#I thought he would play some sort of instrument too

[meownotgood]

HAAFGH …….. elf au aki would have downward-sloping ears and a big staff for healing (maybe the staff looks like future devil??) .. hes good at fighting and can probably improvise weapons at a moments notice but he prefers to heal after everything with taiyo. i can picture an image of fantasy au aki in my head but its very fire emblem-centric since i base a lot of my fantasy designs off of fire emblem :”) also elf aki wanders off into the woods to play pan flute (maybe he even plays it for you when you two get closer…)

- 🐙

elf aki with big ears and droopy earrings... a wooden staff adorned with icy blue crystals and vines... he's very agile and strong and resourceful... can easily name the magical properties of every ore and herb he stumbles across

#I thought he would play some sort of instrument too #BARD AKI WOULD ALSO BE CUTE #he seems a bit cold at first but he's really kind to animals and nature #he's just wary of humans because of the way they've treated him in the past #elf aki with big huge mushroom umbrella #I agree with all of these messages #ask mags

[lovekendri]

inexperienced | peeta mellark

request: hey! can you do headcanons or a fic about your first time, um, “doing the deed” with peeta? or like how he would be with someone who’s inexperienced. thank you! i love your writing 🤍 - anon

omg i love this! thank you so much for the request AND being my first request!! i'm a bit newer to writing smut, so i hope it lives up to your expectations! ♡

peeta mellark x fem!reader

summary: it's your first time, and your boyfriend, peeta, is determined to make sure your first time is magical.

cw: 18+ only! fluffy smut, p in v, soft and hard dom!peeta, inexperienced!reader, established relationship, first time, fingering, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!)

wc: 2.9k

type: ✽ | ❀

As you poured another glass of a fancy sparkling pomegranate juice to end off the bottle, you tossed it into the bin next to the table and walked yourself over to the couch where Haymitch and Peeta sat, the room still buzzing with other District 12 residents.

The television was on, playing some sort of instrumental music, but you could barely hear it over the chatter in the room.

Haymitch and Peeta were deep in conversation about Haymitch's new relationship with Effie, and you've never seen Haymitch look so happy to talk about something.

You sat down next to Peeta, and you could tell he was ready to leave soon, probably after he finished the conversation.

You had indulged in homemade bread from Peeta with oil and vinegar all night, as well as fresh berries picked from the bushes in front of your house with the sparkling juice, and you were starting to get tired of eating to cure the boredom.

You had followed Peeta around all night like a lost puppy, and it wasn't a good look for you, but you were ready to go home after a few conversations.

"I personally didn't expect Effie to be your first choice," Peeta snorted, "I thought she drove you crazy."

Instead of paying attention to the rest of the conversation like you should've, you began to fully admire your boyfriend for the first time all night.

He wore a gray button up with the top two buttons undone, the sleeves tucked up around his forearms. It was tucked into a pair of blue jeans that appeared slightly too tight, the fabric straining against his legs. Finishing off the outfit with a brown belt. He sat manspreading, holding a bottle of something you couldn't see, the logo hidden in his hands, but you knew it wasn't alcohol.

Looking at him tonight brought a different feeling to your chest and stomach, an odd, tingly feeling you hadn't very much felt before around him. Watching him talk, watching his lips move as he responded to Haymitch, the nod of approvals he would give.

"But anyways, you two better get going," Haymitch said as you tuned in to the conversation once again, standing up from the old couch you all sat on. It was getting later in the night, and you were thankful for him to say that, as it was almost one in the morning.

Peeta stood up as well, taking your hand to help you up from sinking into the couch.

"Alright, good to see you," Haymitch said, giving Peeta a small hug, and clapping him on the back, like a brother would do.

Haymitch turned to you, and reached out for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck and gave him a short hug before pulling away from him.

"I'll see you tomorrow, probably," you said, smiling, subtly reminding Haymitch of your lunch plans tomorrow.

"Of course you will, sweetheart," he gave you a small clap on the back, weaker than Peeta's, but still a loving tap. A small lopsided smile appeared on his face and he turned away.

"You ready to go?" Peeta asked, looking down at you.

His eyes were trained on you, reminding you of what you felt just seconds ago about the tingling of your stomach and the tightness in your chest.

"Yeah," you smiled, trying to hide the fact you could feel the blush creeping up your face as you looked past him toward the coat rack near the door.

He grabbed your hand once again, grabbing your coat and slinging it over your shoulders, not bothering to have you put it on when you're a mere twenty feet away from his house.

You waved goodbye to any people who were paying attention at the slowly dying party, and walked out the door, hand in hand with Peeta.

"You enjoy the juice?" he asked as you reached the sidewalk, playfully giving you a little shove to the shoulder to knock you off balance a bit.

"You know I did," you replied, recovering your feet and taking his muscular arm in both of your hands. The crisp, cool air of the night nipped at your cheeks, and the leftover snow from the recent fall crunched beneath your feet.

It was a short walk, and by now you were at the door of Peeta's house. He took the keys out of his pocket to unlock his front door. The light over the door was still on, coating the walkway you stood on in a dim, yellow light.

"You looked beautiful tonight," he said as he unlocked the door, pushing in the door with more force than intended.

"Thank you, you looked rather handsome yourself," you replied, hearing a small chuckle escape his throat at your comment.

Without bothering to turn on the lights, he walked through the living room to reach his bedroom, and you ran inside before him to kick off your shoes and jump on his bed.

The softness of the mattress engulfed your body, and you rolled into the knitted quilt on top of his bed.

Tonight felt like a cuddling night, but something about the air felt different.

"Save some room for me," he said, having just taken off his shoes.

The feeling you had earlier watching him rose in your body again as he set his knee on the edge of the bed, climbing over to your side and collapsing next to you with a hand on your hip.

You turned to your side, throwing a side of the quilt on top of him.

"There's plenty of room for you," you said, looking down past his jaw. You saw the same outfit as before, but now his belt was slightly looser, his shirt half untucked. You tried your best to avoid looking toward his jeans, but you didn't have to force yourself anyways.

"Eyes are up here, darling," Peeta's hand reached out gently to your jaw, lifting your face to look at him.

Your face heating up immediately, you made eye contact with him. A small grin was growing on his face, a cheeky smirk you'd seen so often. He kissed you with the same pecks he always did when you were cuddling, but even after you'd kissed him hundreds of times the same way, you couldn't shake the feeling that something felt different tonight.

