back when every shadow and around every corner was a place that imagination flooded and grew like mold-filled maple syrup. The attic where one might race down, swearing that they heard something stir, that they saw a shape. The details are embellished later. And when something bad finally happens in that place, no matter how small, even if just a feeling, some small part of you blamed the attic. Blamed the bad place. Where nothing quite sat right, for a reason you just couldn't place. A place where you'd feel uncomfortable breaking the silence, or fixing the noise. The man I mentioned at the start didn't tell me all of this. He didn't have too. Just a bit. Enough to get the mind rolling. Now I'm saying just a bit more. Pushing the ball down the hill. Into the thicket where you worry you'll see eyes. Past that one tree that feels wrong to stare at in the field, even during the day. Away from that alley you'd rather not cut across even though you're big and grown now. Through that one spot on the train station where you imagine someone once got into a fight, surely. That'd explain that feeling. We like to imagine we'd recognize the supernatural. That we'd be able to point it out, to articulate it. That somewhere there's a big book that'll give you the locations of impossible places, people in busy hats and creatures with strange patterns in their fur. But for something to be wrong, to defy the natural, it would have to be outside our perception. When we look up into the sky our eyes do not affix onto dark matter. They see the stars. We love their beauty, are terrified by how they die, and use them to navigate. We don't see into the black holes, the pockets of nothing. We often like to imagine that in times before there were people who wielded magic, waved their hands or used what we now know to be science to solve things. But there were most certainly others. The tunnel rats. The ones who ran off, who stayed close, who noticed just a bit more, thought about things in just a bit of an odd way. Who noticed the bad places, felt unsettled by them. The truly wise to the unknown of the world aren't those who peer with magnifying glasses, or those who shake sticks in the desert, or anything in between. It's the ones who keep their mouths shut, absorb and shake at odd feelings they get up high on planes or in front of a row of pines stretching back deep into the mountains. Or above a grate between two apartments with a grey stain on one wall. The ones who, every time they get a feeling they haven't found in any dictionary yet, even the ones passed down by grandparents far more into the esoteric than them, despite a quiet and tentative desperation, silently hope that this isn't it. That this isn't the time when it happens, when it comes. When they see. When they realize. The ones who have no idea what "it" is. The ones who, though they may keep looking at them from afar, avoid the bad places.

#writing

9 notes · View notes

stuffedwriting · 3 months ago

Text

Nia’s Diary: A whisper woke me up. My name. It was right in my ear. My heart skipped a beat, no, that’s not right. It’s more like my heart shook, I hate that feeling, the jump of surprise that feels like I was just electrocuted for a second.

I sat up in shock, looking to see the source. I would have played it off as a dream’s last word but then I saw the entrance to my cell. It was completely black but with some reflection of some unseen light even though the cell was pitch black. Curiosity, -as it always does- took over me and I reached my hand into the inky doorway. It passed through unhindered so without hesitation I slipped my entire body through. To my astonishment I found myself in the halls of the asylum. With no real guide I simply wandered.

The halls were the same dull white that I had been through countless times. Then I turned a corner, everything was inverted, black with white outlines, shadows revealed, all else hidden. Bewildered, I continued my stride. With a sudden sound of a bump I turned my attention to the origin of the noise, an open cell with a figure in a straight jacket repeatedly knocking its head against the wall. Abruptly it stopped and slowly moved to look at me. Why am I so intriguing to these things? It stared at me. They always stare. The inner and outer parts of its eyes were swapped, the white parts black, the pupil white and the iris a dark gray. Then it ran up to me, my breathing quickened as we were face to face. It pulled its head back and headbutted me, making me fall backwards on my butt. Reopening my eyes from the recent contact and pain I saw it return to its room and continue slamming the wall with its head. I stood up, rubbing the impact spot to ease the pain and continued down the hall with the new pulsing pain on my forehead.

Passing through the negatively colored hallway I turned another corner and found myself near the therapist offices, the dark surroundings returned to their regular light hue. I don’t know how I got there. The way to Doctor Hacken’s room was a completely separate way yet here I was. My curiosity, given a new task, made me try the handle of the office door. To my surprise it opened. Immediately I felt the stinging gaze of staring flowers. I clenched my fists, despising the image and throwing it on the ground, shattering the glass of the frame. Then I took the paper and ripped it into as many pieces as I could. Satisfied with the horrid thing’s destruction I snooped around, looking in the drawers of his desk. Nothing too interesting. Some pens, notes, I didn’t need to look through them. Just a hundred different ways to say that I’m bat-shit crazy. Unsatisfied but with no will to continue I left to take the long road back to my room.

It was longer than I anticipated. It was as if I was walking for hours. I would see the end of the hallway, blink and see that it had stretched back another significant distance. Still, after who knows how long I finally reached my cell, passed my body through the tar door and crashed onto my bed, exhausted.

Thankfully it was a dreamless night, I didn’t need to experience a nightmare in my waking and unconscious mind in a row, though as I entered consciousness I questioned if my past experience was real but everything was confirmed when I stared at my reflection above the sink, a bruise right in the middle of my forehead.

First. Prev. Next.

#nosleep666 #i cant sleep #emo #horror #writing

2 notes · View notes

zdnstories · 1 year ago

Text

Tale of the Five Shards

This is a story I wrote for my English class last year. It is based on the game Geometry Dash. All characters were inspired by me and my friends.

Neon was taking a stroll through the beautiful park on a Saturday afternoon. He looked like a white cube with its four corners partially removed, and had two yellow eyes. He was enjoying his lunch, a cheeseburger he’d bought from a nearby restaurant named The Daily Chat. The place was like a bar, except it was known for being a prime spot for new residents of the city. Neon wasn’t new to the city; he simply liked their food. His necklace with a shiny purple stone wiggled around as he walked.

As he walked through the park, he admired the structures that had been built for historical purposes; a formation of three triangles in a row, an orange square labelled ‘Copy + Paste’, and an intimidating looking creature known as a ‘Clubstep monster’, just to name a few.

As he admired a poorly built cat made out of bricks, someone nearby spoke up: “This cat is historical, simply because it looked pretty goofy in the context of where it came from. Too bad the person who built it turned out to be not a great person.”

“Why? What’d they do?” replied Neon.

“He turned out to be uh… a bit racist.”

“Ah, damn.”

Just then, Neon felt something small and wet fall on his head. “I think it’s starting to rain,” he noted. Then, it suddenly rained even harder, and within a few seconds, it was pouring rain everywhere. Neon and the other person noticed a small building nearby and quickly ran inside. There was no one inside, and it seemed to be abandoned. “What’s with all the rain!?” Neon questioned, exhausted from running so quickly.

“I’m not sure,” the other person replied. “Best we can do is wait it out.”

“Alright,” Neon agreed. “Since we have some time to kill, what’s your name?”

His name was Zero, and looked almost like the opposite of Neon in a way; he looked like a yellow cube with its four corners left untouched and its sides partially removed. He had four blue triangles placed into each of the corners, and only one eye in the middle in the shape of a four-sided diamond. Zero was interested in studying the history of the city, and liked to research old, forgotten relics of the past.

“Wow, so you must know a lot about historical things, right?” Neon asked.

Zero confirmed: “I do. Speaking of which, I noticed that purple stone on your necklace. Where’d you find that?” He looked curious, with a twinge of skepticism.

“Oh, this? I’m not sure, actually. It was passed down to me courtesy of my family. A good luck charm of sorts,” Neon answered.

“That stone is really rare. It’s called the Shadow Shard, and it’s part of a pentalogy of mystical shards including Fire, Ice, Poison, Shadow, and Lava. The fact that you hold the Shadow Shard is interesting.” Zero explained.

Neon was whelmed by this information, and in the back of his mind he couldn't help but wonder where the other four might be. "That's intriguing. What do you suppose might happen if someone had all five shards?" he pondered.

Zero replied: "I have no idea, but I have a theory that the combined power of all the shards would grant you immense powers.”

Neon thought this was interesting. He looked out of a window and noticed the rain had stopped. “Looks like we can get out of here now, the rain’s stopped. You’re a pretty nice guy, can I get your phone number?”

Zero obliged and gave Neon his phone number so they could communicate whenever. They both said their goodbyes and went on with their days.

The next day, Neon was back at The Daily Chat eating lunch. Since his encounter with Zero, he couldn’t help but think about his Shadow Shard, and the other four alleged shards that are out there. What was their purpose? What would happen if someone had all five? All he could do was wonder. Then, he overheard something that piqued his interest. Someone was talking to someone else about a small, light blue object he found somewhere.

“Woah, it looks so pretty!”

“Yeah, it’s always pretty cold though… Can’t hold it for too long.”

“It does look like it would be really cold. Looks like a small chunk of ice.”

Neon didn’t need to hear anything else. This person had the Ice Shard. He quickly got up and walked over to the two. “That does look pretty cool,” Neon added as he approached them.

“I know, right? It’s so shiny!” replied the one holding the shard. This person looked like a full cube with a cute-looking face, with a gradient fading from dark purple to light blue, starting from the top. Despite being more attracted to women, Neon couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked. He noticed Neon’s own shard. “You have a pretty cool rock thingy too! It’s so purple!” he replied.

“Yeah, it is pretty c-” Neon was forming his sentence when out of nowhere, someone ran up and snatched the Shadow Shard out of his hands, and darted away. “Wh- hey!” Neon quickly started running after the thief, with the other person leaving his friend at the restaurant and following behind, but by the time they made it out of the restaurant, the thief was nowhere to be found. “Ohh, crap,” Neon sighed, his heart feeling heavier by the second. The other cube looked on at Neon, his face saying it all; this was bad. Really bad.

“That sure is not good,” he agreed, looking at Neon with worry. “I can tell that rock must’ve been really important to you. C’mon, we gotta go find it!”

“You’re right,” Neon agreed, with confidence brewing in his soul. “Let’s get a move on. Speaking of which, what’s your name? I’m Neon.”

“The name’s Cinni. It’s nice to meet you, Neon,” Cinni seemed excited to try and track down the thief. “Let’s ask around for if someone saw them running off somewhere,” Cinni suggested. Neon seemed eager to try that idea. Sure enough, the first person they asked had an idea of where they went. They said he saw them go into an alley, then he heard a door open, and they were gone. They also mentioned that the thief looked a lot like Neon, except they were yellow with dark purple eyes.

Neon and Cinni ventured into the alley. It was dark and filthy, and there wasn’t a door in sight. Both of them were a bit confused. Then, Cinni stepped on something that looked like a metal plate in the ground. It was the only thing in the alley that resembled a door. “Oh, that must be it!” Cinni exclaimed. They opened the door and ventured inside.

The contents of the door turned out to be a dark, gloomy hallway that led… somewhere. “This place gives me the creeps,” Cinni muttered, a twinge of fear taking residence in his voice. He trailed behind Neon closely, afraid of what might happen to the both of them.

The duo walked slowly and quietly down the dark path. “I’m a bit uneasy too, don’t get me wrong,” Neon said quietly, as if to keep a low profile. “I’ve never seen this place before, but something tells me we have to stay quiet.”

Just then, Neon’s phone began to ring. He frantically got it out and answered the call, just to stop the loud ringtone, which he hoped hadn’t alerted anything nearby. Cinni understandably looked a little worried about that. Neon spoke quietly, but loud enough for the caller to hear him.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Neon, it’s me, Zero.”

“Oh, hey.”

“I’m just calling you to tell you that I found the Fire Shard!”

“Wow, impressive. Speaking of which, my uh… my Shadow Shard was stolen.”

“What?”

“Yeah, it got stolen. Me and a guy who has the Ice Shard are trying to find the thief. He went into this dark hallway in an alley.”

“Oh, that sounds familiar. I’ll be there in just a moment.”

Sure enough, about 2 minutes later, Neon and Cinni heard Zero’s footsteps behind them. Neon looked impressed. “You got here pretty fast,” said Neon.

Zero shrugged. “Had to come down here once to chase someone who stole $5 from me. Barely survived, but it was totally worth it. I like your shard, by the way,” Zero admired Cinni’s Ice Shard.

“Yeah, it’s very pretty and blue! Yours is very pretty and orange, I like it,” Cinni marveled at Zero’s Fire Shard. Zero thanked him for the compliment.

“Let’s keep going,” Neon suggested. Everyone agreed.

Eventually, the trio reached a dark room, with someone sitting at a table on the left. He looked exactly like how the witness described him. He turned, saw the three staring at him, and sighed, looking dispirited to see them there.

“What do you all want?” the cube said, tonally disgruntled.

“My Shadow Shard back,” demanded Neon. He wasn’t going to have it with this dude.

“Of course not,” the cube countered impatiently. “It ain’t yours anymore. Shove off.”

Now Cinni was getting impatient. “Give it back, dude! You’re only doing yourself less of a favour!”

Zero then said: “Don’t you realise that the combination of these shards can destroy the planet?”

Everyone just stared at him.

“...what?” the thief said, not sure if he heard what he just heard.

“...and you didn’t tell us this?” Neon questioned, dumbfounded at why Zero had said nothing about it.

“I only put two and two together like 10 minutes ago, and then you called me, and it slipped my mind,” Zero explained. “Either way, Mr. Thief, you should give that shard back, it’s a family heirloom to Neon here.”

The thief sighed. “Y’know what, fine. Here ya go, dude. And also, call me David. I get I stole his rock thingy, and I apologize, but ‘Mr. Thief’ is a little far.”

With his Shadow Shard back in his hands, Neon and his friends left the dark room and went on their own ways. Cinni, being ever social, asked for Neon’s phone number before he left.

Two days later, Neon was trying to wake up in the morning when he heard a knock on his door. He shuffled past the living room and the kitchen, and opened the door to see David standing there with something in his hands.

“Hey,”

“Oh, hey. What are you doing here?” Neon asked, a little confused.

“I just came to tell you that I heard of some guy who is trying to take over the world, and he’s looking for the shard thingies or whatever,” explained David.

Neon was a little skeptical. “Huh. Are you working for him, or…?”

“Oh, no, not at all. I’m a changed man, I know I shouldn’t work for a guy like that,” David assured, a bit frantically as if to not give Neon the wrong idea.

“There’s a green rock in your hands. What is it?”

“Oh yeah, I was going to tell you, I found the Poison Shard,” David showed Neon the green, glowing shard. “I didn’t steal it, just so you know.”

Neon still had his doubts, but he decided to go along with it. “Right, okay. So, if I remember correctly, I have the Shadow Shard, my friends have the Ice and Fire Shards, and you have the Poison Shard, so the only one we haven’t seen is the Lava Shard. And apparently, if you combine all five of them, the planet explodes, or something like that.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” David confirmed. “I don’t want someone to take over the world. I’m not giving that guy my Poison Shard any day of the week. So don’t worry about that.”

Neon wasn’t sure if he should worry about it, but something about David made him feel that he was being 100% honest with himself. “Well, I have an idea. Why don’t we try to find the Lava Shard so the guy you’re talking about doesn’t have the chance to find it?”

