#the stare at the observer when blood pours from the heart

[sunnitheapollokid]

♡ ⑅˚₊ going soft on me, hargreeves ? PART ONE.

a five hargreeves multi-fic . . 🌻🕰️ — intro.

warnings : minor cursing .ᐟ mentions of blood.

author’s note : MOSTLY BASED THIS OFF RAPUNZEL READER because tangled is my favorite movie and she’s literally me 🙈 (atp this is a self-insert) AHH but also almost like harley quinn-ish? BUT WHATEVERR happy reading cuties <3

five wiped the blood off his face with his navy blue jacket’s sleeve. his siblings all feeling and looking defeated against the sparrows.

“i’ve never had my ass handed to me like that before.” luther spoke faintly, five squinted under the sun in attempts to relax his body off from that spur of the moment fight. “it’s like,” luther spoke again. “here you go.” he motioned his hands at a confused allison. “it’s your ass.”

despite the pain, five couldn’t get his mind off one of the sparrows. the younger one, with the upbeat personality. he was too busy fighting jayme, but he was incredibly intrigued by her. he could watch her fight diego and allison for a bit, with her own powers. — which was light manipulation.

during the fight, five watched her play with her hands and the light that poured in the hargreeves’ mansion as a distraction for her siblings.

viktor sat by five, “someone’s crushing.”

“yeah, me.” diego replied, stretching his back.

allison rolled her eyes, “i don’t think that’s what viktor meant.” she moved her eyes towards five, who stared at all of them like they were crazy. “a real delight that number eight was, wasn’t she?” klaus commented with a light-hearted laugh. “let’s just find a place to stay, yeah?” five rolled his eyes.

— 𐙚₊˚⊹ ⭐️

five needed a break from his siblings. the hotel klaus had found for them wasn’t half bad, but the coffee they served was complete, and in his words : ‘dogshit.’ which was the only downside of it all really. a very big downside.

five walked into griddy’s donuts in attempts to get a decent cup of coffee. he sat down and waited for her order to be taken when, “umbrella asshole?” one of the waiter’s asked him. it was number eight, just in a diner uniform, and holding a pitcher of coffee.

she looked at him confused. “what are you doing here?” five furrowed his brows, “i should be asking you that.” he retorted. she gave out a big smile at that. “okay ‘ya grump, i work here, actually!” she gave a charming wink as she poured him a cup of coffee.

“i take it you’re a black coffee kinda guy?” her voice overlaping the sound of the coffee pouring in. he took the cup and sipped, “am i suppose to be flattered by that observation?” he asked upon putting the cup down. “i’m just very curious is all.” he fought the urge to mirror her infectious smile.

“also, it’s not just number eight, it’s (name). or — (nickname) if you want.” if it was possible, she smiled brighter. how can anyone be so cheery? five thought to himself. also, why isn’t she kicking my ass right now? “anything to eat for you?” she pulled her pretty and sticker-covered notepad out.

he shook his head, “not hungry. far too much things on my mind.” he tapped his foot on the ground. (name) watched him, his anxious stance and his constant worried eyes. “wait here, yeah?” she spoke before running off to the back of the diner. five watched her rush away, only to come out a few moments later with a plate of waffles, eggs, and a few slices of strawberries.

she placed the plate before him, the maple syrup on top with a smiley face. “what’s this?” he asked with a dead-panned expression planted. (name) shrugged as she sat across him, “my treat, silly.” she beamed another smile at him.

five was hesitant, but took the fork from beside the plate and started digging in. his eyes grew wide at the taste, it was delicious. it felt like being home again. “it’s mom’s recipe. nobody really calls her mom besides me, they make fun of me for it.” she giggled lightly.

five looked at her, “it’s really good.” after five finished he put the fork on the plate and put it away. “thank you! also, i’m very sorry for this five.” she cackled a little more, a confused five realized his mistake and stood up, the girl began fighting him.

she attempted to punch him on the side of his face, but he dodged it with his forearm. he returned the attacked with a kick to her face, blood oozing out of her might-be broken nose. she laughed, impressed, wiping the blood off with her fingers. they began fighting more, to which people inside had run off and evacuated.

(name)’s boss continued to yell at her to stop, but (name) knew damn well she wasn’t going to stop. she hit five in the stomach with her knee, five hunching over, and (name) continued with a back-kick on the side of his face. five coughed before pushing her into the table.

“you fight real good, for a seventeen year old.” she spat the blood out of her mouth on the floor. “and you fight really weak for a girl who can manipulate light.” five time-jumped on the table she’d collided her back with, and tried to kick her once again on the face, but to his surprise only met a blinding light.

and once five was distracted trying to find his vision again, (name) pulled his feet out to get him on his back. five landed with a thud! the pain rising from the bottom of his ass to his back. “lunch is served!” her laugh echoed across the diner. five time-jumped again, under the counter.

(name) looked for him, her platforms clanking on the ground. “where are you five? we’re not done here yet, grump.” she sang, another laugh escaping her lips. she spat another puddle of blood out of her mouth. five panted heavily, trying to catch his breath.

this girl was crazy. how could she be laughing at a time like this? and how was it that she was killer fighter? “come on five, you going soft on me hargreeves?” she walked the place around a little bit more. is that why diego and allison looked that bad after the fight back at the mansion? because of her?

“there you are handsome.”

[i-cant-sing]

PLS PLS WRITE THE PLATONIC YANDERE MIGUEL OHARA FIC IM BEGGINF 🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️WE NEED MORE PLATONIC FICS OF THIS MAN

(Thank you for reading this and have a great day!!)

I definitely see dad Miguel treating reader like a child, no matter what age you are. You could be a strong, independent woman, and to Miguel... you're a baby🥺 Everytime you get frustrated when he tells you no, or doesn't allow you to do what you want, he thinks you look absolutely adorable, your brows furrowed and your nostrils flared, and Miguel just has to just lean down to your level and you think that he's gonna offer you an explanation and in his mind, he does, but all he really says is-

"I know what's best for you, mija."

And if you dare to say "you're not my dad!", he won't say anything because yeah, you're right, but he will stare at you intimidatingly until you either take your words back or change the topic.

I think Miguel is not someone who talks much (but he still expects you to converse with him regularly) and so when he doesn't wanna argue with you, he may or may not shoot a web to seal your lips shut, just so that you give him enough time to explain (which again he doesnt), but he does use this time to tell you that you're grounded and then again, uses his strength against you to pick you up like a little bratty kitten and drop you back to your room.

I also think that Miguel definitely sees you as this helpless creature that would absolutely DIE without him. It doesn't matter if you're a spider-person like him, no. To him, you're just a frail kitten that needs papa Miguel's help to shelter her from the pouring rain and bubble wrap you and cuddle you and just- protect you from this all too harsh world.

And you could be trying to break free from his grasp, going of about how he didnt need you to pull you from your universe, how you had your life under control and what not, and Miguel would just sigh and shake his head and mutter "Teenagers🙄" EVEN IF YOU'RE AN ADULT.

Miguel isnt someone who talks about his feelings, definitely not at first, he just bottles everything up until the lid pops off and someone else has to face his fury. BUT that doesn't he doesn't expect you to talk about yours. He's super observant so the moment he notices the slightest change in your mood, or the way you breathe, oh he's bugging you to tell him whats wrong. I mean he's breathing down your neck, which as you already know isnt great because he is the only person you're allowed to talk to (minus Peter B Parker and Mayday), and eventually, he may even tie you upside down with his web to make you talk. And he's just nodding and offering up solutions/therapeutic advices (not really, they're just compromises) while you're getting blood rush from hanging off the ceiling for so long.

Also going back to the "you're not my dad!" thing, I think if you say it enough times, it does start to hurt him and eventually he reaches a breaking point where he does end up getting mad and bares his teeth at you as he yells "I AM, NOW! AND IF YOU DON'T START LISTENING TO ME MIJA, YOU WILL REGRET IT! NOW, MARCH OFF TO YOUR ROOM!" And sure, you get spooked enough to run off, but not before you yell like a very cliche, angsty teen "I hate you!" and you slam your door close before he could scold you again. He still comes right up to your door, probably to ground you even more, but he doesnt have the heart to open the door when he hears your sobs. Damn, now you just broke his heart. So, Miguel leaves, deciding its best that you two get some space to cool off.

Now I see Miguel as the type of dad who doesnt really apologise (mostly because he doesn't feel like he's done anything wrong) but instead offers a parley or a white flag of sorts in the form of food (like some cut up fruits and veggies, or even your fav takeout) and sure, his heart is still heavy with guilt, even more so when he sees your swollen red eyes indicating how you've been crying for days, so he clears his throat, maybe shifts in his seat a little and asks about your day or something random, heartbreak intensifying 100X when you refuse to talk to him, making him resort to something thats... uncomfortable for you both.

A hug.

I mean this has to be the most awkward hug in history, because Miguel just swoops you up and places you in his lap, pulling you to his chest and telling you that he's not letting go until you talk. STILL NOT APOLOGISING, I mean there is a greater likelihood that you may end up apologising to him but Miguel sure as hell isnt saying the word "sorry" (unless you're dead, specifically if u die in his arms hehe).

[aayakashii]

Ed pissed me off when he called MC plain with not a whiff of sensuality so I'm putting him on his place now by frustrating him

Warning: NSFW !!! MINORS DNI !!!

cherry hard candy

Rui had left the bar in your hands once again, and Ed sighed dramatically as he realized it upon entering the room. Despite that, he still made his way to sit on a stool, grouching and murmuring about how he needed to eat, that Rui was supposed to feed him and how you would never cook food as good as him.

He saw how you rolled our eyes at him, and a hint of amusement grew in his chest at your annoyance.

Oh, how he loved seeing the way youngins reacted to his quips, always so full of energy and easy to cross.

He shut up, however, once you poured him a drink and he began to sip it slowly, getting lost in thought about the things he wanted to watch later that day.

Ed noticed, after a while, the way you moved in his peripheral vision, sitting on the bar stool beside him and lazily reaching your arm in his direction.

He turned his head to see what could that silly human want with him, when he was met with your index and middle finger pointing upwards and your palm facing him, as a sudden scent of copper drifted in the air that surrounded you both.

Small droplets of crimson slowly dripped down from your fingers towards your palm, staining your skin in red. A deep cut ran through both of your fingers, and he observed how, right behind you, a knife was stained in blood.

What the hell were you planning?

Ed paused for a second and stared at your extremely bored expression. You nodded towards your hand and waved it lightly as if to make your point clear, blood smearing a bit more against your skin at the movement.

His traitorous hands trembled as he reached out to grab you, clearly unable to pretend he was nonchalant about that whole ordeal.

His fangs grew longer and sharper, and he panted against your skin, tongue lolling out of his chapped lips, the metallic smell making his nose tingle and his stomach churn in anticipation.

It's been so long since he drank human blood.

He had to be content with tears and the blood of random anomalies Rui brought to be used in his bar, but none of it could ever match up to the thick richness of the wine that ran inside humans' veins.

As the tip of his tongue touched your bloodied skin, Edward rolled his eyes unconsciously, and a desperate moan left his lips. His grip tightened, nails digging a bit too deeply into your pulse, and he felt the steady and fast beat of your heart, pumping that delicious blood in your body.

It would be so easy to rip your throat apart and drink you dry, take this chance that was presented to him on a silver platter before you became an anomaly and your blood became dull and disgusting... But he was no brute and there would be no end to the tortures Darkwick would impose on him as punishment for the capital sin of murder.

Ed moaned as his tongue licked in between your fingers, coating your hand in his saliva before he finally reached the cut that bled for him.

He unconsciously got up from his seat on the bar stool, and leaned his body against yours, his hips pressed flush against your crossed legs.

You felt the way he began grinding his growing bulge against your thigh as he moaned and whined, nicking your skin lightly to draw more blood.

You smiled triumphantly, getting a sick sense of satisfaction from the way in which that centuries old powerful being was acting like a desperate slut after having just a little taste of your blood.

His lips finally closed in on your cut, sucking your fingers like hard candy and, not long after, he came undone – a low whimper slipped from his mouth as you felt a dampness form against your thigh while he humped your leg like an animal in heat.

Ed came hard as his hips bucked shamelessly and erratically against your body, the sticky white liquid making a huge stain on his pants.

Why were you not surprised that the vampire had an oral fixation kink?

The clarity that came after his orgasm made him let go of your hand, your wound long healed by his saliva's coagulating properties.

He panted, pale skin flushed red, and he blinked, clearly not believing his own unbecoming behavior.

"U-um..." he mumbled, unable to find proper words.

You smirked and got up, wordlessly, making your way towards the bar's door, with him following you with a confused and needy gaze – the tent in his pants making it clear that he still wanted more from you.

You hummed, dramatically acting as if you were in deep thought.

"Who would've thought that the plain person with no whiff of sensuality would make you act like this, huh, Ed?" you said, victoriously, as you opened the door and left him behind, frustrated and confused.

You had to wash your hands.

They reeked of vampire.

Masterlist link

[lacedinweb22]

Vampire Next Door ♱✮♱ Miguel O'Hara x reader

Chapter 4: Just a dream prev part

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷♡꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

Bits and pieces of your nightmare flash through your mind, as you try to piece together the plot of last night’s storm. 

Pouring rain, screams, violent knocking on your door, bloody hands, crimson eyes, Miguel. 

You turn over to face the corner where he stood. You squint, the sun blinding you. The window is open a few inches. You swear you closed it shut last night. 

You stand up to inspect it. Slowly sinking into the window nook, you open the window up a bit more, letting the cool morning air in. 

There are faint scratch marks on the bottom of the window above you. Was that there when you moved in? You trace your fingertips across it, then push it further open. 

You climb out onto the fire escape. You look out onto the alley then turn back; you try to recall if you heard the scream from the alley or from Miguel’s place. As you turn to climb back inside, you notice a blood stain on the metal under you. You crouch down to observe it. You’re not a forensic investigator, but it looks kinda fresh? You wonder if there was more blood that the rain washed away. 

