#two seconds after that picture was taken I dropped to my knees at his feet

[ddejavvu]

Licking my phone screen

[xsweetcatastrophe]

You broke me first

part 27

cill: bad news.

zoe: uhoh. what?

Zoe hated text messages like this. It’s bad enough he was leaving soon, how much worse can it get?

cill: it was more than just a wardrobe fitting.

Zoe: ???

cill:

Zoe laughed at the picture, staring at the signature pesky haircut he’s been subjected to all this time during this series. He hated it, he hated the upkeep, and he hated growing it out. Zoe knew he was relishing in the last couple of days of his normal hair before the inevitable happened.

Zoe: wow they really went short on the sides! Better wear a hat you’re gonna catch cold over there.

Cill: i’ll be living in hoodies with the hood up for the foreseeable future.

cill: how you feeling, bunny?

Zoe had taken a sick day from work today. She didn’t feel good, had the chills, and had zero appetite. She was camped out on the couch with a cozy blanket, a cup of tea and the remote while being under the care of her trusty live-in nurse - Scout, of course.

Zoe: a bit better. definitely a lot better than this morning. Scout has been taking care of me. Might actually take him out in a bit and get fresh air.

cill: don’t go outside if you’re sick. i’ll do it when i get home. did you eat anything?

Zoe’s heart still fluttered when he said home. THEIR home, where they live together, even if it’s just the time being.

zoe: i had some ramen noodles for lunch. maybe ill take a bath. i want to change the sheets too just in case whatever i have is contagious, dont need you getting sick.

cill: i’ll take care of the sheets and Scout. you just rest and take a bath. when i get home we’ll talk about dinner.

Zoe: can i suggest a pizza?

cill: not a chance.

zoe: worth a shot.

Zoe smiled and put her phone down on the couch. She looked at scout who was laying the couch by her feet sound asleep. She sighed and was hoping he’d want to go out.

“Scout… hey, wanna go out, boy?” Zoe whispered, nudging the sleeping dog with her foot.

Scout yawned, looked at her, and rolled over and went back to sleep, facing away from her.

“sheesh, okay then,” Zoe mumbled. she peeled back the blanket she was under and stood up to stretch. She was still in her pajamas, which was a baggy band t-shirt that came down to just above her knees. She hadn’t showered yet, was sure she smelled gross and she definitely felt gross. She made her way to the linen closet and pulled out a fresh towel and made her way to the bathroom.

She hasn’t been able to take a bath since she took a bath at Cillian’s in his ginormous, pristine, white bathtub. Her bathroom seemed small and dirty, and didn’t seem as relaxing as Cillian’s bathroom felt. But, she knew the warm water would make her feel better, so she decided to make the best of it, as she turned on the hot water faucet. She decided to grab a bath bomb and a lavender candle to make it more cozier.

She stripped off her T-shirt and panties and lowered herself into the warm water after dropping the bath bomb in. She had the candle lit on the corner of the edge of the tub and she was already starting to smell the lavender fill the room. She cursed herself for forgetting a second towel to fold and use as a pillow for her head, so her dirty T-shirt would have to suffice.

She relaxed and lowered herself even lower into the water, exhaling and closing her eyes. Her tub made Cillian’s look like an olympic sized swimming pool, and she had to bend her knees out of the water.

“If i close my eyes and pretend im anywhere else, its not so bad,” Zoe thought, feeling the water gently slosh around her legs. She heard the jingle of metal on metal, and she opened one eye to see where it was coming from. She was greeted by two big brown eyes staring back at her from the bathroom door.

“don’t tell me NOW you wanna go out,” Zoe said to Scout. Instead, he nudged the door open farther and made his way into the bathroom, peeking into the tub. Zoe pat his head, thinking he wanted some attention. Once he realized she was wet, he cowered away from her hand. He instead circled on the rug outside the tub and lay down, seemingly wanting to nap close to her.

“awww,” Zoe said softly, closing her eyes again. “good boy.”

-

“hey.. baby.. hey.. HEY,”

Zoe jolted awake, water sloshing over the edge of the tub. She opened her eyes to Cillian kneeling next to her on the outside of the tub, hand gently shaking her shoulder.

“I forget you sleep like a rock. I was calling your name when i came home, and i found you in the bathtub like this,” Cillian laughed.

Zoe sat up and awkwardly stretched, her neck now in pain from the awkward angle.

“I didn’t think i’d doze off, I just wanted a quick dip to warm me up”

Cillian looked at his watch. “well, you texted me saying you were taking a bath 2 hours ago, and that water is barely warm anymore,” he said, standing up and grabbing the towel she had placed on the vanity earlier. he opened it in his hands and walked towards the tub. “come on, up.”

Zoe stood up and started shivering almost immediately. Cillian was quick to wrap the towel over her, rubbing her arms to warm her up. He then opened his arms and took her into them, holding her against his body.

“Can’t have you drowning on me, I’d miss you too much,” he said into her hair, giving her a kiss to her temple.

“I miss your bathtub in your old house,” Zoe mumbled. “That was heaven.”

“I’ll build you a bigger bathtub in the new house,” Cillian mumbled back.

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just hard to come back to what you’ve always known once you had a taste of luxury, that’s all i’m saying” Zoe replied.

“well when we’re in the new house you won’t have to worry about taking baths in small bathtubs again,” Cillian said giving her a quick kiss. “I stopped at that restaurant you like in the next town over and brought home some soup for you, and something for myself. I’m gonna walk Scout to the corner quick so he can pee, you get changed and meet in the living room, yeah?”

Zoe smiled. “thank you. that sounds good.”

Cillian walked out of the bathroom towards where Scout was and grabbed his leash while Zoe made her way to her bedroom. She grabbed some new underwear, some sweatpants and one of Cillian’s old T-shirts that would be extra baggy and extra comfortable. She put on some socks and made her way to the living room where she saw the takeout containers on the coffee table.

Zoe went to grab some bowls, plates and utensils and placed them on the coffee table. She grabbed bottle of water for herself and Cillian and made herself cozy on the couch.

While she was trying to find something to watch, Cillian came home with Scout. Scout ran to his basket of toys and pulled out a plush giraffe and began shaking it.

“Dog has so much energy, i swear we RAN home,” Cillian said, kicking off his shoes. He made himself comfortable next to Zoe and started unwrapping the containers.

“How did everything else go today?” Zoe asked, ignoring his shaved head. She already knew how that went.

“ummm…” Cillian started, hesitant to continue. If he was trying to hide something from Zoe, she picked up on it immediately. Something was up.

“what?”

“Well, for one, your magazine called. They said I have to do the interview all over again, with someone else,” Cillian said.

“that sucks, did they tell you who?”

“Some girl named Cindy? Cynthia?”

Zoe groaned. “great. good luck with that one. Where i ended up in bed with you by accident, she’ll try and sleep with you for real,” Zoe said.

“I think it’s over Zoom so you have nothing to worry about,” Cillian laughed.

Cillian cut up some chicken and took a bite. After swallowing, he continued.

“there’s uh… there’s more”

Zoe sat in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“My manager, Mary, is going out on maternity leave, and we’ve been having a hard time trying to find someone in the interim, but her and Hannah went to the same college or sorority or whatever, and she volunteered to do it while Mary is out. So Hannah is gonna be glued to my hip for the next couple of months. And apparently … I’m leaving for London on Monday.” Cillian said the last part very fast and very softly.

Zoe could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

be cool, be cool, be cool.

“oh wow… monday? that’s … in 3 days.” Zoe said.

Cillian put his fork down and grabbed her hand.

“I know, love, but it’s not permanent you know that. and we’ll talk every day. multiple times a day. I’m coming back.”

“i know.” Zoe said, forcing a smile. “I’ll coordinate stuff for the house for you while you’re gone, with all the furniture deliveries and stuff.”

“I appreciate it. thanks love. I already made you a key” he said, digging into his pocket.

“Assumed i’d help you move while you’re off being Tommy Shelby?? how’d you know i’d say yes to helping?!” Zoe joked.

Cillian smiled. “I was making you a key, regardless.” he leaned in and gave her a kiss, placing the key in her hand.

“So you and Hannah are gonna be quite the team…” Zoe continued.

“Yeah,” Cillian replied, “I had no idea she had managerial experience. But she started in the industry as a manager and pivoted into PR, so..” he continued, shrugging his shoulders.

“Cillian and Hannah, the dynamic duo,” Zoe said, taking a spoonful of soup.

“Yea,” Cillian chuckled, grabbing another mouthful of food.

“I mean, hey, what could go wrong?”

tags: @lau219 @shopgirl6us @cillianmurphyvevo @borntodiemp3

[honeystwiggypeach]

So Ive been reading your haikyuu "didn't know they where dads" and was wondering if you could maybe do one for suga and daichi.

Ps they are great and super cute

I definitely can!! I’m so glad that you liked it!! I think they’re very interesting to write since I rarely write conflict!!(just letting you know that I’ve only written for Daichi once and idk if it was to good…) for Sugas I changed it a little!! Also!! I should start working on the prompt list soon just wanted to say that!

I am so sorry for how long this took! I was in school and my school is like I think an hour or two longer than the average school here😭😭

Tw- drunken one night stands(suga), probably cursing, arguements, let me know if I missed something!

Suga

He’d be ecstatic, he’d always wanted to be a dad. Your precious daughter was the result of a drunk one night stand and you had met Suga only a few times from a friend before, you couldn’t really careless though, she was amazing and your favorite person always asking if she could draw pictures with you when you’d try and write things. The problem was really that you didn’t know how to contact him as said friend ended up breaking their friendship with him.

Unfortunately, Yui was starting school today, unfortunate for you not her. Yui was insanely excited to start school as she bounced on her feet asking if you guys could leave yet.

“Just a second honey, a few more things and let mommy get a photo please?” You tell her as you open up your camera app, you see her pose and you snap a few photos.

“Ok ready?” She nods happily.

When you walked into the building there he was, his eyes widen dramatically as he drops his gaze to the little girl who’d suddenly gone nervous at the idea of being left here.

“Suga?” You ask quietly and he nods, it’s evident that he knows Yui is his daughter, it wasn’t like she didn’t look like him, she had a similar mole near her eye, his eye and hair color, and a matching piece of hair that as much as you tried to flatten simply wouldn’t stay.

“So this is uhmmm” he motions toward Yui and you know what he’s trying to ask, you nod a bit.

“I tried to contact you but you know with everything…maybe we can talk about this after school” you suggest as he nods taking hold of Yui’s hand as be guides her to sit with the rest of the kids.

“I’d like that”

Daichi

It ended bitterly, you couldn’t grasp that his job wasn’t dangerous.

“Daichi, and what do I do if you piss someone off one day and they hurt you?”

“That’s not going to happen!” He yells right back and before you knew it it was over.

Too stupid of an argument to apologize for as the both of you had taken it too far.

But almost a whole year later, you’ve got two precious babies, a boy and a girl and they’re the lights of your life.

“Good morning my loves” you coo turning the lights on in their nursery as they smile and giggle bouncing in their cribs, “who wants to go to the park?” You ask as if they could understand.

It felt like you’d been in the house for days, besides the sun was good for them. So you loaded them up into the double stroller and buckled them in placing a few snacks on the tray to keep them occupied as they giggled and babbled.

You smiled softly letting your mind lead your legs to the park not even thinking twice to go down main street…coincidentally the same street Daichi directs traffic on…

So when his eyes widen at the sight of you you begin speed walking down the street as he calls after you buzzing on his walkie talkie for someone to take over his position.

By the time he’d reached you he was panting hands on his knees as you leaned over the stroller the babies cooing happily.

“Daichi” you speak, your words come out sharp and harsh, harsher than you intend.

“Listen I just wanted to say I’m sorry, I see you moved on had kids,” his heart wants to break at the idea.

“Daichi” you mumble

“that’s fine, I just want you to know I still love you.” He finally catches his breath as you roll your eyes.

“Are you done?” He nods as you pull back the little visor on the stroller.

“They’re definitely yours…I didn’t settle down at all and I love you as well but we’re kind of a package deal babe” you tell him in almost a joking manner.

He’s nodding the most serious look on his face as he looks down at the twins both staring right back up, eyes the same dolor of brown as his are.

Pls let me know if you want to request anything because I love writing requests so much!!

[totebagchiqbarista]

Heyy can i request a luka x fem!reader fic? Like you know how how luka is always calm and cool? What if he turns into a living mess after he meets reader? Like no stuttering or something but hes ranting about her to juleka all the time and cant concentrate when shes around??

what are you doing to me? // luka x fem!reader

request: anonymous

warnings: fluff, swearing?, Luka being a mess

pairing: Luka Couffaine x Fem!Reader

a/n: I really wanted to write some Luka stuff and this kind of stretched out to a good amount of words so I hope you like it! :)

"Dear God, Luka, stop talking!" Juleka shouted at her brother who entered her room uninvited for the 4th time today. She had understood he didn't have anybody really to talk to, but Lord was he getting annoying at this point.

"But I have to tell you something"

Pushing him out of her cabin one last time, Juleka stood at the door frame and stared at the blue boy. "Go out and find a life!" Of course, she didn't mean it like that, but before she could manage what she is doing, she slammed the door shut in front of him.

Luka was taken aback by the change in Juleka's attitude. He didn't flinch though. He was always that one collected and calm person in every group. Anger never fulfilled him in the ways it sometimes filled his mother, for example.

Anarka had never been the type to prohibit them of their freedom, but she tends to let her emotions take over her. When somebody mentions their dad, she turns red, wrathful at the memories that flow across her head. And it's never long until she completely lets rage form her.

But Luka was different. He was always the serene boy you would find in the back of the class writing songs, practicing riffs. When somebody took it out on him, Luka sucked it in, forgetting about the scene in a few days. He had never lost his temper, beat someone up, melted at someone's touch...

He didn't mind it, after all, there was nothing to whine about. He had all his emotions under control, and even though he would never admit it- it made him feel superior to others.

So Luka decided to go to the park. Whenever he had nothing to do, a simple solution always came to his mind- a warm walk through the park.

"Hi, Nino" he exclaimed seeing the familiar couple by the water fountain. "Hi, Alya."

Alya offered him a soft smile, taking a piece of Andre's ice cream. Nino lent him his famous handshake. "I'm excited for tonight!" said Alya, referring to the private hangout at Couffaine's that was yet to come.

Luka had completely forgotten about it. How could he do such a thing? Still, he kept his cool exterior, nodding his head in agreement. "Me too"

"Oh shoot! I forgot I was supposed to meet Y/n tonight" Alya looked back on her schedule.

"Who's that?" Luka questioned, having never heard of that name before

"An old friend of mine. She just recently moved here"

"She can come, too."

"Really?" Alya's face lit up in joy "You would do that?"

The blue-haired boy laughed "If there's one place in Paris everybody is welcomed, it for sure is the Couffaine's ship!"

"Great, we'll see you there soon!" Alya added before collecting her phone and her boyfriend, running to meet up with her long-term friend.

Luka was left alone by the fountain, staring faintly at the water drops in the pool. Hot summer day took a toll on him and his eyes closed slightly under the pressure of the beaming sunshine.

A wooden bench called out to him and so he sat underneath the cooling shade of the trees. Moments passed and Luka grew to be more impatient. Guests were to come tonight, maybe he should return and help Juleka set up for the evening hang out...

Just on a mark, a girl ran to the park, out of her breath. She seemed worn out as she breathed heavily from the excessive physical activity. She looked at the phone in her hands, it responding with a typical GPS lady voice.

"Shit" she mumbled as she frantically tried to get the directions from the small machine.

"Hey" Luka called out to her from his sitting position in the corner "Are you lost?"

The girl looked around, making sure the blue boy was talking to her. "Yeah, I guess I could say so." Just as she returned him the look, Luka was struck by her beauty. It seemed like such a cliché, really. And Luka hated clichés. Yet, he was mesmerized by the girl who stood before him.

"Right... Where do you need to go?" He asked, collecting himself by her feet.

"Uh," she let out an unknowing hum "Here"

The picture she showed was blurry but Luka figured the place. It was a place he liked to visit sometimes, too. He showed her the directions, making sure she knows all the tracks.

"Thank you so much" The girl beamed with happiness in her eyes "Thank you for helping me"

Luka nodded, and the girl turned around to leave in the direction he just showed her. Luka contemplated for a second before asking a question just as she was about to leave "Can I know your name, at least?"

Hope in his eyes, he stared at her for a full moment until she broke the silence. "We only just met. Besides, where's the fun in that?" Sending him one last wink goodbye, she disappeared into the streets of Paris.

Juleka wasn't a person one could easily talk to. Except for Luka. Luka knew his sister was quite an introvert and a rather shy soul. He respected it and grew to watch over her, protecting her privacy with others. But with him, she was sometimes an extremely cheerful and bubbly person. Hell, there were moments he wished she could stop talking!