Doing your best to ignore the prying thought, you snuggled up to his warm body, basically steam rolling him to get on top of him. You laid on top of him, one of his hands loosely around your waist and the other lightly stroking your back. Your arms hooked under his.

After a while of laying in silence listening to each other breathe, you started to close your eyes, letting comfort and sleep take you over. Just as you began to feel the entire pull of sleep, you felt him sharply exhale. He dug his face into the crook of your neck at the same time his hand grabbed tightly onto your hip.

"You've never had sex, have you?" he murmured lowly.

The question startled you, increasing your heartbeat and waking you from any slumber that started to take you over. You turned your face into his neck as well, too embarrassed to lift your head and face him when you felt the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Is this what felt different? Did the air feel different because Peeta wanted to have sex with you?

"Absolutely," you say, the uneasiness in your voice a dead giveaway that you most definitely have not.

He knew you, he knew you hadn't. In fact, he knew that he was the only boy you had ever dated, the only boy who you'd ever kissed.

"Oh, really?" he says, his hands sliding from where they rested to lightly graze over the back of your thighs and your ass, one hand giving a light squeeze to your thigh.

A barely audible but obviously desperate exhale escaped your lips, your head dropping down completely to his shoulder.

He had never touched you like this before. Butterflies were exploding in your stomach, your chest and throat growing tighter as he continued to move his hand over the hills of your body.

"I thought so, baby," he whispered. "It's okay."

He didn't stop moving his hand, but his head dropped back down to the bed, an exhale leaving his own lips.

"Would you let me be your first time?" he said breathily, his hand moving up to rub over your back once again.

You felt like you couldn't say anything, your throat feeling so closed with his hands touching you in ways you'd never felt before, the feeling of his rough hands stroking across your body was enough to send you spiraling.

He noticed your silence, moving his hands to sit up. You refused to let go of your tight hold on his body, trying to catch your breath from the unnecessarily overwhelming feeling blossoming in your stomach.

"C'mon, baby. Talk to me," he whispered.

"Please, Peeta," your voice came out strangled. It didn't sound like your own, plagued by the tightness of your throat and the desperate want for him to touch you like he was before.

It took him a moment to register what you said.

"That's my girl."

His hands reached up to your arms, gently prying them away from his body in order to get you off of him.

He laid you gently on the bed, and you felt like a total mess. You knew you shouldn't be so obsessed with the way he was making you feel, but it felt so right to be touched by him, to be held in the erotic ways you didn't know he wanted.

He was on top of you, his arms out straight and his legs on the outside of yours blocked a cage around your body. You were in for it now.

At first though, he only kissed you.

The low light of the room added to the needy ambiance of the room. Kissing felt more erotic, less controlled, the way his lips moved familiarly but yet so foreign at the same time, the soft dominancy from him that you'd never felt before threatening to take you over. The way he would stop to take a short breath before continuing to kiss you, sometimes biting your lip as he pulled away. When you felt one of his hands creep up your hips onto your breasts, it was an explosion of feelings you hadn't had before.

Your gasp almost breaking the kiss, you felt him grin against your lips as his hand slipped under your shirt to run it over your torso.

His touch was so gentle, so polite, allowing you to feel the entire moment of what he was doing to you. Again though, it was so different from ways he had touched you before. So new and arousing.

His kisses began to trail down your cheek to your jaw, down your neck, and back up to your lips. He kissed you all over the neck, anywhere he could.

You felt so many butterflies and tingles in your stomach, and a warm heat between your thighs growing as he touched you more, lips and hands working in unison to sweetly prepare you.

His hand now moving down to pull the waistband of your pants ever so slightly down, pausing his kisses. He took the moment to move a knee between your legs, giving them a little nudge to open.

His eyes met yours, darkened with arousal and excitement. His lips were swollen and slick with saliva, his cheeks a light rosy tint.

"You ready?" he murmured, watching your face closely.

Though you were so nervous, you were eager.

You wanted this to happen, the more he touched you and the more he caressed your body allowed to the heat between your legs to grow, the unfamiliar tingles and butterflies in your stomach fluttered with anticipation. He was all you ever dreamt of, and the way his eyes bored into yours with lust and hungriness, you were as ready as you'd ever be.

"Yes," you forced out, the constriction of your throat still very prominent.

You watched as the grin on his face grew to a sinister smile, his eyes squinting with pride. He removed your pants with such swiftness you'd barely noticed, and he took the time to admire your bottomless body. Nothing he hadn't seen before, but something he got to see in a totally different manner.

He exhaled sharply, pushing a rough hand into your panties, a finger sliding through slick folds.

He wasn't near being inside you, but the first few circles around your clit felt like heaven, your mouth opening in shock and a strangled gasp forcing its way through. A white heat began to grow in your stomach quickly, and you pushed your head into the softness of the bed.

"Attagirl," he whispered, praise quickly falling out of his mouth as he watched you squirm underneath his fingers.

A slick finger suddenly pushed through you, sending more waves of pleasure to your core. His fingers worked magic on your clit while he pushed his finger in and out of you.

"Yeah, baby?"

Heat, heat, and more heat grew, the pleasure becoming almost overwhelming under your boyfriend's control, the praises coming out of his stupidly pretty face driving your body insane.

Gasps sweetened with whimpers and small moans fell out of your mouth like a sailor's cusses, your eyes screwed shut as Peeta worked your body perfectly. In no time, he pushed in a second finger, earning a loud gasp and a grab to his forearm, his legs tightening around your leg to keep you from wiggling away.

"You feelin' good, love?" he whispered. You could hear the curl of his evil smile, absolutely delighted to be making you feel the way you were. You desperately nodded your head, your grip on his arm growing tighter as the heat in your stomach grew, an overwhelming feeling threatening to fall.

He felt your walls beginning to tighten, and pulled his fingers out.

"Why?" you whined, the feeling in your stomach immediately dripping down to the small heat you had before. You grabbed for his hand, wanting him to make you feel amazing again, but he pulled it away from you.

"No, sweetheart, I want you to experience more than just my hand."

You watched as he undid the rest of his belt from before, your jaw falling open slightly in shock as he unbuttoned his jeans, undoing the zipper as well. His black boxers showed through the small opening in his pants now, and you could see what he was hiding beneath them.

"You okay?" he asked, aware of your jaw now basically on the floor. You nodded at his question, snapping your jaw shut once again.