You look up for a dripping puddle of blood, but the steel above you is only covered in rust.

You climb back inside. 

Was the scream real? Could Miguel really have— no. You sound insane. But there was blood … and the window was open. 

You need some air. You get out of your apartment, go grocery shopping, even stop at a bookstore on the way home, and try to take your mind off things. These past few weeks haven’t been easy. 

As you drop your groceries in front of your door, pulling your keys out of your purse, your eyes wander to his door. 

Maybe he was drunk and stumbled into your place, or maybe the place is haunted. Or maybe someone was really in danger last night. 

Either way, you’ve found a good excuse to bother him, plus it’s a Sunday. He might be home. 

You knock. 

The door opens a crack, then once his eyes find yours, he opens it wide. 

“Oh, it’s you,” he says, in a raspy, morning voice. His deep tone rattles you a bit; it feels like you shouldn’t be witnessing him like this … so sleepy and … real.

“Good morning to you too,” you breathe out. 

Your heart skips a beat. He looks tired, disheveled, a beautiful mess. There’s some pink in his cheeks, and his hair is perfectly tousled. 

Your delusions have been fed, and the butterflies in your stomach are awakened. You wonder if this is how it would feel, waking up to him beside you every morning. You’d never be unhappy. You’d never get headaches. You’d never have nightmares, and if you did, you’d have this dream to wake up to.

He runs a hand through his waves. He’s wearing a plain gray tee, snug against his chest, his toned lower stomach outlined through the cotton and he’s in plaid … boxers. You try to ignore how light-headed this scene makes you. 

“Yeah, I— sorry to bother you but I—”

“Never a bother,” 

You smile, suppress a stupid grin, and remind yourself of the nightmare.

“Ha, yeah, I uh wanted to ask if you heard anything weird last night? I heard a scream, I mean maybe I was dreaming, I don’t know,” 

You want to tell him you saw him too, but that would sound … creepy. 

“A scream? No, I had a pretty quiet, peaceful night,” he says, confidently. Too confident. 

“Huh. Yeah, that’s the thing, I thought it came from your apartment. Yeah, it sounded like it came from the other side of my wall, which is you know … your wall,” 

He crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame. You look up at him and gulp.

“I told you, I had a quiet night, but maybe try the neighbors upstairs. They’re party animals, sex animals too actually.” 

You tilt your head at him, then stare into space beside him, processing his alibi. 

You furrow your eyebrows in thought, and his eyebrows furrow back at you, as he leans to the side to catch your eyes. 

“I’m still here.” 

“Yeah, I can see that. I’m thinking. Can I— don’t be weirded out, okay?” 

“Why would I— go for it,” he sighs.

“Did you, I don’t know, like somehow make it to my bedroom last night—”

“What are you—”

“I just— I saw you! In the corner of my room, you were soaked from the rain, and I think you had bloody—”

“Wow, new girl, you’ve known me one day, and you’re already dreaming about me?” He raises his eyebrows and leans down towards you, smirking.

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘no.’”

“Yeah no shit it’s a ‘no.’”

“You had bloody hands, and you were standing there in the corner of my room … I just thought maybe you had too much to drink or … smoke. God, excuse me for asking, alright?”

“I mean you know how crazy you sound, right? Me? With bloody hands? In your room? It was just a dream, Y/N. I drink responsibly–”

“Maybe it was symbolic and we just have to interpret this, maybe it means something,” you suggest, as his judgemental face becomes softer.

“Or maybe your fantasies are just freaky,” he suggests, smirking.

“Yeah, I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” you say, turning back to your door.

“No, no. I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m sorry, okay? I was kidding,” he blurts, stepping out of his apartment. 

You turn back around. 

“But, Y/N, could you do me one favor?”

You raise your brows, “God, what?”

“Please do update me on every guest appearance I make in that filthy brain of yours,” he says, his chuckles breaking his straight face. His deep, annoying laugh awakens the butterflies in your stomach to a flutter.

It echoes in your mind

as you roll your eyes and slam your door.

So he’s an asshole

and

a comedian, a side of him you never imagined you’d get close enough to see. 

You shut the door and your delusions along with it. 

***

next chapter here

[johnwickb1tsch]

Sympathy for the Devil ~ Part 15

A Donaka Mark x housekeeper!Reader fic, based on the amazing @discoscoob 's concept & bot!

Warnings: Donaka Mark is a bad man with a soft spot for you. dark romance, possessive behavior, nonconsensual voyeurism, red flag red flag girl!🔺, psychological games, power imbalance, dubcon/nsfw. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!

one. two. three. four. five. six. seven. eight. nine. ten. eleven. twelve. thirteen. fourteen.

Fifteen. 十五

As the first rays of dawn break through the window you start awake, your internal clock telling you it’s time to get up, even though you’ve set no alarm. 

You start to try to disentangle yourself from Donaka, but he only pulls you close again. “Where do you think you’re going?” he grumbles sleepily. 

“Work.” 

For some reason, he chuckles darkly at your answer. “Don’t be stupid. Go back to sleep.” 

You’re not sure what that means, but you relax back down into his arms. You close your eyes again, enjoying the haze of lazing in bed, snuggling, as unlikely a word that seems with a man like Donaka Mark–but you do not fall back asleep. You cannot stop wondering what he meant. Don’t be stupid. 

Well it’s too fucking late for that, you suppose. 

An hour later he stirs, running a possessive touch over your body, almost as though he’s taking inventory. You turn to find him looking at you with a small smile that makes your heart beat double-time in your chest, for some reason. What is he up to now?

“Shall we have breakfast on the terrace?” 

“Okay?” 

He is the boss. He reads the confusion in your expression, and you get the sense that he’s enjoying it too. 

“If you haven’t figured it out yet, you’re fired as my housekeeper.” 

You blink in surprise at that.

“I am?”

“Yes. And if anyone ever asks for a reference, I will inform them that you bite.” 

You press your lips, unsure if he is now amused, or still mad about that. 

You do not, however, say that you’re sorry. 

“Then what…are you going to do with me?” 

“I’m going to take care of you, obviously.” 

At hearing that your blood runs cold. He presses his lips to yours, but you do not kiss him back, alarmed by his proclamation. This annoys him–he kisses you harder, weighing you down with his larger body, shifting on top of you. “Where is my sweetly begging little bunny from last night, hmm?” 

“She’s nocturnal,” you grouse, winning a snarl of a smile. 

“That’s fine. So am I.” 

But then he proceeds to contradict himself, using you as he likes for his own gratification, twisting you up like a pretzel while he fucks your bruised little hole. He does not offer you pleasure this time, and you do not ask for it. Your body is sated, and sore, and for once your mind is almost clear. 

He’s going to take care of you. 

What the ever loving fuck does that mean?

You find that you’re afraid to ask just yet, and you watch him quit the bed, stalking into the bathroom for a shower. He does not ask you to join him, so you are relieved to lie there, alone, and stare at the ceiling for a few minutes of peace. 

***

After your own ablutions you join Donaka on the terrace, wearing a robe you found that seemed to match your lovely new nightgown. He pays you a steely look from across the table, and you are not sure if you’re in trouble again or not. 

There is fresh fruit, boiled eggs, congee rice porridge, and tea on offer. You take some slices of mango and pour yourself a cup while you wait to see what your future holds. 

“Well?” he demands, clearly still annoyed. “Aren’t you going to ask about the new terms of your existence here?” 

You find you are grateful, for some ridiculous reason, that he does not say employment. 

“You like to play god, don’t you?” you ask instead, taking a sip of tea. “Always watching, and pulling everyone’s strings...”

You do not expect this observation to please him. The smile he pays you isn’t exactly nice, but it’s better than one of his thunderous frowns. 

“Why play at god when you may as well be one?” 

Wow.

You raise your eyebrows to that, but give no answer, sitting back a little in your chair with your cup of tea. You look at him from across the table, feeling strangely zen about whatever he’s going to say next. Resigned, perhaps. But also you realized, while you were taking your shower, washing away the remnants of his essence on you and inside you, that you will never beat this man with force. Your only hope will be to go with the flow, and see what opportunity arises. 

You are not hard like stone like he is, so you must be water instead.

Easier said than done, because you think the element that comes most naturally to you in a crisis is fire. 

“Very well. Do enlighten me.” 

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly not enjoying this brave face you’re putting on. He’s a bully, at his core. He wants a reaction, and you don’t feel like giving it to him. 

“Come here,” he demands, holding out a hand. 

Your stomach lurches. 

“I’m fine over here.”

“You want to play this game again?”

You think about the ridiculous game of chase you played the day before. Then you imagine pushing Donaka over into the koi pond, and you crack a spiteful little smile. “Maybe.” 

He, however, is looking out over the steep ledge of the terrace with some concern. “You’re not foolish enough to harm yourself out of protest, I hope? It won’t work.”

You snort in answer. “I don’t like being in pain, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“Maybe, but your tolerance for it is admirable.” 

Hearing that should not make you feel as proud as it does. 

Water, you remind yourself. Flow, bitch flow. 

Rolling your eyes, you stand from your place to go crawl into his lap. His big hands on your thighs pull you closer, settling your body just so–and there is that kindling flame inside you again. Godammit. 

“Alright, darling,” you sigh in the bend of his neck, entirely too comfortable for your own good. “Tell me your evil plan.” 

Like flipping a switch he laughs, delighted with your sass again. “Maybe I should just keep you locked up in my room,” he muses into your hair, nibbling at your ear. “Perhaps that would tame you properly.”  

“Or perhaps I would chew through the fucking drywall,” you retort, and you feel his laughter more than hear it. 

“Watch that filthy mouth.” 

“I think you like my filthy mouth.” 

“For some things.” The look he levels at your lips should not send a frisson of heat across your skin. Suddenly you swear that if someone sprayed you with water you would steam. You definitely have a screw loose. 

“I’m willing to give you run of the house,” he tells you, sliding fingers down your thigh. “And if you behave yourself, I will arrange for a proper escort to accompany you on outings while I’m at work during the day.” 

“Like…a babysitter?”

“The person I have in mind was Chinese Special Forces, but sure. Call her a babysitter to her face. See where that gets you.” 

You grumble a little into his neck, but not like you mean it. This is interesting. Because leaving the house…means opportunity. 

“Fine.” 

“Fine?” He actually sounds surprised, clearly having expected you to fight him more. But you know if you resist him…he will lock you up, and then you will be up the proverbial creek.

“For now.” This wins the wicked smirk that signals he’s having fun again. And maybe…you are too, which is a whole other forbidden box you don’t really want to get into. 

“As if you have a choice.” 

“I am aware you have me over a barrel, dear.” The dark chuckle he directs into the bend of your neck should not make your clit purr the way it does. 

“Now there’s an idea.” 

“Ugh.” 

“Hmm.” He kisses your jaw, grazing your cheek with his teeth. You let him, laying passive in his arms. 

“But…what am I supposed to do with myself all day?” 

It’s not as though you like working, but...it’s what you do here. He scoffs at this. “Anything you want. Write. Peruse the library, Use the gym. Anything but sitting around eating potato chips.”

“Damn.” 

He pinches your thigh, making you squirm in his lap. “What is it with you and junk food?”

“Not all junk food. Just fried potatoes.” 

“Hmm,” he growls. 

“Oh come on. Tell me you don’t have a favorite food that you can’t resist?” He narrows his eyes at you, and you nibble his neck. “I bet you do...” you singsong playfully.

“Watch those teeth.” 

So you lick him instead, and he frowns at you, though not in his usual forbidding way. “I should put you over my knee again,” he grumbles, his hand disappearing beneath your nightie, squeezing the curve of your sore behind. You are turning into a wet little mess all over again, sitting in his lap like this, and you hate yourself all the more for it. 

“I haven’t done anything!” you protest, and maybe it’s the genuine note of fear in your tone that satisfies him. 

“Maybe not yet, but I know you will.”

“You can’t spank me for projected infractions. That’s not how punishment works.” 

The smile he gives you is all fang. “You want to lecture me on how punishment works?”  

You whimper, hiding in the bend of his neck–and it’s not for show. You really are pathetic. 

He lets you, stroking your hair for a good minute like the pet you are, before answering your earlier question: “It’s possible…I could eat my body weight in shumai.” 

Imagining this forbidding man excited about yum cha, drinking tea and eating delicious dumplings Hong Kong style, is surprisingly…endearing. 

You imagine what it might be like to go eat together at a restaurant, like a normal couple. Which is stupid, because you certainly are not. 

Just because he was willing to let you go out with a bodyguard–a keeper, more like–didn’t mean he planned to be seen in public with you. How would that go, if you ran into one of his high flying acquaintances in the city? What do they do, when the wealthy encounter each other in the wild with their mistresses? Do they exchange a wink and a nod? A pat on the back and a well done ol’ boy? The thought of being regarded as a sex object in public makes you clench your jaw again. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks, almost as though he can hear the gears in your sad little brain grinding. 

What can you say to him? That in a fleeting moment of lunacy, you wish he was actually your boyfriend? 

That you wish he actually cared about you?

You know you have to tell him something, so you force out past the lump in your throat, “I like shumai too.”

He hears it, of course. There’s no getting one over on this laser-focused man. You tell yourself that it is some cruel joke of the universe that he is so attuned to your emotions, yet somehow does not truly care about how you feel.  

“What’s wrong?”

You shrug. “This is all…a lot to process,” you deflect, which isn’t in fact a lie. 

“Is it? I think deep down, you knew where this was headed.” 

You dare to let out a shaking sigh. 

“You can mope and feel sorry for yourself,” he muses with his lips against your temple. “Or you can accept it, and enjoy it for what it is. It’s your choice.”

Easy for him to say. 

Another dark thought occurs to you, and before you can stop yourself you ask in a whisper, “And what happens when you get tired of me?”   