So when the two of them collaborated in decorating the harbor for their friends, they finished rather quickly. In under 2 hours, the duo managed to make the best party ship anyone has ever seen.

"Alya is bringing a friend," Luka said as he and Juleka tried to put the last fairy lights around.

"Really? Who?"

"An old friend who just moved here. Y/n as I recall."

Juleka nodded, trying to remember the name "Oh yes, Y/n. Alya told us about her. I'm glad to finally meet her."

Soon enough, the guests started to gather and their home was erupting from chit chats and music. Luka talked to everybody, getting lost in the crowd. His mind always found its way back to the silhouette of the lost girl from the park. There was something he couldn't get enough of in her...

"Luka, could you play us something?" asked Marinette to what Luka only nodded, heading to his room for the guitar.

"Alya is here!" Rose exclaimed when she noticed her friend at the entrance. Next to her stood a girl, a girl Alya has told them almost everything about.

"Hi, guys! This is Y/n" everybody welcomed them, all eyes prying on the newbie.

Marinette came closer and hugged her "I'm Marinette" she addressed as she offered her a soft smile "I've heard so much about you!"

"I could say the same" Y/n returned the sweet gesture.

"What took you so long?" Nino asked looking at his watch and then back at them.

"My bad. I got kind of lost."

The moment Luka stepped on the ship, the last thing he expects to see was the girl he couldn't stop thinking about. The girl that has been playing in his head all day, since the moment they met. Well, not exactly met.

"You" he blurted without thinking as he set his guitar down.

The pair of orbs he remembered from this morning, looked up at him, as surprised as him. "You" she joked back, not breaking the eye contact.

"You two know each other?" Marinette asked looking back and forth between the two of them.

"Not really. He helped me find the way this morning" Y/n explained

"And she didn't even tell me her name"

"It's more fun this way, don't you think?"

Luka chuckled offering her a handshake. "I'm Luka"

"Y/n"

The night moved slowly and Luka found himself growing more and more nervous whenever Y/n was around. This can't be! He's always the calm one, the collected one, the untouchable one. No, no. It's just a mire admiration. Nothing much, really. He's as steady as ever...

"Spin the bottle!" Alya shouted out of nowhere

Numbers of confused faces turned to her in a moment. She proceeded, explaining her outburst. "Let's play spin the bottle"

The teens looked around, meeting with other's sights, nodding in agreement. Soon enough, the group was sat on the floor. Upon choosing a seat, Luka looked around. There were 2 left: beside Y/n and opposite of her. He wanted to sit beside her, really. Oh, just how he wanted to sit beside her, their knees touching... But he was so nervous. His palms sweat just for the thought and his heart raced with a speed unknown to man.

So he sat opposite of her.

"Right, so, we are playing spin the bottle combined with truth and dare. A person spins the bottle and they ask "truth or dare?" the one who the bottle has sat on." Alya explained.

Marinette went first, the bottle landing on Y/n. The bluenette smiled softly and asking the question. "Truth or dare?"

"Truth"

"Are you happy to be in Paris?"

"Very!" The two exchanged graceful smiles earning a groan from Nino.

"Where are the fun questions! C'mon dudettes!" he cried obviously disappointed in his friends.

Marinette looked at him in confusion "What do you want me to ask?"

"I don' know, something interesting. Like, describe your perfect type, or something"

Y/n laughed for a second. "Well I don't really have a type but guitarists hold a special place in my heart"

Luka looked at her in surprise but wasn't met with her gaze. That was it. He'll lose his mind because of this girl and there's no turning back. He'll be defeated, if only he wasn't already.

Y/n grew to be a great addition to the class and the friend group. And she grew closer to Luka's heart, more close than he liked to admit. When she was around, his mind was rollercoasters, when she was away her melody played in the back of his head. It was exhausting, really. Luka had never acted this way, especially not for a girl. It was all new to him.

It had been almost two months since Y/n's first day in the city of love. Never had she imagined that she would fall so in love with the people, the culture, the capital of France in general. She was standing on her balcony, looking at the most beautiful sightseeing- the Eiffel tower.

"Mom, Dad, I'm leaving, see you later!" she shouted as she closed the front door behind her. Juelka had invited her to help her out with band stuff. She was a bit surprised to say at least for Y/n wasn't much of an intellectual in that field.

The traffic was light and soon enough she stepped foot on the magnificent ship. The boy she already knew very well was strumming his guitar in the corner.

"Nice tune" she whispered, coming behind him

Luka jumped a little, taken aback by her unexpected figure. "Y/n? Why-"

"I invited her, I need some help," said Juleka from the door. "I'll be back in a second" and with that, she disappeared.

Y/n sat on a chair beside him, feeling the tension rise. Luka's melody became more insecure, more unsteady. It felt as if he was trying too hard.

"What happened?"

"I don't know" Luka answered, regretting holding the guitar now. It was true, when she was around, it was not much he could do. His mind always wandered elsewhere.

An uncomfortable silence took over them. Juleka was nowhere in sight. After some minutes of complete dull, Y/n stood up eager to leave. "Tell Juleka I'm sorry, but I just remembered I have to go."

Luka wanted to say something, but he couldn't. He was afraid of blurting out something way more stupid. So he nodded, regretting his decisions. What has she done to him? He can't even think straight, what to do, what not to do. He's a mess and it's all because of her.

"What are you doing you, idiot, go after her!" Juleka stormed out of the ship, scolding her older brother.

"What?"

"Go after her! Tell her how you feel! God!"

"What are you talking about?" Luka played it off dumb

Juleka's anger only grew "Oh please, mister untouchable, you're not so secretive about it. You can never concentrate when she's around, when I mention her, you grow all impatient. You talk about her ALL THE DAMN TIME. I can't listen to you anymore!"

Luka shifted in his spot "I don't talk about her that much"

"You literally stormed in my room last night talking about her humor and how cool she is. Go tell her how you feel, Luka"

He contemplated for a minute making Juleka impatient "Now! Go!"

The blue boy nodded, setting his guitar aside, and running as fast as he could. He ran the way he remembered Y/n to go. His legs could sprint only so fast but somehow he managed to run it all the way through.

Just by the bridge, she saw her walk by herself. It was already getting late, the sun was just around the corner, held by its fingertips to not yet say goodbye. She was looking to the river, calm and alone. "Y/n!" he shouted, putting all the energy he had to pull it through.

"Y/n!" he screamed once more to what the girl turned around. Just as she was about to ask what was happening, Luka panted taking her hand in his the moment he got the chance.

"No, no, I talk." He said taking a deep breath and looking right into her eyes. "Y/n from the moment we met in the park, I couldn't stop thinking about you. You took a tool on me, god, I'm wrapped around your finger! I can't focus when I see you, I lose all my senses when you smile"

Y/n smiled at the ongoing love declaration. "And no matter how hard I tried to cover up my feelings, to forget you, there just is no escape. I am lost, I'm losing my mind. God, what are you doing to me? I rant about you to Juleka, dear Lord. You made a mess out of me, Y/n, and I love, I love, I love you."

And before thinking, Y/n pressed her lips against his. She kissed him long and lovingly, making him melt under her touch.

"That makes the two of us"

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

part i, autonomy in your coherence | c.g

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

You’ve forgotten your feelings for Carl, because he didn’t feel the same.

You just wished you did a better job at it.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, suicide ideation

this is a continuation of watch you burn away and i recommend you read that, first! this is also part of a series, so here is the masterlist if you need it!

(cross-posted on ao3!)

Your father once told you he had a patient that died from heartbreak.

“Your heart can’t really break, though, right?” You’d said. A doctor for a father and a laboratory technician for a mother made you more than aware of things, seeing through the myths and pretty white lies of figures like Santa and the tooth fairy.

(They had gone through with it anyway, because although their child knew, it was a gateway to normality in such a busy home.)

Your father scratched his chin, unsure how to respond. “My patient had died from a broken heart, though the process wasn’t as simple as it’s term name. A broken heart — the nonliteral meaning — can be the cause and the domino toppling to many things that could lead to death.”

“Like what?” You’d said with little admission into the conversation, having been flicking through a novel you’d picked up a while back (which featured a one eyed pirate and his partner who’d ended up dying in the end — not that you knew, yet, at least.)

“I don’t know, er,” Your father swirled his coffee lightly, gesturing wildly with his free hand, “Mental health issues, for one. Erratic actions, depression, a lost sense of self. Obsession.”

“Huh,” You muttered, looking up at your father for the first time. “A lost sense of self? Really?”

“What is your father teaching you?” Your mother said, stepping into the kitchen with a questioning expression. The conversation ended there, without so much as a thought after.

You wish you pried your father for further answers. What you’d give to get the workaholic of a man to dump his duo psychology medical major thoughts unto you with little care.

The knowledge would be gold in your time of need, when pulling and pushing distance further between you was like venturing through a field of thorns.

(Perhaps you just missed your parents. But that couldn’t be it, right? They’d died and you had lived, their blood on your hands and the gun in your fingers, their glazed over eyes and your own that nearly matched, cold and willing without a drop of emotion.)

But you’d gotten through it for him— without him. Without anyone, quietly harboring scratches and bleeding from the field with little effort.

If someone asked, you would tell them with full and honest confidence that you harboured no more attachments. You were a naive teenager, running through your feet and over yourself for something that was just a crush.

Crushes are — in their whole singularity and purpose —  temporary.

They are brief, and momentarily something that causes ripples and waves in your thoughts, just the slightest mention or faint sight makes you detour down a road of sickly sweet dreams and fantasies.

He was first love (like? You didn’t love him, no, it was a crush and it was something for the unattainable and the inappropriate — in which with full truth, he was.) so you poured the honey glazed remembrances and rose coloured lenses over your memories, because he was a first love, and you know that those were cracks in the heart, growing vines and constricting the part that was him — the part that’d always, always be there, without a doubt.

(However much you didn’t want it to be.)

The leaves and the venomous flowers that sprout in decaying grooves come with age, and you are older now.

You bear fresh scars that litter your entire being and wear newly buried bones of people who were once not just that, the dirt still sitting in the crevices of your nails, and you seem to forget their voices with each passing day.

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

More and more, the faces look like reference art rather than a taken from life picture, which was all telling them to sit still and watching their eyes crinkle at the edges when you show them the result, voices echoing and asking if they could have it.

Everyday, as it has become a peevish habit like biting your nails or obsessively reminding yourself your stove is off, you draw pictures of everyone.

If you are close enough with them, you ask the subject to sit and model for you, analyzing every breath and laugh they take when you crack a joke or engage them in meaningless conversation just to see how the light hits their brows when they raise, the shadows pooling in their aging lines.

Everyday, you wish and hope and even fucking pray that their portraits continue to be something of anxious routine, rather than trying to dump their image out of your head and onto paper so you can see their faces one more time.

His image seems to change with each moment he sits in for you, once a face with two piercing blues, then a patch and eyes that looked at the dusty wooden floor, and later, someone who looks at you straight, something that told you he was a survivor, who bore his battles proudly, the scar on the right of his face sitting ruggedly and bewitchingly.

You draw him, exactly the way you see him, and when you show him the picture, he laughs, and says “You made me look too pretty,” and you shake your head, “It’s exactly the way I see you.”

You do her, too, upon request. When she sits, you draw her almost like it was professional, drawing the curvature of her face with exact precision, intense shading, marking the features she holds. The dip in her nose, the straight of her hair.

(You often forget who you’re drawing in these moments, and when you step away from the canvas you’re hit with whiplash. It’s subconscious, the way you do these things to please him, wanting to see so clearly how his face spreads delicately with delight.)

It takes a little while for you to convince Ron. When you first propose the drawing, he gives you a confused face, before walking off to do shooting practice. He’s gotten better with the gun over the years, and doesn’t respond when you tell him you know why.

(His mother didn’t come out of it alive, and his brother didn’t come back without harm. The younger boy was alive, but would grow up with only his brother by his side and one less limb to account for.)

The second time, he makes a snide comment, albeit with no bite, about how ‘you must be a horrible artist, to ask me of all people to model for you.’

The third time, you’ve dragged him to the small office you makeshifted for the drawings in the garage. He studies every slit of paper you’ve ripped out of your book, the unfinished sketches or yet-to-be painted canvases piling up against the walls. Complete works sit proudly on your wall, displayed for the world to see.

His hands hover over the paints sitting on your desk, charcoal, dirt, sticks, paintbrushes, handmade dyes, wallpaper cut-outs.

“Why?” Ron says curiously.

“‘Why?’ what?” You echo, fiddling with a fork you grabbed from the kitchen, splaying out a thick lather combination of beet dye and cement onto your finger to check the consistency.

“Why do you draw these portraits? I get the others because,” He says, leaving the words “because they’re dead” hanging in the air between you two in mutual and regretful acknowledgement, “But you draw these everyday. You drag Carl and Enid off, or just sit on the benches and draw Maggie and Glenn knee-deep in the dirt.”

You sigh a dreadful breath, wiping the rest of the beet-cement mix onto the page with the pad of your fore-finger. “We’ll forget them one day.”

He looks at you, unblinking. The dead, the gone, and the soon to be long forgotten only existed in your memories, in your words, and when the time came that the world had moved on and stopped, they would cease. Their whole memory relied on the living, nothing about them able to reach and grasp life on their own. Memory was all that was left, and it was all you could do to wash away regret.

“And the rest?”

You bite your tongue hesitantly, your movements rigid, “You see their portraits. Everyday they get less and less coherent. When — when time comes , these drawings will be the only thing getting me by.” You whispered.

The ball had dropped. Coping and grief in it’s big and ugly form, preying on your conscious hungrily, taking shelter in your largest worries. Claws sunken in your flesh, the monster was a thing that felt like it would never go away, because it would loom right alongside death itself, watching and waiting for the moment they’d deemed someones time to have been enough.

(It would never be enough. Enough meant they’d pop in from next door and ask to borrow something, enough meant they’d swipe dirt across your face to make you angry — enough meant they would come in everyday and sit for their portrait once more.)

A creaking on the floorboard caught your attention, eyes watching as Ron’s feet walk to the corner of the room, before hopping onto the wooden seat with little effort.

“I’m not going. I never will. But — do it anyway. I’d… like to see how I look on paper.” He said cheekily, picking up a thin pencil off your desk and handing it out to you.

So you did. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes snowballed into hours in the dim lighting of the garage, asking the blond to turn his body, stretch his head and make different expressions, fulfilling and destroying the little worm of worry sitting in your head.

When you’re done with the charcoal, turning it around for Ron to see and to inspect, he asks, “What about you?”

“And what about me?” You say. His questions never make sense without further discussion, but the boy always has to wait for you to pry and ask him to elaborate.

“You don’t have any drawings of yourself. You’re the artist, the photographer, the one who makes these things that will stay longer than the memories and the words — so what about you?”

It’s rare that Ron delves into his emotions and the things he really means, but when he does, it’s something that stays, for a long while.

“I,” You didn’t have an answer for it. You weren’t one to do a self-portrait, it not being the same as having someone to sit and take from. “I don’t want to.” You finished simply, an ice cold realization coming to reality in you.

“Why?” He says the same words as before, but the words hold a heavy weight.

“I don’t know.”

You knew.

Maybe one day, you’d wished that you’d wash away like seafoam on the beach. You wouldn’t leave a single portrait behind of you, and the memories and the words were left mum behind his lips, because you knew how he got in a loss.

Quiet and unfeeling, it was so selfish of you that you’d counted on how he got in that state to leave you behind, neglecting you like the fruits of your memories you’d never get to bear.

Ron’s gaze bore into you like he knew exactly what you were thinking, telepathically taking in every thought you’d conveyed at your dispense.

“You should.” Is all he says, before stepping off the wooden stool and out the door.

What was wrong with you? You feel so… entirely foolish. Obsolete. Embarrassing.

You walked past the remnants of those who were gone everyday, obsessively creating canvas over canvas of them and the only thing you could think was that you’d wish to position yourself beside them?

This world was catching up to you, and fast, but you’d just have to run faster than it could.

[abbatoirablaze]

The Debauchery Of Captain America, Chapter 17

Word Count:  787

“Well there’s got to be a reason he hasn’t come see me,” I sighed to myself, pacing back and forth in the kitchen, “I mean…the world didn’t shut down…and the guys would have told me if something happened to him…right?  I’ve been dating him for a year…and Tony, Nat, and Clint know that we’re engaged…he-he told them…right Shadow?”

My cat meowed lazily, staring at me from her side. 

“You’re no help…”

Another meow. 

“What if he regrets proposing?” I mused, staring at the ring on my finger, “W-what if he doesn’t want me anymore a-and he just doesn’t know how to say it?  M-maybe I should call Nat…she knows Steve well enough.  She’d know if he was having second thoughts…right Shadow?”