Your face was hot, your body was shaking a little. You were so ready in anticipation of how he was going to make you feel. You didn't dare look at him, because you knew that you were basically going to finish at just the sight.

"You're sure you're ready?" he said, a hand holding steady on your hip and the other you could only assume holding his cock.

You nodded, your hands going to the quilt for a hold on something, your body beginning to tense.

"Good girl."

You felt him push into you.

A loud gasp pushed from your throat, your body jerking in surprise. He definitely filled you out, your eyes rolling back and heat beginning to grow again.

"What's wrong?" he said, the concerned tone in his voice loud, keeping still inside you.

"No, no, keep going," you whined, your eyes screwing shut.

He began to move slowly, only pushing in a few inches every time, preparing you for the full.

The friction felt so good, quiet moans falling out of your mouth as he pushed more and more inside of you, growing faster with each movement of his hips.

He pushed all the way into you, hitting a spot that sent white heat coursing through your body, electrifying, your vision blanked.

He dragged his cock out once again, pushing all the way inside of you once more.

The tingly heat grew quickly in your stomach as he found a medium pace, cock sliding easily in and out of your cunt with his hands gripping tightly on your hips.

"You look so pretty underneath me," he praised, so close to pushing you over the edge.

Uncontrolled moans forced themselves out of your throat, the heat building up so close to a release. His hips became sloppier and uncontrolled, his pace increasing as he worked to finish.

With one harsh thrust, your vision went white and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. A loud cry left your mouth as you came, your legs tightening around his hips.

He finished quickly after you, his thrusts extremely sloppy.

Pulling out of you, he collapsed next to you and pulled you into his arms, his body warm. You were both breathing heavily, his muscular arms engulfing you in a blanket of comfort,

"I love you so much," he murmured, tucking his head down, his forehead rested on top of your head.

"I love you," you whispered, "thank you."

He didn't say anything, kissing the top of your head and tightening his arms around your body.

"Thank you, pretty girl."

main masterlist | my profile | thg masterlist | request | proof read: ✓

#peeta mellark x reader #peeta x reader #peeta #peeta's games #peeta mellark smut #peeta mellark fluff #peeta mellark imagine #peeta smut #peeta fluff #thg #the hunger games #peeta mellark #spicy #fem!reader #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark x fem!reader #peeta mellark fic #peeta fic #thg fic #the hunger games fic #peeta mellark the hunger games #peeta mellark thg #peeta thg #fanfic #lovekendri

[vintagehellfire]

Danse Macabre | E.M x Reader

summary: Your best friend invites you to a concert that you're less than keen on but you get much more devil worship than you bargained for.

warnings: porn without plot, plot? What plot?, choking, nipple play, blood play, bruising, oral (m receiving), sacrilege, bdsm, dom sub dynamics, just really stupid horny honestly. Eyefucking, teasing, edging???? Spit kink, mask kink, devil worship. This is just pure filth honestly, piv, unprotected sex (don’t do this with strangers ya’ll pls I’m begging) mdni 18+

word count: 8.6k

Thank you to @the-unforgivenn for beta reading this pure filth for me and for correcting my atrocious keystroke mistakes. I love you so much babe.

part two

How you got dragged to some sort of musical satanic ritual by your best friend Lilly was far beyond you. The heavy instrumentals contrasted too harshly with the light and theatrical vocals. If looks could kill, Lilly would be dead. This wasn’t your scene, it never would be, it’s what you told yourself. Sipping your gin, arms crossed, you scrunch your face, the bartender having been too busy staring at your chest while he poured your drink, resulting in a rather disgusting concoction. As if the night couldn’t get any worse. 

One of the lighter intro songs came to an end before the pyrotechnics roared to life next to you, one of the guitarists emerged from behind the waft of smoke. It was then that your breath caught in your throat, the way that he played had you hypnotised, placing you in a trance so deep that you couldn’t tear your eyes from him even if you wanted to, veins protruding. Your eyes trailed over his body, tight jeans fitting to his body and a uniform dress shirt adorning his torso, long sleeves and turtleneck underneath, hiding any soft skin. As you would be met with a face, you were surprised to find that you were met with a helmet of sorts, breathing tubes and other such accessories adorning it, as well as sticking out the top. His eyes burned red like embers behind the wide goggles, a darkness swallowing the man behind the mask and drawing you in. Curiosity got the better of you, you watched closely  when he stomped to the beat of the songs. he fans collectively let out a wave of screams, throwing flowers on stage. You rolled your eyes so hard they probably should have rolled out of your head. Were you attracted to the masked musician? In some capacity sure, but wholly? No. They just… they knew how to play well and those hands… you could admit those hands were something. You shook your head to rid yourself of impure thoughts, it wasn’t like you liked the music anyway. 

Your face was stone cold and your arms were crossed over your chest unhappily, cleavage pushed up, and the leather of your jacket creaking. That was the thing about you, you’d rather die than remove your prized biker jacket. It was your battle armour, much like the guitarists get up seemed to be the band’s uniform. To them, it protected their identity, and it protected you – you wouldn’t be caught off guard, you wouldn’t be vulnerable, you couldn’t. Your icy stare pierced through the smoke, through the flames, as you focused your gaze on the guitarist in front of you. His white guitar distinguished  him from everyone else just as your expression did you –perfectly sour.

The crowd behind you chanted along to the songs, screaming about Lucifer and the congregation and whatever other shit you chose to ignore in favour of your best friend. Lilly was one of them, jumping up and down, chanting every word of the hymns the lead singer belted out to the tune of the strong bass line and the chugging of guitars. As much as you wanted her to have fun, you rolled your eyes, this wasn’t your scene. Every song that started out heavy led to a disappointment with the vocals or the rock opera and so you just opted to be the designated party pooper and give your best glare towards the lead guitarist who seemed all too interested in your corner of the stage. He wailed on his guitar harder than you’d seen anyone wail on one before, a flash of worry briefly crossing your mind but you quickly pushed it down. 

The masked man played through his songs flawlessly, fingers moving expertly across the fretboard, mind and body completely in tandem; however your pout, your knit eyebrows, and crossed arms caught his eye, he’d stare back at you through his tinted goggles, smiling softly to himself at how adorable you looked when you were so grumpy. He could tell this wasn’t your scene and so during the slow and long intro to a song he walked over to the very front, standing just a few feet above you.  He tilted his head to the side, his mask listing as he stared, playing the intro as his eyes never left yours. 