David liked that idea, and was on board with it. Neither of them knew where it could be. Their best guess was that it would be somewhere inside Mt. Silico, a nearby dormant volcano. The two look-a-like cubes trekked over to the mountain, determined to find the Lava Shard.

There was an open cave at the base of the volcano, with nothing indicating it was off limits to enter. David was a bit anxious, as he was scared of the dark, but Neon pulled out a flashlight and shined it forward. They quietly wandered through the cave, as it progressively had more twists and turns the deeper underground they went. At one point, Neon almost lost his balance and fell into a deep ravine, but David pulled him back in the nick of time.

After a few hours of spelunking, the duo stumbled upon something interesting: another cube, digging away at a wall with a pickaxe and their metal detector beeping like crazy. A lake of lava lay nearby, bubbling and crackling with heat. Neither of them had seen this person before, so they both walked up to him behind his back.

“Hi,” Neon spoke abruptly.

“Waugh!” The cube jumped and spinned around frantically to see who was behind him. The cube was hot pink all over, with his eyes and mouth being a bright cyan colour. He seemed quite startled by the sudden appearance of Neon and David.

“Oh, jeez, sorry! We didn’t mean to startle you,” said Neon, a bit surprised at the cube’s reaction.

“I-it’s alright, I just wasn’t expecting anyone to be down here. Goodness, that scared the heck outta me,” he said, sounding out of breath.

“Our apologies. Anyways, what are you up to down here?” David asked, sounding curious.

“Oh, I’m just mining for gems. I found this really big one in here, and I’m gonna get it out of here!” the pink cube answered ecstatically. “The name’s Porks. What’s your guys’ names?”

“I’m Neon, and this is David. Nice to meet ya, Porks,” Neon shook Porks’ hand, with David doing the same. “We’re trying to look for a red shard-looking thing. Do you have any idea where that could be?”

“Hmm, well, I could finish digging this gem out and you can take a look,” offered Porks. Neon and David sat back as Porks dug away at the stone, eventually revealing a red gemstone buried in the stone. Everyone marvelled at how precious it looked.

“Woah,” said Neon, blown away.

“That must be it,” David ascertained.

Porks was also delighted. “Well, it sounds like you need it more than me, so it’s all yours! Enjoy it while it’s hot.” Neon grabbed the Lava Shard and admired its red glow.

“Not so fast,” said a new voice out of nowhere. The three cubes turned around to see a green and white cube standing before them. He looked to have a single circular eye somehow suspended in midair in the middle of four corner pieces. “I’m going to need that shard.” he said, almost sounding authoritative.

David’s face became visibly bitter. “It’s Laser,” he muttered.

Neon asked him: “Is this the guy you were talking about?” David nodded.

Porks seemed nervous at what might happen, but tried to stay confident. He bellowed, “This gem is off limits, pal! Why don’t you skedaddle?”

“I’ll make it simple,” the menacing green cube bargained. “You hand the shard over, and I won’t beat you three to a pulp. Capiche?”

Neon glanced at David, both of them knowing exactly how this was going to go down. Unfazed, he glared at Laser with fury. “Over my dead body.”

Suddenly, Laser charged at Neon and threw a punch. Neon barely dodged to his right, with David circling him and throwing a jab from behind, successfully striking him. Laser grunted with pain, but quickly turned and kicked David in the gut, knocking him to the ground. With David groaning and clutching his stomach in pain, it was up to Neon and Porks to settle this. Neon tossed the Lava Shard to Porks, who was hiding behind a nearby rock, and rushed towards Laser, aiming his fist right for the face. Laser quickly caught Neon’s fist and threw him down to the ground, intending to pin him down and endlessly pelt him with punches. Porks suddenly rushed out behind the rock and whacked Laser on the side with his metal detector twice, with Laser losing his balance and falling to the ground. By this time, David had recovered and gotten up to fight, and delivered by smashing a rock against his forehead. Bruised and battered, Laser decided there was one option left: grab that shard, and run. He unexpectedly swiped the shard from Porks’ hands and was about to start fleeing, when he was met with an unexpected surprise: A purple and blue cube, standing there with a furious and determined look on his face, wielding a metal baseball bat.

It was Cinni.

Laser gasped and attempted to run back, but not before his head was belted hard with Cinni’s bat. He struck him again and again, showing absolutely no mercy. Before anyone knew it, he was unconscious on the ground, heavily bruised. Everyone just stood there, shocked at what they just saw. Cinni threw his bat aside and grabbed the Lava shard out of Laser’s lifeless hands.

“Dude,” said Neon, incredulously.

“...What?” said Cinni. “I saved the world.”

Neon hesitated a moment, but shrugged. “Well, I guess you did.”

Zero suddenly walked into the cave, a bit taken aback at the scene before him. He looked down at Laser’s inanimate body. “So… what happened here?” he asked, trying to decipher that question himself to no avail.

“Cliché villain scuffle,” answered Neon. Suddenly, his expression changed. “Wait a minute… all 5 shards are here,” he said, starting to panic.

Porks was confused. “Does something happen if they’re all here…?” he wondered out loud. But before he could process another thought, David ripped the Lava Shard out of his hands and threw it as hard as he could up the cave. The four other shards started to get pulled towards the Lava Shard like an intense magnet, and they clung together tightly. The shards crackled and shook violently. Everyone started panicking frantically. “What the heck is happening!?” screamed Porks with confusement and terror.

Zero yelled over the violent commotion: “If we don’t do something, those shards are going to form a black hole!"

Neon decided there was only one thing they could do. With haste and vigour, Neon grabbed the metal bat off the ground and swung down hard against the smorgasboard of shards, utterly destroying them all. The multicoloured glob of rocks shattered into many tiny fragments. The Shadow Shard was surprisingly still intact.

Everyone walked up to and stared down at the destroyed mess of shards.

“...I guess that’s that,” said Zero, oddly very calmly. “Here’s your shard back, Neon.”

Neon picked up his Shadow Shard and put it back on his necklace. Just as he put it back, Laser grunted and slowly got up. “Ah, you’re awake,” Neon responded.

“What’s everyone staring down at?” Laser asked, a bit lost. He looked over and saw the crumbled mixture of shards and frowned. “Oh.”

“Unfortunately, your plans for taking over the world have been cut short,” said David.

“Damn,” Laser said. He was bummed, but he was starting to feel like it wasn’t the best idea to begin with. “Y’know, I'm starting to feel like trying to take over the world was a bit stupid on my end. I’m deeply sorry.”

Cinni smiled. “Hey, it’s all good! I’m also sorry for bashing you unconscious with a bat, it was reckless on my end. Here, have a hug!” He then suddenly gave Laser a hug. Everyone else decided to join in. Laser was still a bit confused, but he appreciated the support.

Neon spoke up and made a suggestion. “Say, why don’t we go get some food together? I’m sure we’re all starving after all this.” Everyone agreed in unison. The six cubes travelled back up the cave and to The Daily Chat, where they had the best lunch all six of them had ever had.

#geometry dash #gdtumblr #short story #original story #gdblr #cube story

4 notes · View notes

mattzerella-sticks · 2 years ago

Text

birds of a feather

Gotham Knights, Cullen Row & Carrie Kelley, 1.5k, GA

"With Batman gone, the Gotham Knights have taken his place in defending the city..." For now. But once their names are cleared, will that still be the case?

Cullen hopes it is. Though never expecting his life to turn in such directions, he finds himself liking the idea of being a vigilante. He even has ideas on what that might be like - keeping track of it all in his sketchbook that he doesn't show anyone. Because telling a piece of paper is one thing. Telling another person was something else. It made it all more real, and Cullen wasn't sure if he wanted that.

He has to decide quickly once someone catches him dreaming on the page again.

Clean lines. Distinct, but subtle, patterns. Dark colors that blended in with the city’s natural shadows. Cullen carefully applied these aspects to the figure stamped into his sketchbook, hunched over its pages with a half-filled mug of quickly cooled coffee forgotten to his right and the last beams of daylight filtering in through the dusty and oversized window behind him. His fingers twitched through muscle memory. He had already drawn this figure tens of times since he, his sister, and the others first started nesting inside the unused academy clock tower. He had drawn the figure standing. Crouching. Bisected by the inner seam because the drawing took up two pages or a tiny speck that huddled within a corner. His profile was captured from all angles. He glowered forward, confidently, every time Cullen captured his full face. The figure jumped. He dived. He soared across the Gotham skyline. Cullen was only limited by his imagination. He tore through many pages, slashing different scenes onto paper of the figure in action. Tonight’s session was simple. The figure swung wide in a graceful arc towards the page’s edge, steely determination visible even behind the mask that partially concealed his face. It was as if he expected to break the page’s borders under his fist, yearning to exist beyond the page. Cullen did not believe he was ready for that, yet.

“That looks awesome.”

Cullen’s hand smothered the figure as his gaze jerked up and onto Carrie.

The smaller girl stood over him, smiling, still dressed in her school blazer and slacks despite the school day having ended hours ago. “Sorry,” she said, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No,” he said, “it’s okay.” Cullen slowly dragged his hand off the page, but not fully. His fingers skimmed the figure’s chest. “I thought everyone’d be out longer.”

“Yeah. Steph texted me that her, Turner, and Harper will be out a little bit later.”

“Is Duella not with them?”

“I think she’s… doing her own thing.”

“That – yeah, that sounds like her.” Cullen relaxed further, revealing more of his drawing. He twirled and tapped his pencil’s eraser on an unmarred section of the sketchbook. “What are you doing here so late?”

Carrie shrugged. “I was… I had been helping Br… helping bring one of my classmates up to speed on stuff that he missed while he was out.” She fumbled over her words, twisting her fingers and faintly blushing. Cullen noted it. He didn’t mention it. “Figured I’d stop by and see if you needed anything.”

“Me, specifically?”

“Well, all of you. But since you’re the only one here…”

He let himself smile. It was thin and tired. “I think we’re good for now. We hadn’t blown through the last of the supplies you and Steph smuggled in for us.”

“Good, that’s good.”

Carrie lingered. She didn’t stay in that one spot, taking cautious, measured steps across the floor, but she stayed near where Cullen sat. Her gaze bounced around the room, briefly connecting with his sketchbook and then flying elsewhere every few seconds. It was the only place her eyes landed more than once.

Cullen sighed. “It’s… it’s a stupid drawing.”

“It’s not stupid.” She said that too fast and knew it, too. Carrie huffed, squaring her shoulders and pinning him in his seat with her smile. Its sincerity nearly blinded him. “I think it’s really cool.” She inched closer to him. “What’s it of, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Now he tensed. His stare dropped from her to the figure beneath him.

Cullen worried at his bottom lip as he considered telling Carrie about his drawing. He’d been keeping this particular secret for quite some time and enjoyed doing so. It was a needed escape during the uncertain days and weeks that were spent trying to clear their names before the clock ran out on them. It gave him hope in those moments when it seemed like they were going nowhere, and the battle was too big for just them to fight. Cullen was afraid that, if he voiced it, the figure would lose his power. That Cullen dreamed too big, like always, and it’d be ripped from him and the cold, crushing waves of reality would seep back in to drown him.

However, pushing against all that fear, was the fact that – out of all the members in their ragtag family – Carrie would understand his drawing, and what it meant, the best.

He listened to that voice more than all the others.

Cullen handed her the sketchbook. “It’s… me.”

Carrie accepted it and studied what he had drawn. Then, with a small nod and a raised brow, she silently asked if she could flip through the rest of his marked pages. He signaled his assent.

She carefully inspected his work. Her quiet review was tortuously long, the air in the tower thickening because of it. Cullen’s hands curled into fists. He nearly snapped his pencil in two.

Finally, Carrie closed the sketchbook and handed it back to him. “These are all really good,” she told him. Then, she asked, “Do you want to be a vigilante?”

“Aren’t I kinda one already…” he laughed, “the news certainly thinks so.”

Carrie chuckled alongside him, pulling a seat close and sitting on it. “You’re on your way,” she said. “But I always thought you and your sister… that once you cleared your names you’d be out of here. Wasn’t that why you took the job in the first place?”

Cullen stopped laughing. “It was.” He shifted in his seat, using the hand not holding his pencil to tug on his sleeve. “But… I don’t want that to be the plan anymore.”

“Really?”

“No, it’s…” He sighed. Cullen tipped his head back and hit the wall. He looked away from Carrie and found it easier to talk. He continued. “I wanted to start over in a new city because I thought there was nothing here for me other than my sister. And, well – being framed kind of sucked, and having Batman… Bruce… having Turner’s dad die and the city plunging into chaos since then also sucked… but because of all that I think I see now that there is something for me here? That maybe I didn’t before because I was… I was too focused on running away to notice. And letting some – some jerk scare me out of my home. When really it’s him and all the other jerks out there that think they own the place who should be scared out of our home, our city.” There was a lump in his throat he tried swallowing past. “Gotham needs people to step up now that Batman’s gone. To help. I like what we do and – and that it helps people. And even after we do clear our names and stop the Court, I think I’m gonna keep at it.”

There wasn’t any teasing. No snide laughter or condescending hums. Carrie didn’t seem like the type, but Cullen was prepared for any outcome.

Except, apparently, for Carrie laying her hand on his knee and telling him, “I think that’s wonderful.”

He was startled by that. Cullen’s gaze found hers and he asked, “It is?”

“Yeah.” She squeezed his knee as she spoke, “You’re right. Gotham needs people looking out for her, for the safety of everyone who lives here. Bruce… was one man. He did his best, but he couldn’t be everywhere. He couldn’t solve every problem. With him gone, it’s people like us who have to do our best and fill the vigilante-sized hole that was left behind.”

Cullen was helpless to stop the smile that appeared on his face at her words. He reached forward and laid his hand atop hers, gently tapping the back of it in gratitude. “Do you think we’ll be enough? Batman was one man. We’re a bunch of kids.”

“We’ll never know if we don’t try. But…”

“But?”

“I think we can be even better.”

It was almost cliché, but Cullen felt lighter because of Carrie’s encouragement. Despite all that troubled him over the past few minutes, he found it easy to laugh with her and believe what she had said. Almost like what scared him wasn’t as powerful as he first thought.

Carrie nudged her knee into his, drawing him from his contemplation. “Did you come up with a name?” Her face scrunched, brows drawn in and glasses rising off her nose. “I hope you didn’t think you’d be another Robin.”

“No, no. There can be only one Robin.”

“Is it bat-themed, then?”

“No, it’s still a bird.”

“But not a robin?”

Cullen sighed, flipping open his sketchbook again to a page near the end with different names scribbled throughout it. “I’ve been thinking, going over different species and seeing which one made the most sense. There’s this big book of birds in your library, and I got a few I’ve been sitting with.”

Carrie tapped at one of the names. Starling. “I like this one.”

He did, too. “Still, I don’t know how it could strike fear into the hearts of criminals.”

“Like Robin does?”