“Good question, little one. I suppose you’d better make sure I don’t get bored.” 

It feels like a threat, and in that moment you cannot fathom he would ever let you go free. You don’t really know anything incriminating, aside from what he’s done to you. Technically, it’s a crime, though women are treated badly all the time to little or no consequence, especially for men like him. All he’d have to do is present your notebook as evidence of your complicity. But a part of you just knows he wouldn’t let it go that far…he’d never let you just walk away.  

You sigh again, and then unexpectedly–you laugh. At the absurdity of all this, and at your own stupidity.  

“Is something funny?” 

“It’s just…does it ever feel like we really are doomed to become our parents?” 

You never aspired to be a kept woman, but your mother was another story. You think it’s the whole reason she even had you, blindsiding your wealthy father with a pregnancy after a fling and milking it for all it was worth. You always had an understanding as a child that you were a meal-ticket first, and her daughter second. Strangely your father had never actually treated you badly, though he’d never really been present in your life either. You rarely saw him, the court-ordered summers you spent at his home. Mostly his third wife, and your half-sisters, who were all too happy to make your life a living hell. 

This is far enough off base that you think you surprise him into giving you a real answer. 

“I never knew my father,” Donaka admits. “He left my mother when we were very young.” 

This shouldn’t pull at your heartstrings for him the way it does. “We?” 

There’s a very long pause, before he admits, “I have a sister.” 

“Where are they?” 

He lifts an eyebrow at you now. “Somewhere else.” 

“Do you ever see them?” 

“No.” You hope he’ll elaborate, but he remains silent.

“Why not?” 

He seems amused by your prying. “Why are you on the opposite side of the globe from your family, y/n?” 

You shrug. Part of the answer is that you like adventure. The other reasons are a can of worms you do not want to open right now–same as him, you suppose. 

“I’ve seen your mother’s Facebook page. She is a ridiculous woman.” 

For some reason you find it hard to imagine Donaka Mark, on the iPad he carries around, social media snooping. “What do you mean you’ve seen her Facebook page?” 

“You can’t be surprised that I would check into your background. It’s so easy, in this digital age.” 

You’re not sure why the thought of Donaka Mark looking over your Facebook mortifies you. All your trip photos, and stupid memes, and existentialist Bourdain-esque travelog pieces that make you want to bury yourself in a hole these days, but still you keep them. Your old boyfriends, who still try to talk to you now and then, realizing what they lost much too late. Your assorted cousins who occasionally reach out before disappearing into the ether of their own lives again, and your half-sisters who all wish you were dead so they possibly don’t have to split their father’s money four ways someday. It’s not something you’ve ever banked on.  

 “I guess…you must find me ridiculous too.” 

Inexplicably his hold upon you tightens a little. “No.” He speaks softly against your temple. “What I meant, is that you seem nothing like her.” 

You’re not sure if he knows it, but it’s possibly the nicest thing he’s ever said to you, and your grip on his arms involuntarily tightens. This man is just full of surprises, it seems.  

“So…was this…development the surprise you were talking about yesterday?” you dare ask. You suppose the announcement of not having to work anymore could be considered a prize, though you’re not sure you like the trade off. 

“No.” 

“Oh.” 

He’d just planned this all along, regardless. Lovely. 

The silence between you stretches on, until strangely he breaks. “Don’t you want to know what it is?” 

“Is? I thought it was all past tense now.”

“It should be,” Donaka agrees. “Look at this.” 

He pulls up the loose sleeve of his robe to show you your handiwork on his forearm. The distinct imprint of your teeth, some broken skin, and a fabulous purple bruise. You trace the outline of the bite feather-lightly, morbidly fascinated by your mark on his skin. He watches you with an attention you perhaps should be wary of. 

“You like it, don’t you? You bloodthirsty little thing.” He kisses you, a sweet, full-mouthed affair that melts your insides, until it ends in his teeth clamped upon your lower lip, biting just this side of too hard. You whimper in alarm, and he laughs wickedly, releasing you. 

“Hmm. I’ll get you back, bunny.” There is a heat in his eyes you don’t entirely understand. 

If he’d voiced it, he would have told you that the thought that he is already corrupting you into something more like him, excites him. 

“No, thank you.”

This amuses him, but he tips you out of his lap with a pat on your behind that turns into a squeeze. “Finish your breakfast, naughty girl.” 

He says nothing more about your surprise, and you do not bring it up again, deciding it’s better not knowing.

all chapters

[bluelanternn]

# ooc levi, don’t like don’t read, makeout session, grammar errors

DUE TO ERWIN’S VISION, LEVI HAD WILLINGLY JOINED THE SCOUTS. Even though his attempt to kill the current leader was brushed off and possibly have been forgiven by Erwin, the pain never stopped.

The memory of Isabel’s head lying coldly on the muddy grounds, along with the remaining Furlan’s torso—intestines spilled out of his body, how could he ever forget that? Now he was all alone.

All alone again.

Levi Ackerman rarely drinks alcohol when he reached his adulthood, yet he was tempted when his life continue to be upside down. The regret and grief that burden his shoulders were too heavy, it made him stare blankly at the table.

He was not having a delightful evening. And it was because of Erwin.

It was the titan, not him.

No one even wondered—or even bothered to ask how the captain processed his sorrows every time they lose cadets, how can they when they’re grieving their loss themselves?

A loud ‘clunk’ rang over his ears, his eyes briefly recognizing the person in front of him with a bottle of liquor laid on the table.

One of the people who he cannot analyze. The only bold brat who was never scared of showering him with disgusting adoration, you treat him as if he was yours. Like he was your everything.

Your admiration for him is one thing he will never understand.

You stayed silent, and were definitely sensitive enough to sense the tension bestowed on his shoulders to try lightening up his mood. You care about his feelings like it was glass, and act like you knew him really well.

“Will you go away? I’m not in the mood for you right now.” With his words, you normally will follow and respect his boundaries. But your eyes picked up the sense of yearning in his eyes for you to do the opposite.

Someone who will stay with him.

He never said it outloud, but you knew. That’s how much observant you were of him. It didn’t make sense to Levi before you became even close.

Your attraction, your willingness to be close with him, it always become a part of his routine that will mess his mind up every single day.

You keep quiet, silently pulling off the cork of the liquor as you pour it on both glasses, almost to the brim of the glasses. You slowly drag it over to him, while uttering the words, “Drink.”

“I do not drink this disgusting shit.” A lie. His eyes glared at you with such remorse, but you chose to look past behind his anger, knowing it was not directed at you. “Just leave me alone!”

You did not say anything for a while before taking a sip of your liquor, “Too bad, I’m not leaving.” You stood strong and composed at your words, gazing at him with no any hints of emotions.

Levi seethed and curses at himself, “We are not that close for us to bond over my depressing shit.” His heart was beating fast, his blood pressure was really through the roof.

You calmly look at him, even boldly going to sit closer beside him. You take another sip of your alcohol as you stayed silent, ignoring his provocation. “Sure.”

Levi was at loss for words, fury rushed over his veins before grabbing your collar with veins popping over his knuckles. “This is your fault with Erwin. I should not have let us three be lured by his words!”

The close proximity between you two was apparent to you both. Your face was inches away from him, making his blood pressure risking to go higher.

He grew even angrier at the look of indifference on your face. You gently pry his hands off your collar, before letting out a sigh. “I thought Erwin had already persuaded you.”

Levi could never deny that.

Your eyes met his with such intensity, “This is the reality of your life as a scout.” You chugged down the rest of your mug with liquor before groaning at the acidic texture of the liquid in your throat. “Erwin did not do anything wrong.”

You just need to open your fucking eyes.

“Tch.” Not comforted by your words, Levi composed himself and sat down for a while—before sipping his own drink with no care, telling himself that he didn’t do it for your sake. “Just leave me alone, [Name].”

“I won’t leave the man I like all here alone.” You argued back, pouring yourself another glass as you drink your liquor after, making his eye twitch in irritation.

Why the hell were you so stubborn?

“I’ll give you five seconds to get the fuck away from me before I beat your ass.” He was really getting riled up, your presence was too overwhelming for him right now. He felt so complicated, or does he really want you to go?

I don’t want you to.

Leave me be.

Hold me, [Name].

Levi’s thoughts were in shambles, facepalming his head so bad with gritted teeth, the span of his emotions that were rested inside him was beginning to slowly seep out of his mouth, and his eyes.

Why did Furlan and Isabel have to die?

Levi’s eyes were becoming empty and lonely, he hung his head down. He closed his eyes, biting his lip in frustration. He cannot breathe.

You didn’t move.

You slowly sat closer to him from before, your arm inches away from hugging him close to your chest. Levi Ackerman was really flabbergasted at your actions, yet he remained silent with a sorrowful expression, not in the mood to protest. His silent response signals as an agreement before hugging him close to your shoulders.

Fuck, your scent was making his mind haywire. All that he is going through was washing away just because of smelling you. He felt the urge to bury his face on your neck with his eyes shut, savoring the comforting smell.

“Get your filthy ass away from me.” He weakly argued, while relishing in your soothing hand massaging his back. It was rare for him to act vulnerable with anyone, hell he doesn’t even do that with Furlan and Isabel.

“This filthy ass will comfort you until you cry in my arms.” Your attempt to soothe him did not really work for Levi, like you were just hugging a bag of meat worn with scout garments. “I’m surprised you are not killing me right now.”

“I’m really tempted to.”

He hates being vulnerable. He really does, he barely even cries to himself alone, so why does he let you comfort him like one of your friends? “If you think I’m going to cry, you’re widely mistaken.” He defended himself.

Doesn’t it deter you from admiring him whenever he shows this pathetic side of him?

“I’m always here for you, Levi. You know that.”

Levi Ackerman really wants you to shut up. His narrowed ash-grey eyes glance over to your lips, encouraging and sweet rotting words spilling out of them.

His hand twitched before he did the unbelievable thing.

Gripping the back of your head to press your lips against his roughly, closing his eyes like he knew what he was doing. He had never kissed someone before, let alone had much of an experience in sex. Your lips were mashed in together with his, no any other movements has been initiated.

Take control.

“Mhmph—!”

Your eyes widened at surprise.

Your heart was the next thing that is beating erratically. You give in to his kiss, even when his tears met your cheek, leading him with your mouth as you keep kissing him. The salty tears that were slowly pouring out of his eyes was now dripping onto both of your lips, your thumb wiping it away gently as you guide the kiss.

Your lips tasted sweet. It was so soft, you were so natural at kissing him, he almost felt envious of the thought that you have done this before with someone else.

That immediately made the fire inside him burn even hotter, his tongue was rolling around yours messily and even more hungrily, making your hand caress his cheek for him to slow down, for you to wipe the remaining tears away.

Levi lets out a vulnerable, deprived whine when he felt the hot touch of your hands brushed over his thighs.

Why weren’t you rubbing it? He was annoyed you were holding back.

He wants to go further, he wants to forget everything, and you are right there in front of him. Maybe—just this once, he’ll indulge in your fantasies with all your pestering actions to get into his pants which he always rejects. (you never once ask him to sleep with you)

He just needs to forget everything.

But the moment you feel his hand reach for your shirt, you stopped for a moment before realization washes over you. You quickly stopped his hands from going further, cursing yourself in your mind for even doing that to the man you have feelings for.

You were about to take advantage of his grief.

“Levi, I cannot do this to you.”

But to his inexperience, it made him confused. He was losing his sense of self, usually he attemps to avoid, berate, and even insult you.

And now, he was depending everything he has, his precious body and dignity to you. “Why?” He attempts to lean closer, nuzzling his face into your neck with no intoxication of alcohol blinding his senses involved. “I’m giving my consent for you to do it with me, as long as both parties agreed—“ He kissed you again another time.

“—then I don’t see the problem.” Levi whispered, desperation filled his senses making your mind clear out even more. Instead, you wrapped your arms around him before making him stand up.

“Let’s get you to bed, Levi.” You forcefully lead him to his room, not caring about the abandoned alcohol on the table on the kitchen.

Levi clicked his tongue, “I’m offering myself and you had the audacity to reject me?” That was the grief talking, and even the alcohol.

God, you really want him to sleep, mistakening him for being not in his right mind with how he is acting.

And since after that, you never kissed him again.

Few days after, not even reaching a week, he had managed to compose himself. Albeit that he has not yet seen you frequently as before, you still manage to show your interest for him with each interaction—Hange Zoe, as always, is very supportive of the blooming romance between you two.. or a one-sided, they are not sure.

The only problem was you.

Every. Once. A. Week. You were reducing your interactons with him, he was informed by Hange that it was never your intention to do that, and even added that you were too busy attending Erwin’s errands.

Bullshit. Even when you were too busy cleaning up shit for Erwin, you never fail to pester him.

The amount of times he was forced to lock his office, to avoid you, and even not writing you back the letters you send everyday. What was the point if your presence was only meters away from his office.

The number of flowers, gifts, and even stupid rocks that somehow made you think it was a good idea to give him, were living-proof evidences that you were not afraid to make him notice your feelings for him. That you have time for him 24/7

And now, not even a single new letter, which you claimed as a daily love letter with his breakfast, was passed on at his office. Surely, you were not avoiding him on purpose?

“Looking for someone?” Hange pointed out with a teasing look on their face.

“As if.” Deep inside his heart, he was going crazy when he noticed your absence.

He was a fucking mess.

He cannot forget the kiss you two shared, which he clearly remembered.

Levi was aware of the unforgettable situation that happened back then, and managed to sleep like a baby for hours, not wanting to recall on how you carried him to his room because of his reluctant attitude of not wanting to.

“You look so bothered when your pretty admirer is not following you like a puppy.” Hange teased with words, but was immediately replied with a glare by the short captain. “Did something happen between you two?”

Something more was about to happen. Levi wants to slap himself for his thoughts.

What happened to despising you?

But he knows, that he has to talk to you again.