The small movement caught your attention, eyebrows furrowing in confusion as you felt like the glowing embers behind the goggles were burning into your very soul, dissecting every little secret. He slowly points to himself before he gets his queue to jump into his next riffs, stomping away as he pushed through the heavy chords that thundered through the concert hall. You dared not admit it to yourself, but something inside you snapped, a warmth starting to spread between your legs. No, no you couldn’t possibly be attracted to this, right? But just as that thought entered your mind, it shot out of your head and straight to your heart when you saw the man before you strut over to his bandmate. The two bent over backwards together, the taller of the two supporting the back of the man with the white guitar. A cute moment, or so you thought, but as soon as the shorter was up for his solo, the taller wrapped an arm around him and pawed at his cock, tugging him into his muscled body, catching the one you had your eye on off guard. He rocked his hips into the other and rested his masked head on the shorter shoulder, fake panting. He did not falter however, and that had your brain reeling. 

With a small smack on the ass, the taller let him go, strutting away as the crowd erupted in ear shattering screeches, and if what had just transpired wasn’t one of the hottest things you’d seen, you would have absolutely rolled your eyes, but instead it had you shifting in your place, all too keenly aware of the small flare of heat that lapped at you and the proximity of the other bodies surrounding you. You suddenly felt small, trapped; and you wanted nothing more than to run out and dunk your head under some ice cold water. What was wrong with you? Your eyes darted from side to side, hoping your best friend Lilly wouldn’t notice. 

What went on next was just about to make anyone lose their minds, the lead guitarist started to throw guitar picks into the crowd, plucking one last one from his guitar and marching over to directly in front of you. The song they played next was clearly well known but it was only vaguely familiar to you, it was one you would listen to ironically while doing the dishes, one that you didn’t care much for, but was catchy nonetheless. What you didn’t realise was just how suggestive the lyrics were – and so when the man with the white guitar stood in front of you, spreading his legs to put himself in a more comfortable playing stance you thought nothing about it but his next motions had your panties soaking themselves in your slick. A long and crooked finger pointed to himself quickly, then he went back to wailing on his precious guitar just before giving himself a window of about a second to stop, his ring and middle finger very rapidly turned upwards, flicking rapidly as if motioning fingering you, his goggles deadlocked on your eyes. You could tell he was watching you for a reaction, and how you knew you wouldn’t be able to tell. Christ, maybe you should have listened to Lilly when she was telling you this band was horny. Truthfully, you had shrugged it off, what, some singer in a pope mask acting all horny? That didn’t exactly get your rocks off, but the moment you laid eyes on the masked men playing their instruments, all rational thought flew out the window. 

Little did you know that the guitarist did have his eyes set on you, all queues already learned, his body moving on auto pilot, his performance was deliberately exaggerated just for you, his motions tailored to get you hot and bothered. He knew he played the best role, and as the show went on, with the lack of water, and the horrid head, he knew his veins were pronouncing themselves even more, fingers sliding around, fingering the fretboard with an expert speed. Every nook, cranny, and metal notch memorised by the calluses on the pads of his fingers, like an old lover he’d always know how to please. He would pride himself on it, on his accuracy, and he was thankful, oh so thankful, that his death metal band had allowed him the dexterity to pull something such as this off. 

Your eyes couldn’t tear themselves away from his figure, stalking his every move like a predator with their prey, A game of cat and mouse you both played with each other from the stage and the crowd. At this point, all shame was thrown out the window and you were openly eye fucking him, blood boiling in your veins and mouth starting to run a little dry. 

The final nail in the coffin was during their heaviest song during the show, a calm moment before the storm, before the stadium exploded in a downpour of black and white paper confetti. Your eyes fixated on the man before you as the song slows to a steady chug, breathy whispers sung into the microphones. It made your head spin as you were trying to compose yourself, breath hitching as the object of your lustful affection met your gaze. His black inky goggles bored you as he brought a shaky hand up, his other hand chugging the low E of his guitar. You were transfixed by the man, unable to peel your eyes from him as he slowly and seductively licked his hand, tongue expertly flicking between his fingers, his shaky breaths becoming ragged and exaggerated. Pressing his hand to his chest, he threw his head back in a moan, sliding his elegant fingers down the front of his uniform until it was level with his guitar, and exactly in time with his strumming, he fisted his hand and with a teasing motion he tugged at the air. Your mouth ran completely dry as you registered that he was feigning masturbation in front of thousands of people. He had you caught in a trance, hypnotised by his agonising motions, his eyes seemingly staring into your very soul, picking apart every last bit of you - he saw the scars inside and your desires all rolled into one. As his actions picked up, one hand still busy on his guitar, you let out a choked breath, transfixed by the man, ghoul, whatever he was, before you. He commanded all your attention, causing your mouth to run completely dry but it couldn’t have prepared you for his “release”--  letting go the moment the confetti cannon exploded. Your jaw slacked, a strangled moan flying from your mouth as you clenched your thighs together, mouth slightly agape. 

The guitarist knew he had you in a chokehold at that very moment, smirking from underneath his coverings. Flawlessly he jumped back into the song and turned away from you, the game of cat and mouse had become too much, too real. It had only taken him an hour and a half to break you down, but once he did he felt a satisfaction he couldn’t explain, and of course he would try to hide it as he continued to strut across the stage as if he owned it. The reality was that he didn’t want to give away just the way this little game had affected him as well, an undeniable strain in his lower half. If his bandmates had noticed, they had clearly made it their mission to torture him, the rhythm guitarist getting on his knees in front of him during a solo, fucking into his own guitar as he pressed his head to the lead guitarists thigh. It wasn’t until the lead placed a boot on his shoulder to push away from him that the one on his knees relented, the crowd exploding in a rain of screams, and yet all you heard was the rush of blood in your ears. You resigned, the game had been won.

As you tried to catch your breath, you looked over to Lilly, thanking Satan that she hadn’t noticed your turmoil. The rest of the show had you holding your breath, knowing that the masked musician had made it his mission to play games with you.  the show ended, you were relieved, you might have a moment yet to go home and get yourself off, forgetting the whole of the events that transpired. 

“Come on, let’s get out of here and to the merch table before it gets too crowded!” Lilly cheered, sticking her handout for you to take, but as soon as she looked over your face her eyes drained of excitement. “Oh, are you okay? You look a little pale,” she noted, tilting her head to the side. 