“If you say it with a deep enough growl… Robin. See! Robin… spooky.”

She punched his shoulder, laughing, “Shut up!”

They spent the next hour debating codenames and Cullen’s dreams hadn’t felt more real.

#gotham knights #cw gk #gotham knights fanfic #cw gk fanfic #cullen row #carrie kelley #gk robin

5 notes · View notes

reverend-dog · 4 months ago

Text

Above the Law

Bloodspell hunkered in a corner of the garage, from where she enjoyed a direct view of the courthouse entrance and total concealment, courtesy of a caterer’s van parked in the loading zone. She stared fixedly at the entrance, soothing her impatience and quelling her disappointment each time the doors slid open and somebody other than her prey appeared.

Indignation smoldered at the core of Bloodspell’s passion. “Self-important bitch,” she muttered. “The fuck she think she is? A warrant? For me?” A sudden snicker broke from her lips. “Time I’m done with you, won’t even be dental patterns left.” She shifted her weight to relieve a cramp that burned in one hip. “After all I’ve done for this city!”

The doors slid open again, and Bloodspell’s heart thudded with anticipation. “About fucking time,” she breathed at the sight of the tall, well-dressed woman with shadow-hued hair and elegant mahogany features, who struck a brisk pace between the rows of cars. The woman’s pumps clacked echoes from the concrete floor, sharp and regular as a metronome.

Bloodspell wove currents of energy from the air to fashion a phantasmal noose, but aborted the spell partway. “No,” she murmured in the woman’s direction, aware her voice would not carry, “better you know it’s coming.” She wrapped a glamour around herself, and crept from her hiding spot to trail her quarry.

The woman slid between two cars and reached for the driver’s door of an unassuming Subaru sedan. Bloodspell stood in the middle of the lane and dropped her glamour, then began to weave. She watched the woman turn, eyes widened in recognition, then glance around herself as runes appeared and whirled in orbits.

“That’s right,” Bloodspell boasted, “it’s me! You’ve made a name for yourself, putting away some of the best heroes this city’s ever had. But @ing at me?” She pronounced it as ‘at-ing’ as she shook her head. “You need a lesson whose side you supposed to be on, Prosecutor Lyta Kennedy!”

The runes spun faster, sanguine glow increasing. Bloodspell’s anticipation grew as it did every time she had a foe at her mercy. So what if she sometimes lost control and did more damage than she intended? They deserved it, every single one of them!

Lyta Kennedy gazed at the runes that whirled and spun no more than a finger’s breadth from her skin. She took on a faint frown, as if confronted with a bothersome fly. Then, almost too fast to follow, Lyta thrust out one hand and snatched a rune from the air. As Bloodspell stared, her quarry popped the rune in her mouth and swallowed.

Bereft of a key component, the other runes wobbled and drifted from their course, until the spell fell apart and dissipated. Feedback hissed through Bloodspell’s head, and she staggered. “The fuck?” she mumbled, and blinked her eyes back into focus. “What you do?”

Lyta regarded her without fear or anger, but something worse: disappointment. “I should remember whose side I’m on?” she challenged. “Which of us has outstanding warrants for two counts of second-degree murder, three manslaughter, sixteen aggravated assault, destruction of public property, criminal trespass, and resisting arrest? And you call yourself a superhero?”

“I am a superhero!” Bloodspell protested. “You know how many crimes I’ve stopped? Lives I’ve saved? I took down the High Street Cannibals single-handed!”

“And in doing so,” Lyta amended, “put eight people in the hospital, including two bystanders, destroyed eight cars and a restaurant. Does the name Kim Van ring a bell? His family owned that restaurant. They’ve had to sell their home to cover the losses, and are running a GoFundMe to pay their medical bills.”

“That wasn’t my fault!” Bloodspell protested. “Black Rooster tried to run me over! He’s the one crashed into the place!”

“You started the fight,” Lyta pointed out, “when you attacked the Cannibals’ hideout, which was also the top floor of an occupied apartment building. That building now is uninhabitable, which means all the families living there have had to find other places to live, or are homeless.”

Bloodspell’s eyes dropped for a moment, then glared at the prosecutor again. “Because the Cannibals had their drug lab there! And do you know what else they were into?” She stamped one foot forward to emphasize her point. “They lived up to their fucking name! Anybody crossed them, or even saw something they weren’t supposed to see, ended up in a meat locker!” She flung up her hands. “Okay, so maybe I hit a little hard, but they needed it! The city’s better off without them, can you argue that?”

Lyta’s expression did not change. “Explain that to Moesha Carpentier,” she suggested, then made an exaggerated ‘oh’ face. “Wait, you can’t. She’s in a coma from when one of the cars you destroyed rolled over her.”

“Well,” Bloodspell offered in desperation, “where were you? Where was the law for all those people living in that building, being scared every day? I did what you couldn’t do, and this is my reward? Fuck you!” She spread her hands to weave.

“No,” Lyta retorted in the same long-suffering tone, “fuck you.” She lifted one hand and snapped her fingers.

A roll of tape appeared in midair next to Bloodspell’s head. It glowed under the garage’s dim lights, and hovered in a way completely unlike a normal roll of tape. A length of it unwound and wrapped around Bloodspell’s head, covering her mouth. The roll whirled around Bloodspell much like her runes had earlier surrounded Lyta. One pass pinned Bloodspell’s arms to her side, the next encased her hands, then a spiral wound around her legs and ended at her ankles. Job done, the roll of tape vanished.

Bloodspell’s breath exploded through her nose as she toppled to one side, and lay wriggling against her restraints. She glared at Lyta, then fear entered her eyes as the other woman walked closer and crouched over her. “No matter how strong you are,” she said, “the law is stronger. And in case you missed it, this is a citizen’s arrest.” Standing, she turned and pulled out her phone.

#fiction #short fiction #short story #writing #creative writing #surreal #superheroes

0 notes

dionysiospsychas-photography · 9 months ago

Text

DOWNTOWN ALLEYS PHOTO WALK

… Hello photogs and photography admirers, and a good midsummer to you. Here in Vancouver, the spring blooms of the cherry, plum, and magnolias trees have been bursting and some are still flashing. And we've had nice breezes, so it's been pleasant, so far. That is until the burning lamp in the sky has its season and bores a hole in our foreheads. But, that's just my feeling. I do have a ball cap, a high SPF sunscreen for my delicate skin, and a water bottle to fill with ice, so that should be adequate. However, I haven't read the latest in climate apocalypse tips and tricks.

Still, it will be nice to siesta under the shade of a tree, with the sunbeams filtering thru the ample leaves and marking the grass and pavement with swaying dapples of light. Yeah, that's pretty cool.

Okay, let's get to something grittier and cooler. This photo walk was part of the Capture Photography Festival 2024 events; my third time participating. And this year, I wanted to lead photogs thru some of my favourite alleys in Downtown Vancouver.

I decided on this route for a couple of reasons. Firstly, experiencing and sharing photography as a group was apt for the festival. Photography is an extraordinary way to view the world about us — to observe it, examine it, appreciate it — and share our point of views with others. Secondly, alleys really are cool! Alleys are great subjects for photography, because — unlike the "public", alluring street side — they are public spaces where we can view the "private" side of houses and shops, which are practical, unpretentious, and style is secondary. These rear spaces can be coolly disorganized, patched up, and justifiably messy. Altho they don't include "beautiful" things, they offer interesting things and scenes to capture with our cameras. So, I expected that we would converse, share what we see and find, and show each other something we've never seen before.

And our photo walk was all that and a lot of fun. Well… the sky was clear blue and so the Sun beamed down on us, but it was a breezy, pleasant morning. Never mind me and my clear-sky phobia. And you'll see in the photos below, there was cool shadow play and glinting surfaces.

The photogs were enthusiastic, positive, and enjoyed exploring the built-up, canyon-like alleys. And they were clean too! Revisiting these alleys for the nth time was still photographically fun for me. And it felt that the photo-cats found them fascinating. Some went ahead and explored around corners or lingered behind I bet because of some curious object, as photo-cats do. They also shared about the things they found interesting like neatly organized piping, overlapping building facades, multi-layered paint, vegetation growing out of surprising spots, hilarious signs, colour fields, decades of bricklaying, and satisfactorily weathered and grimy surfaces. And that was intriguing to others who then attempted to make their own photo.

There were also alluring people for those who liked to photograph seemingly interesting-looking people. Anyway…

It was inspiring to see the photogs go at it. That's why it's good to go out exploring and photographing with friends. I totally recommend it. And I think that the photos below show their particular perspective and distinctive styling of wonderful things and scenes un-noticed or forgotten. And… that's why photography is so cool.

We caught up with our regulars and got to know newcomers, their motivations for photographing, and their art projects.

Above, the second attempt at a group photo with the fun cats. Thank you much again to (back row, L to R) Anne, John, Don, Colin, Brooke, Diane, Chris, James, Carol, (front row, L to R) Jaiden, Sharon, and Grace for joining our walk and a fun morning photographing. So reader, view their cool photos below, and click on the pic to see a larger version.

Photo by Brooke McAllister @brookabrooke

Photos (left) Ice Castles and (right) Urban Blend by Carol How @carol_how

Photo Urban Legends by Carol How @carol_how

Photo Graffiti Wall by Chris Cook @cdcook_photography

Photo Girl, Walking by Chris Cook @cdcook_photography

Photos (left) Quadrant by Chris Cook @cdcook_photography and (right) The 515 by Colin Trigg @funktionalphotog

Photo Forbidden Places by Colin Trigg @funktionalphotog

Photo Yes, That Would Be a Hard NO by Colin Trigg @funktionalphotog

Photos by your photo walk host Dionysios @thephotogeniccity

Photo by your photo walk host again Dionysios @thephotogeniccity

Photo by Diane @ diane.km

Photos by Diane @ diane.km

Photos by Don Janus @donsprojects

Photo by Don Janus @donsprojects

Photo Urban Windows by Grace Tse @abstureal

Photo Pop Goes the Color by Grace Tse @abstureal

Photo The Secret Life of Pungence by Grace Tse @abstureal

Photos by Jaiden Su @kinnieey

Photos by James Houston @ jameshouston.arts

Photos (left) by James Houston @ jameshouston.arts and (right) by John Macmillan @ mac1054

Photos by John Macmillan @ mac1054

Photo by Sharon Wish @ bluechameleon

Lastly, the first attempt at a group photo with some lost photo cats.

Play closing theme song...

There is pleasure in photographing with others, as we converse about this, that and photography, share about the interesting things we observe, and inspire each other. So, to join us on our fun photo walks, please subscribe to my newsletter to receive the event announcements.

It is my hope that these photo walk experiences will inspire you to keep exploring your city and natural locales. So, from your friendly photo walk guide, thank you for reading, et à la prochaine!

So, how about you; do you like to explore alleys? Send me an email and tell me what you think.

DP, 2024-05-05

Are you getting value out of the photo walks and the blog? If so, you can help support these by telling your friends or thru Buy Me a Coffee. Think of it as a tip jar and an easy way to say thanks. Thank you for your support, I sincerely appreciate it! Merci beacoup!

#photowalk #exploring #vancouver #alleys

1 note · View note

vrabbiit · 3 years ago

Note

Hello there! This is my first time requesting something so please bear with me. I’d like to see a Female Security Guard Reader shipped with Vanny. (And if it’s not too much to ask I’d like the dynamic to be a Cat & Mouse Relationship, but anything is great). I personally see Vanny as Vanessa however I am cool with it being ambiguous. I love your work and hope to request more soon.

-🎷

aw, tysm anon! and i love this idea, it inspired me to write a LOT more than i was intending, so i hope i do it justice for you! i tried to keep it ambiguous too so it can be interpreted either way!

🐰Chasing the White Rabbit: Vanny x F!Security Guard!Reader 🐰

Wordcount: 2030

Warnings: Mild Violence, VERY MILD suggestive content (still SFW)

"Fuck."

You'd almost had her. You felt like you'd been running for hours, following glimpses of white and red in your peripheral, and footsteps so light you could barely even hear them. If this were any other situation, you'd concede that you were probably just seeing things as a result of the isolation of your job, but you'd finally spotted her in full view, and now you knew you weren't imagining things.

You'd been seeing and hearing suspicious things from day one on the job when your coworker Vanessa had shown you the bare minimum of things and then seemingly vanished completely. You hadn't expected the Pizzaplex to be eerie at night, and yet you found yourself on edge as you walked through the vast yet empty atriums. The S.T.A.F.F bots were there, sure, but they were hardly company, and they didn't react even if you waved your hands in front of their flashlights. That was why, when you saw a flash of white out of the corner of your eye, you spun to face it, your breath in your throat.

But there was nothing there.

It had been easy to brush the first sighting off. It was just first day nerves, your anxieties twisting the shapes at the edge of your vision the same way the shadows at night contorted your bedroom into an unrecognizable nightmare when you were paranoid. But the second, the third, the fourth, and all the ones that came after that? Much harder. You remembered telling Vanessa in passing that you thought you'd seen something on the first day, and she'd brushed it off with a dismissive comment about how you were probably just not used to how empty it was. You'd been inclined to agree then, but as you kept seeing and hearing things and she didn't budge, you started to feel like she just didn't believe you.

"I told you, it's like there's another mascot in there."

"Right." The condescension in her voice was almost palpable.

"I'm not joking. Maybe I was just seeing things before, but I promise I'm not now. They're white, like fully white - yes, I'm sure it's not Chica - and they look like a rabbit of some kind? At least I think, they always vanish as soon as I get close."

After what had to be the tenth time you'd had this conversation, Vanessa gave a long sigh and turned to you from the CCTV she was monitoring.

"Y/N, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but have you considered talking to someone?"

You'd just huffed and left, giving up on trying to convince her. Unless she saw the thing herself, she was going to stay convinced that you were making it up.

So instead, you decided to start investigating on your own. You came in early, even before Vanessa, and scoured the CCTV footage. Nothing. You listened in on day worker's conversations - no mention of a white rabbit. In the end, you settled on an idea that sounded almost as stupid as it felt.

They always seemed to show up in the corner of your eye, right? And then vanish when you turned in an attempt to catch them. This time, you were going to pretend you didn't see them, in hopes of luring them out. You weren't certain it would work at all, but it was the only thing left.

It worked better than you ever expected.

You'd been patrolling Rockstar Row, checking that Chica was in fact in her room just to prove to yourself you weren't mistaking her for another mascot. As you crossed over to the small museum of old parts and the golden statues that were dotted around the place, there was movement in the very edges of your vision.

You stiffened, before forcing yourself to not react. You kept your eyes focused on the parts ahead of you, holding the pose for a long, silent few seconds.

And then you heard shuffling, the light movement of footsteps that were purposely being quieted. You could barely hear them over the sound of your heart beating in your throat. Just a few more seconds...