[sanjifucker42069]

Sanji x Reader: Patch Me Up

Guess where I'm upto in the anime lmaoo

It isn't brilliant, I'm just rambling while I'm watching it. I wanna explore patching up after a fight, and carrying Sanji bridal style at a different time, but this'll do for now

Word Count: around 1700

----

It was after the fight with Bon Clay that you found Sanji. He looked like hell, blood pouring from his head, his gait unsteady. In fact, you were worried he was about to collapse. Your feet moved before you, sprinting to meet the fighter.

"Sanji? you look like shit, what happened to you?" 

"Nothing I couldn't handle, love."  Sanji rasped out, hand cradling his temple. Oozing charisma, he made a move to pass you. With a scowl on your face, you outstretched your arms, blocking his path. The tall man stuttered to a halt. "Miss (Name), I'm okay, promise."

"Nuh uh!" You resisted, reaching out a finger to point at him. "You think I'll buy that bullshit?"

You jabbed him in the chest, causing the man to wince in pain. Sanji took in the pointed look you gave him."So I may have cracked a few ribs, who hasn't though? Really, I'm okay. I...uh..." 

"Sanji?"

The beautiful man began to sway, stumbling over his words. You moved to stabilise him, wrapping and arm around his waist. 

"Shit, Sanji. You really did get fucked up! C'mon, lean on me." 

Sanji resisted, mumbling something about chivalry, and that he was fine, just needed to sleep it off. Sure, the two of you had bigger fish to fry, but the way Sanji shook was a tell tale sign. The fight really did take a toll on him. You gently pressed the backside of your free hand to his cheek, wincing at how clammy it felt. You pulled him closer, observing how the swayed.

"Bullshit. Now c'mon, lean on me, you're running on pure adrenaline. No more of this chilvary shit."

"Miss (Name), I couldn't possi-AH!"

You'd had enough. As it was, Sanji was still bleeding out. Time to put all your ship skills to good use. With a huff, you knelt, swiping your free arm to the back of Sanji's legs. The touch caused his knees to buckle, slotting your arm directly behind them. It was awkward but you managed to scoop the man up, the hand that held his waist travelling up to support his shoulders. You lightly struggled, but managed to heave the man upwards, holding him in your arms. 

Sanji balked, arms coming to wrap around you neck to steady himself. What the fuck? You were so warm, he fought the urge to snuggle against you. Wait! What was he even thinking? This was a war.

"Hey! Put me down!" Sanji fought against you but you tightened your grip, growling at him. The man in your arms staring up at you at the noise. He studied your face. You were staring ahead, stumbling away from the action. Your face was stony, eyes sharp as you surveyed for enemies. Sanji felt himself flush. Oh, you looked so deadly like this. Now wasn't the time for him to fall for how gorgeous you looked. Sanji's heart stopped when he took in the blood splatter on your cheek. Were you hurt? No. 

That was his blood.

Sanji felt guilty, sullying your face with his blood. He didn't get to dwell on these thoughts, as you harshly turned the corner, foot slipping slightly. Sanji felt a yell escape his throat as you winced. 

You had a mission to complete. With all your strength, you jostled Sanji in your arms, regaining your footing. You pushed Sanji's face closer to your shoulder, arms digging in behind his knees. Sanji whimpered, at the feeling. You felt him grow embarrassed, but it wasn't the time. You set off again, determined to get him somewhere safe.

Sanji froze. Now was NOT the time for him to find this hot. It must be because his legs just got a workout. Yeah. That's it. He certainly didn't like the way you were able to carry him, making him feel small. He supposed he could see some benefits, this position let him get to see down your top. Oh. Oh, now that was nice. Your breasts were bouncing as you ran, his body lying beneath them. Sanji's mind screeched to a halt. 

Were you holding him bridal style?! 

Sanji felt embarrassment flare up in his chest. No! He's a man, he should be the one carrying you like this, so intimate. He must look so silly like this, lanky limbs hanging out from either side. You must think he looks so stupid?! So, Sanji did what he did best, he argued to cover his embarrassment.

"Hey, put me down! I'm a man, you can't treat me like this."

Your (colour) eyes snapped down to him. Sanji felt a shiver run down his spine. He felt small at the intensity. You pursed your lips, before it morphed into a wild grin. "If you don't shut up, I'll shut you up myself. Now, just sit back and enjoy the ride, babe."

Sanji felt his face burn. He tried to hide the blush from you, shuffling in your arms to bury his face in your shoulder. You focused back on your surroundings. Up ahead! A small alleyway, hidden from view. Sucking in a deep breath, you picked up speed.

"Gonna be a bumpy ride, Ji, hold on tight!" The man in your arms complied, and you felt his grip tighten. He felt your running stop, but you slid. He creaked open an eye, uncovering his face to study you. An alley? You were panting, trying to recover your breath. 

Sanji felt himself being lowered onto a crate. He unlocked his arms from their vice grip on your neck, sinking down to rest in his lap. You sat him upright. Sanji watched hazily as you shrugged off your pack, diving through the contents. There was blood covering your shoulder where his head lay, more staining near your waist. Damn, he'd lost more blood than he'd thought. Trying to focus, he watched you fish out a small medicine bag, and your handkerchief. He let out a sigh as you opened your canteen, wetting the cloth.

With renewed determination, you knelt before Sanji. The man still looked clammy, but you noted he at least had a pink flush apparent on his cheeks. That was a good sign in your books.

"Now stay still, you big dummy." You scolded as you took the damp rag, placing it to his temple. Sanji hissed in pain, eyes fluttering closed. Without thinking you cooed at him, bringing your free hand to rub comforting circles on his clean cheek, just under his bangs. "I know, honey, I know. Just stay still okay. Lemme clean the blood off that handsome face, okay?"

You resumed your work in silence, cleaning the wound on his forehead. When the blood was taken care of, you turned your attention elsewhere, cleaning the rest of his face as best you could. There was a clear warmth radiating from you, your touch never leaving him. Sanji sighed into it. 

"Must've been a tough battle, if he thought he could get some licks in. I'm sure you appropriately kicked his ass?"

"Hm. Oh, ya. Yeah. Destroyed him." Sanji opened his eyes to grin at you. his breath hitched at how lovingly you stared at him. 

"I'd expect nothing less from our hero. Just lemme apply a little bit of ointment to your cuts and we'll head off okay? Chopper can patch you up properly later. You really don't want me doing any stitches." 

That managed to draw a laugh from your patient, even if he winced as you applied the thick ointment to his cuts. The sting was minor, but the soothing coolness was instantaneous. Sanji whimpered at the feeling. You mistook it as one of pain.

"Hey!" You joked. "You don't want any scars on that beautiful face."

Sanji pouted. "That's supposed to be my line, gorgeous."

You chuckled. "Glad to see you've still got your sense of humour. And...all done! Think you can stand?"

"Of course I can stand! I won, in case you forgot." He snapped, feeling self conscious by your fretting. You watched mesmerised as he grew that flirty smile. "Besides. aren't you gonna kiss it better?"

A laugh bubbled out of you. You rose to stand, missing the way Sanji pouted. You got to your feet, staying hunched and staring deeply into Sanji's blue eyes. 

"Your wish is my command, Mr. Prince." 

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. Sanji sighed at the feeling. He opened his mouth to speak but startled as you began peppering kisses to his various cuts. He heard you laugh at his expression. 

"Oh." He heard you muse, staring at you, a blush painting his cheeks. "Oh, you have a cut here too!"

You zeroed in on his lips, placing a soft but forceful kiss on them. For a man that was bleeding out moments ago, you really did love to put his heart in danger. You smiled against his lips, kissing him tenderly. Sanji squeaked for a moment, before his eyes closed. He relished in your affection, kissing back tenfold. He winced at the taste of blood, knowing it was his. You clearly didn't mind, tangling your hand into his hair, stroking his uninjured cheek. You pulled away with a pop. When Sanji opened his eyes again, half-lidded and dazed, he saw you packing back up your supplies. You outstretched a hand to him.

"Alright handsome, there's a war going on in case you forgot. We can pick this up later."

Sanji gratefully took it, using it to rise and draw you to his side. He leaned onto you, causing you to laugh and shoot him a look. "What? I'm injured." He whined dramatically. "I need the support."

His heart skipped a beat at your melodic laugh. "Want me to carry you again?"

Sanji pulled away like he'd been burnt.

"Hmph!"

"Relax, you looked cute. Injured or not, you best believe I'll carry you like that again." You laughed as you turned back into the street, arm wrapping around his waist. Sanji really didn't want to unpack how you seemed to love making him feel like a woman. If he asked, you'd probably roll your eyes and say something like 'I'm not treating you like a woman, I'm treating you right'. Sanji didn't like that implication. But perhaps being treated like a damsel wasn't all bad if he could get kisses like that. Clearly both deep in thought, you almost walked right into two figures.

"Oh man, you're alive."

"Chopper! Usopp! You guys alright?"

Joining forces, the four of you set off. Vivi needed your help. Who knew where Nami and Zoro were. Side by side, your merry gang ventured on their way. You winked at Sanji,

---

"We got this handsome. Let's kick some Crocodile ass."

Bro I could wax lyrical how I see Sanji as someone deeply hurt by toxic masculinity, and how that feeds into his need to push away any form of self-love. I'm also bi as fuck, see Sanji as a bi man who overcompensates, and I really like feminine men...Let my man be treated like a sweet little treasure dammit! Someone teach this beautiful man his worth!

[fan-goddess]

The taming of the shrew

Pairing: Ettore x reader

Summary: Ettores finally notices you as you noticed him. Which brings some thoughts to Ettore he doesn’t want to be thinking.

Warnings: Dark thoughts, mix of canon Ettore and non-canon Ettore, explicit language, masturbating, talk of SA, size kink if you squint,

Taglist: @valeskafics, @chompchompluke, @targaryenrealnessdarling, @omgbrcat, @humanpurposes, @arcielee

Other Chapters: One, Two, Three, Four, Five

When Ettore first noticed how you seemed to stare at him, he had no real idea why it caused him to face such an internal panic as it did. It was no different than when he did it. Only it seemed your stare held something that stirred somthing in him. The stare held curiosity, and you know that they happened to the cat…

Since you seemed to observe him so much, Ettore thought it was only fair that he observed you back, and the first thing he noticed about you was your use of the box. Quite a few times he was coming out of the box, and the rare times when he saw you coming out when he was coming in, he saw you. Whenever you saw him your cheeks would always go a light red. No one who wasn’t looking for it already would’ve noticed it and yet he did, and he doesn’t know why…

It could be cause in his dark and dreary mind, you’re just like him. You’re never intentionally with anyone else. A loner at heart it seems… As whenever someone would try and get you to join them in some meaningless task or talk to you in any way, you simply say some words and they’ll leave looking as defeated as a kicked dog. They’ll learn eventually no doubt… just as they learned for him.

The idea that maybe you’re like him seems to get him going a lot more than he wants it to though, as his use of the box seems to have massively increased than what it used to be. The image of you on your knees, deep crimson blood pouring from your face as you looked up at him with watery eyes, is an image he just cannot keep from circling in his mind over and over again. The idea of you begging for him both for him to do more to you and for him to stop in the same sentence, sends blood rushing to his cock like nothing else can.

He always goes straight to the box, chanting your name like some sort of demented prayer, as he spills himself on his hands on stomach. Though it’s not the same. His hands don’t hold the same warmth he knows your cunt will hold. His own weak grunts that he makes hold nothing against the sounds of the whines he knows you’d make if he had the chance. The ones he hears when you’re in the box, make him want to bust that door open and fuck you hard till he feels a mixture of cum and blood trailing down both his and your bodies.

Ettore doesn’t know what to call this sudden interest in you. Some may have called it an infatuation with you, maybe an attachment, while some may even call it an obsession. All he knows though, is that now he’s properly noticed you, he can’t get you out of his mind. Yet even with you just constantly coursing through his mind, he can’t even find it within himself able to talk to you. It’s not out of fear, which even if it was he’d never even admit it anyway. It could’ve been out of resentment. Yeah… that’s what he’ll call it. Resentment of your actions and you as a whole.

When he watches you sleep, he thinks of doing those things to you. Making you cry. Making you bleed from all different areas of your body. Yet no matter how much he thinks of it and his fingers twitch in anticipation of the action, his feet refuse to move further into your room than the doorframe he stands at.

He even finds himself getting hard while he stands there watching you. His head going mad as he debates with himself to be rational and to sort himself out in the box, while the other side of his head is ordering him to do something he may or may not regret the next day.

Ettore stands there at the doorway, and slowly puts his hand down his loose trousers. He nearly moans our loud at the friction his hand is giving him, and It certainly doesn’t help him with the fact you shift while you sleep, every so often shifting slightly and either more skin gets revealed or the cover is shifted more on you. It’s like some fucked up casino game. Stay and get rewarded, or stay and get teased.

He finds his release though soon when your shirt rides up so much he gets the glimpse of a tattoo on your upper body. All he can get a glimpse of is the black colouring of it, and yet even that small glimpse made him spill himself into his hand like some virgin school boy. It wasn’t even the tattoo itself what made him cum though. It was the fact that he realised how with the discover of the tattoo, it was one step closer to you being just like him. He obviously had tattoos. The three intricate triangles not exactly hidden nor leaving any to the imagination. Yet your one, it did leave to his imagination. It was like you were both his equal and his opposite, and he can’t even deny how much it thrilled the fuck out of him.

It made him only watch you more, and It wasn’t hard to see that you watched him too. You weren’t exactly subtle in the fact. It was as if you wanted everyone on this damn ship to know you were interested in him. Your eyes like little pricks of needles deep in his flesh, and he most openly welcomed it. Maybe if everyone else saw how you looked at him, they’d get the hint and leave you to him…

Yet, they didn’t. If anything, now that he made his intentions clear to everyone what he wanted, they flocked to you like you were some fucking shepherd with their sheep. It was mainly the women that flocked to you. The ones who looked at him all distrustfully and warily like he was some wild beast. As if he’d all of a sudden lunge at you and tear you to pieces with his teeth to taste at your flesh. A fantasy he can’t say didn’t come to mind one night when he was lying awake at night one time.