“Y-yeah, I,” You cleared your throat, “I’m fine, just feeling a little warm. I think I might head home but you go grab some merch. I’ll text you,” you lied cooly. You didn’t want her to know the profound effect that the lead guitarist had on you. With a nod she gave your shoulder a squeeze and darted off. 

You could finally breathe, the suffocation that gripped at your throat just moments earlier had slightly dissipated. As dirty as your thoughts were at the moment, it was in your best interest to get moving, and so, as if on autopilot, you let your feet carry you as far from the stage as possible. You slipped past the crowd, weaving in and around groups of friends, teenagers reeling about the show, displeased parents. You wanted to beeline it out of there before anyone noticed you but unfortunately your plan was short lived as you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist and tug you behind a closed door. 

Your brain ran at a mile a minute, trying to figure out whether it was cause for alarm, but as your back collided with the wall behind you, you were met with the masked ghoul from the stage pressing his knee between your legs, pinning you in place. All colour drained from your face as your breathing laboured. There wasn’t any fear in your body, not any longer, and if there had been any,it had been replaced with undeniable arousal, heat being sent straight to your core. It took all your willpower not to grind into his thigh.

“Hey, sweetheart.” The husky voice purred, a small accent peaking through. He smelled intoxicating, like amber and cigarettes, a tinge of iron poking through in the softest of undertones. It drove you crazy, mind spinning, dizzy with want. He cocks his head to the side, his nautical mask tilting, the black goggles seemingly bottomless, swallowing his eyes. The musician’s expression is completely unreadable and if you knew any better you’d say it was like a predator who had caught his prey. Your mistake was thinking the little game you both played was over, yet now it seems like it had just begun. The man leans into you, invading your space completely, his covered mouth coming up beside your ear. “Oh you thought our little game was over, didn’t you?” He pulls back, allowing your caged body some space. “Don’t think I didn’t see you, little one.” His sweet voice purrs, setting you over the edge, hips finally pushing into his leg as your head tilts back, smacking softly into the wall.

“Fuck…” The syllable leaves your mouth as a groan before you can do anything about it. Surely you were dreaming this, but when you opened your eyes, you were met with the same mask, the same expression that stared at you from the stage. 

“If that’s what you want, sweetheart, I’ll have to bring you to the green room. We’ll paint it red in sin .” You swore you could hear him wink from behind his coverings but you didn’t care, satan, you didn’t care as long as you could have him. You’d worship him in uniform, all sweat slicked and bloody if you had to. In this moment you had a one track mind and you’d be damned if you didn’t act on your desires… but maybe having these desires meant that you were already damned. “What, not as bold anymore? Devil got your tongue?” He mused. 

“Are you going to run your mouth or are you going to fuck me?” You spit out at him, a feigned venom behind your words, but they were too lust drenched to be taken harshly. In an instant his body was against yours, thigh pressing into your cunt, slowly rubbing back and forth.

“Earn it.” He growled out, face burying itself into the crook of your neck to pepper both kisses and love bites across your jugular. Your body caught fire, desperate to be taken by the mysterious man then and there. You hadn’t seen his face and you were mildly worried that seeing it would ruin the illusion. Would you even find him attractive under all his coverings? You didn’t have time to think about it before his hands came to the meat of your ass, tugging you against him with a burning desire, fire coursing through his veins. The strangled moan that ripped from your throat was one you weren’t expecting, but did it ever feel right, his strained cock digging into your hips as he pushed your body closer to his. You could tell he was well endowed even through the fabric of his trousers, a heat creeping up your neck at this realisation. 

“Don’t tease.” You spat, hands coming up to grip his slightly torn jacket, his arm coverings hiding any identifiers. You were going off of nothing aside from the little fire element pin that was securely pinned to the lapel of his uniform. Your hands found themselves tugging him forward, daring him to kiss you. 

“Don’t be a brat.” The stranger growled, swiftly lowering the cloth covering his mouth before assaulting your lips with his. It was all teeth and tongues, pure lust taking over every one of your senses, and it seemed to be true for him as well. You kissed back furiously, nipping at his bottom lip, eliciting a gasp from him that would turn into a groan as you rolled your hips against his, begging for some relief. “Easy, pet.” He muttered against the plushness of your mouth, a small tender moment slipping through the cracks. As much as you enjoy rough, there was a certain swell that filled your heart in knowing that he wouldn’t push too far. 

Your escapades were all tongue, teeth, and lips, strangled moans, and tugging at each other’s clothes until you both reached the green room wherethe band was supposed to be, however, your mystery man had ensured to clear it before he went out to find you. The only time either one of you broke from one another was for air or to push the door closed, locking it in the process. Both of you were too impatient, a carnal desire for one another pooling into your veins, fire spreading through you both and kindling in that very low spot in your abdomens.

“If you need me to stop, the safe word is Beelzebub.” The man’s husky voice cut through the groans, tugging your hips forward into his by the belt loops. He gave you a moment to process what he had said, but instead you grabbed onto his mask and tugged his head forward, lapping at his bottom lip in order to gain access to his mouth. As soon as he parted his lips, you were welcomed by his tongue dancing in tandem with yours. He tasted of wintergreen and cigarette smoke, a combination so sinful, so depraved that you should have been turned off, instead it flooded you with desire. 

“Need you.” You panted out between kisses, the man unrelenting his assault on your mouth. You were utterly soaked through, and you were certain that the musician could smell you but you didn’t care, not right now anyway. You should have been embarrassed by being taken like this but it just turned you on even more knowing that maybe you would get to live out your newly discovered kink instead of trying to soothe — or smother — the flames by yourself. 

“Do you need me?” The man mused. “Mmm, prove it to me, my little devil.” His hand crept from your waist down to your hips, and from your hips down to between your legs, agonizingly circling your cunt, thumb pressing into the seam of your jeans in the exact spot your clit would be in. “Show me how needy you are for me… Go on…” His husky voice teased. When you didn’t react he spun you so your back would be to him, a strong arm holding you against his body while the other busied himself with teasing you. His breath was by your ear now, and his cock pressed into your ass. He was so worked up that he began to rut his hips forward, moaning at the friction. His moan elicited a reaction in you, causing you to throw your head back onto his shoulder, mouth falling open. The tassels on his overcoat swayed with each rut of his hips, tickling the side of your face. You couldn’t imagine he wasn’t warm in his get up but you were too occupied to do anything about it. 