Your head snapped up, zeroing in on the source of the noise. A feminine figure in a white costume, red eyes staring back at you like a deer caught in headlights. Within a second, she'd turned on her heel and vanished, with you quickly taking chase, yelling “Hey!” (as if that would stop her)

Before now, you’d always felt like she was one step ahead of you, almost toying with you, but now she’d stumbled and you were finally on even ground. That was until you turned a corner next to Fazerblast and she was just… gone. The space all around was open, so there was no way she’d gotten away unless she was hiding in one of the photo booths dotted around the level. Keeping an eye (and an ear) out, you checked each one, but the trail had gone completely cold. The only way she could have possibly disappeared this quickly was...

Fazerblast. There was a staff-only entrance nearby that she could have used (because you didn't doubt she'd managed to acquire a security badge with the way she could evade you) that you'd completely forgotten about. Throwing the door open, you stepped through into the deserted game.

Unfortunately, there were so many places for her to hide - the place was designed to be a maze, after all, and it was likely that she was just leading you in there to make her escape elsewhere, but this was the only lead you had.

You were on edge again, waiting for the slightest sound to signal the presence of anyone else as you peeked around corners. Then you had an idea - she could very well be above you! It would be easy for her to hide out and watch you get lost, which you guessed was what she wanted. Feeling quite proud of yourself, you made your way towards another, better-hidden staff door - the one that let you bypass the game's programming and enter a set of stairs to the winner's room and the network of raised catwalks.

You were sure only human staff knew about this. Oh, and maybe her too.

Taking the steps two at a time, but trying to stay light on your feet, you ascended. You must have figured this out quicker than her because as you scaled the stairs, you heard shifting, and then a second pair of steps. She was in the stairwell with you.

You were so close.

You felt adrenaline flood your veins, dulling the fatigue that had been building, the end of the hunt so near.

And then, you got to the top of the stairs and you saw her on the catwalk. She was moving quickly and precisely like she'd lived her whole life in the heights (because you were a good distance from the ground, and if you weren't so pumped up on adrenaline you'd surely feel vertigo).

She turned back and for the second time that night, locked eyes with you. And then back to where she was heading. You both noticed at the same time. She'd somehow, unknowingly, backed herself into a dead end.

This was perfect.

Chest heaving with exertion, you stepped forward onto the catwalk and towards her.

"I knew I wasn't imagining things," you said, a disbelieving laugh bubbling in your throat as the situation began to fully sink in. She tilted her head, the movement uncanny with the big, unmoving grin of her mask. She took a step back.

"You're smarter than I thought." The voice that came out of her was light, edged slightly with a robotic echo as if she was using a voice changer, and also the slight desperation that proved she wasn't as nonchalant as she was trying to present herself; the shift in pitch and inflection at the end of her sentence making it sound more like a question than otherwise.

You stepped forward again.

She stepped back.

Her back hit the wall, and you still had room to advance.

"Who are you? How long have you been here? Why do you keep watching me?" Each question punctuated by a step, you were too caught up in the elation of having finally caught her to notice her change in stance.

As soon as you were close enough, she pushed forward and grabbed you, catching you entirely off-guard. She was a lot stronger than she'd seemed, what with her soft footsteps and agility, and she flipped your places on the narrow walkway. You only truly noticed what happened when your own back was against the same wall you'd seen her hit, your shirt bunched in her gloved hands to keep you there.

Looking to your side, you saw the drop - easily 15 meters, and you gulped. Your attacker let out a quiet, slightly manic giggle, and you come to a scary realization. You are completely at the mercy of this stranger. One shove and you were gone. She had the upper hand again.

(Thinking about it later, she probably never didn't have the upper hand. You wouldn't be surprised if she was just doing this to toy with you.)

You reached out a hand to grab the railing, but she didn't interpret it that way and let go of your shirt just to catch your wrists and pin them against the wall on either side of your head. The change in position caused her to encroach on your personal space, even more, a costumed leg between yours, and maybe you were just losing it, but there was a shift in energy that shocked you as all you could suddenly think about was how close you were, and how in any other context this would be extremely compromising. You couldn't see her face due to the mask, and you hoped it also obscured her own sight enough that between that and the dark, she didn't notice the way your cheeks were beginning to redden.

Now is not the time, you thought to yourself, but it was hard to focus.

"You-" the broken silence shocked you almost as much as her, and you were the one causing it, "You didn't answer me. Who are you?"

There was a beat, in which you could almost see her pondering despite not being able to tell her expression. After a while, she answered.

"Vanny." Her grip on your wrists loosened, and as much as you felt slightly disappointed at the loss, you had an idea. If you could keep her talking, maybe you could get her to let go enough to get away, or even overpower her.

"How long have you been here?" you repeated your question from earlier, although this one she deigned to not respond to clearly, instead interrupting you with a patronizing "Longer than you, clearly. It took you so long to find me." You would never mentally live down the fact that you found the tone attractive.

"Oh, so you wanted me to find you?" You hoped your voice sounded more confident than you felt.

"Duh, it's no fun otherwise." Vanny sounded almost petulant, but her guard was lowering. Good.

Your back-and-forth continued a bit longer, with you trying desperately to ignore the way the situation and she affected you until you finally built up enough confidence, and her hands were closed around your wrists rather than holding them in a vice-like grip. Taking a breath, wrenched your hands from hers and shoved, sending her staggering back with a winded gasp and a curse that, if you weren't mistaken, glitched her voice. Taking the brief opportunity before she recovered, you pushed past her and started running. As you did, though, you heard the strained, distorted voice of Vanny echo behind you.

"Shit, you're lucky you're pretty or I'd kill you for that."

You almost stumbled but kept your momentum going until you were safely on the ground and she didn't seem to be following you. Only then did you let the importance of the words sink in.

She thinks I'm pretty?

PART 2

#🎷 anon #fnaf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #security breach #five nights at freddys #vanny fnaf #fnaf vanny #vanny x reader #fnaf fanfic

147 notes · View notes

devildomimagines · 4 years ago

Note

Could you do the brothers (Lucifer especially) reacting to an MC who jokes all the time, seems carefree and stupid but eventually they find out that MC is actually a very deeply caring, responsible and intelligent person. They act like an idiot likely as a response to some adversity in their own past. Sorry if its complicated, i just like the idea of the brothers almost discounting MC only to realise they weren't looking deeply enough

Hi Anon! Thanks for the request! Sorry it took me so long to get to, it's been busy in my personal life. The older brothers are under the cut so this post isn’t a mile long lol. I hope this is worth the wait!

Belphegor

King of rolling his eyes at your antics.

Belphie is maybe the most knowledgeable about humans so, of anyone, he might be able to see a little deeper than the surface.

On one of the rare occasions you got Belphie out of the house, you two came across a Little D that was clearly lost.

He didn’t pay it any mind since he figured the Little D would just teleport to their master but you insisted on helping.

As you knelt down to the creature Belphie stood back and watched as you quickly soothed the Little D’s worries and it hopped into your arms.

You brushed past Belphie to carry the spirit across the street and start talking to the shop owner. The two of you laughed and Little D hopped over to the shop owner’s hands.

“The shop keeper knows that Little D’s master and will give them a call,” you explained as you wrapped your arm around his and began leading him down the road.

“You’re amazing MC,” Belphie murmured, such a small act really changed his view of you.

Where he thought you were foolish in trusting him after what happened in the attic, he realized that he wasn’t a special case of forgiveness, you were just a truly caring person.

“Hm, what was that Belphie?” You asked but he wasn’t sure if you actually didn’t hear him or if you were teasing.

He wasn’t too proud to admit his feelings but his face did heat up a bit, “I said you’re amazing.”

Beelzebub

He’s pretty caring for a demon so he could see you were too, although maybe he didn’t know the depth until today.

The two of you were enjoying a meal in Hell’s Kitchen. Beel was absorbed in the food that he didn’t at first notice you were distracted.

When you asked for a moment and got up to grab the attention of a waiter. Beel watched on curiously, he was hoping you were asking for more food.

The waiter nodded along and ducked into the kitchen. You waited in that spot and you caught Beel’s stare. You waved at him with a smile.

He waved back with a fried shadow bat in hand.

You laughed and then the waiter was back. They handed you a to-go container, you talked for a second, probably thanking them and then made your way across the restaurant, walking right past your table.

Beel thought to call out to you as if you had somehow accidentally overshot the table but you made your way right out the door.

He started to get up to go after you, he shoveled a few things in his mouth not totally satisfied but more confused why you were leaving.

Then he saw you through the window. He stopped moving as you approached a small demon looking into the restaurant through the window. Beel sat and watched the scene unfold.

It jumped back away from you, probably not having seen a human before, and was clearly defensive as you talked. You then offered the to-go container, popping it open so the demon could see the food contained.

The little demon inched closer, clearly hungry and tempted by the food you offered. You nodded and the demon took the container and ran. You watched for a second and then came back into the restaurant to join Beel.

You sat down like nothing had happened and went back to your meal. When Beel didn’t start eating you asked, “What is it? Do I have something on my face!?”

He shook his head no, “You’re incredible.” He picked back up eating but he would not forget this moment.

Asmodeus

You watched on as Asmo was applying his make-up. He always enjoys your company when preparing for the day but he noted you were reading the ingredients pretty seriously.

“What’s got you frowning MC?”

“This is from the human realm, right?” you held up the bottle so he could see the label in the mirror.

He hummed, “That’s right, I get products from all over so that one is definitely from the human realm. Have you used it before?”

“Um, no I tended to stay away from their brand.” You put the bottle back where you found it.

“Why’s that? It is kind of expensive in Grimm, was it the same in your currency?”

“Not really, it’s just that…” you paused trying to think of the most sensitive way to put it, “there are make-up brands in the human realm that test their products on animals before marketing it to humans.”

“How cute!” Asmo giggled at the thought of bunnies in blush.

“No Asmo, it’s more like they are testing if their products are safe for humans by using animals as a proxy. It can be brutal and even unnecessary and could result in the animal’s death.”

Asmo had stopped and turned to look at you as you explained. His face was slightly troubled.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable! I just tried to use products that didn’t use that as a part of their process in manufacturing so as to not cause any unnecessary distress.”

He nodded understanding your thought process. The Devildom didn’t have such markers since suffering was the norm.

The fact that you were thinking about what products you used and their impact on others, even just some animals, had him reassessing you.

It was more thoughtful than he originally credited you. When you and him were joking around and gossiping, he figured your interests were more superficial.

It was refreshing that not only could you keep up with the most recent hot news around town but you truly cared and respected your impact on others.

“Asmo?” You asked, he had been quiet for a while lost in thought.

“It’s nothing!” He recovered but he kept peeking back at you with a mysterious smile.

Satan

The two of you were studying in the RAD library.

There was a particularly tough exam coming up, notorious for dropping the GPA of 75% off the class.

Satan was confident in his abilities but he agreed to come study for your sake. He didn’t have access to know your grade like Lucifer did but he assumed you were struggling by your pleas for his help and deprecating jokes about failing.

He watched as you diligently took out your books and notebook. You flipped through a few of your notes and then shifted your focus to your textbook. Satan shrugged as he opened his own books, you seemed to be off to a fine start.

After about an hour you asked, “Can we quiz each other?”

He agreed and flipped to the end of the chapter he was on for the review questions. Satan took a question and asked it in a slightly different way so you couldn’t rely on memorized answers.

To his surprise you answered correctly and made up a question for him that he thought was actually pretty difficult.

Of course he got it right but shrugged it off as a fluke that you didn’t mean to ask such a hard question. The next one he asked you was harder, not from the textbook in any way, it was something that the teacher had mentioned offhand in class.

You got it correct again. With your turn next, you asked another complex question.

Satan answered properly but was now on the edge of his seat, surely twice in a row was not a coincidence.

His next question, he matched your difficulty. You thought for a few minutes and dived into explanation with examples and even a source that you quoted off the top of your head. Your answer was insightful and succinct.

You were waiting for Satan’s assessment of your answer but he sat unmoving.

“Was I mistaken?” You asked, and started frantically looking through your notes.

While you reviewed your materials, Satan was seeing you in a new light. He figured you got along so well with Mammon because the two of you could joke and slack off with the best of them. He thought that you and Asmo got along more as a pair of airheads. But here you were, in this moment your intelligence came off as easy and effortless.

“No, you were right.”

“Really?” you looked up surprised but happy.

He smiled back, but wondered, “What is your current grade in this class, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Last I checked, like 96?”

Satan laughed and shook his head, unbelievable that he thought otherwise.

Leviathan

He already thought of himself as a charity case. The fact that you would be willing to sacrifice your time to be with him was a miracle in his eyes.

No matter how many times you told him you wanted to hang out with him, it wasn’t a sacrifice, he still didn’t believe you.

When he gets more comfortable around you, he let’s you see his uglier sides when the envy consumes him.

You were a safe space he could vent to and you took that responsibility seriously. You listened and he felt the things he shared never left his room when you left.

It was after one of those vent/gaming sessions that you had to excuse yourself.

You had never gotten up in the middle like that and it scared Levi, had he gone too far? Did you actually hate him?

He watched silently as you left the room. Once the door closed, he was on his feet, what was so important? He decided to follow you.

Levi followed about a hallway behind you, as you turned a corner he would sprint to the corner to watch where you go next.

He followed all the way to the kitchen? He didn’t want to peek in fear of being caught but he listened as you greeted Beel.

Beel asked what’s up and you answered you were getting snacks for an intense gaming night with Levi. Beel must have perked up with the snacks you grabbed and you shooed him off, “If Levi’s up for it, you can join us but you can’t have that snack, I made it for a special occasion.”

Special… special? Levi couldn’t wrap his head around it when he thought of himself but the silence in the kitchen meant you must be leaving… meaning you were heading right for the door he was cupping!

He turned around and found a hiding spot on the other side of the hall behind a vase.

The door swung open as he held his breath. You started the way you came. You were heading for his room and he wasn’t there!

Cue montage of Levi comically running through the halls of HOL to get to his room before. He jumps into his gaming chair seconds before you open his door quietly.

He was panting and sweaty when he turned towards you with a smile, totally failing to act natural.

“Sorry I got up so abruptly but I just remembered I made you this!” You presented a cupcake exactly replicated from the anime the two of you watched last week.

Levi’s heart melted, he felt bad that he had second guessed you. He reached out for the cupcake with one hand and with the other he took your hand to pull you to the bean bags. He was blushing but still said, “Let’s put on that anime while I eat it.”

The level of detail that you had gotten correct showed how dedicated you had been to paying attention to his interests and how much you cared for him in turn. He was also impressed with your baking knowledge, it takes a decent level of skill to be able to replicate something just from seeing it.

The scene was coming up where the protag was going to give the cupcake and Levi was struck with the most embarrassing thought. But if anyone would indulge him, it was you.

As the protag took the cupcake, Levi copied their posture. Then he copied their words in unison they both said, “Thank you, no one has ever made me anything like this before.” The two of them ripped the cupcake in half in the same spot and he extended the half to you as he protag did, “Will you share it with me?”