The cat jumped, her bell tinkering as she padded off towards the bedroom. 

“You’re no help at all.”

The tinkering of the bell continued down the hall and disappeared behind the bedroom door.  Steve held his breath as the cat jumped onto the vanity and stared him down.  Yellow eyes seemed to be judging him, willing him to go around the door and speak to her owner; to confront what she was thinking and tell her that she was wrong and that he did still love her.  He held his finger up to his lips, praying that the cat would understand.

“H-hey…Nat…it’s me…” I began sadly, trying to find a way to ask her if she knew anything, “H-have you seen Steve at all since you guys took him with you? I-he hasn’t come seen me and-“

“He hasn’t?”

I frowned, hearing the confused tone in her voice.

“N-no…has he-“

“He said he was going to see you when he left a while ago…”

I frowned, feeling a ball wound tightly in the pit of my stomach.  My heart dropped, and flopped around, feeling all too heavy. 

“Oh…I-“

“I can call him if you want…see where he is.  I can always get through to his comm.”

“Shit,” Steve cursed in a low tone to himself, “please do-“

“NO…no…it-it’s fine.  I just…”

“He’s probably figuring out how to say sorry for leaving you on your anniversary…you know…I mean, he left right after proposing…”

“Yeah…”

“He’ll turn up.”

“Yeah…”

“I’ll let you know if he shows back up at the tower, okay?” she asked softly across the line.  I sighed, nodding to myself as I hung up. 

“Y-yeah…okay…thanks Nat.”

I hung up and immediately dropped to my knees, unable to stop the tears that flooded down my cheeks.  Tossing the phone a few feet away from myself, I curled my arms around my legs, and leaned into myself praying that my fiancé wasn’t having second thoughts about our relationship. 

“Hey man…where you been?” Steve looked up, his breath catching in his throat as he looked at Bucky.  His hair was matted down by the rain that had taken over the city.  He’d walked through it, stalking down back allies while he sulked over how he wasn’t the picture perfect fiancé like he knew his Bunny deserved.  Bucky gave him a sad look, “you okay, punk?”

“Fine.”

“I know that look, Steve,” Bucky said firmly, looking at his friend long and hard, “you can talk to me…you know that, right?”

“Buck, I-“

“You haven’t been yourself since you came back,” Bucky acknowledged, “did something happen between you and (Y/N)?  Something on the trip?”

“Buck, I-“

“You two didn’t break up, did you?”

“I-uh….I proposed to her…you know that…”

“I don’t know anything,” Bucky shrugged, “you haven’t really opened up to me lately, punk.  I mean, I know that the two of you were in a spot…and that’s why I told you to go talk to her…but-“

“Buck…it’s fine.”

“It’s clearly not, pun-“

“She was balling…because of me!” Steve said, cutting his friend off, “my fiancé was crying, because I haven’t had the balls to come back and talk to her since I abandoned her on our trip, okay?  I listened to her cry for an hour, talking to herself…thinking that she wasn’t good enough and that I must have changed my mind…she-she thinks I abandoned her, Buck…what the fuck does a guy do in that kind of situation?”

“Talk to her!” Bucky said firmly, “A guy fucking talks to her.  To the woman he wants to marry.”

“Yeah, well I fucking ran…like a chicken,” Steve sighed sadly, “because I’m just me beneath the serum.  I am still fucking terrified of women…still terrified of a relationship…. because everyone always leaves Buck…”

“Not everyone, Steve,” he sighed, clapping his best friend on the shoulder, “you love her…and I know that she loves you…give her the chance…don’t take it away because you’re afraid, Steve.  Let her make that decision with you.”

Chapter 18

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @sebsgirl71479, @melissad1974, @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, @wintasssoldier, @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[little-diable]

A Preacher's Punishment - Preacher James Barnes (smut)

Here we go again, another super filthy Preacher imagine. Hell's awaiting us. Remember that your feedback and your comments are very much appreciated. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She has always been rebellious and even months after first joining the convent the reader is still a trouble maker. Her case calls for Preacher James Barnes, hopefully his punishment will put her back in her place.

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, oral (m), degrading, dom!Bucky, sex with a preacher, wrong use of a bible, religious connotations

Pairing: Preacher!James Barnes x nun!reader (around 3k)

„Don’t you dare look away from me now.” Sister Jane cried out as (y/n) rolled her eyes, trying to shift her weight back onto her toes, away from her aching knees. She had been forced to kneel in front of her, having to apologise for her reckless behaviour, her careless ways.

For months she had been part of the convent, dressed in black and white attires, with a big cross around her neck. (Y/n) detested each morning and evening, having to follow rules she couldn’t care less about, speaking prayers she felt burning on her tongue.

“What shall I do with you?” The sister circled the still kneeling girl, trying to fight against the urge to slap the young woman’s face. But just as her eyes found hers once again, a smile began to tug on her lips, arms falling to her sides.

“I will send you to Preacher Barnes, he will know how to put you back in line.” (Y/n)‘s breath hitched in her throat, saliva pooling in her mouth as she thought of the Preacher she was helplessly crushing on. If anything sister Jane was doing her a favour, allowing her to spend some time alone with him.

With aching knees (y/n) rose from the floor, tugging on her habit. Her mind raced, her palms were getting sweatier, heart jumping in accelerating beats. Would he punish her? Or would he just sit down with her and talk about her wrongdoings?

Her parents had always struggled to keep her in line, forcing her to stay at home, away from alcohol and young boys that could lure her in. But a locked door had never managed to stop her from sneaking out of her home. She had been a regular at parties of her friends, drinking till the morning would bleed red, telling her that it was time to go home.

Though the second police officers had dragged her home with her hands bound together, her parents had snapped. The next morning she had been forced to pack her bags, driving across the country to join a convent of nuns that lived in celibacy.

As (y/n) stepped back into the room she shared with sister May, her eyes fell upon her bag, the one she had tried to hide. Her fingers ached for her to unzip it, to thumb through the lacy panties and bras she had taken with her, not knowing where her parents were driving her to. How naive she had been, bringing her finest clothes to a home filled with women that only dressed in black and white.

Slowly she walked closer, studying the black fabric of her bag, the silvery zipper she wanted to tug on. Before she could stop herself she had opened her bag, smiling at the red lace panties her eyes fell upon. Maybe tonight she could finally wear them, maybe tonight would be her only chance to break free, turning back into the woman she once had been.

Hours later, after a shower and some tea to calm her stomach, she walked behind sister Jane. The red lace she wore stuck to her skin, wrapping itself around her like a warm embrace to keep her warm. She felt adventurous, a rebel nobody could stop from breaking out and running away.

“You will only speak if he allows it, you won’t look at him and you won’t roll your eyes at me. Do you understand?” The sister grasped (y/n)’s chin, waiting for the girl to nod her head, piercing her fingernails into her palm - a simple habit she lived with to stop herself from talking back.

“Please come in.” His soft voice ripped the two women out of their staring contest, eyes meeting his tall frame, the body hidden behind his black suit. Preacher Barnes was undeniably handsome, every nun would dream about him, even the ones that would punish the younger girls for crushing on a man twice their age.

(Y/n) stepped into his office with wobbly knees, she had never seen the room before, had only walked past his office once or twice, wondering what he was doing behind closed doors. She jumped as he placed his hand on her lower back, guiding her to the chair vis-a-vis his.

Sister Jane left the two after shooting another hateful glance (y/n)’s way, hoping that the girl wouldn’t embarrass her and the other nuns.

“Don’t worry about Jane, she has always been a bit harsh. Tea? Coffee?” The preacher turned away from her, giving (y/n) an opportunity to let her eyes wander down his frame, the long legs that carried his broad frame. On instinct her thighs pressed themselves tightly together, trying to stop herself from moaning out in pleasure as her mind began to paint a picture of her laying on his table, legs spread for him to nestle in between.

“Coffee, please.” Heat clashed through her, she would melt away like ice cream on a summer morning, like a burning candle in the heat of the desert. He placed their cups down on the table, settling next to her with a smile on his lips. For a few seconds he studied her with interlaced fingers placed in his lap.

“Tell me something about you, (y/n).” The way he spoke her name left her sweating, low and raspy, though soft and sweet, a written poem in the words only he knew.

“Uhm,” she had to clear her throat, eyes wandering around his room. “I joined the convent in August, I guess my parents couldn’t stay around me any longer.” A pained chuckle left her lips, eyes shamefully sticking to her hands, waiting for the Preacher to speak his mind.

“Do you believe in God?” He took a sip off his coffee, cleaning his lips with his tongue as his gaze burned into her soul. (Y/n) could only shake her head, her mouth felt dry, tongue not able to wet her lips.

“Let me tell you something, doll.” Preacher Barnes leaned back in his chair, combing one hand through his hair. “I have seen more prisons from inside than churches, my rebellious ways have pushed me into misery, just like you. But then I found God and I knew that something better was waiting for me, something worth fighting for.”

The moment felt like a déjà-vu, she had heard those words too many times before, and could swear that they had all studied them, knowing them by heart. Sister Jane’s words rang in her ears as she rolled her eyes in frustration, biting her lip to stop herself from talking back.

His chuckles filled the room, head thrown back. “Just as bratty as sister Jane has told me. Maybe words won’t do the job, stand up for me.”

She followed his command, standing on her feet with quivering limbs. Slowly he rose from his chair, fronts about to touch, (y/n) could smell his cologne, the musky scent that reminded her of the most sinful days she has lived through. His dark eyes ran up and down her body, leaving her waiting for his following order.

“Unbutton your habit.” She didn’t move, hands sticking to her sides, not daring to move even close to the buttons that kept her red underwear hidden. Now she cursed herself for being that stupid, not even a shirt had found its way beneath her habit, too confident and cocky for her own good.

“Do I need to do it for you? Are you that dumb, can’t even unbutton her own clothes.” His breath crashed against her lips, tingling on her skin. She felt her arousal dripping into her panties, wetting the skin with every word he spoke. Preacher Barnes placed a hand on her waist, pulling her even closer to reach the black buttons.

One button after another popped open, exposing more of her red lace, the tits she had pushed together with her tight bra. He clicked his tongue, eyes admiring the view. Since the day he had met her, there had been something simmering deep inside of him, threatening to spill, to fill his every vein and vessel. God was testing him, he was sending the most sinful woman his way, wondering if he would give into the devil’s calling.

“Onto your knees, open on page 225.” He placed the bible down in front of her, falling back in his chair once again. (Y/n), now dressed in only her bra and panties, dropped to her knees, opening the holy book with trembling fingers.

She couldn’t find the page, fingers too sweaty, eyes too glassy to concentrate on the bible. But the Preacher didn’t move, he waited and waited, a sadistic man that found pleasure in her struggling.

“First your habit and now the bible? I guess Jane was right, we need to find something else to shut you up with.” Her eyes followed his hand, down to his trousers, the silvery zip that twinkled in the faint light. It took three long breaths for him to undo his trousers, bulge clearly pressed against his underwear.

(Y/n) wasn’t sure whether to run away and hide or to open her mouth like the greedy girl she was. Her lips parted, exposing her tongue to the chuckling man, ready to swallow him all. But James wasn’t ready to give in just yet, he palmed his cock, stared at her face, the mouth she had opened for his heavy length.

Her eyes screamed at him to fuck her, to fuck her bratty ways right out of her, right on his table. Perhaps he could battle the devil in the dance he’d lure her into, how he would sway her with his cock sitting between her walls, perfectly ripping her in half. She was doing him a favour, was a figure in his play to find redemption.

“You know what you’re doing, that much I have to give you.” James panted, eyes fighting to stay open, holding onto the feeling of his calloused fingers pumping his velvety skin. (Y/n) used his short moment of distraction, pushing the bible closer to his frame, using it as a pillow for her aching knees.

Her hand met his, carefully pushing his fingers away to replace them with her own. For a second she felt lost with his hard length in her grasp, wondering what the hell she was doing on her knees for a preacher, but the moan that spilled from his lips pushed her back into her headspace, lowering her head to run her tongue across his tip.

James’ head rolled back, exposing his neck to her hungry eyes. Slowly she pushed herself down on his cock, trying not to choke around him. He twitched, she panted. (Y/n) hallowed her cheeks for him, pumping what she couldn’t reach with her trembling hands, using his thighs to keep her balance.

“You’re such a needy slut, choking on my dick while kneeling on a bible, there’s nothing I can do for you. You’re lost.” She didn’t pay any attention to his words, kept pushing herself to her limits, trying to swallow around him. Her tongue traced his veins, danced around his girth, trying to tease him for as long as humanly possible.

“And since you’re already lost, I won’t have any problems with doing this.” The tip of his shoe met her chest, pushing her onto her back with a cry falling from her lips. James grasped her hair, tugging on her roots to force her gaze upon his, grinning down on the shuddering girl.

He grasped his cock and kept on pumping his length, growling her name with sweat pearling on his forehead. She could tell that he was close, about to cum with her cowering away on the floor. No dignity was left in her body, not one single drop of confidence, just a puppet thrown away after its owner got bored with her.

His cum met her cheeks and the floor, making a mess on the holy ground, the office he would lock himself into as the devil was calling his name. She opened her mouth, desperate to catch some drops of his release, moaning at the taste.

“Clean the floor for me and then I want you out of my office, our time is over. I will see you next week.”

----

Each following day he would make sure that she would stumble across him, smiling at her with a dark look laced in his gaze. He was testing her, waiting for her to snap, but she didn’t.

(Y/n) kept to herself, not once did she dare talk back, wondering if the other girls had received a similar treatment from him. She even had called out the almighty father’s name, begging him for his guidance, a sign that would tell her what to do.

But the nights stayed dark and the days stayed calm, nothing that could push her onto the right path. She was lost and desperate to be found, no longer could she worry about sneaking out and finding places to explore, she was cowering away in her room, not daring to lift her gaze.

Seven days after their last meeting she found herself in front of him again. Naked without any fabrics hiding her skin from his eyes. James didn’t speak to her, not opening his mouth once as he watched her undress, placing herself on her knees.

He didn’t let go of her head as he pulled her towards his table, tugging her across the floor like a bag he didn’t care about. (Y/n) got pushed down on the table, watching him step out of his black trousers, pumping his already hard cock as he moved closer.

As she called out his name, hoping that he would snap into motion, James spat onto her exposed cunt, watching his saliva run down her folds, pooling on the wooden ground between her legs. Things you would only see in the movies the sisters would blush at naming seemed to be set in motion, primitive things you could only dream of.

“I-” she wanted to ask him for a second to breathe, her head was spinning, lungs burning from her rapid breathing. But the look he shot her seemed to shut (y/n) up, body tingling in anticipation, wondering how a man of God could be that dark and twisted.

“You won’t say a word, I promise if you go against me I won’t let you cum. Sluts like you don’t deserve to have their own will.” Her eyes rolled into her head, she gasped at the feeling of his cock stretching her walls, pounding into her like she was already used to his size.

She whimpered, she cried, she struggled to keep on breathing. James couldn’t help but admire her, looking fucked out, ready to drown in his embrace. With each stroke he managed to push deeper into her tightness, fucking her like she deserved to be fucked, ruthless and rough. (Y/n) wouldn't have a chance to stop him, could cry for help, though nobody would ever help her, they all knew better than to interrupt a preacher’s punishment.

“Only a sinner like you could take my cock, after tonight you will respect your sisters and you will thank God for each day he lets you live.” He pushed his fingers into her mouth, pressing down on her tongue, forcing her to swallow down the cry that threatened to claw through her.

Her back rubbed against the wooden table, skin scratched open, bleeding onto the surface. James cradled her head in his hands, softening each blow against the table, making sure that she’d stay conscious.

But (y/n) felt herself slipping into another dimension, away from the convent, from the preacher that fucked her like she was a regular coming to visit on a Friday afternoon. He was getting his fill, using her for his satanic pleasure and lust. And she didn’t mind.

“Tell me, how does it feel to be fucked by your Preacher?” Tears ran down her cheeks, swollen lips parted to let her words flow from them.

“So good, feels so good. I’m so close, can I cum? Please let me cum.” (Y/n) cried out, making sure that every nun could hear her begging. He replied with another ferocious thrust, tip meeting her swollen spot, pushing her further into the burning flames of hell.

“Cum on my cock, scream my name. God won’t help you this time.” And she came so powerful that the angels fell from their comfortable seats on the clouds above. Her cunt fluttered around his length, squeezing him tightly as if he would push her away any moment now.

James fucked her through her high, cupping her burning cheeks with his big hand. It took him three more thrusts to relieve himself into her tightness, forcing her to take every single drop of his cum.