“Please, fuck, I need you.” You choked out, eyes screwed shut as he teased. You felt him lick a stripe up your neck before nipping just underneath your ear as a small warning before latching his lips to the sensitive spot, sucking a dark bruise into your skin. The sickening combination of his lips on your neck, his hard on rubbing against your ass, and his fingers teasing your clothed cunt was becoming too much, driving your senses crazy. A low growl emanated from deep within his chest, reverberating across your back from the proximity.

“Then get down on your knees….” He spins you around, voice low and husky as he shoves you down, a mix of fear and burning desire settling in the deepest pits of your stomach. Your knees hit the ground with a thud and you’d be sure to bruise later, but that was a small price to pay. You watched him undo his belt and pull his zipper down before bringing his hand back up to his face, licking it slowly like he had during the show. You knew what was coming but what you didn’t expect was him to give you one last order as he spidered his fingers down the ruffled fabric of his shirt. “And pray.” An animalistic snarl came from beyond the mask as his fingers trailed into his boxers this time. The man tugged his cock out and began to stroke himself, chest heaving, his breathing became laboured. 

“Oh, god.” You uttered, but the musician didn’t seem to like that. He let go of his cock, allowing it to bounce against his stomach, a stark contrast with his black attire. It looked delicious with the little opalescent bead of precum nestled on the very tip. 

“No, my pet,” he purred, his thumb coming to your lips, slipping past them and into your mouth. It tasted of brass and sweat yet you opted to hollow your cheeks around it anyway, “you answer to our savior, satanus here. You are no longer in the house of god.” There was a cruelty behind his voice, corruption on his tongue. You would have thought the theatrics would have instantly had you shoving him away, but instead it left you craving the masked man, mouth salivating at the thought of him completely ruining you. 

Without much warning, he tapped his cock on your lips, his precum smudging across your lips, and satanus, was it going to be his death. Your dark smudge of red lipstick would become ruins in the wake, the thought of a red ring around his member had his brain short circuiting, if you didn’t take him in your mouth soon he was going to lose it. Luckily you complied, opening wide to accommodate his size, letting your tongue lap at his tip as he slid in. He started slowly, almost carefully in order not to hurt you but soon enough you pushed his cock to the back of your throat, eliciting a strangled moan from him. His hands flew to your hair, desperate to hold onto something, anything, and he tugged you forward, pulling a moan from the very back of your throat. You pulled back, saliva building up in your mouth mixing with the salty taste of his seed.It wasn’t something you expected to like but you found yourself chasing it, craving more. 

Your head bobbed over his length, your moans muffled as you tried to take him deeper, his tip brushing the back of your throat. His delicate resolve broke then and there, slamming into you at a frantic pace. He chased his high, immense pleasure searing through his veins as he fucked into your mouth like an animal, all sense of self control was gone. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, giving him the most innocent look you could muster as you flicked your tongue over his tip, lapping at his slit. Agonisingly you pulled back, employing the aid of your hand around his length, taking only part of him in your mouth. You jacked him off as you hollowed your cheeks around his tip, tongue expertly flicking over his frenulum and eliciting the most pornographic moan from him.

“Satanus, save me.” The man hissed from above you, pulling on your hair to draw you closer. He was losing control, babbling about how pretty you looked on your knees for him. “You are so exquisitely sinful, my pet.” His chest heaved with every breath he took, fingers tangling themselves further into your head of hair, fingernails practically at your scalp. 

You take the praise and you run with it, taking it as a signal to keep going, and this time you move your free hand up his leg, rubbing over his thigh as a tease, a preamble to what you were going to do next. You took his groan as a confirmation to continue, his breaths coaxing you to keep going. You slid your hand up, opting to rub his thigh teasingly, savouring the feeling of the looser material under your fingertips, toying with it before you continued your journey up. While your mouth and right hand busied themselves with his thick cock, your left hand came up to fondle his heavy balls. Who knew that praying to a false idol could be so pleasurable. 

“Oh, oh, f-fuck.” The taller threw his head back, voice gruff and fucked out, clearly enjoying this more than he should have been. He was rapidly losing any grip on the situation and he needed to extract himself from it unless he wanted to spill into your mouth. It was his nightmare, his most sinful fantasy, having you like this after the show – a stranger, a person in the crowd. The amount of people that would absolutely kill to be in your position and it was likely that you weren’t appreciating it as you should have been. The man keened before tugging you back harshly, his hips stuttering at the sudden loss of contact from your mouth. “If you keep going like that, I’m going to cum down your throat, sweetheart.” There was a certain level of concern laced into his tone, one that you glossed over through your lust. 

“Holy shit…” You breathe out, pupils completely blown, the colours of your irises practically disappearing due to how clouded your mind was with him, only him, nothing but him, and how divine his cock was. At your words, something inside him snaps and he grabs your throat, pulling you up. You could feel yourself growing more aroused by the minute. How he had guessed that you’d be into choking was beyond you, but fuck was this doing things to you that you hadn’t even thought possible. 

“There is nothing Holy here.” He growled out, a darkness overtaking his voice. His words sent a cold shiver down your spine, one that found itself shooting down towards your core, causing you to press to him. The ember glow from behind his goggles scanned over your face, flickering, igniting a fire in the bits of your belly. “Here we succumb to our lust.” He breathes before letting your neck go only to bring his hand down to your chest and massage your breast, pinching gently through the fabric of your tank top. In an instant, his mouth attacked your neck savagely, teeth nipping at the thin skin, tongue flicking over the bites to soothe them. You tilt your head back to accommodate him, your breathy moans coming up right beside his ear as you rut into him. You’re desperate to be fucked at this point, needing him more than you need to breathe. 

He pierced your skin with his canines, an animalistic desire for you taking over him. He could no longer think, all consumed by his desires. You felt his lips trail down, soft as a butterfly’s wings, stopping at your jugular vein before he bit down, causing you to let out a yelp. Your cry of pain turned into a pornographic moan as he sucked and lapped at your salty skin, a small sheen of sweat starting to gloss over you as you burned up. If this was what being in hell was like, you’d have a hard time coming up with reasons to wind up in heaven. Your torture didn’t end there; however, as he snaked his free hand up to your cheek, holding you in place tenderly as he continued his assault on your neck. He made it his mission to mark you up as his but you were too far gone to care. 