Even when he tried to visit you late one night like he’d always do, it seemed the women had formed some kind of makeshift neighbourhood watch committee, and you were the neighbourhood. One of the woman always at the entrance, changing when one got tired to keep you safe from him. As if they’d stand a chance…

It soon became a game to him though. Trying to find a weakness in this seemingly perfect fortress of bitches, and nothing could describe the happiness he felt when he found it.

The doctor it seemed, whenever the tension rose enough for her to deem it necessary, would give everyone on the ship some pills, claiming them to be a kind sleeping pills. It’s utter bullshit though, that’s what it is. Though he soon realised that whoever ate them, would become drowsy and practically immobile within the next hour or too. A perfect battering ram to destroy the vault walls to get the treasure within.

It didn’t even take long for the doctor to bring out the pills again. He’d been intentionally staring harder at you, smirking when he made you blush slightly at the other end of the mess hall. Even shamelessly leering at you whenever you were all forced to do the exercises together to make your guard dogs pissed and angry. It was always the near highlight of his week whenever he’d stand behind you, and find himself smirking whenever it was time to crawl.

Of course, he knew that teasing the bitches would mean there’d be consequences. He just didn’t know that those consequences involved him being punched in the fucking nose.

“What the fuck?” He shouted, the pain making his eyes slightly water and ears slightly ring from the impact. He hears you the clearest funnily enough over the ringing, the sound of you begging the bitch who hit him to stop making him smile through the throbbing sensation that’s spreading through his face.

“He’s a fucking creep? You want him to sink his teeth in you and take you for all you are? Be my fucking guest! I’m not going through all this trouble for you of all people when you obviously want the demented fuck!” Her words drip venom while her eyes shine with disgust as they look at you, and If he wasn’t on the ground trying to stop his nose from bleeding any more, he’d get up and hit her till her eyes no longer shon at all and her blood looked at crimson at his did.

Her footsteps get fainter while she stomps off, while you still continue to stand there, looking like some kind of prey in front of a predator as you look at him not knowing what to do.

“Your not gonna help me princess?” He taunts, the words coming out slightly muffled as his hands in front of his face holding his nose. “What are you too good to help an innocent injured man out?”

Your legs finally seem to move, and one of your hands reach out to grasp his own. When his hand intertwines with yours, he can practically feel his spine shake in pure ecstasy. His blood flows without his control and he can’t help but feel annoyed by his own body. Though what person wouldn’t act like that over finally feeling the flesh of a real person for the first time in months?

Your flesh felt warm in his own. It was amusing when he felt how small your hands were, pathetic really…

“I wouldn’t exactly call you innocent…” you murmur. You probably didn’t expect him to hear you, and yet he did, clear as day.

“Why’s that then pretty?” He hums, the panic in your face nearly making him want to take hold of your arms and take you on the nearest table whether you beg for him or not.

“Doesn’t matter…” You move to release his arms now that he’s up, but if anything his grip tightens. He can even hear you wince when his nails begin to dig in slightly. Maybe if he does it hard enough he’ll draw some blood?

“When the doctor gives you the pills, don’t swallow em, and meet me in the hallway when everyone’s out…” His grip loosens and he stalks away from you. He doesn’t look back to check if you’re looking at him, but by the small feeling of pins in the back of his head, he can’t help but smile at the revelation. The initial blood has stopped by the time he gets to the med bay, but a couple drops make it’s way onto the floor as walked there.

The lady doctor looks at him with no expression on her face as he walks in and she patches him up. Well, he says she patched him up, all she did was hand him a small towel and tell him to wet it under some water and wipe the blood away. He grumbles as he does this, and when he’s about to go through the doorway, a sudden voice brings him back to the room.

“Take these” Ettore doesn’t even get to fully turn around before two small pills are forced in his hand, and a small cup of water is shoved in the other. He looks at the doctor for a second raising a brow as if to be in disbelief, and pretends to swallow the pills dry. He makes a big show of it too. Shoving the pills in the gap between his gums and his cheek before making a big deal of widening his mouth to demonstrate the supposed swallowed pills he’s swallowed.

She doesn’t even make a big deal of checking if he even has swallowed it either. Only just having a quick peek with a tiny light before waving him off and walking away.

When he walks out of the room with a smirk, he’s just in time to hear lady doctor call the rest of the crew for the pills. He even sticks around to watch everyone line up, making eye contact with the bitch who hit him earlier and slightly reveling in the dark stare she gives him. He gives a mocking smile, before letting his eyes wonder the line till he eventually locks eyes with the one he most wants to see. You.

You stand near the back of the queue, and if he had to point anything out about you at that moment he’d definitely point out to say you were nervous. Your foot keeps tapping and you keep biting your nails. Plus, when he makes direct eye contact with you, your face blushes so much he could see it from where he stood near the other end of the corridor.

He doesn’t engage with you anymore. Instead he just stares before turning and heading to the direction of the box. The feeling of your eyes piercing his back giving him more satisfaction then any box experience he’s had in the whole time he’s been confined to this fucking ship.

[ursulasfishandships]

hi friends!

i’ve been exploring the thought of a bastard daughter in Dune. how lady jessica would treat her and such. kind of the mother-daughter dynamic, especially because jessica is so dedicated to paul. i think jessica is such a complex character, very much doomed from the start (reverend mother set her up)

below the cut is just a first draft of what i think the vibes and circumstances would be. let me know if you’re interested in expanding this

~

“What?” Lady Jessica’s voice hissed through the air. The servant cowarded at her sternness.

“According to law-“

“I don’t care about that,” She snapped, voice like glass shattering, “A child?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

A silence hung in the air of her bedroom. It simmered for a moment, a thousand thoughts running through Lady Jessica’s mind.

A girl. A girl. A daughter. What you cannot provide. What you did not provide. Witch’s work. Failure.

But did she not do what her husband asked? No. He wasn’t her husband.

Leto.

She needed to see Leto.

~

His back was turned to the entrance. Normally he had better instincts than this, but he was focused on other things. He bounced the cooing baby in his arms.

Lady Jessica’s steps were firm and clear when she entered the room.

“Darling-“ Leto started, but he was quieted by her blazing stare.

“Explain.”

Leto took a deep breath, looking down at the baby.

“It was… a fluke of a night. When I was upset with you, when I told you we couldn’t get married. I was intoxicated.”

“That doesn’t make it right.“

“Jessica-“

“A working girl? You must have been desperate.” She spits. “And to have no precaution.”

“Not every woman is a Bene Gesserit, dear.” He still holds the baby close to his chest. “It seems I had forgotten that, too.”

Jessica steps closer, observing the child. Small, pudgy, fresh. She still had that smell to her, the smell of a woman’s womb. Her sweet little Paul didn’t smell like that anymore.

“Will you forgive me?” Leto whispered.

Jessica gave a non committal hum. She looked at her husband’s face. It was those kind eyes, so caring, willing to take in this child. It was those eyes she had fallen for. That had gotten her in trouble, now even more. Something in her bones told her that the Bene Gesserit was behind this. Perhaps not one of their girls, but their doing.

“She may stay. Paul will need a companion eventually.”

“Will you train her?” Leto asked carefully.

“Oh no,” Jessica laughs, “No, she is already tainted.” She looks down at the baby, all wrapped up. Bright eyes stared back at her, not hearing the insults she threw. Jessica sighed. “She will be of use. As long as there are no more, I will be content with it.” She nods to herself.

“I promise, love, there are no more. Just her.”

“Good. I know we are not married but…” Jessica trails off. The betrayal had hurt her for certain, but she was not his wife. This was a cruel reminder. Lady Jessica, never duchess.

Leto pressed a kiss to her cheek. A simple move of affection that warmed her heart. She was going to make this work.

~

The night helped her veil shadow her face as she quickened her steps. The potter’s mortuary was dimly lit, hard to see in the pouring rain. The door creaked open when she touched in.

The mortician looked at her curiously for a moment, but he caught on.

“This way, my lady.” He led her back to where the bodies laid. She was still splayed out. Her stomach was still full, skin pale. Childbirth. The great equalizer. Even with all the nurses she had, it was still frightening. She can’t imagine what this poor woman felt, perhaps alone, perhaps with her fellow workers. She hoped that at least one person was at her side when she passed.

She hovered a small hand over her chest, muttering a small blessing.

Flashes of the birth passed through Jessica’s vision. Pain and agony that she could sympathize with. So much pain, too much. Blood everywhere. One final breath and push. A life for a life. That’s how the world worked.

Another feeling passed through Jessica, a familiar one. Witchcraft. The Bene Gesserit had touched her. A subtle influence of the mind, one almost impossible to detect.

She was right. This was her punishment.

(part 2)

[purple-imagines]

Guns and Trees

Pairing - JJ Maybank x Reader

Summary - Reader gets shot by Rafe

Warnings - kissing, gun violence, blood, swearing, mentions of death and fighting

Word Count - 749

Masterlist

I laughed as JJ swung me back and forth, his way of “dancing”, Pope and Kiera had just walked off, leaving me, JJ, John B, and Sarah to ourselves. We were celebrating John B and Sarah returning to the island. 

JJ lets me go, allowing me to sit on the ground beside Sarah. I lay my head against her thigh. JJ and John B stand in front of us. I hear John B’s boat start causing me to perk my head up.

We all look out at the water, seeing Pope and Key taking the boat out. “Oh! All right.” JJ yells. Sarah waves, “have a good time”

  “There he goes. He jacked your boat, dude.” JJ tapped John B. John B looks shocked saying, “Popes poking on the pogue.” Causing me to laugh and Sarah to let out a cat call. 

JJ starts giving John B crap about Pope on the boat, while Sarah and I talk about Charleston. We hear John B say “wait” a few times, causing us to lift our heads up. “What was that?”

“Your chicken?”

“I heard a car door.”

I stand up beside Sarah, walking towards JJ, as he makes chicken noises. I hit his stomach, causing him to look at me, and I shush him. When he doesn’t stop John B puts his hand over JJ’s mouth.

Listening closer, I hear voices. “Put out the fire.” JJ grabs a bucket of water and pours it on the flames. “We need to hide.” John B looks around. 

“Inside?” Sarah suggests.

“They’ll look there.” 

JJ points towards the tree, “we’ve gotta go up.” 

We all, slowly, huddle around the bottom of the tree, first JJ and John B push Sarah up, then me, JJ and John B jump up right after. Barely missing Rafe and Barry.

Barry heads towards the house, while Rafe checks out the fire. 

“Where the hell are you?” Rafe asks, from right underneath us. I hope Pope and Kiara don’t come back.

I’m on the branch across from JJ, John B under me, and Sarah across from him. I hear Barry throwing stuff right before he slams open the door. 

“Yo, anything?” Rafe calls. 

“No, aint shit in there, bro.” Barry walks towards Rafe.

“No? Nothing?”

“No. Nothing, Rafe.” They both rub their foreheads. 

“They were obviously just here based off the smoke.” Great observation, asshole. 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Great observation, boy scout.” Ha. 

“They’re not far, you know?” Just leave already. 

“Smokey the Bear! Look at you, bro!” Sarah and I look at eachother. I'm sure my expression mirrors hers. Barry has a gun and he’s getting angry, those two things don’t mix well. 

“They gotta be around here somewhere.” They both stare at the caving in the tree. It was a memorial for John B, we did it when we thought he and Sarah died in the storm. It’s a heart saying ‘2003 - 2020, John B Routledge, P4L’.

“P4L,” Barry’s mocking it. Him and Rafe are starting to laugh. Rafe pointing the gun at the trunk. “Well, shit.”

“So your sister’s a Pogue for life, huh, Rafe? Now who would’ve thought?” It's like Barry wants him to get pissed. 

Rafe starts shaking his head, letting out a loud yell, “shit!!” Sarah and I both flinch. 

“All right, chill.” Rafe raises the gun towards the tree, shooting the trunk, causing us all to flinch. 

“Hey! Whoa! Hey, chill, bro! Rafe!” Barry tries to calm him, grabbing his arm, causing bullets to shoot our way. I hide my face behind a limb. 

I feel a sharp pain shoot through the left side of my lower torso. I bite my tongue, to not make a sound. All I want to do is cry out. I grab where the pain is. Peeking out I see Rafe and Barry run back the way they came. 

I look down at JJ, John B, and Sarah, they seem to be ok. John B hops out the tree, grabbing Sarah's hand, helping her out. 

“Ju-” I stutter out, “Jayj” He looks up at me, I remove my hand from the wound, allowing him to see the blood. 

His eyes widened, “shit. Shit, shit, shit.” He repeats, climbing onto my branch with me. I feel my eyes droop.

“John B!” He calls out. I need-” His words start to blur together, and my vision gets spotty. 

I look down, barely able to see Sarah and John B. I feel JJ’s hands wrap around me, then nothing. 

[samptlay]

To My Sweetheart Who Carries A Wounded Heart Ch. 11

Series Masterlist, Chapter 1 🤍, Chapter 2 🖤, Chapter 3 🤍, Chapter 4🖤, Chapter 5🤍, Chapter 6🖤, Chapter 7🤍, Blade & Reader's Relationship, Chapter 8🖤, Chapter 9🤍, Chapter 10 🖤

Special Thanks to @msun1c0rn @uhfhfhfhf @klemen-time @delulu-val @skyl8ver @ssecylia @xdrin & ALL of my taglist. I love you all so much 💕

Donuts? The delicious creamy-filled cloud of fluffiness that has you head over heels in love the first time you tried them over 20 years ago? And who would believe that they would show up at your doorstep being carried by your soulmate? Maybe you were exaggerating by calling him that but you two understood each other more than anyone else could. Looking up from the pink box you were staring at for too long, you’re met with crimson eyes pouring into your own, a small smile on the man’s face.