“Tonight you will apologise to sister Jane and you will thank her for bringing you to me.” He pulled out of her with a groan rumbling through him, throwing her habit down onto her frame, making sure that she would dress herself. James didn’t give (y/n) any time to wipe away her smudged mascara nor could she untangle her hair.

Embarrassment flooded through her as she walked through the church with his cum dripping down her legs. But perhaps she still hadn’t learned her lesson yet, because with a smile on her face she ran her thumb up her thigh, licking her skin clean.

Follow my sideblog @little-diableswriting for taglist reblogs

[latetaektalk]

(he)art thief | jjk [i, preview]

“jungkook is charming, kind, smart, and funny. jungkook is the guy to fall in love with. he is perfect in every sense, except that he is also a member of a notorious heist group and only getting close to you to steal from you. but what does he do when he starts to fall for you? who does he choose? his brothers or you?

genre: heist! AU, thief! jungkook, art curator daughter! oc, ocean’s! AU, fluff, angst, sexual themes/implied smut (in later chapters)

pairing: jungkook x female reader

estimated word count: 35 to 40k

warnings: cursing/swearing, a bit of alcohol consumption

a/n: this is loosely based off the ocean’s film! to be added to the taglist, shoot me an ask/message! also, gureum is jungkook’s dog! and thank you to movie club for helping me come up with this amazing title!!

coming sunday, may 30th 2021  

Jungkook avoids playgrounds.

Does so because when he was at the tender age of just seven, he fell off a swing. He ended up in the hospital (his first but not last visit); seven stitches, his mother told him, but he could swear it was a million.

Needless to say, Jungkook has been avoiding playgrounds like the plague ever since.

But here he is, in the middle of one, dog leash in his hand, and heart pounding in his chest so violently it might just explode.

A mob of boys runs past him, all of them no older than six—which means that, for the most part at least, they’re harmless—but still, Jungkook flinches. It’s embarrassing, even more so because Gureum turns and stares at him. If one of them should flinch, it should be Gureum, with him being a dog and Jungkook a full grown adult, but God, today is just not his day. He’s stressed! Out of it! Nervous! A wreck-

“Did you just flinch?”

Jungkook feels his heart drop. Fuck, he thought he walked out of sight!

“No, I didn’t, Tae,” he hisses, pressing the earpiece further into his ear.

“You flinched! We can still see you- ah, okay, not anymore. But we saw that-”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I definitely did not flinch-”

“Denying it is pointless. We all saw it. Back me up here, Jimin.”

“You definitely flinched.”

Jungkook stops dead in his tracks, is about to walk back to the car and tell them that they must be hallucinating because he definitely did not flinch when-

“Can you see her already, Kook?” Namjoon asks and for a moment, Jungkook forgot why he is here, you.

He looks around himself, and it doesn’t take him long to find you, sitting on a bench, under a big tree, soft shadows dancing on your skin.

“Yeah, I-I see her,” Jungkook says under his breath.

“Okay, good. I’m gonna need you to focus up then,” Namjoon continues, and Jungkook nods like Namjoon could see him.

“Yeah, if you screw this up, it’s your fault if we end up in jail-”

“Tae!” Namjoon warns, and judging from the ‘ow’ that follows, someone punched him. Jungkook’s guess is Jimin.

“What? I’m just saying-”

“I knew I shouldn’t have let you come,” Namjoon mumbles and runs a hand down his face. “Hey, Kook, don’t listen to Tae, yeah? He’s just messing with you.”

“Yeah… I know,” Jungkook mutters, and he means it. He really does know that Taehyung is messing with him, but there’s a part of him that takes it to heart, that is worried sick about how he’s going to fuck this up and be the reason for why they all end up in jail.

“Don’t worry, Kook,” Jimin cuts in, taking the phone from Namjoon. “We’ve got your back. All you have to do is repeat after me, say what I say. You’ve got this. Remember what I taught you?”

“Always smile and laugh and never talk about yourself. Keep the conversation about the other person because people love talking about themselves,” Jungkook repeats, and looks at you again, heart heavy in his chest.

He shouldn’t feel like this, wishes he wouldn’t. But he can’t help it. This isn’t how he imagined he’d meet you. Jungkook thought he’d meet you at some fancy event, sipping expensive champagne, or at some luxury clothing store maxing out your parents’ credit card—after all, your mother is a world famous art curator. But instead you spend your time at playgrounds, babysitting.

There’s actually no reason for Jungkook to be this nervous. Jimin did practise with him this exact scenario, but he can’t help but think that with a flute in his hands and some alcohol buzzing through his system, he’d feel more comfortable. But here he is, in the middle of a sea of children.

“Kook, do you copy?”

“What? Sorry, I wasn’t…” Jungkook pauses. He shouldn’t admit that he wasn’t listening.

“Get your head in the game, please,” Namjoon tells him over the earpiece.

“Sorry, you’re right. I’m here,” Jungkook says and starts to walk again even though he still feels fucking lost as a goddamn adult at a playground. Gureum follows him when he tugs on the dog leash.

“Okay, good. Just- just try your best,” Namjoon says, voice a bit muffled. “You’ve got this.”

Jungkook could swear that there’s a waiver to his words.

“Don’t worry. We’re here,” Taehyung tells him before Jungkook can think about it too much, distracting him from the quiver he heard.

He stops behind a tree, close enough for Gureum to spot you, but not close enough for you to spot them. His knees crack when he kneels down to stroke Gureum’s ear.

“Hey, Gureum? I’m gonna unleash you in a second and then I’m gonna need you to run towards,” Jungkook points as discreetly as possible to you, “her, yeah? Just like we practised? Remember? Remember how you ran towards Seok and Yoongi? Do it exactly like that again, okay? If you do, I’ll get you your favourite treat.”

Gureum doesn’t run away instantly when Jungkook unclips him because he’s trained, but when he points at you and whistles, he’s gone.

You react surprisingly calm to a dog barreling towards you, barely flinching. You lean down and greet Gureum.

“Approaching target now,” Jungkook mumbles quietly and can only faintly register how Namjoon tells Taehyung to be quiet from now on, all of his attention on the mission now.

With the leash in his hand, Jungkook jogs towards you, heaving extra hard to sell the act of a dog-owner-who-has-been-chasing-his-dog-for-the-last-ten-minutes to you.

You look up to him when he stops in front of you, eyeing him. Jungkook stands there, bend over, his hands on his knees, breathing like he’s struggling to catch his breath.

“Uh…. hi,” you start, brows pinched together.

Jungkook puts on his most charming smile, ignoring his thumping heart to the best of his abilities.

“Hi.”

“Oh, we’re starting- okay, showtime: I’m sorry, are you okay? My dog- he just ran and I couldn’t stop him. I’m so sorry,” Jimin says in his ear.

“I-I’m so sorry.” There’s a quiver to Jungkook’s voice, and it isn’t on purpose. “Are you okay? He just ran and I-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him with a small smile, still petting Gureum who has clearly taken a liking to you. During practise with Seokjin and Yoongi, Gureum always ran back to Jungkook, but now he’s staying at your feet, relishing in your pets. “Is that your dog?”

“Yes, yes, it is. I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a second, but then he ran away and I couldn’t catch up with him. Are you okay?”

“Yes, and I’m so sorry. I just unleashed him for a moment, thinking it was okay, but-”

“Can you prove it?” you interrupt and Jungkook pauses. “I mean that it’s your dog. It’s just that he isn’t really reacting to you, you know?”

Jimin’s response comes a bit late. “Oh, yes, I can. His name’s Gureum and he is- what’s the breed of your dog again? I don’t remember. If you look at his collar, you’ll see I’m telling the truth.”

“Oh, yeah, I can,” Jungkook smiles, wiping the non existent sweat from his temple. “His name’s Gureum and he’s a white Maltese dog. If you look at his collar, you’ll see that I’m not lying.”

You actually look at the collar and part of Jungkook is offended that you don’t just believe him. Does he look like a liar to you? “Actually, I have pictures too-”

“No, no, it’s fine. I believe you,” you say before gesturing for Gureum to go back to Jungkook. He does, but somewhat reluctantly and Jungkook doesn’t know how to interpret this.

“Ask her if she’s okay again.”

“Are you really okay?” Jungkook says and offers you a smile the way Jimin taught him to. “I really am sorry about-”

“It’s fine,” you tell him and wave him off. “Nothing happened. Don’t worry about it. Just leash your dog.”

And then, you turn away from him. Jungkook stands there awkwardly for another moment before kneeling down to Gureum, absentmindedly petting him, mind filled with questions because what now? How does he communicate to the others that you turned away from him? That the conversation has ended and he has no idea how to start it again?

“What’s going on Kook? Is she smiling-”

“Ah, Gureum, no,” Jungkook cuts in. “Don’t turn away- I can’t leash you if you do that. Don’t turn away.”

“Oh, shit, she turned away, huh?”

“What now, Jimin?”

“Shush, Joon. Let me think, yeah?”

Jungkook fiddles with the leash like he has a problem clipping it, hoping that maybe you’re going to offer him your help. You don’t. And why would you? He’s an adult after all.

Before Jimin can come up with anything though, the solution to the problem presents itself. It comes in the form of a girl running and tripping right next to Jungkook and him catching her just in time before she can faceplant in the dirt and scrape her knees open.

“Oh, hey, careful here!” Jungkook brings the girl back up on her two feet. She stares at him with big eyes, and he recognises her from the pictures. It’s Siyeon, the seven year old girl you babysit regularly, the reason why you’re spending your afternoon at a playground today. ”You okay?”

“Kook, what’s happening right now?” Namjoon asks.

Siyeon looks at you, and you’re already kneeling beside her, fixing her hair.

“Siyeon, I told you not to run. See, you almost fell now!” You say it the same way a mother would, less strict though. “If he hadn’t caught you, you would have hurt yourself, wouldn’t you have? Now, what do you say?”

“T-thank you,” Siyeon mumbles, and Jungkook isn’t sure if she’s staring at her hands because she’s embarrassed or just about to cry.

“Who’s that? Who are you talking to? Who’s he talking to?”

“Was that a kid?”

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks Siyeon, ignoring Namjoon and Taehyung to the best of his abilities.

“Y-yes, thank you.” She won’t look at him.

Jungkook smiles. “Well, I’m happy that you didn’t get hurt there.”

“Kook, answer please. Do you need help?”

“Should we interfere?”

Jungkook’s about to snap. Does it seriously sound like he needs help? He’s talking to a seven year old, for fuck’s sake! Sure, he didn’t practise this scenario, but God, he was capable of improvising!

“Thank you. She’s really clumsy,” you say to Jungkook.

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I’m like that too. After all, I let,” he looks down at Gureum and finishes his sentence by gesturing to him and then you. You laugh.

And that’s when Siyeon seems to notice Gureum for the first time, eyes growing big at his sight like she has never seen a dog before. A chance.

“His name’s Gureum. You wanna-”

“Do you think we should go over there? See if he’s okay?”

And with that, Jungkook snaps. Yoongi is going to give him an earful for destroying his oh so precious equipment, but he can’t do this any longer with Jimin, Namjoon and Taehyung in his ear. So in one smooth movement, Jungkook digs out the earpiece and crushes it between his fingers, hiding it in his hand.

“Sorry, a fly, I think,” Jungkook says, swatting at his ear, and before you can think about it, he moves on. “Do you wanna pet Gureum, S- Is it okay if I call you Siyeon?”

Siyeon stares at Jungkook like he can’t believe he just asked her that. It’s probably the first time an adult has asked her for permission to call her by her name, and she seems to appreciate it immensely because she beams at him and gives him a huge nod.

“Okay, Siyeon, do you maybe wanna pet Gureum? He doesn’t bite, I promise.” Jungkook can feel your eyes on him. He’s doing it, charming you!

Siyeon turns to you.

“Can I-?”

You hum. “If Gureum is okay with it-”

Siyeon kneels down. “Hello, Mr Gureum. Sir, can I please pet you?”

Jungkook melts, and so do you.

Receiving no response from Gureum, Siyeon looks back up to you. Jungkook quickly takes his paw and waves. “Hello, Mrs Siyeon, if you promise not to hurt me, you can pet me. I like it especially if humans pet me at the back of my head. Just, please, be nice to me.”

In all of the years he has had Gureum, Jungkook has never tried to imagine what his voice would sound like, but he knows for a fact that he doesn’t sound like a chain smoker. It’s a questionable choice, but he doesn’t regret it. Because not only does it make Siyeon laugh, it also elicits a chuckle from you.

You look at him with a grin. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, have I?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jungkook says, and you two rise to your feet when Siyeon starts to pet Gureum and he doesn’t bite her.

“Well,” you stretch out your hand, “I’m Y/N.”

Jungkook swallows the ‘I know’ that wants to slip him and takes your hand. He has to stop himself from bursting with pride, only allowing his smile to grow into a blinding grin.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N,” he says, and he means it. It’s really nice to meet you. “I’m Jungkook.”

coming sunday, may 30th 2021

[archonoftears]

info: modern au! reader receives a package that helps her tease her boyfriend while he’s at work. 

warnings: 18+ smut, slight breeding kink (mentioned), lingerie, phone sex (kinda), pretty vanilla, no penetration, just description, a tiny bit of dom/sub (implied through dialogue)

word count: 1,626

authors note: umm head empty, thoughts only filled with laying in zhonglis bed and teasing him over the phone. i really can’t remove myself from modern au! with ceo daddy zhong. so here we are again. not gonna lie though, i found myself looking at dragon dildos yesterday and now i just wanna write dragon zhongli and sacrificial maiden. so maybe after i finish with the first chapter of my other fic i’ll get right on that. 

ps no beta, i just kinda got this out and edited it once. so sorry if any mistakes or issues.

please thirst with me if you want to!!

Glancing around your dining room table you felt defeated by the amount of packages staring back at you. You were surprised by the latest delivery of clothing you had received for PR from a few high end designers. You knew you shouldn't have been shocked, dating a CEO of a multi million dollar cooperation came with many perks. Yet you never imagined anything like this. Knowing the mess would only stay on the table if you didn’t start tackling it. You began opening up a few packages, finding bags and shoes. Even the latest spring wear from the major brand ‘Liyue Qixing’ sat in a box for you. Before setting your eyes on a more intricate looking box. Opening it to discover some of the most beautiful lingerie you had seen in a long time. Looking at the brand name ‘Scent of Spring’. You didn’t recognize it, but you were quite enamored with the pieces inside.

Forgoing opening any more packages you quickly gathered the items in the box and wandered off to the bedroom you shared with your boyfriend. Selecting a ivory and gold silk longline balconette bra, with matching thong, and harness. The gold tulle flowers that patterned the silk and lace were soft and delicate under your fingers. You couldn’t go a second longer without wearing the beautiful set. Quickly stripping off the clothes you were wearing and slipping on the lingerie. Loving the feel of the soft lace and silk against your skin. Staring at yourself in the mirror. 

‘This lingerie had to be designed by some deity who knew Zhongli’s taste.’ You thought to yourself as you admired the way the balconette bra exposed half of your breast and how the thong straps cut into the flesh of your hip in a sexy way, giving your body a more defined silhouette.

A light bulb went off in your head, walking over to grab your phone and opening the camera app, returning back to the mirror. Posing yourself quite provocative as you snapped several photos, dropping to your knees and taking a few more photos, before flipping through them. A coy smile playing on your lips as you went to call Zhongli.

Zhongli was startled by the sound of his phone ringing on his desk, glancing down to see your contact photo, a smile immediately forming on his face, he swiped to answer.

“Hello (name), is everything alright my dear?” Zhongli greeted as he turned from the documents in front of him and leaned back in his chair. You seldom ever called him when you knew he was going to be in the office all day, preferring to email him if you needed anything so he assumed this must have been important.

“Everything is fine, just calling to see what you were up to.” You greeted over the phone. Zhongli let out a small sigh, relieved that nothing was wrong.

“I’m just preparing for a meeting with Fatui Industries in a little bit.” Zhongli started, glancing at the clock to check the time. “What are you doing today my dear.” He asked, knowing you didn’t have much on your schedule today.

“Well I was going through some packages I received, you know the PR kind. It was mostly clothes from some nice designers.” You hummed, he could hear you twirling your hair in your fingers as you spoke.

“Oh really? Hopefully they sent things that are your style.” 

“That’s why I was calling actually. There was this one package, the clothes are really nice. But I think they’re more to your taste, and I wanted to get your opinion on them.” You confessed. 

“Of course, I can do that when I get home for you if you would like.” Zhongli replied, glancing at the clock noting that he had about 27 minutes until his meeting. “I should be done with work after I meet with Signora and Childe.”

“I’m actually sending you a couple photos right now, please check your email and tell me what you think.” He couldn’t put his finger on it, but you seemed awfully excited about all of this but he complied with your request.