“Oh Christ.” You moaned as he lapped at the bite marks he left, but he didn’t seem to like this. Not that you could see this much, but his eyes turned dark as he trailed his lips farther down, burying his face in the crook of your neck before he bit down hard enough to draw blood. Your pain was immediately covered in a strangled cry of pure ecstasy as he tugged you towards him, his hand on your breast moving to your hip, surely bruising it, fingerprint embedded in the skin of your hip bone. 

The taste of iron filled the musician’s mouth, his hard on reacting to your metallic taste, pressing into your hip involuntarily. He couldn’t get enough of you - the intoxicating smell of amber and palo santo mixed with the salt from sweat, and the citrus of the gin… He wanted to ruin you once and for all. 

“No, my pet, you are not in the house of God. Only the devil resides here. Will I need to have you pray to me again?” The growl that ripped from his throat has you soaking your lace panties, a choked sob escaping from your parted lips. As he took you in, he noted that you already looked completely fucked out, the bruising on your neck blooming like deep red roses, a symbol of both love and devotion. The only thing you could do was shake your head in answer to him. “Mmm,” the stranger hummed, “your body and blood are mine, sweetheart.” He teased you. As your chest heaved, you examined him, traces of your blood down his chin, and some smeared across his mask, his lips were swollen from the harsh and animalistic kisses he was giving you, and satanus were you ever attracted to him in this moment. 

“Please… Can I see you?” You plead, your hands coming to his waist, trailing down slowly, your right hand making contact with his cock. The soft cant of his hips encouraged you to grip it gently, stroking him languidly as you await his answer. “Please…” You repeated, eyes desperately boring into the void behind his goggles. 

“Oh, is my little pet desperate to see me?” He cooed out, his fingers skillfully finding your belt, undoing it at a painfully slow pace. It was your turn to buck your hips into him, rolling them into his touch. “Mmm, such a little slut, can’t wait until I get my hands on you, can you?” He teased. 

“Satanus, yes, please! Wanna see you.” You groaned, breath catching as he slowly teased you through your jeans. “Need you, need- need- ah!” You cried, throwing your head back once again, eyes fluttering shut from absolute pleasure. It’s then that the man opted to unzip your fly, pausing his animalistic activities to gently tug your jeans over your hips. You weren’t having any of this slow and sweet shit; however, and kicked them off as soon as you got the chance to, allowing him easier access to your sopping cunt. The smell hit him immediately and he moaned, head falling against your forehead, his breathing ragged and strained. His cock reacted, bouncing in your hand and you continued your teasing. 

“Then beg me for it, pet. I don’t think you’ve earned the opportunity to unmask me just yet.” His resolve crumbled with every soft touch, every stroke. He pushed into your hand and you took that as a sign to speed your motions before you pushed him back. Confusion was written across his features, that was until you let a healthy glob of spit hit his angry cock. “Oh mother fuck.” The man hissed out, crashing his bloodied lips into your own, allowing the metallic taste of your own blood to permeate your tongue. You reciprocated, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, begging for entrance. He parted his lips, granting you access, as he swiftly moved your panties to the side, his thick fingers slipping between your weeping folds. It took everything in him to not take you then and there, your pussy sucking his fingers in, tight and wet. 

“Please, please, I need to see you.” You sobbed out between kisses, but it was clear that it wasn’t enough. The musician growled at your words, dipping his index into your slick and using it as a lubricant to tease your clit with, it took him a moment but he found the bundle of nerves. The instanthis calloused finger landed on your clit, your vision exploded into stars, mouth practically running on its own, incoherent pleas and various iterations of “more” tumbling from your swollen lips. You were finally giving him something to work with, the pleas, the praises. He continued working your cunt, curling his fingers into the sweet spot deep inside you, warm walls squeezing against him. 

“Oh, darling. I’ll give you whatever your sinful heart desires.” He nipped at your bottom lip, splitting it with his canines before he pulled back, panting as he tried to catch his breath, however he refused to remove his hand from your cunt, slowing his movements only a fraction so that he could catch his bearings. “Are you sure?” He asked you, a worry laced in his voice. You nodded fervently, a saccharine look in your eyes peeking through beyond the undeniable lust. Whether you understood he was anxious about what you would think of him or not wasn’t apparent but regardless, you wanted to know who the man you were bound to fuck was. 

With a swift move he tugged the mask off, tossing it to the couch behind him and removing his balaclava. What you hadn’t expected was the sight to take your breath away completely. His hair tumbled out of the bun he had it tucked into, and the messy curls cascaded down his shoulders, doe eyes framed by the prettiest eyelashes you’d ever seen, and his swollen lips? God you couldn’t even think anymore. You immediately kissed them, nipping at his lips, taking his bottom lip into your mouth and sucking, tearing a moan from him, his lust filled eyes expanding even farther as you continued your assault on his lips. You bit down harder this time, cracking his lip. This time the metallic taste belonged to him and you couldn’t help but moan at his taste. You needed more. 

“Please, I- I need you…” You panted, eyeing the man with carnal desire. 

“Eddie, my name is Eddie.” And with that final confession he grabbed you by the hip and dragged you back to the roomiest surface he could find. It was all teeth, tongue, and the metallic taste of each other’s blood. Your hand on his cock and his fingers still working you open, movements becoming more erratic as he practically drilled into you with his fingers, setting an unrelenting pace that he seemed eager to keep up. Your knees hit the back of a couch, and his arm immediately shot to the small of your back, gently lowering you, a contrast to how he was abusing your needy body. Your hands moved to his hair in preparation for what was to come, yanking at his soft locks, releasing a deep moan from low in his chest. His hair was silky underneath your fingertips, few tangles in the way or your mission. 

“Eddie, please.” You whined, flush with desire, unable to think of what you wanted anymore than wanting him. A smirk adorned his lips and he sank his knees onto the soft cushion, knees bracketing your hips perfectly, his hands coming up to frame your face, curls ticking your cheekbones as he did so. 

“Open up, sweetheart.” He cooed. Instinctively you parted your lips for him only to feel a glob of his spit fly into your mouth. “Now swallow like the good devil worshipping slut you are.” You obeyed without question, swallowing down his spit with a pornographic moan. As you did, he took a moment to line himself up for you. “God, you look so beautiful, blasphemous doesn’t even begin to cover it, pet.” He praised as he rubs his dick against your soaked entrance, your hips rocking into him, threatening to suck him in. He hissed but slid his hand down your body, tracing your figure with his fingers, teasing in the most tantalising way, once he reaches your ass, he gives it a harsh slap at which you gasp out, choking on your breath, the sting of his hand making contact with your ass radiating a heat you hadn’t thought possible. You hadn’t expected it in the least but it was welcome nonetheless. “Behave.” He growled out, a darkness seeping into the word.