“Of course!” You and the character answered together then giggled as Levi blushed and hid behind the half cupcake as the two of you returned to sitting on the beanbags.

There was no way he was ever going to forget this moment, his eyes opened to how much you did care for him. Even if he was doubtful of others by nature, he would never doubt you again.

Mammon

People always write Mammon off as dumb and because you have a pact with him, you’re often included in that assumption. The two of you get along like peas in a pod. You’re here for a good time and Mammon can definitely provide that.

His schemes to make money keep things interesting so you usually go along unless you have other commitments. Today’s work was clean-up in the local park. Not because it was lucrative, but because this was a punishment from a prank that backfired.

You had pleaded with Diavolo for a lighter sentence on Mammon’s behalf as his pact partner and Diavolo indulged you.

Mammon was brooding on your way to the park but you were looking forward to being outside in nature for the day so you chattered aloud to fill the silence.

Barbatos was waiting for you two with the materials you would need. He gave you a look of pity when you turned but Mammon caught it and knew Barbatos was probably feeling sorry you had to be punished when you didn’t do anything. Mammon ripped the rake out of Barbatos’ hand and sulked off after you.

You each set to different tasks, Mammon raking leaves and you weeding the flowerbeds.

Demons and spirits passed with a few snickers, definitely not the first time Mammon had been sent to do community service but he hated that you were now a laughing stock with him. You didn’t seem phased by it though, even flashing him a bright smile when you two made eye contact.

Halfway through the day, the two of you were taking a break for a snack and fluids, you shared a bench and admired the work so far. “We might even finish early!” You shared your optimism.

Mammon nodded but still kept quiet. It was so unlike him and you were hitting your limits of how to try to get him out of his own head, you figured he would be back to normal tomorrow but missed hearing his voice.

You two split the last of the duties, you were now cleaning equipment and decorations while he was trimming bushes and trees.

While Mammon was trimming a nearby bush, he heard your voice, then heard his name. He peeked through the bush to watch you talking with a crow.

“I thought it would make the day more fun if I was here with him because he always makes me have fun but it’s like I’ve made his mood worse…” You looked down at the bird bath you had been polishing and knelt down. The crow watched your movements from it’s perch on the top. “Maybe he hates that I intervened with Diavolo, I probably overstepped. I don’t know what I can do to get Mammon out of this funk. What do you think?”

The crow outstretched it’s wings and took off. You pouted, but continued polishing. Mammon was about to push through the bushes to comfort you, his mood wasn’t your fault and he felt even worse that you thought that but then the crow returned.

It swooped onto your shoulder and dropped something into your hand. You jumped with surprise and it scared the crow off your shoulder, it resettled on the bird bath. “This is perfect! Thank you!” The crow let you give it a few scritches and took off once more. You looked around for Mammon.

He nonchalantly rounded the bush so you would notice him, “Mammon! Look!” You rushed over and handed him the object.

It was a golden grimm coin. You explained, “A crow gave it to me, that has to be good luck! Take it and your luck will change, you won’t be punished forever!”

He wrapped you in a tight hug. What did he do to deserve you? Why did you care about him so deeply that you’d give him your treasure and good luck?

You laughed into his hug and he pulled back, “Alright, let’s finish this up and go home, I’ll treat ya to some ice cream on the way back.” He ruffled your hair but your shining eyes and too big smile made him blush and turn away.

Lucifer

He questioned if putting you under Mammon’s care at first was a mistake.

It’s not that you didn’t get along, in fact you two got along too well. Was Mammon’s stupid tendencies to slack off rubbing off on you?

You had been coming back late without being accompanied by one of his brothers and he was determined to find out what you were up to.

For the morning, he watched as you and Mammon walked to school. Lucifer stayed far enough away so he couldn’t be sensed so he couldn’t hear what you two were saying but it was clear you were having a good time. Mammon was snickering as you animatedly gestured and walked backwards. Lucifer’s heart warmed that his brother was genuinely happy then realized he was getting distracted.

You sat through your first class diligently taking notes and participating. The same for most of the classes that day. Lucifer started to acknowledge your responsibility to learning but it made him all the more curious as to why you skipped your last class.

He watched you look around for any onlookers and dipped into the library. He was both surprised and amused that you were meeting with Simeon. The angel was leading you astray?

Simeon didn’t look happy about it either, probably scolding you for missing class, but he was a pushover and your pathetic look won him over. The two of you sat as Simeon talked. You were taking notes on whatever Simeon was lecturing on.

You left the interaction and Lucifer took the chance to talk with Simeon himself. He learned that you were asking about stories from the Celestial Realm. Simeon offered that it was just human nature to be curious what lays beyond life. Lucifer, the ever-skeptic, didn’t believe that was it.

He had lost your trail by talking to Simeon so he went home to wait for your return.

Lucifer intercepted you as you tried to sneak in. “MC, this way please,” he led you to his office, “How was today?”

“Good?” you answered but was unsure why he looked so serious.

“How was class?”

You got nervous but answered, “Fine, same old same old.”

“Ah,” Lucifer smirked, “And how was Simeon?”

Your attempt to play dumb failed spectacularly when you stammered, “W-who’s Simeon?”

“Lying to me won’t do you well,” Lucifer reminded.

“Sorry, it’s just it wasn’t an approved activity so I didn’t want anyone in your family to be implicated…” you scratched the back of your head and looked away.

“And what activity is that?”

“Oh I thought you knew since you caught me,” you laughed, “Solomon and I were going to play with young demons at an orphanage in town. We were telling them stories from the Human Realm but I thought it would be nice to incorporate stories from the Celestial Realm too.”

Lucifer sighed.

You took that as a sign he was disappointed so you continued, “Let me explain, I know I should have asked permission first and for that I’m sorry. Solomon and I just stumbled on the place one day and the kids bombarded us with questions, never having seen humans before and before I knew it we were going almost everyday. I guess I thought it wouldn’t be bad because exposing the next generation of demons to humans would help Diavolo’s mission to strengthen relations between the realms. And I asked Simeon for stories so we could share Celestial Realm things too without getting Simeon in trouble or putting him in an uncomfortable position.”

Well that was definitely an eye opener for Lucifer. What you said made sense that changing minds starts with the youth. His original assumptions that you were just shirking responsibilities was way off base. He didn’t want to but admitted to himself he was wrong. Not only had you been doing something charitable but you were furthering Lord Diavolo’s message in a different way.

“You’re correct, you should have asked permission,” he started and you sank in your seat, “but I don’t see any harm in what you’re doing except for missing classes.” You sank further in your seat. “For skipping class, you’ll need to do extra studies,” he paused to make sure you knew this was a punishment, “I think a fitting topic would be interracial communication with a focus on the youth of Devildom.”

You perked up with a smile, “So I can keep going to the orphanage?”

Lucifer fought back a smile himself, trying to continue to be stern, “Yes, but that’s only if you don’t skip class and you have one of my brothers accompany you. As competent as Solomon is, he is also human and I would feel better if you had a demon escort.”

You were absolutely beaming now. “I’d like that but I don’t think you brothers would be interested.”

“They’ll do what they’re told but I think the twins would enjoy it the most,” Lucifer offered.

“Thanks! I would like if you could join us sometime too,” you suggested shyly.

He did smile at that, “If my schedule allows,” He didn’t finish before you were hugging him. He stiffened, not used to being hugged after doling out a punishment but softened and returned your hug, “I’ll make time to join you.”

#obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #my writing #anon squad

655 notes · View notes

jangofctts · 4 years ago

Text

Thing for Trouble (boba fett x fem!reader x din djarin) (part one) (part two) (part three) (part four)

Rated: explicit 18+

word count: 7.6k

warnings: threesome, smut, thigh riding, oral female receiving, handjobs, unprotected sex (dont be a deadbeat, wrap that shCMEAT), light choking, throne fucking, vaginal fingering, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, creampies, pet names, sub? din? more likely than you think (also lmk if I missed any tags!)

a/n: yall im sorry this is such garbage but kjkwejh here we be. I hOPE YOU ENJOY THE CIRCUS. thank you to everyone who’s encouraged this so COME GET YALLS MANDO MEAT

There isn’t much when he it comes to Tatooine and fun things to do. There’s pod acing, drinking, Sabaac tourneys, more podracing, gambling and scavenging. Unless there’s a festival or some wild event, you’re stuck with boredom and whatever you can scrounge up for fun in the palace.

Now, don’t get it wrong—if you had it your way, you’d spend every waking hour trialing behind Boba, but you don’t want to smother. Fennec too—while you enjoy her company, you know that half of the reason she sticks around is Boba’s order for your protection. Kinda ruins the fun when you know she probably only tolerates you because she’s being paid to. Eh whatever—doesn’t stop you from tagging along on as she runs errands in town—besides, today you actually have a reason to be here instead of loitering like a lost puppy.

Fennec tells you to be safe and com her the second trouble rears its ugly head and disappears into the weapons shop—muttering about her prized rifle being jammed or something. You don’t know, all you hear is that you have the entire afternoon to yourself to hunt down your oh so elusive prize. Star cherries.

The markets are always vibrant. Jam packed with people from each and every corner of the galaxy, hundreds of booths and stalls selling their wares that varies from foods to jewelry to even bounty services. Tempting as is it is to peruse the sparkly rows of dainty necklaces and rings or inspect the vast array of beige ponchos and manilla undershirts—you have a purpose. A once a year chance you refuse to let go to waste.

The shabby booth is tucked near the end of the street, the mountain of the little red fruits looking comical compared to the withered old lady who sits beside them. She flashes you a gap-toothed smile, the crowfeet wrinkles surrounding her eyes scrunch with the movement. “Ah! I was wondering when you’d show, dear.”

“Hello, Mrs. Feraan,” you greet, bending at the was it to kiss her wrinkly cheek. The old vender was one of the first kind souls you met here when you arrived on Tatooine. In return for a couple compliments or an offer to be the lab rat to test her new recipes for pie or tarts, she hooks you up with the best of the cherries—handpicked with love. “How’s business today?”

She waves her hand in dismissal, her silver rings glinting in the sun. “Same as always, child.”

Eventually you work your way through the pleasantries and a couple, long winded tangents. The sort that only old people can flawlessly spin and keep you engaged. Trials and tribulations to earn your prize—you don’t mind sacrificing a couple hours.

Finally you’re allowed to walk away—cherries in hand and exceedingly eager for your sweet snack. Unfortunately, suffering through Mrs. Feraan’s old childhood laments is not the only bump in the road you have to face.

Granted, it is your fault—not looking where your feet are taking you—

Your temple crashes into something agonizingly hard. You swear you hear a quiet bonk when your skull collides with the mystery material and fucking hell—you probably have a concussion from the force of it.

Unbothered by your probable brain injury, you’re far more concerned with the cherries spilling onto the ground and so, as you flail and dramatically topple over—the brunt of your fall is cushioned by your shoulder. Something pops and yeah, ok, maybe you just tore a ligament but—kriffing worth it for the cherries you miraculously saved from their dusty graves.

Your temper flares as you spot the dirty brown boots pointed in your direction. Maneuvering yourself up so you don’t also get trampled by the crowd, you bare your teeth and put on your best impression of a terrifying force of nature despite the fact you’ve been knocked flat on your ass. “What the fuck—“

The words shrivel up and die upon your tongue as your eyes slide up the stranger’s legs, broad shoulders sporting the shiny armor that twinkles in the midday suns. They then settle on an all too familiar helmet. Well, sorta—you’re familiar with a certain red and green one, not the equivalent of a wearable disco ball.

You squint as the stranger’s head dips to look at you crumpled at his feet. You dust yourself off and point an accusing finger. “Fuck is your problem standing in the middle of the road?”

The stranger quirks their head. “You ran into me—maybe you should watch where you’re stepping.”

The raspy voice is a striking sound. Mellow and silky even as it passes through the vocoder and dresses it in static charm. Some of your anger melts away—maybe this is the friend Boba was talking about—it’d make sense. They’re wearing the same type of armor…

You shake your head and shove down your pride. You don’t think Boba would appreciate you chewing his ear off. “Sorry—you’re right.”

As you readjust your clothes and precious cherries you introduce yourself with a tiny smile. Yet just as you're about to ask him his name he interjects with a step forward. You flinch away but all he does is sweep back a strand of hair from your forehead, revealing a little nick in the skin. You hiss as his fingertips scrape against it--great, an actual head wound. “Are you alright?”

Maker—here you are, after yelling at him and he finds it in him to be compassionate. You wave away his concerns. “Y-yeah--peachy.”

He apologizes with a dip of his head and words soaked in regret and fuck--now you feel bad. You wrack through your brain and search for last ditch attempts to fix this little mishap and settle with a half baked idea. It’s dumb--but hey, if it works, it works.

“Seriously, it’s fine. But I mean, if you’re so worried, how about you walk me home and we call it even?” You propose, sticking out your hand to seal the deal. If your assumptions are right, he’d just be tailing you the whole way home anyway. “I’m headed towards the palace, so if it’s not too much out of your way then—“

He hesitates and interrupts by taking your hand. “Alright. Deal.”

You smile. “Lovely.”

On the return trip, Din is quiet—tells you his name and responds to your conversation fillers with interested hums—but other than that he remains on the silent end. Intriguing with a rounded softness unlike the armor he wears--a man of mystery much like a certain someone who awaits you back home. Well--Din is less grumpy--by a long shot...but still. It’s easy to spot some of their shared similarities.

-=-=-=-

Upon arriving at the castle you part ways with Din before he reaches the throne room--you’re not too excited about showing off your new battle scar yet and while it was an accident, making an entrance with Din will make it far too easy to link the injury with him. Besides, you don’t wanna risk scaring off your new friend if Boba decides to showcase that tightly sealed lid of anger and brutality.

Instead you take the long way around the palace. Soon, muffled voices carry through the long corridors, growing louder as you work your way back from the kitchens. You round the corner, catching glimpses of Boba and your new friend through the pillars that prop up the low ceiling. You don’t meant to spy, but you do so anyway, hesitant on interrupting.

That is...until Boba cocks his head to the side and settles his eyes onto the pillar you hide behind. “It seems we have a little shadow with us today.”

You suck in a breath as your heart skips in a thrumming pace. Boba addresses you by name and crooks his fingers in a lazy motion for you to step out into the light—revealing yourself to the small party of two. “Come here, little one.”

The low light catches off of Din’s helmet with a glittering sparkle when he swivels his head. The tiny, warped figure of yourself reflects in mirror-like pieces of smelted beskar as his shoulders pull tight with recognition. You bite the inside of your cheek to keep the smile that threatens to crack across your face at bay. Boba is no fool—he excels in the subtleties of shifting eyes and clenched fists to hide anxiety or closely guarded information—sickeningly familiar with your own quirks and tells, but—

There’s no reason to reveal Din’s little secret—not yet. Boba called him a friend but you truly have no clue what the depths of that word entailed. Friend could mean anything from a casual acquaintance, to an old childhood bond, and or anything in between. You sigh and brush past him, mentally congratulating yourself for keeping a cool mask of indifference etched into your features. If Din wants to open that can of worms then so be it—you weren’t the one offering to walk random people home.