“Of course, one moment.” Opening his email, quickly finding the one from you at the top and opening it, his eyes widening in realization as he enlarged one of several photos in the email. His voice catching in his throat as he examined it.

“Are the clothes to your liking, sir.” You cooed from the other end of the phone, knowing very well they were in fact to his liking. 

“Ms. (Name)..” Zhongli growled quietly.

“Yes sir?” You asked innocently, Zhongli aware of the game you were playing, but nevertheless here he was clicking on the next photo, feeling his pants grow tighter as he continued to view the photos. The one of you on your knees sending more blood rushing to his already aching erection.

“Are you being a good girl right now?” 

“I’m always a good girl Sir.”

“Are you? You don’t look to be acting like a good girl in these photos.”

“Then should I send you some more photos so you make sure I’m being good?” He could feel himself getting riled up just by the implications of what was being said.

“Well… I’ve already sent them so hopefully you don’t mind.”

Not needing to be told twice Zhongli refreshed his email inbox to find a new message. Opening it to discover new attachments. Slowly he clicked the first picture. Finding you not in front of the mirror in the bedroom anymore, but now on the black sateen sheets of the bed the two of you shared. Angling the camera in a way to show how you would look if he had you pinned down. You looked ravishing, from the way you let your cleavage spill out exposing your nipples, to the way you spread your legs. 

The next photo your hand was on one of your breast cupping and pinching the nipple. The next photo was taken lower, your hand was now in your panties clearly teasing yourself. And the final attachment was a video, it was no more than 15 seconds, but in those 15 seconds you show yourself pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, before dragging your fingers out of yourself and licking the wet slick off your digits. Zhongli was taking deep breaths as he watched. His eyes following your every movement.

“Sir…” You moaned, lust lacing every syllable. “Do you think I look like a good girl in those photos?”

Zhongli couldn’t say anything for a moment. Letting the video replay itself over and over, his eyes finding new things to focus on each time it replayed. From the way your plump lips wrapped around your fingers or the way you quivered when you plunged your two digits into yourself. He just wanted to see you do more.

“When did being a good girl equate to acting like quite the little slut? Surely I’ve taught you better than that.” Zhongli replied firmly, as he adjusted the way he was sitting to accommodate his throbbing cock.

“This is what you’ve taught me…” the breathiness of your voice letting him know you were in fact still touching yourself as you replied.

“I don’t recall teaching you to send provocative photos to me while I’m at work.” He glanced at the clock again, 16 minutes until the meeting. Fuck. 

“Did they make you hard?” You asked suddenly.

He was not a liar, so he wouldn’t lie to you. “Yes they did…” 

“Did they make you want to come home and stuff your big. thick. cock inside of me.” The punctionaction of your words were breaking him down.

“Yes they did…”

“Master are you going to come home so I can show you how much of a good girl I am, when I’m milking your cock.”

“My Lily… I-” Zhongli wasn’t used to you being this forward with him.

“I need you to come home and fuck me now. Because if you don’t pump me full of your cum I might go crazy.” You whined your voice working wonders on his resolve. “Please… Please come home and breed me sir.”

One final weak glance at his clock showed he had 9 minutes before they would arrive.

You moaned again calling his name out through the phone, the thread holding his composure together snapping.

“You’re not allowed to cum until I get home do you understand.” Zhongli growled into the phone, quickly on his feet, grabbing his bag and making his way to the door of his office. “Do you understand?”

“Yes sir..!” You exclaimed.

“I hope you understand you won’t be walking for the next few days my Little Lily.” He warned before leaving the safety of his private office.

“Yes yes! Hurry please.” 

“I am.” Quickly saying goodbye and hanging the phone up  with you, while walking towards two approaching figures. 

“Mr. Zhongli goo-” Signora began, reaching her hand out to greet him, but he didn’t meet it.

“My apologies, there seems to be an emergency at home, can you meet with my assistant to reschedule.” Zhongli haphazardly explained. “Again my deepest apologies.” He finished, turning on his heel and b lining it to the exit. Letting the receptionist know that he was leaving and scrambling for the parking garage.

“What do you think his emergency was?” Signora stood bewildered where Zhongli had left her and Childe.

“Do you think everything is alright?

Childe seemed to be having the best laugh of his life as his colleague pondered the obvious.

“Trust me everything’s fine.” Childe said in between laughs. “We should probably reschedule for Monday, he’ll probably need the whole weekend off.”

“This is why I hate partnering with you, you’re too vague sometimes.”

[hobiiwan]

mirror • cpt. rex

pairing: captain rex x gn!reader

warnings: post-order 66 angst, hurt-comfort but i thrive in the hurt

w/c: 1.6k

notes: i'm back with lots and lots of feelings bc i've been ghosted and it's 5 am so i should probably sleep but i hope you enjoy :D

lovely gif credit to @pieklalat!

Framed by distant moons and even further stars, the night sky never seemed more vast. If you closed your eyes, it didn’t take much to picture a Republic Star Destroyer slicing through the atmosphere of the moon whose gravity became inescapable, with you in it.

Glancing over your shoulder at where Rex had made camp for the evening, you could tell he was thinking it too. Though his eyes were closed, it was clear as watching a holofilm; reliving the searing heat of plasma bolts, shot from the blasters of his brothers, the ones he had served beside for years—the same ones he had buried just hours prior.

It felt as though there was a vice wrapped in a deadlock around your heart, constricting your chest until it threatened to collapse in on itself. You exhale sharply, willing yourself to push past the hollow ache of the now-dulled Force connection, the flashing faces of the clones and Jedi who had perished under the Order—the fear they had felt in their final moments. It was now your fear that you would never escape it.

The price of surviving the command settles atop your shoulders, making a home. A bitter, weighted reminder that you are here, alive, when you shouldn’t be—when you aren’t supposed to be.

You collapse onto the ground next to Rex, which pulls him back to the present. His eyelids flutter as he blinks slowly, once at you, then back up to the stretching expanse of the inky black overhead. He lets out a sigh, leaning up on his shoulders to cast a weary glance at his surroundings. “How long was I out?” He questions.

You reply with a thoughtful hum, “Not long. You need the rest, anyway.” It’s true. The day’s events have undoubtedly taken its toll on the both of you. But how does one go about resting after being hunted to the death?

“I’ll take first watch. Get some sleep, cyare.” He says, now sitting upright and then you know there’s no point in fighting it. You both need rest, but with the way Rex’s frame is pulled tense as a bow, his hand twitching ever-so-slightly towards his blaster, you know there’s no way he’d rest easy.

So, you offer him a victory, albeit a minute one. You pull his unarmed hand into yours and close your eyes, feeling the way he lets out a shaky breath, releasing some tension along with it. A victory—you’re still here with him.

Neither of you can be certain how long you stay that way. The low croon emitting from the transceiver is the only sign that time actually passes. Neither of you complain about the noise, either. It didn’t need to be said that the silence—this silence, was much too loud.

You do try to sleep, Rex gives you credit for that. Though, after turning for the fifth time (he counts) you give up and sit up beside him. He’s got his knees pressed to his chest, one hand curled tight around his blaster. In his other, his thumb rubs circles against the back of your hand. The answer to whether it soothes you or himself doesn’t matter.

Wordlessly, your head lowers to his shoulder, propped gently against the curve of muscle.

“Did I ever tell you I wanted to be a singer?” You murmur, glancing at the transceiver. You don’t recognise the singer on broadcast, though you do take note of the melody, slow and mellow.

Rex watches as you even try to hum along, as offbeat as you are.

“No,” he huffs something short of a chuckle, “you didn’t.”

He knows what you’re trying to do, sees it clear as day. Yet, as he watches your feet tap to the tempo of the ballad, he can’t stop himself from humouring your attempt to comfort him.

You nod eagerly, eyes widening as if to express your candor. “I was about to be one, too! Then the Jedi came and…”

Rex waits as you trail off, then clocks the far-off look in your eyes. He picks up where you left off. “Would you sing for me now?”

You return in a split second, your lips pulling into a bashful smile as you avoid his eyes. “I’m definitely rusty by now, I don’t want you losing your hearing because of me.”

The Captain nudges you teasingly, grinning when you break into soft laughter. “It would be an honour, though,” he quips.

He wonders how much of you has been hidden behind the mantle of a Jedi’s title. Who would you have been had you not been brought into the Order, raised from young to be one thing, and one thing only? Who would he be?

Once again, Rex is dragged out of his thoughts. This time, you’re tugging him to his feet. It takes an effort and a half, which you currently lack in your fatigued state.

As he looks up at you questioningly, you motion to the transceiver, dropping his hand to raise the volume. It’s enough to provide a comfortable backdrop instead of a desperate attempt to quell silence.

“Dance with me,” you propose softly, “please?”

“I don’t know how to, mesh’la.”

As if pointedly ignoring his feeble protest, your hand remains outstretched, beckoning his participation.

Maker, he’s only ever seen couples dancing on holofilms and is even more certain he has two left feet. But gazing up at your expectant self is like looking at a promise of escaping the sorrow he now knows as reality.

Really, it’s all up to him.

Rex swears he feels three times lighter from the way you beam in delight when he fits his palm into your smaller ones and helps you lift him to full height.

He stands awkwardly, clueless as to where his hands should go, how he should move. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.

Below him, you soften at the uncertainty tainting his features. Taking mercy on the poor man, you lift a hand to cup his cheek, garnering his attention.

“Put your hands on my waist,” you murmur, eyes twinkling when Rex’s hands fly up to root himself to you. Your own arms loop behind his neck and he takes it as a sign to pull you into his chest, no stranger to the position.

“and now we sway.”

Such a simple command, yet Rex feels like a fish out of water. His limbs are stiff, like the serenity of the movement is a stranger. To an extent, it is.

When you take over, moving him to the beat instead, he gratefully surrenders, allowing himself a moment of tranquility.

The only sounds that reach him become the silky notes of the singer and your soft, steady breaths. If he tries hard enough, he can pretend to be in a distant galaxy, where he is not a clone and you are not a Jedi, where the war is nothing more than a brash concept and his brothers are alive and well.

Rex doesn’t realise he’s crying until your thumb smooths away a tear rolling down his face. His eyes stay closed as he wills himself to keep pretending, but he can’t.

He is still a clone but you are no longer a Jedi. His brothers are gone.

You hold him when he finally breaks, cradling his head close when his shoulders tremble with the force of his sobs. His tears soak into the collar of your singed robes, but you truly can’t find the will to care—not when the man you love is falling apart, barely held together by the threads of your embrace.

“It wasn’t them,” he chokes, shaking his head, a wretched attempt to convince himself, “—it couldn’t be.”

At that, you’re positive your heart shatters. Stars, he doesn’t deserve this. You wish with all your might to take the pain away, to rewind every clock in the galaxy and then the next, but all you can do is watch.

“It wasn’t,” you nod, lowering your forehead to press against his, “not the real them. You know they loved you.” And by the Maker, you know.

Rex’s hands clutch tightly at your robes, as if letting go of that would mean letting go of you. The last tether to what is now his past, his only constant.

What if you hadn’t made it off the ship? What if Ahsoka hadn’t gotten the chip out of him in time? What if he had hurt you?

He briefly registers your voice calling his name, cutting through the despondent scenarios that could have, by any deciding factor, become his present.

“Rex, my love,” you plead, “please look at me.”

When he raises his eyes, he finds that yours are a mirror of his own. The anguish that parallels his agony. He feels you, your presence. He’s never understood much about the Force, but he thinks this is pretty damn close.

“I’m here,” you whisper. The promise of those two words anchor you both. “‘M not going anywhere.”

You mean it. If you believed it before, there was no chance in any star in the galaxy that anyone would be able to tear you away from him now.

For the current moment, you weren’t sure if there was a place to go, even if you wanted. Less than twenty four hours ago, you had been anticipating the end of the Clone Wars. Now, it feels like you’ve been thrown onto the losing side.

“What do we do now?” Rex asks, but you both know there isn’t an answer. There’s no precedent to go off of.

Two of the finest leaders in the GAR and the Jedi Order are lost, with no one left to follow them.

There’s nothing to do but move on.

“We keep living,” you say with a heavy sigh, burying your face into the crook of Rex’s neck, “we live for them. We’ll find a way.”

You always do.

[bts-bay-bee]

see you in class, professor kim.

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1743

Request: married professor!namjoon and single college student!reader, please. smutty as possible.

Warnings: infidelity, professor!namjoon, slight dom!namjoon, college student!reader, let’s pretend miss rona doesnt exist in this, unprotected sex, slight impregnantion kink, creampie, spanking, slight degradation, sex over a desk, finger sucking,

a/n: honestly, you guys always ruin me with these prompts :( enjoy kim namjoon being a distraction in class while I prepare for a new semester! also, please, please, PLEASE do NOT sleep with your professor!!! this is just smut, and it should never be compared to irl. also, this is very random but let me know if youd be interested in a jungkook sm au :)

 “Professor Kim? Y/N from Calc101 is here to see you.” You hear the department secretary say clearly into the telephone, promptly nodding at you, allowing you to walk through the glass doors.

 Nervousness blossomed in the pit of your stomach, each step through the tiled corridor only amplifying it. You could not explain it; you knew that you were about to be severely admonished, yet you could not help but feel giddy; finally, Professor Kim saw you in the way you wanted to be noticed.

 Maybe it was the fact that he had finally noticed how you lingered after class, just to ask questions that he knew you knew the answer to. Maybe it was the fact that you had made the conscious decision to stop wearing panties during your Friday morning class, instead opting to go commando with your too-short skirts.

 “Come in and close the door.” He snapped as soon as he saw you in the doorway of his office. The irritation, and ill-disguised anger laced in his tone made you gulp. Maybe it was the fact that he had enough of your stupid antics… He was a married man, after all.

 Closing the door behind you, you quickly took the seat on the opposite side of the desk, eyes downcast. You dropped your backpack to your feet, belly consumed by nervousness. Bravely, in your opinion, glancing up at him for a brief second, you immediately looked down at the floor again, his gaze much too intense to meet.

 “Did I say you could sit down, Y/N?”

 “N-No, sir.” You mumbled, moving to stand up. He tutted, jerking his head to the side to indicate he wanted you next to his seat. As you were passing the door, he tilted his head, almost pondering something.

 “Lock the door.”

 A smirk threatened to claim your lips; he might be pissed off to no end right now, but he was still about to give you everything you had wanted. Walking over to his side of the desk, your eyes trailed over the pile of test papers he had placed on the mahogany tabletop, seeing your mark sheet on the top.

 “Do you know how I hand back test sheets, Y/N?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he placed his glasses on the table.

 “Highest grades first.” You mumbled; your confidence shrunk significantly now that he regarded you with bare eyes.

 “And whose paper is on top?” He asked whilst standing up and moving behind you to grab something from the shelf.

 “Mine.”

 “Hmm,” He hummed, pressing his body against your own, drawing a gasp out of you. “You’ve gotten the highest mark, little one. We both know you’re smart, yeah?”

 Nodding desperately, you started grinding your ass against his clothed cock, breathing harshly. His hands latched onto your waist, halting your movement. You could feel his wedding band pressing into you, but right now, you could not care less.

 “If we both know you’re smart,” He began, breathing out gently, hands pressing into your skin almost too harshly. “Why do you stay back to ask questions that even a seventh grader would know? Do you want my attention that badly?”

 “Yes, sir!” You desperately whined, feeling his head dip to your pulse point. Despite being in such close proximity, he did not place his lips on you, instead he just continued teasing you.

 “But you know I’m not single, right?” He asked, trailing his wedding ring over the exposed skin on your leg, the metal bringing a welcome coolness to your over sensitized skin. “You kept trying to seduce a married man?”

 “I knew.” You mumbled, trying to press your ass into his crotch now that his left hand roamed amongst the expanse of your bare thigh.

 “And you still kept flashing your dripping cunt during 8am classes?” He wondered out aloud, right hand travelling further up your body to palm your chest. “You still kept coming up to me with your perky tits? Nipples begging to be sucked?”

 Whining in response, you felt him press your upper body to his desk, immediately flipping over your skirt to reveal your ass and drooling pussy lips. His hand barely ghosted over your skin, skimming over the globes of you ass, fingertip ever so slightly collecting your arousal.

 “You want me that badly, Y/N?” he asked, his voice barely above a murmur, yet still strong, holding a domineering stance. Without waiting for a response, his hand slapped against your sensitive skin, his large palm leaving reddened skin in its wake. He continued bringing down his palm against you, his wedding band leaving darker patches, the metal biting into your skin in the most sinful way.

 Tiny groans left your drying lips, tongue darting out to wet them every minute or so. You could feel his other hand dig into your side, ensuring you did not move from where he wanted you, while he shifted his target to your slightly swollen pussy lips.