“Do those happen to be for me?” You smile back, opening the door wider to let Ren inside to which he happily accepts the invitation and heads inside before you close the door behind him and take the box from his hands as he removes his slides. “You know I don’t like sugar, so they aren’t for me.” He chuckles while hanging up his keys before you both go to the kitchen.

You set down the box of Sweet Haven on the counter while Ren invites himself to your fridge and grabs a can of root beer, knowing he doesn’t even have to ask since you specifically buy a whole pack for the fridge for him and only him to drink when he comes over. Levi enjoys alcohol and keeps a lot in the house while Ren finds it displeasing, and with how much he comes over, you didn’t want your friend to have anything to sip on during his (often, though not too many since you’re married and it would seem inappropriate) visits.

Just the thought of you going out of your way to buy things for the time you two spend together makes him want to latch onto your body and never let go, and Ren’s sure you wouldn’t mind that much. It’s not his fault you decide to do all this but like you always say, it’s the little things that count.

When he turned around and leaned against the fridge while opening the can, he couldn't help but observe your eyes lighting up at the sweets when you opened the box. Ren found it enduring. Since the box was yours, either way, you just stuffed one in your mouth while turning to him.

“Thanks for being here right now, and for bringing these. I needed company and I have no idea where Levi is.” At your husband's name, you could visibly see Ren's expression harden a bit, and it would have made you giggle any other day but you weren't in the mood for humor and he didn't look as sarcastic as usual.

“So he left you alone on this day, without even letting you know?” You swore you could almost see a blood vessel on his body pop, and immediately felt the need to soothe his concerns. “Right now is hard for both of us, I don't blame him so please call down, he’s dealing with this in his way.”

There you go again, always defending him even though he can see the hurt in your eyes. Ren was about to open his mouth to call him out himself and let you know that you deserve better, (Quite literally, he wasn't going to boost himself but inform you of how he should be here.) However, you opened your mouth again before he could.

“Though, I… He asked for some space from me yesterday night and I didn't want that. I want to be anything but alone right now. You know I don't like distance, I hate it. He should know that I would want to stick together as well, so why..? Do you think he's starting to resent me? Do you think he blames all of this on me? He-”

You fall silent once you look up to see Ren in front of you, one thumb wiping away the tears that have formed in your eyes, oblivious to you. His other arm was unoccupied, made its way to your waist, and held you tight against his chest. He was offering you comfort and you couldn't be more grateful.

“...It wasn't your fault. I'm aware of what you might be thinking right now but believe me. Don't beat yourself up over this it's him, his fault-”

It's all Ren can say at the moment, and he so desperately wished he could say more but his mind was blank if it was any other thought concerning you. Yet you didn't defend or deny what he said, proving it to be true in his eyes. He couldn't stand seeing you like this, your tears were so foreign to him and they broke his heart.

You can feel his broad muscles flex as he still keeps one arm around your waist as he reaches across the counter, grabs a tissue, and slowly brings it to your face, as if not to alarm you. It makes you warm inside, the fact that he's always been so gentle with you. Even as he wipes all the tears away you can feel he's doing it gingerly.

However, it wasn't warm enough for you. You still can't stand touching your stomach without almost gagging, you still can't think about the life lost, your very baby lost at your own hands. Ren knows his warmth isn't enough either when he feels and sees you trembling in his arms and the streams down your cheeks seem never-ending so he sighs and places the tissue down and replaces it in his hand, cradling your face back and forth.

It made you smile a little bit and you were about to apologize for embarrassing yourself like this but only a choked sob came out. You drop your head to his shoulder and everything that's been building up since yesterday pours out of your soul. You knew Ren wasn't judging, you knew he would never think of you negatively in any way and he knew you needed him right now.

~

After Ren had carried you to your living room and warmed you up into a blanket, he put on your favorite show and sat beside you. He wasn't reaching out to touch you, though it took everything in him to hold back from doing so every time he heard a sniffle from you.

He wanted to hold you, he really did and Ren knew you wouldn't deny him even if you felt guilty, but the thing is you're still a married woman. So for now he'll settle with being the one to comfort you as you grieve. After an hour, he can hear your soft breath hitting his neck. He recognizes the pattern in your breathing and doesn't even need to look down to know you're asleep. He'll carry you to your bed in a moment and stay in the guest room until you wake up and the two of you could talk again. Ren just has a feeling your husband won’t be showing up any time soon.

~

A/N: I'm backk! School's done and I have a lot of time on my hands so expect more updates, at MAX every two weeks (keyword, MAX) I'm sorry for the wait, thank you all for the encouragement to keep writing, otherwise I believe the hiatus would have lasted longer. I love you all. Also, I want to give a special thanks to a bunch of my taglist for always supporting my work and for the encouragement I got from them. They don't realize how much I adore them.

Taglist:

@uhfhfhfhf @xdrin @msun1c0rn @umi-adxhira @lovingnahida @strrawb3rrysh0rtcak3 @ssecylia @skyl8ver @immahuman @meowmeowraven @01234 @markexplanation @esthelily @dawnofazrael @chickenalfredo4life @eccaza @jun-xiu @klemen-time @delulu-val @everi-eve @cluelesstoeverything @strangersomeone @lapinaenmicoche @alwayslegendarymoon @lumiiiiiiiiii @superninjaarbiter

Borders by @cafekitsune

[iridescent-solstice]

𝐀 𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 . . .

| ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: {MDNI‼ This fic contains stuff not meant for minors to read. I do not want you to interact with this, please respect my wishes or you will be blocked. Contains themes of murder, blood and gore, doesn't go into detail but does mention violence against partner } |

The thrumming of rain pitter pattering on the roof was all that could be heard. Despite the weather in the day eluding otherwise . . . It's raining now. The warm humidity gone and replaced. Exchanged for an icy chill that was now snuffing out the numerous candles placed throughout the long corridors. She would have loved this; Claude notes to himself as he stares out the window. Silent as usual. He stood tall and forebodingly near it. Overseeing the gardens that enclosed the mansion. It was groomed and primmed to perfection. His definition of perfection.

He's been here for forever. With nothing left to do, and no interest left for anything in his heart, that's all he does lately. Stare outside. Alois's soul has long lost its beckoning scent. No longer pleasing him . . . Or appetising. Is it because he knows he has no right to it? Irritated at the thought he saunters away in fake confidence. Keen on avoiding these thoughts.

The barely audible thudding of his footsteps on the plush luxurious carpet seemed to be drowned out by the rain. Growing in intensity. It was hailing now. Odd. Slamming down onto the rooftiles as if screaming out at someone. The carpet, a deep shade of burgundy, seemed to absorb the sound, creating an almost eerie silence. But what was the strangest was a faint humming that caught his attention . . . This is his side of the servants' quarters. Hannah should know better than to be here. His brows furrow in contemplation before he moves towards the sound. With anger blooming and eating up at his chest, he strides over to the source. How dare she-

. . .

The shove to the heavy burgundy doors takes more out of him than he thought it would have. But what came next shocked him to his core. The humming . . . Wasn't coming from Hannah . . Not her. But instead . . . from you.

"Always coming and going, aren't you?" Your head turns just slightly in his direction, but without even glancing at him, you go back to brushing your hair. The once sleek handle has become a shell of what it used to be. Marred with scratches and dents, the glossy finish chipped away to reveal the steal like grey underneath. The bristles, once firm and orderly, jutted out at odd angles, Getting tangled in your hair that fell as chunks as you ran the brush through it. A few stubborn strands of hair clung to the brush, tangled and knotted, refusing to let go. Feeling uncomfortable, he swallows painfully. Watching and observing. Nothing left to say that would matter. Not anymore. Not after what he did. He has no right to say anything to you. "I thought you'd be different." You spoke once more, a raspy chuckle leaving you, "but I was wrong once more, wasn't I . . .?" He looks away. Guilt creeping up on him when you finally looked at him. Half your face withering away. "Yes, you were," he answers in a cold manner but if you listened closely. You'd hear the crack near the end. Looking back, he finally sees you.

He couldn't ignore the noise around him anymore.

The rage fading away. Letting the bitter feelings leak back into his heart. The memories rushing back to him. He killed you . . . and he doesn't want to admit it. But for once in his life . . . He regrets something.

Especially when the tears begin to pour down your cheeks as you question him, and just like he did when you were still alive. He turns on his heel. Away from you. Away from the room you died in, and he finds himself back at the window you used to admire the gardens from. Ignoring the sounds of your ghost crying to yourself. Asking why him. pleading to know why he did it . . . It doesn't matter if he answers back or not. Because you're not really here anymore, are you?

[ᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴇʀꜱ ʙʏ: @saradika-graphics]

[oletusfragments]

— MY LOVE, WHY DID YOU LEAVE ME?; YOUR LOVE, IT DISAPPEARED.

⋄ When you die at the manor game

▭ char. x reader ▫ gender neutral ▫ angst ▫ not proofread ▭

Characters: Emily Dyer, Naib Subedar, Orpheus

[ Warning: Violent content, mentions of death ]

— EMILY DYER

This place reeks of danger. You already sensed it the moment you saw how notorious the manor looked. But this location of the 'game' felt even worse.

The fog covers the distance around you and the doctor. Everything was filled with eerie silence. Perhaps there's nothing here other than you and the other participants. Maybe you're just overreacting it because the surroundings felt so menacing.

You and Emily are currently outside the factory walking to the spot where the lawyer claimed that he heard something.

That guy can't be trusted. No one here is. Well, except your lover of course. Emily still has secrets kept from you. But you dismiss it and hoped that one day, she'll tell you.

Freddy Riley and Emily was supposed to have a private conversation. The lawyer had shoo'd you away like you're some fly. But you didn't want to leave the doctor's side and she didn't want you either. She was especially irritated by how Freddy treated you and demanded to let you join in their meeting.

He was visibly annoyed with it but agreed anyway. Apparently, he wanted to be allies. Although after the display of attitude he gave earlier, both of you were quite skeptical about the offer. Nonetheless, your lover thought it would be beneficial and the lawyer offered reasonable excuse to do so and even apologized. You do ponder if it's sincere.

"There's nothing here..." You huff. Going outside was a waste of time. There was nothing here and it was utterly quiet.

Your girlfriend sighs. Emily is very practical, you know. You also can tell that she's holding back her impatience towards the lawyer. But she knows that it would only pose even more problems and held herself back.

"...Let's just go ba—" She was cut off by her own scream. A sudden bulky figure appeared out of nowhere and you both trip to the ground to avoid getting tackled by it. Your arm was in front of Emily's figure in an instant.

You observe what had attacked the two of you and saw a corpse-like monster staring at you with anger that could match the fires of hell.

Major parts of it's blue skin were filled with burn marks. It's face is was covered in bandages with only half of his face and his other eye peeking out. It was wearing a ragged uniform of a factory worker. But the most concerning part of it's appearance was that it was carrying a sickle made out of jaw bones. A few teeth is still intact on it.

The moment you try to pick yourselves up to run—it also latches itself towards you before any of you could react quickly to dodge.

At that second, you did what you could only do.

Your agonizing screams fills Arms Factory as the pointed end of the sickle comes in contact with your back. The monster grunts and pulls you back using the weapon. Your tears were shedding from your eyes as fast as the blood that pours out from your wound.

Through the blur, you try to catch a glimpse of your lover. You had pushed back Emily to save her instead.

She was trembling on the ground. Petrified at the sight of you slowly getting killed. When you made eye contact with her, only did she regained her ability to move. She stood up frantically and reached out to you, hoping to save you too.

"No! Please, just go! Go!" You yell.

The doctor retracted her hand and only stared at you in horror. "No..no! Don't say that! I don't—I don't want to leave you!" She sobs, clutching her heart.

You can already feel yourself growing numb. And you fell to the ground. Only to be picked up again by the creature. It withdraws it's sickle to the air, planning to strike you once more.

But before that, you let out your last words to your lover—one last eye contact before you never open your eyes again.

"Emily, I love you. Please, go. For me...?" The last part of your sentence ends in a whisper as the bone weapon comes in contact with your body once more.

But Emily only fell to her knees, releasing loud cries and sobs. She desperately calls your name only to never hear your voice and she cries louder.

The figure, after making sure you were dead, moves on with the pitiful woman.

But the doctor doesn't run away. She sniffs and looks up to the monster walking towards her with a bloodied weapon.

She closes her eyes as the sickle rise above her head.

Emily doesn't care if the gates of heaven doesn't accept her after death for the selfish sins she committed. She only wants to see you again.

— NAIB SUBEDAR

The sirens could be heard across the whole forest as you and Naib rush to the gates. All ciphers that was meant to be decoded has been completed and the exit gates are finally unlocked. You could feel hope growing in your whole body as it motivates you to run faster.

You and Naib were running hand in hand. Despite fatigue taking over your aching bodies, your desire for survival fuels the both of you to keep running.

When all of you were first introduced to the game, you thought it would be easy enough with only the environment posing as the only problem. That was until a hook missed you by an inch and destroyed the tree beside you instead. Thanks to Naib's fast reflexes, he managed to drag you away before you could get grabbed.

The two of you focused your eyes on the source and saw a pair of big glowing eyes staring back at the two of you. The faint glow of the moonlight that passed by the gaps of the tree leaves illuminate it's silhouette and you can make up the huge antlers and the shape of a deer head.

Your optimism made you want to think that it's only a regular deer. But it pulled back it's hook and charged towards you.

That is why you and the mercenary are running this fast across the forest. Bear traps are everywhere and you can't count how many times you were almost caught in one.

Finally reaching one of the gates. You noticed that it's already open. William is waving excitedly at the sight of the both of you safe. He waited for you guys, how nice. Perhaps it's no surprise that Naib spared him.

You guys could finally get out of this terror.

Apparently you were a few steps away from escape to say that.

When you crossed the gate doors, you were suddenly pulled back. The hook clamps around your waist tightly that it feels like it's crushing your organs, resulted to you crying from pain—and fear.