You step onto the dais and slide your free hand into Boba’s outstretched palm. The worn leather tickles up your forearm and locks over your elbow, silently demanding you to sit on his lap. There’s plenty of room to both sit on the throne but no—Boba prefers you tucked against the cool metal of his cuirass. You grunt as the bowl of star cherries you cradle dangerously dips when Boba adjusts your weight over his thighs.

His fingers pull back a strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear and then spider along your jawline. The ends of his mouth quirk as Boba pinches your chin between his forefinger and thumb, capturing your undivided attention. “I don’t like it when you lurk in the shadows, little one. You’re allowed to listen.

You huff. “I know—but lurking is fun.”

Boba releases your chin with a scoff. “Foolish, girl.” You dip your chin with a sheepish grin as heat rushes to your cheeks. You briefly forget about the tiny nick adorning your right temple, the only thing you were trying to keep hidden—but Boba is all too quick to notice. “What is this?”

He pushes your hair out of the way of the cut, inspects it, then curls his fingers around your jaw to demand an answer. You refuse to let your eyes wander over to Din—what a dead giveaway that would be—and instead muster up enough courage to hold the weight of his stare.

“I tripped at the markets,” you say—not a complete lie. “It’s just a little scratch—no biggie.”

Boba squints in suspicion and grumbles a soft hm. You feel his chest rise and fall with a deep sigh—he won’t argue about it right now. Not a battle worth his while when you’re keen on keeping the full truth behind a wall of teeth and anxieties. Boba’s hand falls away, gestures to Din who still stands stiffer than a stature, then lays it over the golden armrest. “I’m sure you’ve noticed our guest—“

Din tips his head in acknowledgement.

“The rightful ruler of Mandalore,” Boba continues. “Din Djarin.”

Din Djarin…despite already knowing his name (or half of it, at least) you like the way it rolls off the tongue—like how it’s seemingly made to be repeated and carved into the walls of some ancient script. Your knowledge on all things Mandalorian is…limited to say the least but you know enough about the rumors.

“Isn’t Mandalore supposed to be haunted?” You don’t mean for your words to be a pointy jab to the ribs but regardless, it strikes a tender chord within the Mandalorian. You wince as Din shifts his weight and clenches his palm—a long story. “Sorry—I—I’m sure your home is lovely, all I know about it are dumb ghost stories about evil wizards and laser swords.”

The blood under your cheeks burn red hot. Great. Not only are you a complete bantha brain, you’ve also managed to sound like an impudent child. Boba soothes a thumb over your thigh as you curl into yourself—bastard. He thinks this is funny.

“It’s not my home,” Din responds, albeit tentatively. “Never been.”

Your brows furrow. Alrighty then.

Boba snorts and shakes his head. He mutters something in Mando’a and lazily waves his hand, dismissing the line of conversation entirely. It was turning into a dumpster fire anyway—

With a slow exhale, you remove yourself from the discussion and instead tuck your head under Boba’s chin. The beskar is cold against your cheek but it feels nice against the sweltering midday heat.

Their conversation fades in and out as you rest your head over Boba’s cuirass, listlessly picking through the bowl of fruit for the ripest ones. You sigh—the next cherry you bring up to your lips is intercepted as Boba’s hand clamps around your wrist and redirects it into his own mouth. You don’t find it in you to be grumpy about the stolen treat when Boba’s tongue slides over your sticky fingers. Still holding your wrist captive, he sucks the tip of your thumb into the warm heat of his mouth and curls his tongue around the digit. Your index finger is given the same treatment before your hand is returned. The beginnings of arousal spark to life below your belly, and fuck—that shouldn’t have been so…so…hot.

Din’s smoky baritone fades into background noise as the entirety of your attention zero’s in on Boba’s mouth. You purse your lips and suck in a shaky breath, then return your hand to the bowl to fish out another fruit. You don’t need any guidance this time around as you bring the cherry to his mouth—the crimson juice spilling down your palm and part of your arm as his teeth pierce the fragile skin. You breath hitches as Boba dips his head, catching the bead of liquid running down your arm with the tip of his tongue, then swiping s a slow trail up, and over the lines of your palm. He plants a careful kiss there, then breaks away.

Before you have the chance to reach for another one, Boba plucks a cherry from the bowl and rests it against the seam of your lisp, inviting you to partake in this little game he’s created. A wicked smirk curls over his mouth as you accept—the tart flavor of the fruit spilling over your tastebuds as you chew and swallow. A little wine escapes you as his leather-clad thumb rolls over your bottom lip, bushes past the barrier of your teeth and seats the digit into your mouth—all the way down to the third knuckle.

You hardly notice the moment Din’s voice tapers off into silence—much too enraptured with the taste of leather and the smooth feel of it over your tongue. You gag slightly when Boba’s thumb reaches the back of your throat, then retreats just as slow. The string of saliva that still connects the digit to your wet mouth, drips over your chin and part of your lip, eliciting a jagged, echoey breath that crackles through Din’s vocoder.

Boba grins—something that better belongs on a sneering jackal just about to pounce on unsuspecting prey with needle sharp talons, rather than his face. His eyes drift up to address his guest. “Do you see something you like, Mand’alor?”

Din’s head jerks, averting his gaze to anywhere but the throne. He murmurs a weak apology and shifts his weight to his other leg—acting as if he were to look at you a second time, it’d burn him to a crisp or force him to confront Boba Fett’s wrath. Obviously, neither thing would happen, but Din still remains unsure with his foothold in this situation.

“I see how you look at her,” Boba drawls—not an accusation, just a statement brought to light. Boba’s hand drops to your thigh, the warm weight of it resting just past your knee as Din swallows his nerves and returns his gaze. “It’s alright—a pretty little thing like her is bound to turn heads.”

A blush hotter than wildfire licks up your cheeks as Din nods in agreement. “She’s beautiful…you’re a lucky man.”

Boba’s grip on your thigh hoards you closer to his chest. He is and he’s fully aware of that fact, but there’s no need to admit such a thing when it’s so blatantly obvious. A lull in the conversation creates a palpable tension—nervous energy and a choice to let this is fade into nonexistence or…or breathe life into that flickering ember of unsaid desires.

Your heart leaps into your throat when Boba shatters the silence and addresses you. “You’re awfully quiet, princess…what do you think?”

He’s placing whatever this is into your hand and leaving you to call the shots. You’ve always been a troublemaker and there’s no will or way as to why you’d stop now. You look between your lover and Din as a smile curls over your face. “I think…if he’s so interested—why not give him a show? After all, he did bring me home—he deserves some reimbursement for the trouble.”

Boba’s shoulders jolt with a chuckle. “How chivalrous.” You shiver as he strokes the back of his finger down your cheek. “Fine, as you wish, little one—go play.”

Giddy excitement bubbles through your chest as Boba offers Din to take a seat on the edge of the dais. Din still has an option to escape, to slip through the cracks and pretend this never happened—but stars, you hope he stays. Din takes a step forward, then another—and another until he’s standing before the throne. He studies the raised edge and gingerly takes a seat.

You abandon your bowl of cherries onto the forearm of the throne and slip off Boba’s lap. You drift over to Din, his gloved fingers clenching and unclenching as they rest over his thigh plating. He’s purposefully avoiding your eye as you kneel beside him—still locked onto that niggling fear that this could be some sort of trick or test in resolve.

Smiling sweetly, you skate your hand over his knuckles—guiding his large palm to your waist and then under and up your loose shirt and bra. Din mutters a curse as you place his palm over your breast. “I’m glad you stayed.”

Pleased with his reaction, you peel off your shirt and bra, breath hitching as Din pinches your nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “Same—I think…”

With a bit more bravery backing his movements, Din pulls away briefly, shucks off his gloves and encompasses both your breasts. They’re warm and calloused, riddled with silvery scars that stand out against his brown skin, a storybook of past battles—won and lost—all equally important to the fibers of his being that stitch him together into a whole. His hand whispers down the length of your ribcage, no doubt feeling the thrum of your heart beating wildly against the cartilage and bone. It tickles over the swell of your hips then—

“You said you wanted to give him a show,” Boba drawls behind you, a sharp twinge of hostility lacing his words. “So enjoy the show, Mand’alor, ’nd keep your hands to yourself."

Din recoils at the verbal reprimand and drops his hands speedier than a flash of lightning. You frown and throw a glare over your shoulder. Bastard. Boba quirks a brow and runs his thumb over his lip, the edged sparkle in his dark eyes taunting you into challenging him. You huff and turn a cold shoulder.

“Sorry, Din,” you purr, scrounging up any and all back up plans to keep you both entertained. “Seems my king isn’t as generous I thought.”

Din withers a bit at the catty remark, keeping his lips sealed tight as Boba growls your name in warning. You don’t pay him any mind.

You puff up your cheeks and release the air in a steady stream, as your eyes scrape over Din’s armored thigh. Ok—you can work with that. It wouldn’t be breaking any rules…not technically. You step away, paw at your waistband and let the breezy fabric pool over around your ankles, your underwear quickly joining the pile.

Now bare, you return to Din’s side, his careful inhale distorted into choppy static as you straddle his thigh. He lifts both hands, intending to grab at your waist, but pauses midair. No touching. You lips tilt with a smirk as he clenches his fists and pins his hands to the cool stone instead, an attempt to curb that urge to reach for you. His shoulders knit together when you mold your hand in the gap between his shoulder pauldron and cuirass to give yourself some sort of balance—obviously not used to a soft touch.

You lower yourself and hiss through clenched teeth. It’s fucking freezing. Goosebumps rush up each limb as the wet warmth of your cunt meets the frigid beskar—the chill much colder than you initially expected. It’s one thing to touch the beskar with an open palm and another thing entirely to feel against such an intimate part of yourself. Din’s visor drops to look between your legs as you give your hips an experimental roll.

It’s different. You’re used to hardened muscle and fabric, or your own fingers while pleasuring yourself. Your breath hitches as Din’s thigh twitches, the smelted seam of the cuisse bumping against your throbbing clit.

“Sorry,” Din mumbles, “Didn’t mean—“

“It’s ok,” you smile, rocking your hips to ease into the sensation. “Just surprised me.”

The pace you set is slow, careful not to overwork your nerves as your arousal blooms and metastasizes like simmering coals low in your groin. With each lecherous pull of your cunt against his thigh, the beskar begins to warm to the temperature of your skin—the wetness between your thighs abating the friction and making the surface slippery. A low gasp escapes you once you find the right ridge and angle that just grinds perfectly against your aching clit. Your fingers dig into the cowl of Din’s cloak.

“Shit—feels good.” Like your voice and little moans jumpstart Din’s ability to move, his large hand drifts to the front of his trousers—an already sizable bulge tenting the dark brown fabric. You squeak as Din's leg jolts for a second time, a burst of dizzying ecstasy wracking up your spine with the choppy movement.

You suck in another raspy breath as your attention drops to his hand that cups his cock and palms himself through his trousers. You chew your bottom lip and clench your fist gripping his cowl, still gyrating your hips over the beska as Din hooks his thumb into his waistband and pulls them down, slow as molasses.

Fucking hell—he’s bigger than you initially imagined. Flushed a rosy brown, and half hard already, twitching as Din wraps his fingers around the thick length. Din lifts his head, gauging your interest or disapproval—but kriff—who the fuck would ever be unhappy with that sorta heat he’s packing? You bite your bottom lip, scouring your brain for ideas to convince Boba into letting you taste Din—but your plotting is abruptly cut short.

Boba sits up and off the throne, his presence looming over your shoulder as he lowers to one knee. You shiver and arch your neck, exposing more of your vulnerable throat as Boba runs the fingertip of his pointer finger down the side of your cheek. “Are you enjoying yourself, princess?”

You nod, eyes fluttering shut as Boba opens his palm and cradles your jaw. You groan and roll your head back onto your shoulders as Boba snakes one hand around your hip and jolts you forward and down—disrupting the slow rock with a catastrophic interference. Unrefined bolts of plasma shoot up your spine as desire licks up thighs—you need more.

Boba dips his head and nuzzles into the crook of your neck. You grunt when his teeth sink into your flesh, worrying a bruise into your skin. Boba laves his tongue over the throbbing area, then licks a wet trail up to the shell of your ear, all the while you continue to grind on Din’s thigh. Boba nibbles your earlobe and whispers your name—the sound sweeter than any symphony could ever hope to make. Like smoke over deep water or the surging crackle of energy just before a thunderstorm high up in the mountains.

“You’re allowed to touch…” he says with a rough chuckle. “Go on.”

Your noise of agreement is quickly muffled as Boba interrupts you with a feverish kiss—all open mouthed and breathless as his tongue curls around yours. Your chest heaves for precious air as Boba retreats just as abruptly as it began. With a satisfied smirk ghosting over his lips, he taps you below the chin and returns to his throne to continue observing.

Dropping your eyes between Din’s legs, his cock, hardened to its full glory and held casually in his calloused hand, is truly a sight. Your pulse thrums in your ears as Din rolls his wrist and pumps his length, the velvety skin shifting over what looks like fucking beskar underneath. It strains towards his navel as you watch with wide eyes, mesmerized with the way he touches himself.

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, you touch your hand to his wrist. Din shudders like your skin is made of sizzling embers that’s broken off the tail end of shooting star—like you’re something too luminous and dangerous to be handled by someone like him. You lift your gaze, smiling into that darkened void of the visor and gracing him with a toothy smile. “Will you let me touch you, Din?”

He nods and utters a breathy yes.

Fuck yeah.

Din sucks in a stuttered breath when your hand circles around his thick length. His hips jolt into your palm as you slide your fist to the base then all the way back up. Precum beads over the tip, dribbling down and coating your knuckles with sticky wetness. It eases some of that friction as you fall into an easy rhythm, matching your rocking hips with each pump of his cock.

Din’s stuttered moans fill the small space between you, dragging you closer to your release that’s suddenly so close. He whines as you abandon his length to chase after your high, your arousal leaking from your center and dripping down the sides of the beskar. Din takes his cock into his hands, fisting himself to your little show of breathy wines and rough jerking of your hips over his thigh.

Din says your name attached with a broken moan and it’s over—

Everything seizes up tighter than a jaw clamp as your tumble off that jagged peak of searing, white hot pleasure. It’s raw, sparking off like a blade to metal, burning you from the inside out as you cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing, your thighs shaking as you curl inward as if he punched you in the fucking gut. It feels like he did. Maker—the cool beskar against your throbbing clit is like you’ve been thrown to the mercies of an electrical surge.

It doesn’t help either that Din is still pumping his length, hips stuttering as he brings himself to his own euphoric high. The air in your lungs seizes when a fragile groan, light and airy passes through the vocoder. Din rocks his hips into his fist, once—twice and then he’s throbbing and cumming into his hand. Hot ropes of his release splatter up his chest plate and parts of your thighs, his helmet nearly knocking into you as he hunches foreword from the intensity of it.