 “You hear how wet you are for me?” He asked, voice gruff and low. Dipping two fingers into your core, you knew that if you had a shred of dignity left, you should have been ashamed by the wet sound that rang in your ears. However, Professor Kim seemed to be getting off on this, adding another finger to amplify the squelching sound.

 “S-Sir, please!” You begged, feeling your core pulse at not being filled enough. “Please fuck me. I need your cock!”

 Ripping his fingers out of your cunt, he shoved them into your mouth, making you gag slightly.

 “Shut the fuck up before someone hears you!” He hissed; his mouth right next to your ear. Sucking on his fingers to desperately shut yourself up, you began grinding against him again, basically fucking yourself against his clothed crotch.

 You whined against his fingers, trying not to gag as he pressed his fingers deeper into your mouth.

 “God damn it, I want to fill your mouth so badly,” He murmured, slipping his fingers out from between your lips, your spit gleaming on his skin. You ignored his words, choosing to rub your naked core against his slacks. “Guess that’s going to have to wait, huh? My little slut wants her little cunt to be stuffed, hmm?”

 Nodding silently, body trembling in anticipation, you felt him moving away from your arched body. His free hand moved to his crotch, unbuttoning and unzipping his slacks just enough to let his angry red cock spring out, the tip dribbling the smallest bit of precum on your skin. He aligned himself at your entrance, groaning into your ear as your core squeezed his length. You bit your lip hard to prevent yourself from moaning and whining out in pleasure; the fluttering stretch of your core sending euphoric shockwaves throughout your entire being.

 After giving you the briefest moment to adjust, he began ploughing into you, his skin slapping against your own. His length rubbed against, what seemed like, every nerve ending in your cunt, your wetness only aiding in both of your pleasures.

 Realising that with the harshness of his thrusts, he was making it harder for you to keep quiet, and by extension not alerting anyone in the department offices, you reached behind you and grabbed his hand, plastering it over your mouth to keep your moans contained.

 “Fuck, what a good girl,” He moaned softly, speeding up his thrusts as he used his hand to pull you up, his ring biting into your skin. Professor Kim brought his right hand down to your clit, the rough pads of his fingers pressing down onto the delicate skin, making your knees weak with pleasure. You used your hands to support yourself on the desk, not trusting your legs to work properly whilst he continued to assault the bundle of nerves with unwavering pleasure.

 Tiny moans and sounds escaped your mouth, forced Professor Kim to shove his fingers into your mouth, making you suck on them to shut you up. Unknowingly, your tongue darted out to lick every inch of his skin but settled on the metal band that covered his skin.

 The knowledge of knowing he made the conscious decision to be intimate with you, whilst being someone else’s, made the pleasure multiply tenfold, taking you right on the brink of your high. He seemed to be on the same wavelength, your core fluttering around his cock enough to make his thighs tremble.

 “Are you close, Y/N?” He panted, thrusting into you harder as your cunt became even more difficult to leave. “Pretty, little whore ready to cum over my cock?”

 Nodding uselessly tears gathering in your eyes, your body convulsed around his cock, your entire form being taken over by your climax. Vaguely, you could hear him swearing, profanities still somehow sounding sexy coming from his lips.

 “Fuck, fuck, Y/N,” He groaned, “Going to cum in you, angel. My good girl takes my cum, right? Going to fill you up, Y/N!”

 “Please,” You whispered, feeling his cock throb as you fucked yourself on him. “Fill me up, sir, please.”

 Groaning, he released his hot, sticky seed into your pussy, filling you up. Thrusting into you gently, he squeezed every last drop of his cum into you. Slowly taking his cock out of you, he felt blood rush back to his length when his cum slowly dribbled out of your core; the white seed a stark contrast to your reddened skin.

 Smirking at his handy work, he flipped your skirt back down, scribbling his number onto your hand.

 “Go back home and send me a picture of your pussy stuffed with my cum, okay?” He instructed, almost playfully squeezing your neck. You tried to not let the smirk show on your face, your core clenched, trying to not let his cum spill out of you and onto your thighs.

 “Yes, sir.” You murmured, reaching down to grab your bag, making him groaned at your exposed, and now puffy, pussy lips. “See you in class, Professor Kim.”

[kaiparker-avengerssmut]

Selfish

Pairings | Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x reader (kind of?)

Warnings | angst, crying

Word count | 1067

Summary | Steve made a selfish choice, Bucky is there for comfort

Part two | part three

Masterlist

Steve Rogers was far from a selfish man.

Bucky had never thought of Steve as a selfish man; hell, the thought of his best pal even considering committing a selfish act hadn't even crossed his mind until now.

Sam waved with a small smile as Steve looked back at them one last time, but Bucky couldn’t help but feel immense dread. How the hell was he going to tell y/n? What was he going to tell y/n?

The brunet barely registered Sam's hand on his lower back, guiding him to the van they'd taken there. The red veins tangling amongst his eyes pulled at the tears like ropes, pulling and pulling and pulling and pulling and-

Bucky took a deep breath, titling his head back to stop the drops from sliding down his cheeks. He swiped at his eyes with the heals of his hands, before taking another large breath and pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You okay, man?" Sam frowned, concern tied amongst his worrisome frown as he leant forwards slightly to look at the Winter Soldier. Bucky snapped to it, his hands falling limply into his lap as he put on a smile.

"Yeah. Let's just go." Bucky sighed through a so-obviously fake smile. If Sam noticed, he didn't mention it, just nodded slowly before turning the keys in the engine.

"Okay." The Falcon mumbled as he turned back to face the wheel, hands gripping it at ten and two as his foot pressed against the peddle.

When they reached the compound, Bucky took his time exiting the vehicle. It was almost as if he waited long enough, it wouldn't hurt as much. That wasn't the case. Bucky could already picture y/n's face - broken and red, red with tears, with anger, with shame.

What was he going to tell her? Bucky swallowed dryly, his throat like sandpaper as the action stung. He winced, but weather it was from that or what he was about to do, the super soldier couldn't tell.

His feet clunked heavily against the clean floors of the compound, boots weighing down on his feet like piles of bricks as he thudded through the corridor.

His eyes slid shut the second y/n came into view. He couldn't bare to see the hopeful glint in her eyes; couldn't bare to see his best friend’s girl with her arms outstretched, ready to welcome steve home with a warm embrace and a soft kiss.

"Bucky?" Her small voice filled the hall like it was played through speakers, the small crack to her question when she asked, "where's Steve?" Echoed like a horrid melody, like one of those stupidly sad songs Sam made him listen to.

"Doll-" Bucky began, his eyes fluttering open. He shouldn't have done that. He hiccuped through a sob at the sight of her; y/n's hope was crushed, her eyes clouded with that looming dread, and her usually bright smile dropped into a scowl. "Steve- he's, uh, Steve gone." Bucky murmured.

When y/n sank to her knees Bucky couldn't blame her. Nor could he blame her when a shattered, broken sob that resembled more of a scream ripped through her chest. The tears glittering on her cheeks had no right to look so beautiful. It was as if her sadness was taunting him, plaguing Bucky's mind with the guilt that should've fallen on Steve.

When Bucky fell beside her, pulling y/n into his lap, she didn't protest. She simply relaxed into his embrace, arms wrapped around his neck and head buried against his firm chest. Her legs wrapped around his waist so tightly it was like she thought he'd leave her too if she didn't hold on as tight as she could.

Bucky's nose nudged into her hair, the wet splash of tears against his cheeks fading into the strands as he nuzzled against her. His grip was equally as strong, and it hurt - it hurt to be so close to her, hold her, smell her. She smelt like Steve. She reminded him of Steve.

But he disregarded one pain for another, and whilst holding her brought back the pain of Steve, it soothed the ache of loneliness his best pal left in his wake.

"I know. I'm so sorry doll, but he's gone. He's gone." Y/n could hear bucky speaking but it was as if he was underwater; the words blurred into one incoherent mumble the moment they touched her ears.

He didn't need to tell her the whole truth. He couldn't tell her the whole truth. Y/n was so broken and all he'd said so far was the Steve is gone. Bucky couldn't imagine what the poor, undeserving girl would be like if he told her that Steve left her to relive his life with a girl he kissed once 70 years ago?

Just thinking about the situation made Bucky pity her. It made him feel guilty that he did nothing to stop Steve. But then, how could he have known Steve would do something so selfish?

Bucky could see how Steve deserved to be a little selfish after nearly 100 years of being selfless, only ever doing things for others. He just never expected that his oldest friend would return to a girl he loved in his past and abandon the girl he loved now. And that he'd leave Bucky.

That was what made Bucky's heart break, made his own tears fall. After all they'd been through, from him saving Steve in the playground when they were kids, to going on double dates and more saving, to joining the army and Steve getting the serum. Then came the bad patch, HYDRA and SHIELD, the Winter Soldier, the Sokovia accords, Bucky going back on ice and even Thanos. The whole time, they fought for each other, cared for each other.

It stung, really, that Steve had chosen a dame he kissed once over his best friend for nearly a century. It was like a punch to the face. The following back-hand was that he'd also left his girl behind, the girl that was now wrapped around Bucky like a koala and sobbing violently against his chest.

Steve Rogers was a selfish man, after all.

Part two | Part three

Taglists

Bucky Barnes One-shots, Drabbles and Headcannons | @buckysgirl101 @quxxnxfhxll @anakinsslag @macylawz @zaphdekota @ihavemajordaddyissues @ihavemajordaddyissues @theoldermanswhore @addriaenne @thegirlwiththeimpala

Join my taglist now!

If your name is crossed out, it means I couldn’t tag you!

[laequiem]

Cheek to Cheek in Hell - Chapter 9

// SURPRISE, BITCH!

Fandom: The Folk of the Air Pairing: Jude Duarte/Cardan Greenbriar Rating: explicit Word count: 1,527 fanfiction masterlist • ao3 Chapter 8 • next chapter • Cheek to Cheek masterpost

Jude POV How can I function after what we did? Cardan acts like nothing happened—he went to the room and started unpacking our things. Of course he would, he has probably done this hundreds of times. I, on the other hand, am freaking out. I have to live with him now. There’s no way we can share a bed after that. Maybe I can sleep on the couch. My cheeks are still burning when I finally enter the bathroom. When I catch sight of myself in the mirror, Cardan’s thick spend glistening on my breasts, another wave of desire hits me. I press my thighs together to alleviate the ache, but it doesn't help, quite the opposite. I sigh to myself and turn on the shower. For a few seconds, I fiddle with the handle to get the water to a comfortable temperature but quickly give up. A cold shower will do me some good, anyway. I let out a long hiss as I step in, the cold water raising the hair on my arms and legs. We don’t have soap, of course. I bought a few things when I went to the pharmacy yesterday: tampons, some painkillers, deodorant, wet wipes and… precautions. With no access to running water, however, I had no reason to buy soap. Still, it’s bliss to finally be able to clean myself with more than a wet piece of brown paper in a public restroom. I scrub at my skin with my bare hands. Even without soap, the water turns a gross gray as days of filth and sweat washes away. I clench my jaw as I reach between my legs to clean myself. Cardan did not offer to reciprocate. Though my body screams for release, I don’t think I would have let him if he had offered. His eagerness to please infuriates me. I have always pictured him as this pillow prince, lazily laying on his back as his partners do all the work for him. Instead, he is willing to put his partner’s needs before his, completely shattering the image I had built in my head. I rub roughly at my face, mashing my eyes shut. I try and try to banish the memory of the zeal with which he feasted on me, his tail whipping back and forth. I think of his filthy words and how I humiliated I felt. How disgusted with myself I was for letting him do this. By kneeling in front of him, I thought I was punishing myself. Reminding my treacherous body of who he is, how dangerous and selfish he is. The shame should have pushed me away. Instead, his words echo in my head. The obscenities try to worm their way into my brain, only to be washed away by his praise. Beautiful. Good girl. I want nothing more than to believe his kindness to be an act. Yet, when I dropped to my knees, there was something vulnerable in his gaze. The greedy hunger I would expect from him was tainted with fear. Fear that what he wants might get taken away. Seeing this volatile part of him is the only thing I regret. Instead of proving my theory, I only succeeded in humanizing him—and seeing Cardan as anything close to human is a dangerous path to walk down. It’s seeing the dangling bait instead of the anglerfish, a pretty light to gawk at before you perish. I put on my dirty clothes again when I come out of the shower, cringing as the fabric clings to my wet skin. I knew moving here would be hard, but I did not anticipate just how many things I would need to go out and buy. Clothes, underwear, soap, dish soap, laundry detergent, towels. When I leave the bathroom, Cardan is still in the room, the bag with him, ruining any hope of sneaking out unnoticed. Act normal, Jude , I tell myself. This is just a normal day for him. Cardan sits on the edge of the bed, the empty bag at his feet. When he hears me come in, he lifts his head to look at me, holding something between two fingers. My golden acorn. Well, Locke’s mother’s golden acorn, I guess. “I see you’re keeping secrets,” he says, lifting the acorn so it catches the light. I don’t really know what to say. I don’t know what I can say, with the geas Dain put on me. “You know what it is?” I ask. Cardan scrunches his brows, turning the acorn in his hand. “Yes,” he says. “I saw one on Balekin’s desk once. He said it was evidence against Dain. He made me swear

not to tell anyone he had it.” It’s my turn to frown now. What does Dain have to do with this? “Dain found out, I suppose, since it went missing one day.” He pauses, then narrows his eyes at me, as if connecting dots that I can’t even begin to connect. “Balekin thought I told him and…” Cardan trails off, but he doesn’t have to finish. He doesn’t know, of course, but I have seen what Balekin does to him. I can only imagine what he would do if he thought Cardan had betrayed him. “Why would you have it?” he asks. “I found it. At Locke’s,” I specify. I grab the acorn from him. “It was his mother’s, I think.” “I supposed as much,” he says, shrugging. I’m surprised. I don’t know why he would. “What does her death have to do with Dain?” I muse aloud. Cardan rolls his eyes, as if my question is the stupidest thing he has ever heard. “Everything. He killed her. Everyone knows,” he waves a hand dismissively. “Our father probably suspects, too. But he would need proof to replace Dain as successor.” Then his eyes widen. He stands up, carding a hand through his hair. He paces around the room, his tail lashing nervously behind him. If I didn’t know any better, I would say he’s suddenly… scared? I don’t understand anything. I don’t know why he is freaking out. Dain is better than Balekin. Sure, he made me stab myself, and I still feel a faint throbbing sometimes when I close my fist. But he gave me a chance. A purpose. Dain would make a better High King. Soon, the coronation— Oh. “The coronation,” I say and he nods. “Dain must be High King now,” Cardan says, his tone one of disbelief. Then he laughs. “I can never go back.” As High King, Dain would have the power to pardon me. Would he? He had trusted me enough to make me his spy, but I betrayed him when I stabbed Valerian. Seeing his reaction to that, I doubt he would act any better if he learned that I ended up killing Valerian. I look down at my hand. The wound is starting to scar. The scab has shrunk and is now almost gone, leaving behind a brownish-red, raised stripe and flakes of dry skin. My other hand fiddles with the golden acorn. One hand is a reminder of how I failed the new High King. The other is a reminder of what he is capable of. I don’t think I can risk going back. Cardan grabs the wrist of my wounded hand. He lifts it to look at it closer. “I had assumed Valerian did this,” he says darkly. “Does my brother have something to do with this?” “I can’t say,” I say truthfully, for once. “Tell me, ” he sneers, his voice thick gravel. I flinch. “I can’t say ,” I repeat, hoping he can understand how literally I mean it. Cardan frowns at my hand, his lips thin. “So this is why you never mentioned it.” I yank my hand away from him, uncomfortable with the attention. “You never asked.” His face crumbles. Does he feel bad for it? That can’t be it. He looks away. “You didn’t ask about mine,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck, “so I didn’t ask about yours.” My stomach drops. I didn’t ask about his scars, or the fresher wounds on his back, because I saw him getting them. I suppose he is right. I am keeping secrets. There is no way I am telling him what I saw, even if I could, so I try to change the subject. “I’m going out. I need the money.” He nods towards the bag. I pick it up. It’s empty of everything but the wallet. “We have money left?” he asks as I take it out. “Not a lot,” I sigh. “I will have to shop smart.” I don’t know how I will do that. This is all so new to me. I turn to leave the room, wallet in hand, when I feel a shiver creep up my spine. Soon enough, a tinge of sulfur. I turn around to see Cardan in his human glamour, or what he thinks a human male looks like. He is still inhumanly beautiful, dark eyes dancing with flirty mischief. “Let us go, then,” he says, a careless grin back on his full lips.

-

Tag list: @figonas @kingandfireheart @godgavemelou @lizziebxnnet @hazelsheartsworn @peachcollective @nnazyalensky

[roscgcld]

GOJO SATORU || how annoying

request: What if Gojo twin went with geto and wants to help him achieve his dream since she didn’t want to let him go, and she feels bad that she couldn’t do anything to change his mind.