Your lover couldn't grab you in time and the last words you heard were the frantic shouting of your name, the last sight you see is Naib chasing after you and the deer beast's weapon crashing down on your head.

It all happened too fast. Before Naib could even go back to save you, the exit gates has unexpectedly closed.

He bangs on the metal doors alone. He hits it numerous times and attempts to pry the door open from it's narrow gap. He tries even if his fist and fingers were bleeding. William has already ran away from fear. The mercenary is left alone with no one to ask for help.

He yells your name, asks if you're okay and panics harder when there's no response.

Naib kicks the doors, punches it, use any object around him for it to open. He could do all that but he couldn't save you. And that is something he still refuses to accept.

— ORPHEUS

It was only a moment before those beings catch up with all of you.

Previously, you, Orpheus, and a little girl were running and avoiding the creatures who chased you guys relentlessly on sight. They attempt to grab you like they are demons wanting to drag you down to hell with them.

The three of you run and run with no precise destination. Only with the plan to stay safe and be away from those creatures.

You glance back to see if they are still chasing you and see that they are no more.

"Orpheus, they're gone!" You exclaim.

Although this is probably a momentarily relief, you are still grateful that you managed to escape from them.

But you became confused when Orpheus halted running and hectically gets away from you, taking the little girl with him.

You halt running as you stare at them in perplexity.

Orpheus looks around the area, panicked. Once you take a step towards them, they look at you with terror in their eyes.

"Guys, what's wrong?" You ask them.

But instead of answering your question, they took off running—leaving you behind.

You hurriedly catched up to them, even more confused than before. You looked around once more to see if those creatures were following you again but none of them is spotted. So what made them run away?

You admit, you were hurt that Orpheus would just leave you behind like that. He's your lover after all. Who wouldn't be hurt if their beloved would just leave them like that?

You call out to Orpheus while trying to catch up with them. But they ignore you and kept running.

Eventually, you managed to corner them. Finally, you can ask them what's wrong.

"Honey, Orpheus. What's wrong? Is there something out there that I'm not seeing? And why did you leave me?"

He only backs up closer to the wall of the small building you cornered them to. His arms wrapped around the little girl to shield her—from you.

Your confusion becomes concern. Why are they acting like this. As if you're the danger?

You could notice how tense your lover looked. His jaws are clenched and so is his fists. His eyes were mad. But the novelist was glaring at no one but you. Yet you can't think of anything that he could be mad about.

Before you can ask again, a force hits you and knocks you to the ground.

You cup your now bruised left cheek and blood drips from the corner of your mouth. Looking up, you find that it was none other than Orpheus that hit you.

He cuts off your question once more with another punch. He straddles you and punches you repeatedly. It feels like he was using a rock to split your skull open.

You call out to him but he is too deep into the adrenaline to hear you. The cries of his name fall to deaf ears. Your face and body becomes littered with bruises and black eyes. You attempt to grab or block Orpheus' arms to stop him instead but he was too strong—too determined to kill you. And that terrified you. You would have never thought that it'd be your lover that would kill you.

That's not what you want. So, you kept trying. Even though your body can't handle moving anymore, even if your throat can't yell anymore, you try because you don't want to die like this.

But it doesn't matter how much effort you put. Death will always be the one to decide in the end.

You call the novelist's name one last time—barely above a whisper by how weak you are already. And then, with the face of your lover full of hatred staring back at you being the last sight you see, your body goes completely limp and your eyes close for eternity.

When Orpheus noticed the lack of movement, he stopped. Panting and reliving his victory against a monster. But when he blinked, he was horrified to see that it was your bloody and beat-up image that came to view.

He swore it was a beast! It was what he saw—what he killed, not you!

Orpheus stares at your corpse petrified from shock. And soon after, he lets out a bloodcurdling scream.

He sobs and heaves at the realization that the blood on his hands was not the blood of a monster, but the blood of his lover.

The novelist's worse nightmare came true by the hands of none other than himself.

[ This is my first time writing something like this so it might not be that good. I felt like writing angst, so I did. Idk if I did a great job though. Still, I hope you enjoyed reading it! ]

[theshyspy]

get enough - h.s

a/n: this has been in my drafts for so long but i needed some angst turning into friends to lovers so i finished it (: enjoy this lil blrub as a celebration we just reached 400 followers???

remember reblogs with comments are greatly appreciated! 🦋

Your stomach twisted as you watched him from across the room. He had his arm wrapped around a tall blonde, a genuine smile on his face as she flung her head back, laughing at something he said. 

You couldn’t actually remember the last time you saw him that happy, completely at ease as he gifted her with those soft smiles you knew so well. As the best friend, your job consisted of being happy for him and always cheering for him. But letting the adoration in his eyes dawn upon you, your body housed anything but happiness. 

Never had you seen that glint in his eyes and you despised the way you couldn’t find it in you to be happy for the most important person in your life. Because while observing the grinning faces, your blood froze. 

Tearing your gaze away, you forced in a shaky breath. You were certain that while loving him, your heart suffered aches and cracks. Always watching from the sidelines as his love and efforts were poured into others. Yet, your heart never broke. He always made sure of that.

But listening to the overwhelming love in his voice as he talked about her, and watching as he lit up whenever he saw her - the healed scars on your heart ripped open, and for the first time, Harry actually broke your heart.

   He always looked after you at parties, but tonight he hadn’t even acknowledged you. Eyes fixed at her throughout the entire evening, and you found it impossible to blame him. How could you when you’d rather look at her too? Her tall, curvy frame - everything you weren’t. Sometimes you wondered if that was what hurt the most, the way he always fell in love with your stark contrasts. 

You glanced back at him for a mere second before your head snapped back again. Your cold hand flew up to your mouth, muffling the cry crawling up your throat. “Oh god,” you repeated, pushing through the crowd and desperately needing to get the image of his soft lips on hers out of your head.

“Hey.” His voice faintly played in the distance, but you kept moving. If you couldn’t be happy for him, you had no right to be there.

“Sweetie, hey.” 

You screwed your eyes shut, trying to shake off the gentle tone carrying his words. Never had you felt so distant from him. His ears were the home to your deepest secrets, yet the list of things you couldn’t tell him grew. There was this undeniable wall building between you and you didn’t have the slightest clue how to break it down without coming clean about your feelings. How could you tell him how your heart was his and had been for years without pushing him further away?

Letting your eyes flutter open, you were met with a pair of green eyes staring down at you. “Are you okay?” His brows were drawn together as the soft tone reached your ears. One of his warm hands cupped your head, gently rubbing your jaw and grounding your disoriented state. 

Eyes gracing the room, it took a few seconds before you grasped where you were. Your upper body rested in Harry’s lap, a blanket drawn over you as a movie played on the TV in front of you. You were at his place. It was a dream.

“I’ll get you some water.”

Before you even got the chance to answer, he guided you into an upright position, steadying you with an arm around your lower back. 

“Here,” he muttered, giving you the tall cup from the table beside him. The cold water was gulped down, but your throat was still dry. 

“How are you feeling?” He held you at arms length, eyes scanning your face for any clue about what was going on inside your head. 

You’d always had control over your emotions: soft voices and gentle words didn’t force out tears when you were at breaking point. Yet, the dream had shaken you to an extent you couldn’t grasp. The fear of losing him was more than what you could take, so when the warmth of his voice and the concern in his face met you, your lips quivered. 

“Oh, no.” In no time he pulled you into his chest, your head resting underneath his chin as he wrapped both arms around you.  A single tear raced down your cheek, and you used the back of your hand to wipe it as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” He whispered, voice low as his fingers stroked your back through the thin material of your shirt. The security and comfort of the action let you release a shaky breath, eyes closing as you inhaled his familiar scent. 

The worry in his voice was well masked, but you could detect it as he asked. “Wanna talk about it? You know I’ll always listen to you.”

You bit your lower lip and fixed your gaze at a throw-pillow. “I don’t know, it’s stupid.”

“ Stuff is allowed to be stupid and still matter. I’m not gonna pressure you into anything, but I like hearing what’s on your mind.”

Your stomach fluttered, the softness of his words sending  warmth up your spine as an appreciative smile tugged on your lips. 

You turned your gaze back at the tv in front of you, letting your eyes stay at the characters as they moved past the screen.

“I guess you just didn’t want me in your life anymore. And I know it doesn’t really make sense - but you just found better people and didn’t really want me.” Playing with the hem of your shirt, you tried to ground yourself as the emotions filled inside you. 

“But it… I guess it just hurt a lot, you mean so much to me and the idea of having you just get tired of me…” Your voice trailed off, the image of her body close to his reappearing  in your head.

“I could never get tired of you,” he cut you off. “In fact, I can’t get enough of you.”

“For now.” 

A soft sigh left your lips as you shifted and placed your body in an upright position, back towards him as you furrowed your brows.

“I know that you care about me, but… one day you’re going to meet someone who just means more. You know?”

Silence fell upon you and the hand that had caressed your skin, stopped.

“No, I don't know. What do you mean?”

You turned towards him, eyes landing on the confused expression painting his features. His eyes bore into yours, waiting expectedly as you bit your lower lip. 

“You know what i mean,” you mumbled, looking away and rubbing at a piece of loose skin around your thumb. “One day you’re gonna meet someone and fall in love and I’ll… I won’t really be that important anymore. And that’s fine, of course! It’s just the way it… works.”

Taking in a deep breath, you glanced at him and tried to read the look controlling his face. The intensity of his gaze left you confused as he shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. 

“I get it, we want to spend time with people we love,” he shifted in his seat and cleared his throat as you looked away again. 

“There’s actually this girl I like and I just… I want to be around her all the time.”

His voice was so gentle as he spoke, adoration lacing the tone and you could just feel your chest tightening with jealousy.

“I mean she’s totally clueless: I’ve been trying to hint at how I feel for so long that it’s actually getting ridiculous. But she’s just worth it, so worth it.”

“I can’t get enough of her.” He spoke, voice vulnerable and focused.

You tuned him out, words not registering as you tried to control your breaths which now sounded a little too forced.

He grabbed your hand, his skin warm against yours as he spoke again. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You froze, eyes fixed at your cold hand in his. “Wh- what?” the words stuttered of your tongue and you desperately tried to make some sense of his sentence. 

“I can’t get enough of you, can’t you tell?” The softest smile rested on his lips as you peered at him through your lashes.

“You mean that?”

“I mean that.”

You were certain your cheeks tinted with red as your gaze shifted from his eyes to his lips. Voice low, it barely sounded like a whisper as you asked, “can I kiss you?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” 

-

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Celestials

Written: Nov 10, 2020

dark!Walter Marshall/Arch Angel Gabriel x Black Female Reader

Rebloging supports writers!

He leaned against the car, crossed an ankle over the other and stared down at the bated breaths of the mortally wounded man not too far away. His spirit seeps away like his blood upon the pavement. From holes too deep to heal it pours out and pools underneath his back, under his arm, down to his fingers. 

“Please help me…” the man whispered to the air.

The being observing the mortal coil looked up to the sky momentarily wondering if the man indeed would be heard. But his eyes fell back to the man, who’s blank stare lingered long after his heart stopped beating.

“You are loved above all things.” said the being. 

He unfolded his big black feathered wings and pressed the palms of his hands into the roof of the car. Leaning back further, studying death, in all its glory as he did so many times before. He wondered, with sadness, that one day you would look like this too, again.

“It is now my time.”

“You’re time for what?” asked Walter, who had appeared as nothing more than a whisper of a body.

The being turned his head to the left where Walter stood. The being pointed at the ground, while Walter’s eyes landed on his own body. 

“No.” Walter took a step toward his lifeless shell. “I--no..save me!” he shouted and turned back toward the winged being.

“That isn’t my area.” said the being and stood up straight from the car. “Looks pretty permanent.”

Walter shook his head, something akin to tears pooled in his eyes, but they didn’t shed, only made what should be his eyes glisten.

“However…” said the being. “There are a few loop holes..if one were to be asked for service.”

“What is it?” Walter asked quickly, he looked back at his body and thought anything, anything would be better than this. He had so much more to do. 

“Is that a yes?” asked the being.

“A yes to what?”

The being crossed his arms over his chest and narrowed his eyes at Walter. “It’s an open yes, take it or die.”

Life as Walter knew it was upside down. What was left of him lay on the ground rotting as he thought about the being’s request. 

“I’ll do it.” said Walter finally. He stared back at the being taken in the smudge of a face that had no identifiable features. “Yes.”

Human brains are hard to navigate at the best of times. Their free will makes it inherent that they do what they please. It was a hard mold to fit into but the being tried. Memories unfolded, along with the sensations that having a human body entailed. But they, who this being was beyond the world, wasn't too different in regards to a human soul. 

Where their spirits were immense, so was his and it took time to press and squeeze this eternal energy into a place so small. But the being liked it here, encased for once, his focus centered on what it meant to be human and live as they do. After a few weeks comatose Walter awoke one evening after shift change. 

Suddenly taken in by the hospital gossip, the nurses stayed longer in the break room than they normally would have. A trick of the mind, while their spirits are strong, their thoughts are narrow and susceptible to the slightest change.

Walter groaned as he sat up in the bed and swung his legs over the edge. He wondered how the others above thought of him now. They were probably watching, not that he could see them with human eyes. But he could definitely sense something elsewhere, silently observing just as he had done not too long ago.

He stretched hard, opening his arms, unfurled his wings and yawned like had slept the last thousand years. A tingle in his fingertips coursed up his arms, down his chest and settled in his groin. The hospital gown rubbed against his cock, it hardened more and Walter couldn’t help the chuckle that followed as he stared down at it. 

He had certainly missed that.

The man in the next bed gasped. Walter ignored it as he flipped through memories like a book and found his heart rushing when the images landed on the pretty face from the coffee shop. No, she was more than that to Walter. In fact, you were more to the being too. 