Too exhausted to keep yourself upright, you smash your cheek against his cuirass, involuntarily twitching as the last little waves of pleasure prickle through the rest of your nerves. You whine as you watch Din move his hand to collect some of your wetness coating his thigh. He brings two fingers stained with your slick to the lip of his helmet, pushes it up with his thumb just far enough to sink the two digits into his mouth. He groans out a quiet fuck, and repeats the action, swiping his fingers through the mess you’ve made and feeding it to himself. Your cunt clenches as you catch a sliver of his pink tongue that twists between his thick fingers.

He groans and rolls his head back onto his shoulders. “Please—can I taste you? Fuck—I-I need my mouth on you.”

Stars—the mere idea of it stokes the dwindling flames into a blaze of want. You look up at Boba and puff out your bottom lip. Pouting and begging hardly ever gets you what you want under normal circumstances—Boba Fett is more stubborn than a rancor—but you hope just this once he’ll be lenient.

Boba holds out his gloved hand—summoning you to his lap without a lick of protest on your end. Din however makes a sound akin to a whimper when you leave him. Boba gathers you in his arms for the second time, the leather a strange sensation as it spiders down your ribcage and around your hips. You can feel his hardness poking into your backside once you settle against him—his chest plate a cold shock to your naked flesh. You shiver and bury your nose into the crook of his neck, poking your tongue out to taste him. Boba’s cock twitches under you as your teeth sink into him with a cheeky nip.

“Is that what you want, little one?” Boba rumbles in question. His right hand glides lower, grabbing a handful of your thigh and squeezing. You groan and keen out a whine of affirmation.

Boba cocks his head towards Din. “Well? You’ve got your wish—don’t keep her waiting.”

Din shakily stands—hesitating with removing his helmet for enough time that you notice the silence that follows. The vocoder crackles as Din sighs. “Do you trust her?”

“With my life.” Boba states it without a second thought. Your heart twists, golden light spilling from your lungs and staining your insides with devotion and fuzzy affection. You press a soft kiss over Boba’s jaw.

“Is she…” Din speaks a word in Mando’a you have no hope to decipher—either no direct translation or he’s purposefully left you in the dark.

Based on the way Boba almost imperceptibly tenses, you guess the latter. Boba responds with a grunt and an unsure dip of the chin. The answer is complicated—that much you can gather…you push it to the back of you brain for now.

Din nods, inhales, and steels his nerves. Plastering his hands around the shiny helmet, he tugs it off with a slow reveal of dark, patchy facial, plush lips and wavy brown hair that falls around his olive skin. And oh, his eyes—soft chestnut brown eyes that hold such ache within them—lost things, broken bones, wearing his wounds like decoration upon his chest. Forged in the flames of war, risen from the ashes with murder and mercy rolled into one.

You wish him a kinder future. One that doesn’t end with pain and a blaze of an unchecked wildfire—the same way how all heroes end up as martyrs.

Though—right now—you can be the beginning of softer things for Din. You smile and invite him closer, a vortex of anxiety peppered with arousal as his eyes flit over your naked body. He sets his helmet to the side with care and drifts to the foot of the throne—fuck, he’s broad. Why hadn’t you noticed that before?

Your mental berating is severed when cool air meets the wet heat of your cunt as Boba hooks your thighs over his knees, spreading you wide as far as your hips allow. Din’s unfiltered moan at the sigh of you, sends a volt of electricity through every vein. Din lowers himself to one knee, and then the other, shuffling between yours and Boba’s legs.

“Can I touch?” He asks, soft brows raising in question.

Boba lazily raises two fingers in a motion of permission. Your chest tightens at the sight of Din’s boyish grin—warm palms settling over the sharp bend of your knees. His thumbs trace soothing circles over the skin and right as Din decides to swoop down, Boba catches him by the hair atop his head and yanks. Din grunts—the long, arched line of his neck a tempting sight as he swallows. “No marks.” Din’s jaw clenches, but nonetheless, he agrees to Boba’s command.

Boba hums in satisfaction and untangles his fingers from the mess of Din’s soft curls. Din’s brows pinch together for half a tick but smooth out in the next breath. No use being irritated—especially right now.

As directed, Din leaves not a scratch. Instead he scrapes the blunt edges of his teeth along the insides of your thighs, threatening to catch soft flesh between them—but he knows better than to act on the urge. He laves his warm tongue over each freckle or blemish he finds, leaving no patch of skin undiscovered as licks a steady trail to his prize. Din mouths a warm kiss over the crease of your thigh, and smooths his calloused hands over your hips, settling for a moment to trace little circles with his thumbs onto the soft protrusion of bone there. Seemingly satisfied, he then shifts them closer to your aching cunt. His hot breath fans over your cunt as he uses his thumbs to glide through your folds, almost curious with his exploration. He makes a little hum of appreciation low in his throat when the pads of his thumbs part your soaking folds.

You whimper and bury your face into the crook of Boba’s neck, his warm palms a much needed comfort as they tickle down your ribcage, then sweep back up to cup your tits. You cry and arch— Din’s tongue is scalding—like liquid velvet as he dips the tip of his tongue from the base of your cunt all the way up to your clit. Din sucks on the little bundle of nerves, rolling his tongue until you’re crying out, molten pleasure zipping through your abdomen. He grunts as your fingers tangle into his hair—kriff.

Fuck, you need more.

Arching into his mouth, all thoughts are transfigured and molded into a vicious loop—beginning with those adoring brown eyes, the color of freshly tilled earth and the warmth of sunlight over dappled aspen leaves in the balmy summer afternoons. It ends with soft lips—rose petal pink with devotion crystallizing in his mouth like sugar—madness and uncertainty and lovesick desire is all that he is and you’re not sure if you’ll come out of this unscathed.

He sinks two deliciously thick fingers into your clenching hole and curls them, only to retract them a moment later to shovel more of your wetness onto his tongue—as if simply using his mouth wasn’t enough for him. Like he needs to savor every drop of your arousal like the golden ambrosia the gods feast upon in their palaces of cloud and endless twilight.

That frenzied desperation lingers on the edges of his movements like he’s afraid you’ll fade away like a hand through fog—but you’re going nowhere. You’d stay here, suspended in time forever if the choice were up to you.

You whine and arch off Boba’s chest plate as Din strokes and curls his fingertips, plucking little gasps and moans from you easier than breathing. He zeros in on that little spot that makes your leg go all jittery and forces out high pitched mewls that echo through the throne room. You’re careening towards another high, the sensitivity of your last orgasm amping up the influx of pleasure.

“Stars—Din. Close—I’m so close,” you gasp, pulling his hair tight enough that you know it must sting—at least a little bit. He makes no sign that it does, just groans and buries his tongue into your dripping hole, licking alongside his fingers that shovel more of your wetness into his mouth.

Your release zips through your body like a flash flood—quick and fatal that leaves you gasping for air and struggling not to let your head dip below the waves. Your high seeps into each limb until they feel heavier than lead. Fuck—it’s so hard to work through the muddled thought and remember where exactly you are. You groan and toss your head back as Din keeps going.

“Another one—let me—“ He moans, opening his mouth as wide as it’ll go so he can devour more of you. You can feel the mixture of saliva and your own arousal dripping down your cunt and over your thighs, some of it pooling on the throne or onto the floor. Your thighs shake as Din pushes you towards another high.

You squeak as Boba’s palm sweeps up your sternum, locking his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. The tip of his nose nuzzles into your cheek—silently demanding a well earned kiss as his hips rock into your ass, grinding his cock for the barest scrap of friction. You moan into his mouth as Din doubles his efforts, raw and bordering that serrated edge of overstimulation and ecstasy.

Goosebumps rush over your arm as Boba places his lips right beside the shell of your ear. You feel the sticky heat of his breath fan over your throat and shoulder, and the way his lips skim your ear when they move to form the syllables of his words. “Such a filthy princess…”

You clench around Din’s fingers and moan a half garbled, “Boba—“

His weathered palm encompasses the entirety of your breast, rolling your pebbled nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “If only you could see yourself…dripping all over my throne and another man’s tongue.” Boba clicks his tongue and shakes his head. “Depraved creature—cum for your rightful king.”

Wildfire chars your insides as it begins in your core and sweeps through your body. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you buck and squirm in their arms—no mercy as the prickly waves of your orgasm make you hypersensitive to each touch. Even the hold on your hip, while innocent in nature, is blistering as if you suffered from a fever. You shudder as a salty tear rolls down your cheek. Boba catches it with his tongue as your ears pick up Din’s raspy praise—thanking you while spattering reverent kisses up your thighs.

Struggling to keep your eyes open, you do spot the apparent wetness soaking through the front of Din’s trousers. Fuck—he—he came again while eating you out. You whimper and rest the back of your head over Boba’s shoulder.

Your belly flinches under his scratchy facial hair as Din travels up, seizing and worshiping every inch he’s freely given before intercepted. He catches your nipple between your teeth, tugs a bit then moves to the other, lavishing equal attention with adoring lips and sweet whispers. When he reaches your collarbone, you’re boxed in against his chest plate and Boba’s. A blush blooms under your cheeks hotter than stare fire as Din gingerly sucks your earlobe into his mouth and breathes out a muted moan of your name—committing the very essence of you to his memory for the rest of his days.

Your heart squeezes tight like a clenched fist when he mumbles another thank you. Plucking up a smidge of courage, he risks planting a kiss right on the corner of your mouth. You blink—despite the sweetness of the gesture you wince as Boba snarls a curt phrase in Mando’a. Din peels himself away with a minuscule frown and slinks away.

Yet before you have the chance to remedy the situation of wounded pride and territorial jealousy—Boba tightens his hold on your hips and flips you both, so that now your back is smashed against the seat of the throne, a bit crumpled and sorta folded in half. Your hips hang off the edge as Boba holds the majority of your weight, grinding his clothed cock between the apex of your thighs.

“Don’t forget, princess—” Boba barks, slithering a hand up the column of your throat. You breath hitches as he lightly presses his palm down. “—what belongs to me.”

Reaching between you, he slides his gloved fingers through your slick folds and sinks two of them inside of your clenching center. You jolt as his thumb scrubs over your clit, still sensitive and edging towards too much.

“You want me to fuck you here?” He asks, shifting his hold to grip your jaw instead—the rounds of his fingertips digging firmly into the flesh and bone. “Say it.”

You gasp and scrabble weakly at Boba’s shoulders as he grinds the heel of his palm into your clit. “Please, Boba! Please fuck me—I need it.”

Boba folds over you, his breath fanning hot and hungry against your cheek. He devours your mouth with a discordant edge, like he’s trying to prove to the entire galaxy you are unmistakably his despite the fact you’re already wound so tightly around his fingers. Boba wrenches himself free and tears at his robe and trousers to free his thick length, leaking and flushed a rosy brown at the tip. He doesn’t keep either of you waiting as he removes his fingers and replaces them with something bigger.

You both groan as he lines himself up with your entrance and sinks into you, a delicious stretch that leaves you shivering beneath him. “Fuck—so wet for me.”

The first roll of his hips makes an obscene noise that showers shame down your throat, but it’s quickly kicked to the back of your brain as he slams back into your cunt—obliterating all thoughts save for him. Boba’s lip curls over his teeth as he claws at your thighs and yanks them over his shoulder, crushing you even further between the throne and the weight of his body. Each stroke is a liquid fire, tearing you apart at the seems while at the same time stitching you back together and leaving your body begging for more. Like this, it’s as if he’s reaching the deepest part of you, pounding into your cunt and hitting every nerve with deadly precision. Your legs prickle with the stretch as you squirm beneath him, stuck with the brunt of rough thrusts and violent stamina with nowhere to go.

“Bein’ such a good girl for me." He hums into the juncture of where your neck meets your shoulders. He sucks a mark there and tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of you neck, forcing you into a steeper arch. “Maker, you look so fuckin’ pretty stretched around my cock.”

Your walls clench tight around him as you dig your nails into the fabric of his cowl. You voice cracks with airy moans—attempting to work through the haze of lust and respond. All that tumbles from your lips is a pathetic whine of his name—so close to that precipice again.

The friction of each thrust scraping against your clit, the way he fills you and the possessive hand curled over your throat. You wiggle an arm between your bodies and rub the little bundle of nerves in a frenzied half-circle. You wheeze as Boba increases the pressure over your throat.

“Tell me who you belong to,” he demands as devastating ripples begin to spark through your core, a live wire an inch away from a puddle of water. “Tell me—“

“You! It’s you—“ You sob, desperate for another release only he can give. “I’m yours—“

Boba snickers and gives your throat another squeeze. “Cum on my cock.”

There we go.

You seize and cry out, violent shivers forcing your back to arch high off the throne and into his chest plate. It tears through your being, quick and deadly through your core, spreading to every nerve and shredding through it with molten pleasure. Boba’s voice is a gravelly scrape that vibrates next to your ear, sprinting towards his own deserved euphoria. Your climax still boiling through your blood, is dragged out as Boba continues thrusting—an endless echo that leaves you incredibly oversensitive sore. For the next few moments, his thrusts are too sharp, the grip he has on you too abrasive—but then he’s cumming too. A couple more rough jabs and then he’s seating himself deep inside your cunt, his warm release coating your insides with thick ropes.

You’re panting breaths fill the air between you, settling like fresh snow over a silent wood. By the time Boba pulls out, leaving behind a sticky trail of his cum and your arousal over the throne, you’re toeing the line of hazy unconsciousness.

“Such a good girl,” Boba praises, threading fingers through hair and tracing the lines of your face. The the soft drone of his voice mixed with Din’s gentle baritone, murmuring something you don’t catch, casts a dreamy haze over your reality. You’re not afraid that this could back fire and blow up in your face—to move inches from two serrated blades, each seeking for a taste of blood and flesh, is always a risk. But yet, the calloused hands and the sweetness of brown eyes reach through chaos and silence to offer you salvation. You take it with a smile.

You should invite Din over more often…you think, as you slip into content sleep.

taglist: @goldafterglow @djxrxn @velvetmel0n @steeeeeeeviebb @stargazingcarol @ohiobluetip @anxiety-riddled-mando @absurdthirst @thesoftdumbass @huliabitch @max--phillips @silverfish-kingdom @krissology @teaofpeaches @pettyprocrastination @nelba @beskars @jango-fettish @corrupt-fvcker @maybege @auty-ren @legally-a-bastard @bigdickdindjarin @thesparkleslugs @cryptid-candy @mandowhorian @pascaliprincess @mitchi-c @vesperstalksclones @cmakars @cptnbvcks @whewchiles @leias-left-hair-bun @astrochellie @angryares @rise-my-angel @stardust-galaxies @phoenixhalliwell @samhollandssweaters @blue-writes-a03 @hdlynnslibrary @darthadeline @calamity-queen @luxurybeskar @justanotherblonde23 @book-hoardingdragon @fahrenheit-not @princessxkenobi @skdubbs @ben-is-a-hoe @3strogen @chasingdreamer @weebblossom @bobaandthefetts

sorry if I missed you AH!!!!