But if that was the case Gojo just got betrayed by his Best Friend and his own Twin sister almost makes me sad to request this but I’d really want to see Angst between them.

note: this one was a pain to write because i hate angst - like i literally avoid heartbreak stories like the plague because my little heart cannot take it. so this was a little bit out of my comfort zone, and had me pouting cause this is like, the worse case scenario for me lol. but i hope you enjoy!

pronouns: she/her

note: spoilers for volume 0, so read at your own risk!

gojotwins!au masterlist

“Gojo-sensei, who’s this?”

The white-haired shaman looked up from his phone where he was lounging on his chair since he was currently having a free hour in his schedule. Today he is around to teach his group of first years, and after a few hours of class, they have an hour break in between their lesson. Because of this, the first years had decided to chill in Gojo’s office with their teacher.

Gojo’s eyes, hidden behind his simple blacked-out sunglasses, glances over at his student who was holding up a framed picture on his desk. He had only 2 framed pictures - a picture of him and his classmates in their first year, and the other was a picture that he sometimes wondered why he still kept framed in his office.

It was a picture of him and his twin sister, Gojo Y/N. In that picture, they were standing in front of a cherry blossom tree that is on the grounds of the Gojo Clan home. The pictures were one of the last few pictures they took together, and you couldn’t tell that the day after that picture was taken, the smiling girl in the picture would have disappeared. Going into hiding with the man that she loved. “Oh....that.”

Yuji paused when he saw how his sensei’s mood dropped ever so slightly, causing both him and Nobara to share a look before they glanced over at Megumi. The same boy was staring at the picture with a faraway look on his face as well as if all the memories he had of the woman in the picture flashed before his eyes.

“...You should throw that out.” Megumi managed out after a few moments of silence, glancing over at Gojo who had his eyes trailing on the picture. Yuji had placed it down after a few seconds of awkward silence, yet Gojo’s eyes didn’t move away from the smiling faces reflecting back in the picture frame. “I know..”

Yuji, feeling bad that he clearly brought up a bad memory, was about to apologise when Gojo sighs and sat up from his reclined seat. “I can’t live my life avoiding the topic forever.” Gojo sighs as he runs a hand through his fluffy white hair, taking a deep breath before he faces Yuji once more. “The girl in the picture is my twin sister, Y/N. She and I were born with the Six Eyes, and had gone to school together.”

“You have a sister?!” Nobara and Yuji ask in usion, shocked that they had one, never seen this person before. And two had never even heard about this woman - someone who is probably as strong as their sensei. Why had no one mentioned her to them before? “Why didn’t you tell us?” Nobara asks curiously, to which Megumi stepped in to answer when it looked like Gojo is struggling to answer the question. Which that in itself is shocking to the other two in the room. “Y/N-san is...well...she had become a Curse User.”

Whilst Yuji gasped at how she had essentially turned her back on the college, Nobara had caught onto the past tensed that Megumi had used to describe the woman. “What do you mean had?” Nobara asks curiously, to which Megumi actually hesitates before he glances over at Gojo, who had kept silent through the entire exchange. “Is she...did something happen?”

Another moment of silence passed the room before Gojo looked up from the floor; his elbows resting on his knees after he had planted his feet on the ground. “Last year...around December...a huge attack was plotted on the college,” Gojo explained simply as he looks up at the two quiet students that stood before him, hanging onto his every word. “She had not attacked the college...but she was one of the organisers. So by law, if I didn’t do something, the higher-ups would have sent someone to deal with her.”

Immediately both Yuji and Nobara’s eyes widen in shock at what Gojo was insinuating behind his simple words, both of them glancing at each other with wide eyes. Now they knew they had hit a nerve. Yet Gojo seemed like he was going to continue to tell them everything right now since the bandage on the wound had already been ripped open - might as well deal with this all at once.

“I mean - it was better than way. She knew it too.” Gojo said with a sigh as he leans back into his recliner seat, giving his silent student a forced smile; one so fake that it even had Megumi cringing a little. Gojo was once more lost in his thoughts, mind wandering back to the day that he had done the unthinkable. He knew that sometimes being a sorcerer means that you had to make some sacrifices, but for once he wasn’t sure if he was so willing to believe in that saying.

Gojo walked up the flight of steps leading up to the shabby apartment room, following the Curse Energy residue that was left along the hallway, immediately recognising it. It was as if she chose not to even hide where she was; leaving invisible evidence all over the place as they stopped in front of the door where the Curse Energy was the strongest.

Quietly he turns the knob, not even shocked to find it unlocked as he pushed it opened quietly; looking up with a soft smile. “Pardon the intrusion.” He mumbles softly as he looks over at the woman who sat by the window. Her hair blowing softly along with the breeze as she turned her tired eyes over to her; her bright blue eyes glowing in the dark as she stared back at the white bandages that hid his. 

“You make it sound like I didn’t know you were going to come.” 

There was no bitterness in her tone - only sheer tiredness and the same warmth that she exudes every moment of the day. The same warmth that had Gojo’s heart clenching as he closed the door behind him slowly, making his way deeper into the apartment. “I thought the Gojo in you would have sneered at the sheer at the size of this place.”

His comment had the woman laughing softly, looking down at the mug of steaming tea clasped in her hands. The mood was lifted for a few fleeting moments, and Gojo just wants to pretend that everything was alright once more. That the both of them were just hiding it out in a room for a few days whilst they hunted down a Curse User. Like how things used to be. “How...how have you been?”

“...good,” Gojo mumbles as he walks towards his twin sister, the same one who had one day just upped and gone; disappeared with Geto with no more but a letter for her twin to wake up to. The letter was just a rambly letter of how sorry she was that she had to leave, that she chose to end things the way she is doing right now. But she knew that her choosing Geto over the life she has now is a death sentence, but she didn’t want to let go. 

‘When you finally find someone to live for, that makes you feel like you were floating with the clouds about - will you let them go for something as meaningless as status in a world we didn’t even choose to be born in?’

At first, neither of the Gojos spoke, just soaking in the comfort and familiarity that the both of them so sorely miss. In more normal times when they are younger, they will always do this - sitting in silence and just basking in it. Curse Energies just mingling with each other, not needing words as they just sat in the cramp apartment.

But this time it was different.

“Did they send you?” Y/N asks as she looks over at her brother, Gojo blinking when he heard her words and looked away from his clasped hands; his grip tightening when he realised just how relaxed and at peace she was. This was one of the most lovable yet infuriating part of his twin - no matter the situation she is faced with, she always faces it head-on with the most relaxed looks on her face - accepting whatever fate that awaits her on the other side. She doesn’t see the need to fear something as minuscule as death - something that everyone must face once their time comes. 

It was such an infuriating trait of hers that Gojo both loves and hates. “No...I chose to come myself. I don’t trust any of their goons to do it properly.” Gojo admitted in a tight voice, feeling his will waver when he heard the soft laugh that Y/N lets out - a laugh that he had missed hearing for the last few years now. “You never change, huh ‘Toru?”

Gojo just gave her an actual look of annoyance, the same look he’d always give her whenever he realises that she was going to start to lecture him about something he has no interest in. His look had Y/N letting out a soft laugh as she shakes her head in amusement, taking another sip from the teacup that was in her hands. “How annoying.”

Gojo continues to stare at his clasped hands before he sighs softly, his shoulders slumping a little as reality slowly started to box in around him. “I hate that you just accept that this is your reality,” Gojo mumbles softly, not even trying to hide the shakiness in his voice as he tries his hardest to blink past the tears that were gathering in his eyes. “You can’t just...accept something as serious as this so simply...”

Soft footsteps came from where Y/N was seated before a pair of warm hands rested on his cheeks, fingers gently brushing along the moisture that had collected at the bottom of the bandages. Wordlessly Y/N started to undo the bandages that covered his eyes; Gojo not moving to stop her from doing so. Soon the bandages fell in his lap, both of them staring at each other properly.

A warm smile was resting on Y/N’s face, a smile that irked Gojo even more as he viciously wiped at the corners of his eyes. “You are so annoying, you know that?” Gojo grumbles childishly, his arms reaching to wrap around his sister; burying his face into her shirt to hide the tears that seemed never-ending. “A-Always leaving me behind like this..”

Soft fingers carded through his white hair, the woman before him not making further comments as he continues to cry silently into her shirt. “I’m sorry, ‘Toru..” She had whispered out quietly, her voice sounding just as tired and sad as he does as she held him closer. 

Gojo hates this - not only had he just lost his best friend, but he is also going to lose his sister as well. Even when they are apart, knowing deep down that she was at least alive and safe with Geto still brought a sense of peace for him. Even if they couldn't be together, it was just knowing that the other was safe that allowed him to sleep at night.

But now he was the one that is expected to take her life away? He can’t help but hate just how cruel the jujutsu world is that it forces people like Geto and his sister to feel like they had to do the unthinkable in order to feel like they were living life the way they think is right for them. 

He hates it all with a burning passion. 

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[multifandombookstore]

Thinking of You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader Genre: angst, fluff Warnings: kidnapping, blood, torture, mentions of BDSM??, noncon kissing, degradation, shooting, death Summary: the reader is taken by the unsub and she starts to hallucinate a certain dork Word Count: 4.7k words

All you can see is red and, no, it’s not from anger. Well, maybe a little bit of that too.

Blood trickles down your forehead into your eyes, your vision blurring with every drop that drips from your wound. With your hands tied up like this, you can’t wipe the blood from your eyes. With your head pounding, you try to remember how you got here. 

You playfully punch Spencer’s shoulder with a laugh, watching him rub his arm where you hit him. “There’s no way that actually happened!” you shout once you calm your laughter. You watch Spencer smile and nod his head, still rubbing his arm. 

“It did! You can ask Hotch,” he replies. He was telling you a story that happened before you joined the team as you two drove to the jet for a case. 

“There’s no way Garcia actually said that to Morgan on speaker! How was she not fired?” you ask incredulously, starting to cackle once more. He laughs along with you, remembering the shock on Morgan’s face when she said it to him. 

“I wish you would’ve been there to see it. Everyone’s face was priceless,” he says, his voice softer than before. You calm yourself again and look over at him, your heart warming at the sight of him. It was still pretty early in the morning, so the sun was shining right in his eyes as you drove, the sun visor doing nothing to protect his beautiful eyes. 

You’ve been on the team for about a year and a half now and it’s honestly been a wild adventure after the next. You were only supposed to stay on the team for a year but, of course, Spencer convinced you to stay and it honestly didn’t take that much convincing. You loved this team as your second family now and you couldn’t imagine working anywhere else or with anyone else. 

You park the car and get out, heading towards the jet where everyone else is walking to. Seeing Morgan, you quickly drag your luggage over to him and start teasing him. You watch him sigh and move his head to glare back at Spencer. You and Spencer start laughing again as you climb the steps, leaving Morgan to stare after the two of you. 

“Oh, you think that’s funny do you?” he asks you two, a playful lilt to his voice. You nod your head, trying to stop your laughter but Spencer kept cracking you up. “Reid, should I tell (Y/n) here about the peach incident?” Morgan asks him with a smirk. Instantly Spencer stops laughing and blushes a dark pink, shaking his head. “That’s what I thought,” he finishes as he sits across from the pair. 

“What? Peach Incident? I wanna know!” you say with a new light to your eyes, looking between the two males. Blackmail on Spencer? Who would’ve thought that existed. 

“No. Nothing happened. He’s bluffing,” Spencer stutters out, his face growing darker, causing Morgan to laugh. The others start to chuckle to themselves, finding the three of you amusing. 

You all stop when Hotch comes to sit down with his fresh cup of coffee, his voice serious as he starts to discuss the case. You all go around tossing ideas out, trying to brainstorm different answers. The flight went by in a minute, it feels like. Then again, your attention was on Spencer for more than half of the ride. The others have never seen you two go more than fifteen minutes without talking to the other. 

Once you touch down in a new state, you all pile out and into the cars waiting for you. You and Spencer take the back of one car while Rossi and Morgan take the front. “This unsub is kinda harsh,” you say softly, looking over the file again. 

“What makes you say that?” Rossi asks curiously, wanting to hear more of your input. 

“I mean, we’ve seen some things in our day but this? This just seems so...ruthless,” you say quietly, looking down at the pictures. Maybe you only thought it was worse than the others because all of these women kind of look like you. 

“Yeah, the stabbing of the genitalia is an overkill. I thought maybe he knew these women but maybe he just hates women in general. Since they all look similar, my guess is that they’re a surrogate for someone,” Morgan replies. You nod your head, trying not to imagine what pain these three women felt before being killed. 

Once you reach the station, you all walk in and set up in an extra room that they’ve allowed for you to use while here. From there, Hotch gives you all your orders. “JJ, Reid. I want you to go interview the two families that showed up today. Morgan, (Y/n). I want you two to go give the second family a visit. See why they haven’t been answering any of the police’s calls. Blake, we are going to go look at the kill sight where the last body was found.” 

With everyone having their orders, you all disperse out of the station. You give Spencer a goodbye smile before following Morgan to one of the cars. “So, peach incident?” you ask as soon as you two are enclosed inside of the car. He laughs as he starts the black vehicle, looking around him as he pulls out of the parking lot. 

“How did I know you were going to ask me again as soon as I heard we were paired up,” he teases with a smile. You grunt and look over at him, placing your cheek into your hand as you watch him drive. 

“C’mon, just tell me! I won’t tell Spencer that I know!” you plead. He scoffs at that, trying to hold back his laugh. 

“Yes, you will. I’m not dumb,” he replies as he checks his GPS to make sure he’s driving the right way. You let out a long groan and dramatically throw your head back against the headrest. Guess you’ll have to blackmail or guilt-trip him if you ever want to get that information. 

He parks the car on the road and checks the GPS once more to make sure that you two have the right address. “Well, this house is...interesting,” you comment as you study the exterior. I mean, it wasn’t terrible but you can tell by the yard and the house’s structure that they don’t take care of it very well. 

“Does anyone even live here?” Morgan asks half playfully as he steps out of the car, making you do the same. You two walk up the driveway and to the front door, both of you staying quiet for a moment to see if you can hear anyone inside. 

Hearing nothing, Morgan knocks on the door. “Hello? Anyone home?” he calls loudly. You both wait for a long moment, hearing nothing once more. 

“Despite their yard, I saw a shed and greenhouse in the back. Maybe they’re back there?” you guess, turning away from the door to look at Morgan. He silently nods his head before turning around and going back the way you two came. You two walk around the house and into the backyard, the dead grass crunching underneath your feet. 

“I can check the greenhouse while you check the shed,” he offers, leaving you to agree and split away from him. You walk over to the shed, noticing the lock is missing from the door. You take one last glance at Morgan before slowly opening the shed door. 

“Hello?” you call, looking into the poorly lit area. There were lots of boxes along with tools lining the wall. You look around the area, looking for clues as to if they’ve killed anyone here or with any of the equipment. You stop at a workbench, seeing tools and papers littering the desk. You pull a glove from your pocket, starting to move the papers around to read them. 

All of a sudden, you hear wood bending and creaking underneath someone’s weight. You turn around to look at Morgan, only to find a tall man with a shovel. Then, you don’t see anything except for black. 

You grunt at the memory, feeling your head throb as you recall the events. The edge of the shovel must’ve been what caused the injury on your head. You don’t doubt that you have a concussion. With blood still dripping into your eyes, you try to figure out where you are. From the looks of it, you’re in an abandoned factory of sorts. 

You tug on your arms again and feel something wrapped around your wrists, holding your arms out behind you. This is also keeping you sat up, the strain of whatever is binding you too great for you to slouch forward. You tilt your head back, hoping to get the blood out of your eyes. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been out for nor do you know how long it is until someone shows up. You bring your head back down and watch as the same man as before walks over to you with a handheld toolkit. He gets down on one knee and then opens up the kit. 

“Are you Mr. Jenkins?” you ask softly, finding your throat a bit dry. He ignores you, pulling out a cloth and dousing it in saline solution. He then cleans your wound, not bothering to be gentle about it. You don’t make a peep though, remaining quiet as to not irritate or upset him and make him stop. Once done with that, he dries the area before wrapping gauze around your head. There’s still caked blood on your face and with your injury, you’re not sure cleaning it up and wrapping it was the best way to go but you suppose this is better than nothing. Besides, you can’t even see how bad your injury is. Maybe it feels worse than it actually is. 

When he deems his job done, he packs everything back into his kit before standing up. “Wait!” you call weakly, watching him not even hesitate to leave you alone once more. You sigh and look around, finding it much easier to see now. After some time has passed, you feel a streak of blood start to trail down your face. You were right, the wound is bigger than he’s letting on. 