Walter glanced around the room at the bouquets of flowers dotted with little white cards. Too bad you never realized the impact of your life, he thought. He got off the bed, his ass hanging out of the back of the gown and strode toward the wardrobe. He rummaged through the clothes, found a few things that looked good enough. He put it on and grabbed the long trench that belonged to the man in the next bed.

He opened the window to the sound of voices coming from the other side of the door. And before they stepped over the threshold. Walter turned to the man in the bed who was staring at him with wide open eyes. He jumped up on the edge, smiled as he held the side of the tall window. 

“You’ll be okay for another year,” said Walter. “But you might want to stop jerking off so much--not sure that ticker can handle much more.” 

The nurses' voices made the man turn to them to get their attention. He pointed to the window, but when he looked back, the man was gone.

You had just finished counting the money, putting away product for the next day as Walter watched you from across the street. In your well worn apron you walked across the shop to grab your stuff from the counter. Key in hand, you stepped out into the cold and locked the door behind you. 

Beautiful girl, thought Walter. Even with the tired look in your eyes, the sag in your shoulders from a day's work, he could see why Walter wanted you. But what made him want you was nothing short of yearning. And being an angel, yearning was just as immortal as their lifespan. He knew your soul, had seen it over and over again throughout the ages. And what a wonderful surprise for him that Walter had led him to you. 

“Don’t,” said a voice from his side. Walter turned his head, the ghostly frame of the body he inhabited appeared. “Don’t hurt her.”

Walter chuckled and continued to follow you with his eyes down the street until you disappeared around the corner. “You and I want the same things Walter.”

“You just want to use her.” said Walter’s spirit.

“Ever since she stepped down I’ve always searched for her,” said Walter. 

“She’s like you?” he asked.

“At one time, yes.” said Walter. “Centuries ago of course. She’s died thousands of times by now. You would think she would tire of mortality.”

Walter began to walk, across the street, down the same path, trailing behind her once she came back into view again. “From time to time I’ve found her. I like to spend what little opportunity I have with her. You understand?” asked Walter.

Walter’s spirit strode behind his now winged body. Not affected by the cold, the snowy gust blew through him. He was quiet for a few seconds as the angel continued to speak.

“I won’t hurt her, it’ll be your body after all.”

It sounded too much like a threat to Walter, he tried to grab for his own shoulder but his hand passed right through. “Wait!” Walter’s spirit shouted, but he kept walking.

“Trust me, after this---she will be yours until the end of your days...well again.” Walter laughed.

The being wanted a piece of you. He sniffed the air and found your scent unchanged even after centuries. He wished he could take you back with him. The human heart in his chest pounded hard against his ribcage and inspired him to pace back his heavy breathing. He had to be quiet. 

Walter stepped down out of your window. The sound of the shower beyond the cracked bathroom door became the only invite he ever needed to be near you. Walter tossed the jacket on the floor and began shedding his clothes a piece at a time. A child of God waited for him, whether she knew it or not, was about to face the almighty carnal desires of an under sexed angel. 

Walter’s spirit appeared again through the front door. His voice bounded through the room,“This isn’t-”

“Hush,” commanded Walter and he did. “She’ll be yours after this. Open yourself Walter, feel what I feel.”

Walter’s translucent figure faltered where he stood. He grabbed at his chest and for a moment swore he could feel his own heart beating. 

“Yeah, it’s easier to do when you’ve been newly parted.” said Walter, but his eyes were still staring at the shadows behind the door as the shower shut off. “So relax…” whispered Walter.

Walter rushed forward, wings flared open helping him move across the room at lightning speed right at you. He pinned you up against the wall next to the open bathroom door. Still damp, a towel draped down the front of your body was the only barrier between you and the man.

The way you fought like nothing would be the same again was adorable. The threats that crossed your lovely lips magical, it had been so long since he heard them anyway that he ignored the tears that followed. 

He had to hold your head in his hands, it forced you to open your eyes and truly see the person before you. 

“Walter?” 

Confusion looked back at him. 

“Close, but not quite.”

Your eyes moved from his face to the great feathered wings hovering behind him. He could tell as you watched them your mind was being blown wide open. As he moved, they moved, as he spoke they twitched with his meaning. “I’ve missed you.” said Walter.

He brought your hands up to his lips. Kissing them, licking sometimes too, tasting your clean skin he kept his eyes upon yours. “We only have this night…” he whispered.

“I heard you got shot. This isn’t real..” you squeezed your eyes tight, tried to pry your hands from his. “This is not real.” you whimpered and tried to move away.

Walter pulled you close, wrapped his big arms around your body even though your legs threatened to fold where you stood he dragged you along. The moments clung precariously on a few seconds before it collided with a series of shuffles. Walter plucked you from where you stood, threw you on the bed and covered your body with his. 

You tried to piece together what was happening, how it could happen but it was your downfall. Walter pushed inside of you without so much as a warning. His wings bunched in tight along the length of his body as his hips began to move fast and hard. Electricity shot through your body the second his cock pulsed inside of you. Everything leading up to the last thirty minutes began to evaporate from your mind and be replaced with the bliss in this moment. Sliding in and out, pressing his heavy chest into you, he suffocated your entire being with his. 

And when you squealed from the pleasure thumping throughout your body, Walter didn’t stop. He took it as an invitation of your heavenly spirit reaching out to his. Always amazing, always overly tender, the bodies of humans, the tip of his cock ached for release. 

Your eyes lifted to his, matching his intensity, Walter’s hand grabbed your wrists when you tried to hold his face. It had been awhile, but he licked his lips, leaned down and kissed your lips. You clenched down tight around him, sucking him in further, pushing him over the edge. The moment he hit the crescendo, almost filled to the brim with such delicious ecstasy the being inside of Walter was ejected from his body. 

The being stared at the bed, black wings began to shed and crumble at the same time Walter groaned hard. He hung his head over you, his shoulders swaying and he collapsed on top of you.

“You really shouldn’t meddle in their lives Gabriel.” said a feminine voice behind him.

Gabriel, the being, swung around toward the voice. The tall, plumpy figure stepped forward. “Barachiel!” shouted Gabriel. 

“They chose to walk away for a reason. Your infatuation with her borders on unforgivable. And you promised to keep your distance when they both stepped away, remember?” 

“What are you doing here?” asked Gabriel. He looked back at the bed. The feathers had disappeared, what was left were two naked bodies, one male the other female. “She..I--”

“She heartedly dislikes you. Has since..well the beginning of time. Learn how to lose gracefully Gabriel.” said Barachiel, she crooked an eyebrow at the scene. “Well, at the very least you have helped them find each other again. It’s been about--what, three thousand years?”

Gabriel fumed, as he began to pace back and forth at the end of the bed. “He said yes to an open request, Barachiel!”

Barachiel shrugged and kept staring after the figures on the bed. 

“What happened?” you asked, your breaths came fast as Walter moved off you. He sat back on his folded legs and gazed back. 

“I….” he tried to remember, to form any sort of logical theory as to why he was here, naked..with the cute woman from the coffee shop. 

You grabbed for the nearest pillow, covered your body as you scooted away from Walter. 

“Look at them Gabriel, even now their spirits recognize each other. It’s a beautiful thing.”

Walter’s eyes dropped to your hand on the bed, he reached for it and you didn’t pull away. “Can we just say this was a weird beginning?” he asked.

“So weird,” you almost chuckled if it weren’t true. “I just..I feel like I’ve known you all my life. Like, not just because of the shop either...”

Walter nodded, with his other hand ran it through the wild curls brushing his forehead. He pushed them back and then came to sit directly in front of you. 

“Disgusting.” Gabriel hissed. “...but yes.” he added. He stopped pacing and conceded that this time the two of you had won. 

Walter caressed your cheek before kissing you tenderly on the lips. He pulled back, it seemed so obvious that all of this was strange, that the rational part of him called for caution. But while you were here, staring back at him, he felt the panic of loss before it gently subsided. 

“I never want to know a day again without you in it.” said Walter.

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Nothing worse than arch’s turned human.” he said.

[iridescentpull]

《 Maybe Next Year 》

Summary: Anthony doesn't win the 'Show of the Year' award. Ian comforts him.

TW: N/A

Fandom: Smosh

Pairing: Ianthony (ambiguous)

Note: This is a work by a fan for other fans. Please no harrasment, block me or my tags.

《 I wrote this to heal myself from this night lmao. Fuck C, all my homies hate C 》

《 Fic under cut - reblogs appreciated - ao3 》

Anthony feels his hands shaking, trying his best to calm his anxiety down. It's the final award of the night, and his show is nominated. His show. His show that he poured his blood, sweat and tears. His show that saved him when he didn't know what to do with his channel. His show that was a stepping stone in fixing his and Ian’s relationship. His show.

As Mat stood on the stage, the curly-haired male felt a hand poke his arm. He looked to his left and saw Ian give him a reassuring smile. "Breath." He reminded him, grabbing one of his hands and gently holding it. "You can't accept an award if you're passed out."

Anthony laughed, shaking his head. "You're right." He said, quieting down when the nominees were being said. 

He felt an unbelievable sense of pride when his show was announced and the crowd cheered loud and clear. Maybe this year he'll win. Maybe this is his year. Those past three nominations were just stepping stools for this. This was it. 

The taller felt his body freeze when Mat revealed the tables had the answer hidden in them. He felt like he couldn't move, anxiety and adrenaline paralyzing him. He could see Ian stand up immediately, turning over his chair and searching underneath the table cloths. Ian was frantic, asking Ale and her partner to search on their seats as well. He turned to Anthony, adrenaline on his expression. 

The table shook their heads, confirming there was no paper on their table. Anthony's eyes looked around, trying to see if tables around him had the papers. He felt his heart quicken when he saw an E and a D. 

Maybe. 

Just maybe…

And then there it was. He looked to his right where a woman was walking to the theater, holding a piece of paper containing a singular letter. 

And that letter was a C. 

Anthony felt the adrenaline leave his body. He felt his body crash against the chair he was sitting on, exhaustion finally crashing on him. He lost. Again. For the fourth time, and now third time in a row. 

He could feel frustration tears well up in his eyes but he forced himself to stop. The dark-haired male took a deep breath and forced a smile, standing up and clapping when the show of the year award was announced. 

Feeling Ian's stare, he cheered for her at her speech and laughed with those around him. Then the final song came on, and he felt Ian quietly move to stand beside him. 

They stood beside each other, watching the dancing and singing around them. They stayed quiet, observing and processing the night they just had. So much had happened in so little time. 

Eventually it was over, and the after party began. Ale and her partner said their goodbyes, once again congratulating Anthony on his nominations and wishing them both a good-night. Both men wished them a quiet good-night, before turning to each other. 

Anthony knew Ian wanted to say so many things, but didn't know where to start. It was fine, he didn't know if he could manage to answer without tearing up either. 

They were interrupted by some influencer, probably a TikToker of some kind approaching them. "Oh my god! Smosh!" They exclaimed, a huge smile on their face. "Can I take a picture with you guys?"

Anthony nodded, plastering a smile on his face. Ian glanced at him and bit his lip, before turning to the kid and nodding. After a quick selfie together, the person grinned. "Thank you!" They said, before turning to Anthony. "I'm sorry you didn't get it. It's wild you've been nominated four times and haven't won- luck is not on your side!" 

The male gaped as the kid went along, stopping in front of Link and asking for a picture. Damn, that comment kind of hurt. 

Ian huffed and grabbed his best friend's hand, pulling him away from the center of the crowd. They went to a less populated corner, where a few people were talking. Ian stopped them and as soon as Anthony faced him, the shorter pulled him into a hug. 

Anthony froze, not knowing what to do. Ian rarely initiated hugs or any form of physical contact. It was unexpected, yet as the seconds went by, Anthony could feel his body melt against Ian's. And it was nice. 

The brunet ran his hand against the others back, trying his best to soothe the other. He knew how much that award meant to him. To be acknowledged and praised for something he created. He understood. 

Which made it hurt more when the absolute crushed expression slipped onto Anthony's face when the realization struck him. 

After a few minutes of the hug, Ian pulled back but only slightly. He gave the other the most proud smile he could. "That was wild, huh?" He asked, glancing at the theater beside them. "I never expected to present an award with you again." 

Anthony smiled softly. "Yeah." He chuckled. "We are so not getting invited next year. Eating the mask? Really?"

Ian shrugged, amusement on his face. They stayed quiet, enjoying each others company. The brunet grabbed the other's hands. "You know I'm proud of you, right?" He started, glaring at the other when he tried to interrupt. "Shut, let me finish. I know I didn't say this enough, but I'm so proud of how you evolved your channel and the content you created."

He stopped, glamcing to where Michelle stood with her award. "And I know the award meant so much to you, but listen." He looked back to the male. "An award doesn't represent your success or worth. You are amazing, and I'm so proud of you."

Anthony felt his eyes tear up, but from completely different reasons. He let out a watery laugh. "Since when did you learn how to process emotions?" 

Ian rolled his eyes. "I've been taking a crash course." He mantioned, smiling at Anthony's laugh. "Also, don't worry too much- there's always next year."

"Next year…" The taller started, giving the other a soft smile. "Next year it'll be us. We're definitely gonna get smosh nominated on something." 

The brunet chuckled. "We'll see." He said, looking at the crown partying and having a good time. He cringed, the thought of being pressed against so many bodies not calling him. He turned to Anthony, who was also cringing at the crowd. "Wanna get outta here and have a drink at my place?"

The male pulled a face. "Wouldn't we look rude for ditching? It's part of what we were asked for, after all."

Ian waved a hand. "Nah, we were asked to present an award and we did. We're done here."

Anthony thought for a moment, before shrugging. "You know what, fuck it- lets get outta here." 

Ian smiled and pulled Anthony to the doors, leaving the building. As soon as both men entered Ian's car, Anthony looked at Ian and smiled. "Hey Ian?"

"Yeah?" The brunet asked, turning the vehicle on. 

"Thank you."