#well yall im #bucket fucker supreme right here I guess #enJOY #boba fett x reader #boba fett x you #boba fett #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #boba fett x reader x din djarin #din djarin x reader x boba fett #star wars fanfiction #my writing

1K notes · View notes

aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years ago

Text

(Because - as has rightfully been pointed out - the angel needs his cuddles, too.)

“Crowley?”

“Nnnnh?” The sprawl of limbs dozing on the sofa shifted, resolving into six feet of lazy demon.

“Can you help me with this?” Rising up on his toes, Aziraphale gestured with the book in his hand. “I can’t quite reach the top shelf.”

“Don’t you have a stool or something?”

“It’s on the other side of the shop, and you’re right here.”

With another groan, Crowley rolled off the sofa in a strange, almost fluid motion, and sauntered across the room. “Where does it go?”

“Just there.” He pointed again as Crowley took the book, glaring at the top shelf. It was, in reality, slightly too high for either of them to reach.

Crowley stretched, standing on his own toes, one hand resting on Aziraphale’s shoulder for balance, until he could just barely get the corner of the book into the gap between two others, and shoved it hard into place.

“There. If that broke the thing, s’not my fault.”

“No, I wouldn’t dream of…thank you, my dear.”

“Mmmh.” Crowley gave Aziraphale a half-grin before wandering back towards his favorite resting spot.

Behind his back, Aziraphale pressed his own hand to where his shoulder still burned with lovely heat.

“Crowley? I think I could use a hand again.”

“Are you serious?” he groaned. “You going to tell me you can’t reach your own mugs now?”

Aziraphale glanced at the cupboard again. It did look too low for that, didn’t it? “Of course not. I…I think I should reorganize my wine. I need you to hold some bottles for me.”

“Why?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Some of those wine bottles haven’t moved in over a century. Why would you need to do this now?”

“That…” He felt a flash of embarrassment, quickly turned it into indignation. “That’s hardly any of your concern, now is it? You come to my shop, day after day, just to lounge about. This isn’t one of your – your ancient temples, you can’t just laze around while the human worshippers fan you and feed you peeled grapes…”

A shadow fell across Aziraphale, and he turned to see Crowley, leaning against the doorway to the little kitchen, lopsided grin on his face. “That’s a very elaborate fantasy you’ve concocted.”

Aziraphale pressed his lips together and turned back to the wine, grabbing a few bottles at random. “It’s not a – a fantasy. I know what you used to get up to in Egypt. And Greece. And a dozen other snake-worshipping cultures.”

“I was hardly—oof.” He grabbed the bottle of red that Aziraphale had all but thrust into his stomach, long fingers dragging across the back of Aziraphale’s hand, leaving behind a trail of fireworks.

“Good. That.” Aziraphale cleared his throat, staring at a row of champagne bottles. “That should go in the, er, Italian section. Tuscany.”

“You going to arrange them geographically now?”

“Of course! Region, then year, then type of grape. Perfectly logical. These are from, um, Piedmont.” He held out two more bottles.

Shrugging, Crowley put the first on the table and reached out. Aziraphale stood perfectly still, so that he couldn’t miss Crowley’s smallest finger brushing against his thumb in passing.

“Now what are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m – I’m sweeping under the sofa. Kindly move those – those pipe cleaners you call legs.”

“You never sweep.”

“That’s entirely untrue.” Aziraphale reached as far as his arm would go, vaguely sliding the brush from side to side. Shuffled a little to the left, until his shoulder bumped up against Crowley’s calf, fire bursting through him again.

“Sorry,” Crowley mumbled, and in an instant the legs were gone, neatly folded up beneath him.

Blast. Aziraphale glanced up with feigned concern. “You better not be putting your boots on…ah.” Crowley wiggled his toes, covered in a black snakeskin sock that was a little too skin-tight and convincing. With a grin and a shrug, the demon curled in on himself again, neatly out of the way, and turned his attention back to his mobile phone.

“Right. Well. Good.” Aziraphale ducked his head, and scrubbed hard at the floor.

“Crowley, help me move this chair.”

“Crowley, hold this ladder while I climb.”

“Crowley, hand me that cloth, I dropped it again.”

“Crowley…”

“Crowley, come over here, I need your hands again.”

“Are you going to pay me for all this work?”

“Nonsense. I’m exploiting you, like any good capitalist.” He pressed his hands down on the cover of the book, sharp scent of glue filling the air. “Come along, I can’t actually go over there to get you.”

Another string of garbled syllables, and once again Crowley stood at his shoulder. “What are you doing this time?”

“I’m rebinding this book. The glue sets overnight, so I need you to hold it while I get something heavy to put on top.”

“Um.” A long pause. “I can get something heavy for you.”

“No, I need you to hold this.”

Another pause, this time the silence tinged with suspicion. “Don’t you have a – a press or something?”

Aziraphale kept his eyes firmly forward, away from Crowley. “Will you just…stop asking foolish questions and do as you’re asked?”

Two hands slapped down onto the cover, perfectly between Aziraphale’s without touching either of them. He could feel the warmth of Crowley’s shoulder, so tantalizingly close.

“Well?” Crowley finally prompted. “Aren’t you going to move?”

“No.” He swallowed. “Not when you’re holding it wrong. Look. You need to be here, in front of the book.”

“Yeah. Where you’re standing.” Aziraphale could feel the look Crowley shot through his glasses.

“Oh, fine.” Removing his hands, Aziraphale stepped back and to the side, letting the demon take his place. “No, not like that! Honestly, my dear fellow, you need to pay more attention.”

“Wha—?”

Before he could think better of it, Aziraphale’s hands shot out, carefully encircling Crowley’s waist, just above the hips. “Center yourself,” he said, nudging to the left as his arms soaked in wave after wave of heat. Not enough. “And a little closer.” An infinitesimal push, enough to bring his chest almost, almost against Crowley’s back. He ached for it, that last bit of space.

Well. There was one option.

“Good. Now. Just need to position your hands correctly.”

Leaning forward, Aziraphale placed his hands on the backs of Crowley’s, pressing against his back. His feet shifted, and now his chin rested on that black-clad shoulder, and his legs bracketed Crowley’s, his arms rested against Crowley’s…

Every part of them, together.

With his eyes closed, everything else fell away, except for Crowley, his presence fluttering under Aziraphale’s skin like a second heartbeat. He drank it in, more and more, trying to fill every empty space inside himself, but it wasn’t enough, it would never be enough—

“Angel?”

In an instant, he was back in the shop, stumbling away. “Yes. That. That should…I’ll…”

Aziraphale spun and hurried away, closing his ears to the worry in Crowley’s voice.

“Crowley? Can you—”

“Nope.”

“I…” Aziraphale tried to muster up his indignation again, but after the bookbinding fiasco, it was impossible. “Of course. I’ll just…”

“Nope, I need your help.”

He turned, slowly, to where the long shape of his companion sprawled across the sofa, one foot over the arm, the other dangling off the side, hands folded behind his head.

“What…what do you need.”

Crowley lifted one hand and pointed to a shelf behind the sofa. “That one.”

“I…” Aziraphale moved closer, trying to see what he was pointing at. “You want a book?”

“Mmmh. Right there.”

Frowning, he took a few more steps. “Isn’t that a dictionary?”

“Nnh? No, not that one, that one.” The finger didn’t move.

“Why…why can’t you…?”

With a snort, Crowley dropped his hand, tucked it behind his head again. “Sprained my back doing all your chores. I’m out of commission. I need a book to entertain me during my long convalescence.”

“And what happened to your clever little telephone?”

“Finished it.”

“You…you finished it?”

“Yup. Browsed the whole internet. Found the end. Lousy twist in the last chapter.”

From the tilt of his head, Aziraphale could tell that Crowley’s eyes were shut, lost in the perverse joy of his silly claims. That should have made this easier, but he still hesitated as he leaned across the sofa, rested his hand on the back. His arms passed over the top of Crowley’s head by several centimeters.

“Did you mean…this one?” His fingers hovered over a likely tome.

“Hmm. Nope. Further down.”

A step to the side, knees coming close to where Crowley’s leg carelessly hung, as if it were too much work to pull it onto the sofa with the rest of him. “This one?”

“One shelf down.”

He bent even lower, until his stomach hovered, just above—

Crowley struck, fast as a serpent, his lazy sprawl suddenly a flurry of motion as arms and legs grappled Aziraphale, constricted, twisted around to slam him into the sofa cushions, to lie there with Crowley straddling his middle, hands pressing down on his shoulders.

Aziraphale’s heart fluttered so that he could hardly breathe.

“Good. Now. What do you want?”

“I…” Aziraphale shook his head. “I don’t…”

“Yes. You do.” One hand shot up and ripped his glasses off, tossing them aside, then pressed down again on the angel’s chest. Golden eyes bore into him. “Bless it, Aziraphale, all day you’ve asked me to do everything except for – whatever it is you need! Just tell me!”

“I…” He pressed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the way his skin burned, electrified, alive. “I can’t. It’s…it’s foolish. It’s too much…”

“Angel.” Softer now, so soft it could break his heart. “Nothing will ever be too much. Just ask.”

“No…”

“I can’t help you if you don’t ask.”

With an effort, Aziraphale managed to press one trembling hand against his eyes. Tried hard to steady himself. “Crowley. I…I don’t know how to explain it. I feel…cold. Empty. Alone, even with you here. Like something inside me just…died, and left me hollow…”

The weight shifted, easing off his shoulders, and when he looked, Crowley was sitting up. Further away.

“Do you…did Heaven do something to you? When you left?”

“No.” How his voice shook! “No, I – I thought that at first, but…in truth…it’s been coming on…for simply ages.” The shop grew misty, and Aziraphale closed his eyes again. “A little worse every time I – I felt my superiors’ disappointment. Every time I failed at a task. Every…every time I visited Heaven and realized…I didn’t belong.” He tried to rub his eyes again and found they were wet. “No…no this isn’t anything but…my own…inadequacy.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true! I’m not…not strong they way you are.” His hand reached out, grasping, and found Crowley’s, wrapping gently around his fingers. It surged through him again, warmth, strength, solidity. Everything Aziraphale lacked. “I can feel it in you. It’s beautiful. And I want – want to drink it in, fill myself, but I’m bottomless, I just take, and take, and it’s not enough. It will never be enough!” He pulled his hand away, ready to flee from the sofa, to hide from his shame. Ready for his only friend to pull away in disgust at his selfishness, his greed.

Instead, Crowley lowered himself, stretching his long body across Aziraphale, head tucked under his chin, hands resting on his arms. “Is this better?”

It swept through him again and again, with every beat of Crowley’s heart. Not just heat. Something that Aziraphale had been lacking, craving, for more centuries than the Earth had existed.

Love.

A sob escaped him, pitiful, even as he drank it all in, greedily, more than he ever deserved, possessive arms twisting around Crowley as if to pull him into Aziraphale’s chest.

“S’alright,” Crowley murmured, and his hand pressed against the curve of Aziraphale’s cheek, brilliant as starlight. “How’s this? Any different?”

“Yes, it’s…” There was no hope he’d ever be able to control his voice again. “It’s stronger when…ah…when we touch…directly.”

“Got it.”

And just like that, the weight on his chest vanished, leaving him empty and cold again.

Of course.

Aziraphale sat up, trying to wipe his eyes dry, humiliated by the loss of composure. “If you want to leave,” he managed, blinking them clear, “I won’t…”

Crowley stood before him, jacket and tie discarded, fingers flicking down the buttons of his black shirt.

“What on Earth are you doing?”

“You said touching directly, right? Skin to skin?”

“You…you can’t be serious.” A different sort of heat began to race into his cheeks.

“Nrg.” Crowley shrugged, rolling the shirt off his shoulders as he did. “If it helps you…”

“No, my dear – you don’t understand. I want more than – than you could ever give me. I’d – I’d drain you entirely if I could.”

“I’d like to see you try.” He pulled off the last layer, a blac vest, then bent forward, resting a hand on Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Besides. Everything I have is yours. Our side, remember?”

Aziraphale bowed his head, fists clenched in his lap. “You…can’t mean that…”

“Angel.” He felt the warm press of Crowley’s forehead against his own. “I’ve never meant anything more in my life.”

Slowly, slowly, Aziraphale tugged at his bowtie, trying to remember how to loosen it.

Moonlight filtered in through the bookshop windows.

Crowley lay on the floor, Aziraphale curled up against his bare chest, arms around his shoulders, one leg hooked over his knees – clinging to him like a lifeline even in sleep. Some of the strain was finally starting to leak out of his furrowed brow, though he was still a long way from looking like himself.

The fingers of one hand ran through Aziraphale’s curls, carefully, rhythmically. Crowley had never seen the angel sleep before, but as soon as he’d started carefully scratching at his scalp, those blue eyes had begun to drift shut. Maybe it was just a coincidence, but if there was even a chance that this was helping him rest, Crowley would be damned, blessed, and cast into the void before he’d even consider stopping.

Everywhere they touched – which was just about everywhere – Crowley could feel something, an energy buzzing off Aziraphale’s skin. He’d felt it before, many times, but never this distinctly; it curled into him, whether he wanted it or not, flowing through his veins, keeping his heart beating.

“Y’know,” he whispered, slightly worried that the motion of the air would be enough to waken the angel. “You really shouldn’t have worried. Steal my strength? Ridiculous.”

Aziraphale shifted, just a little, pulling himself closer.

“I don’t have a blessed ounce of strength of my own. Or warmth. Solidity? Give me a break.”

A cloud must have moved out of the way; the moonlight suddenly grew brighter, and the pale angel seemed almost to glow in the silver light. Ethereal beauty.

“No. Whatever I’ve got, whatever’s kept me going, for thousands of years – it all comes from you.”

His angel shivered, just faintly, and Crowley quickly miracled up a thick blanket, wrapping it around both of them. Aziraphale sighed, fingers kneading and relaxing across Crowley’s skin.

“So you see, s’not a problem if you need it all. It’s already yours. Everything I have. Everything I am. Yours.”

Crowley was wrong for two reasons.

First, the warmth they felt hadn’t begun in Aziraphale, any more than it had in Crowley. It was a different kind of force, generated by their proximity to each other, and flowing constantly from one to the other, an eternal cycle. The strength belonged to both of them, and neither of them.

Second, of course, it would never run out. After all, love is increased – never diminished – by being shared.

#good omens fanfiction #good omens prime #ineffable husbands #aziraphale and crowley #good omens fluff #ineffable partners #crowley #aziraphale #sleepy cuddles #ineffable snuggle #emotional hurt/comfort #protective crowley #lonely aziraphale #crowley loves his angel #sneks give good hugs even in human form #this got long #my writing #tumblr fic

869 notes · View notes