You tilt your head back to keep the blood from getting in your eyes again, closing your eyes since all you’re looking at is a ceiling. You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, trying to think of a way out of this situation. Already knowing the answer, you bring your head up for a moment to check to see if you still have your gun. Confirming that you indeed don’t have it, you tilt your head back again. You then wondered if he knows you’re not just a random person that wandered into his shed. Your badge is in your coat though, so you can’t check to see if it’s gone or not. You’re guessing he checked all of your pockets before leaving you alone though.

Guess you just need to remain calm and wait to see what happens.

Morgan walks into the greenhouse, finding dead and withering plants scattered around. Despite no one being inside, he starts to look around for evidence or hints as to what these people really do. 

He stops his snooping when he hears a truck on gravel, his boots stepping on dead plants and dried leaves as he walks towards the exit. What he finds though isn’t at all what he’s expecting. 

There you are, limp in someone’s arms and being tossed into the bed of a truck. “Hey! Stop!” he shouts, pulling out his gun as he starts running. The guy, knowing he’s been caught, starts to run to the driver’s door. Morgan aims his gun at the driver and fires, the first shot just missing by a couple of inches. With the man in the truck and starting to drive off in his truck, Morgan shoots at the tires. He curses loudly when he misses or the bullets don’t do anything to stop the driver, simply slowing him down a little. Morgan memorizes as much of the plate as he can before the truck disappears around the corner. 

Morgan curses loudly again and takes out his phone, calling Hotch. With everyone alerted, they all come to the Jenkin’s home. Caution tape is put up at the entrance of the property to keep nosy neighbors at bay, forensics showing up and starting to take pictures of the crime scene. 

Everyone turns when JJ and Reid pull up in another car, knowing that this isn’t going to be good. Reid is in front of them in practically a second, his eyes wide and fearful. “What happened? Where is she?” he spits out faster than anyone can decipher. Morgan, already knowing what he was going to say, places his hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, calm down. Take a breath,” he says calmly, hoping Reid won’t lash out. Lash out is exactly what Reid did though. 

“Calm down? How am I supposed to be calm when (Y/n) was taken by someone? Look at all the blood! She’s probably bleeding out! What were you doing? Why weren’t you here to protect her?” Why wasn’t I here to protect her?

“Reid,” Hotch warns, stepping up beside Morgan. Morgan sighs and looks over at the blood, a frown hanging heavy on his face. “Morgan, tell us what happened now that everyone is here,” Hotch commands. 

Morgan sighs again, refusing to look at them. “(Y/n) and I knocked on the door and there was no answer. She then pointed out that there was a shed and greenhouse in the backyard, and that they might be in there. So, she took the shed while I took the greenhouse. I was looking around inside when I heard a truck. I come out of the greenhouse to see...to see our unsub carrying her to the back of the truck. I called out to him as I drew my gun, starting to fire as he escaped.” 

Everyone stays quiet for a moment after he finishes, no one really knowing what to say. Reid, of course, is the first one to speak. “You should’ve been with her. You shouldn’t have separated. You—”

“Reid,” JJ interrupts, placing her hand onto his back. “You can’t blame him. All of us probably would’ve done the same to cover more ground quicker,” she says softly, trying to soothe him. His hands clench into fists, his eyes stinging with the want of tears. He can’t cry though, not here. 

“I’m sorry. Let’s just work hard to bring her back,” he mumbles, staring at the red ground. 

It’s been a couple of days, you know that much. Mr. Jenkins hasn’t given you any food and has only given you enough water to not die from dehydration. You’ve barely slept a wink, the position you’re in keeping you upright. Besides, you’re too worried and scared to actually close your eyes for long. 

You’re assuming that Mr. Jenkins doesn’t own this property or else the gang would’ve found you by now. You wonder how Spencer is handling this.

“Well, I’m quite upset, I’ll tell you that much.” 

You turn your head to the side, finding Spencer leaning against an old, rundown machine. A smile comes to your face just from the sight of him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” you reply hoarsely, your throat dry as a bone and begging for water. He smiles back and walks over to you, squatting down in front of your slouched figure. 

“That’s quite the bump on your head,” he says as he runs his fingers over your wound. You can’t feel his touch though. 

“How did you find me?” you ask, wondering why he isn’t freeing you. 

“You know, I kind of like you tied up like this,” he teases, a smirk spreading across his face. You feel your face heat up at his words, your eyes now avoiding his face. 

“Spencer, I don’t think now is the time for us to be talking about this,” you stutter out. He chuckles at your embarrassment, his hand moving to cup your cheek but you still can’t feel his touch. 

“You’re so beautiful, you know? I never get tired of looking at you,” he whispers, leaning closer to your face. Your embarrassment only grows at his compliment, your head shaking. 

“I don’t understand—”

“Do you remember that one time we played chess? The time before we worked that one stone case? You were right, I did let you win. I just wanted to see you smile when you realized you won,” he whispers. You let out a weak laugh, remembering the memory like it was yesterday. 

“I knew it. I’m a profiler, after all. I can tell when you’re lying,” you respond softly, all this talking starting to drain your energy. He chuckles and leans forward, his breath fanning across your face. Just like you figured, it smells like coffee. He’s addicted to the stuff. 

“No you can’t. You just think you can,” he replies playfully. He then starts to lean closer, his lips ghosting over yours. You close your eyes, waiting to feel his lips against yours. You’ve been wanting to kiss him for so long. You always imagined he would taste like coffee. 

Well, you had your eyes closed until a creaking door is pulled open. You open your eyes to find Spencer gone and in his place is your captor. “What? Wanna kiss?” he snaps, squatting down in front of you. You look away from him, the smell of his breath making you want to puke. He reaches up and grabs the back of your head by your hair, forcing you to bring your head up to look at him. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he snaps. 

He then smashes your lips together, his cracked and dry lips completely covering your own. You don’t return the kiss, simply sitting there as still as a statue. He doesn’t bother kissing you long, knowing you won’t return it. “Dumb whore,” he mumbles as he stands up again, reaching for a container that he had set down when he came in. He pulls out a half filled water bottle and a piece of moldy bread. 

He sets the water bottle down without the cap before setting the bread down onto the dirty floor. “Bone apple teeth,” he jokes as he leaves. You feel your eyes sting but you force yourself not to cry. You bend over with your arms still behind your back and take the top of the water bottle in between your teeth. You then slowly sit up and tilt your head back, using your mouth alone to drink the water. You then look down at the bread once you finish the water, deciding that it’s not worth the trouble. You haven’t gone that long without food, after all. 

After the first visit, Spencer always comes back to visit you more. He never gives you that kiss though. “I have to leave you wanting more or you’ll leave me,” he explains after you confront him one day. Your brows furrow in confusion, your eyes barely even open at this point. 

“That’s not true. I would never leave you,” you reassure. He turns to look at you from his seat beside you, a sad smile coming to his face. 

“Just trust me. If I do...something will happen to you,” he whispers, turning away to look around the dank factory. You let out a sigh and nod your head a bit, understanding what he’s saying. 

“Okay. Just because I’m accepting that though doesn’t mean I like it,” you reply lightly. He hums and looks at you again, his face going from sad to heartbroken. 

“I miss you, you know.” This makes you smile and your heart flutter in your chest. 

“I miss you too. Why else do you think I’ve made you up?” you reply. It took a couple times of him showing up for you to realize that you’re hallucinating him. You didn’t really mind though. He helped you stay sane. 

“Because you need someone handsome to look at?” he asks jokingly. You hum and nod your head, coughing weakly before you can reply to him. 

“There’s that too,” you admit. He laughs and leans over to rest his head on top of yours. In return, you rest your head on his shoulder. Honestly, he’s probably the only reason that you haven’t gone insane yet. 

“I’m getting close. I’ll find you soon,” he promises. You let out another hum, hoping he’s telling the truth and not lying to make you feel better. 

He’s gone in a blink of an eye when the door opens and your captor walks in. “Alright, your time has come,” he says as he starts to undo your binds. Your shoulders and arms scream in pain but you keep your lips tightly sealed to keep you from actually screaming. 

“Do you know who I am?” you croak out. You hear him scoff as he makes you stand up, your vision instantly swimming and causing you to get light headed. You lean against him to prevent yourself from falling down, fear starting to crawl it’s way through your mind. 

“You’re in the FBI, right? I found your badge in your pocket. I took it upon myself to see this as a challenge,” he replies, shoving you forward and causing you to fall face first. You barely have the strength to push yourself up but it didn’t matter since he’s grabbing you by your hair and arm to drag you back up. “I think I’m doing a standup job too. They have no idea where we are,” he informs you proudly. 

You can’t tell where he’s taking you, your vision swimming too much to tell, but the next thing you know, you’re being laid out on a hard, cold surface. “I figured that you’re special, so I’m going to give you some special treatment.” You grunt before letting out a dry cough. 

“Yay me,” you reply sarcastically. It takes you a moment to realize that he’s cutting off your shirt and dress pants. It didn’t take him long to start cutting you. You bite your tongue to stop from screaming but the pain eventually gets to be too much. You try to fight him off but god, you can hardly keep your limbs up or moving. You wouldn’t be surprised if he also drugged the little water he gave you. 

You’re not sure how long you’re there for. A couple minutes, an hour, a day, you don’t know. It doesn’t matter. You’re losing blood fast and you know what comes at the end right before he kills you. “Ready for the finale?” he asks darkly, trailing his knife from your foot up your leg towards your crotch. 

You refuse to beg though. You won’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Aww, you’re no fun. By this point, all the other girls were whimpering, snotty messes begging me to spare them. I even got offered for them to be my sex slave and what have you. I wish you’d offer me something like that,” he whines playfully, a dark smile on his face. With the tip of his knife a little above your pelvic bone, he connects his lips to yours again. He shoves his tongue into your mouth, starting to drag that knife down and lighting a fire in the blades place. You bite his tongue just as multiple doors bang open. 

“FBI! Move away from the woman!” someone calls. He pulls his face away from yours, blood pouring from his mouth where you bit into his tongue. 

“You little bitc—” he starts to yell as he pulls his arm back to stab your genitals, just like he did for his other victims. He doesn’t get the chance to stab you though, a gunshot ringing throughout the factory and piercing right through his brain. His blood sprays on you before he falls dead to the floor, relieved tears starting to leak from your eyes. 

Spencer was by your side in a second, holstering his fired weapon. “You’re okay. God, we were almost too late,” he mumbles, tears coming from his own eyes. He helps you sit up before draping his coat around your shoulders and pulling you close. Paramedics are quick to come over to you two, trying to separate you two to put you onto a stretcher. 

“No, stop! I’ll carry her,” he says quickly, keeping you wrapped up tight in his arms. He then turns you to pick you up bridal style, whispering calming words to you as he carries you out of that wretched place. He kisses you on your temple before handing you over to the ambulance, refusing to leave your side as he rides with you to the hospital. You smile lovingly at him as he squeezes your hand, your body not having the energy to return the act. 

You don’t remember passing out but you did, apparently, since the next thing you know, you’re waking up in a hospital bed with a certain nerd asleep by your side. You let out a sigh as you shakily bring your hand up to run it through his messy hair. He wakes up right away and looks up at you like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh thank god,” he sputters as he stands up to wrap you in a hug. You grunt when you feel the pain flare up in your arms, this making him pull away instantly. 

You find tears in his eyes, your own eyes starting to tear up as well. “I thought I was going to lose you,” he cries, his voice sounding crushed. You sniffle and gently grab his hand, being careful of your wounds. 

“I thought I was going to lose you,” you reply shakily. He smiles at you and uses his free hand to wipe away your tears that started to fall. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asks softly, almost too quiet for you to hear. You laugh weakly at this, remembering how you begged imaginary him to kiss you back in the factory. 

“Please.” You barely get to finish before his lips are meeting yours. Not to your surprise, he tastes exactly like you thought he would. Coffee. He kisses you passionately, every single emotion you both feel being expressed through that kiss. Fear, guilt, desperation, love, admiration, and so much more. 

You two pull away when someone clears their throat. “Well, at least I know that you’re okay now,” Rossi teases, the rest of the gang looking in from behind him. You and the others laugh as you wipe the tears from your eyes while they all come in. 

“I’m more than okay. Thanks for saving me, guys.” 

“Don’t thank us,” Hotch says. 

“It’s all because of boy wonder here that we were able to find you,” JJ supplies. You look to Spencer to find him blushing. 

“He went on an absolute rampage,” Blake starts, getting a ‘no, I didn’t’ in response from Spencer, “He refused to sleep until he found you. I don’t think anyone has ever been scared of Reid until that moment.” You’re starting to feel warm now. He did all that for you? 

“Stop exaggerating,” Spencer snaps, giving your hand a squeeze. This makes everyone laugh. Well, except for a certain member of your crew. 

Morgan walks over to your bed, his whole body tense and he almost seems ready to cry. “(Y/n), I’m sorry that I got yo—”

“Stop. Don’t blame yourself. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Let’s just learn from it and move on, yeah?” you say kindly, a warm smile on your face. He lets out a hefty sigh and nods his head, a small smile coming to his face. 

“Now, give me a hug. In fact, everyone give me a hug!” you command, making everyone chuckle as they follow your orders.

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MASTERLIST

More with Spencer Reid

Should I make a Tag List? 

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[usmsgutterson]

And You to Me, Dirtyhands- Kaz Brekker x reader

Okay, before we start, I want to say thanks! I'd not expected to get so much love on my first post, but it means a lot! Thank you, I appreciate it a lot!

Fic type- angst

Warnings- character death, mentions of blood, Kazs trauma, mentions of The Darkling and the second army

Kaz Brekker was taken down by a bullet.

A flimsy fucking bullet had him on his knees. A bullet that was shot by a gun that was in the hand of Pekka Rollins. His enemy, the man who he'd sworn to himself would be ruined at his hand had shot him through the stomach.

You were terrified. You watched it happen, saw the smirk on Pekkas face and the monotone expression on Kaz's, but you knew what was going through his mind even without having to read his unreadable facial expression.

He'd been thinking of Jordie. His brother. The last person in his life who he fully trusted outside a couple select members of The Dregs. His feet kicking through the water, his hands clutching tightly to his brothers shirt while the water soaked his clothes through.

In his last moments, Kaz had been thinking of all those who he loved. He saw Jordie, he remembered hot chocolates and walking through the streets with his brother, he remembered meeting Jesper for the first time. He remembered Inej and Jesper, and Nina and even Matthias, but the clearest picture in his mind was you.

You were an Inferni, a second army runaway who'd gone to Ketterdam after the Darkling had expanded the fold. You'd gone to Ketterdam with little knowledge of how Kerch was spoken. Kaz needed a Grisha, not one like Jesper or Nina, but someone who could set the world on fire if they wished.

He remembered helping Nina teach you Kerch, learning some Ravkan to help you get around, cursing himself for going soft whenever he caught himself doing it. He remembered hearing you scream after waking up from a nightmare.

He remembered resisting the urge to find you, to make you some tea or offer to take you on a walk as soon as the sun was up. He remembered not going back to sleep until your screams had stopped, he remembered asking you how you'd slept-- in Ravkan tongue, for that matter-- the next morning.

In an instant, Pekka had two bullets in him. You'd shot him in the crotch for his troubles, and Jesper had been very smart in putting a bullet through his skull.

You rushed to Kaz as soon as you'd heard Jespers shot go off, putting a hand on his stomach as Nina finally caught sight of what was happening.

He flinched as soon as he realized what you were doing, but Inej planted her hands firmly on his shoulders as Nina dropped beside you, Matthias and Jesper not very far behind.

"Can you do it?" You questioned, Kaz's blood running over your fingertips now. The rain had started, and you'd lost all self control. You didn't care if you cried, you sure as hell didn't care if any of your friends saw it.

"I can try," she responded, turning to plant a firm glare on Kaz, whos eyes were wide open. "If you die, Brekker, Y/N, Inej, and I will kill you." One of his hands, gloved, of course, gripped tightly at your arm as Nina started working.

But she couldn't do anything. It didn't take a genius to realize that, did it?

Kaz forced everyone else away with some of the remaining strength he had, forcing you to look at him when he'd walked away.

"I want you to know that you mattered to me," his light voice choked. "You mattered a lot, Y/N?"

"More than kruge?" He let out a strangled laugh. Of course you'd make a joke; why hadn't he been expecting it?

"A lot more than kruge," he forced a glove off his hand, gently wiping at your cheek with his bare skin. "Remember me, okay?"

"Stop talking like your dying! That's not-" "I'm dying, Y/N." "No!"

"You meant the world to me, firebird." You laughed at the nickname, cradling his head in your hands as you truly came to accept that any hope for him was lost. It'd been lost since Pekka shot him.

"And you to me, Dirtyhands."