“P-Please, Eds… I need - I can’t, please.” You babbled, words completely incoherent. You weren’t even sure what you were begging for at this point. His cock? His fingers? Were you asking to be fucked stupid? In all your incoherent ramblings and begging Eddie caught one thing that made his brain fuzzy around the edges. “Corrupt me satanus, corrupt me, please.” Playing into the whole devil worship aspect had him gone, his hips violently snapping into yours, completely disregarding that you might need to adjust to the stretch. Part of him felt bad, but your immediate response was to wrap your legs around his waist, crying his name out as tears brimmed your eyes, mascara beginning to run down your cheeks. To Eddie, you looked absolutely perfect. He leaned in and peppered kisses across your face to wipe away the tears that trickled down. 

“S’this what you want, my little pet? You want me to ruin you?” His husky voice was in your ear as he dipped his head lower, his hips rolling into yours slowly. He moved masterfully for someone so scrawny, cock buried to the hilt as he rocked into you. Your mouth fell slack, tightening your legs around his waist and tugging him into you. “Come on, answer me, sweetheart.” He coaxed, pulling out of you slowly before snapping his hips into yours. The pleasure and pain mixed together in a teasing dance, keeping you on the edge and overwhelming your senses all the same. You couldn’t verbally answer and so you turned your head, tucking your face into his neck and kissing up to his ear. About halfway up you landed on a sensitive spot, causing a moan to tumble from his lips, a shiver running down your spine. You latched on like a vampire, sucking over the spot, lapping over it with your tongue to soothe any violent bites you inflicted upon him. In turn he bit into your shoulder, trying to ground himself in reality instead of losing himself to carnal pleasure, the coil in his abdomen tightening evermore. His plan had gone to shit the moment you continued to nibble on his neck, your hands tugging harder at his lock, pulling him further into you. With a slight upward tilt of your hips, Eddie hit a new angle when he snapped his hips into yours, ploughing deeper into you. The both of you moaned in unison before he released a strangled whimper. It was your turn to break skin, your mouth filled with the crimson substance that sustained Eddie’s life. Releasing your lips from the wound, you kissed over his neck and to his shoulder, smearing the fluid across his upper half. 

His pace picked up, slamming into you, deeper and deeper, nothing but the sound of breathless lovers, bodies colliding, and the sweet ecstasy of carnal desire flooding the green room. Your hand then came to his back, scratching down it and eliciting a whine from the man above you. 

“Please, please, please.” You chanted into his neck. It was as if he understood what you meant, his hand coming down between your joined bodies to rub over the bundle of nerves, little figure eights being drawn over your clit. You were going to lose your mind, and maybe even your soul. Would selling it to the devil be so bad? It didn’t take long after that for a white heat to build, a pressure that you weren’t used to building, the coil tightening, threatening to snap like an elastic band. 

“Oh, shit, sweetheart, I’m close.” The man turned his head, kissing up your neck, over your cheek, and found your lips. His kiss was searing hot, burning with need. He chased his release with you, trying to bring you as close to the edge as he could, hoping you might be able to finish at the same time. “Don’t want to finish until you do.” The devil could be generous if he wanted to be.

“S’close.” You panted against his swollen lips, unable to give any coherent answer to him, not that you cared. If laying in sin felt this good, you’d bed the devil any day. “Please, Eds… Don’t stop.” And somehow he kept at it, the same pace, same pressure, same rough and unrelenting fuck that he had been using for the past few minutes. He knew that don’t stop also meant that he shouldn’t change a single fucking thing he was doing, and rightfully so. With a cry, you closed your eyes tight, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you came, the elastic finally snapping, and your release soaking Eddie’s stage uniform. 

“Oh- fuck!” The man squeaked, his own release following shortly after. He could have sworn he saw stars in that moment, arms shaking beneath his own weight. His body fully collapsed on top of yours, your arms wrapping around him tightly, kisses tenderly placed on his shoulder. “So perfect f’me.” He mumbled into your sticky skin, reluctantly peeling from you. His brutal and domineering demeanour melted away, replaced by a certain level of care. You could see it behind his eyes clearly. “You okay, sweetheart?” He cooed, brushing your hair from your face, a few strands sticking to your forehead. 

“Y-yeah.” You shakily breathe out, your voice hoarse from the activities that had just taken place. As you try to prop yourself up on your shoulders, you wince, a pain shooting through you. “Just sore.” You murmured, suddenly shy under the musician’s gaze. You didn’t dare look at him anymore, a twinge of shame filling your heart. 

“Hey, sweetheart, come here.” He mumbled, scooting closer, not daring to pull out just yet. He pulls you up, legs entangled with each other in a pile of limbs, unsure of where one person ended and the other began. He pressed your warm body to his, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, rubbing soothing circles over your back, his gentle voice whispering sweet nothings to you. 

“Thank you, Eddie.” You mumbled into his skin, placing a tender kiss over a forming bruise. “That was something else.” He hummed in agreement, allowing his eyes to flutter close for a second, letting himself enjoy a fleeting moment of human contact while he was on tour. While the guys were wonderful and he loved them to death, there was a certain intimacy that he missed in lovers. One that he didn’t indulge in as much these days. 

Reluctantly, he pulled out and you pulled away, debating whether to say anything to him, or whether you wanted to indulge in some more pleasantries. If you were any wiser and more observant you’d have noticed the longing in his eyes, his gaze trailing over your figure as you pushed away to gather your belongings. It was odd to say that the musician would have wanted you to stick around for some more aftercare, it would have been even stranger if he admitted to you that he just wanted you to stick around post coitus and have a drink, maybe a smoke, and get to know each other. 

“Hey, hang on, let me clean you up.” His voice softened, taking you aback. “Come on, pet, I’m not gonna leave you like this.” He gets up only to tuck himself back into his slick soaked uniform, cringing as he does so. He grabs a water bottle from the nearby table and a small cloth kept on the vanity in the far corner of the room. “Come on, just sit.” He motioned back over to the couch and watched as you hesitantly padded over. You sat down on the cleanest area you could find, squirming as you began to feel Eddie’s cum slipping out of you. 

“S’fine, you don’t have to.” You mumbled, turning away from the man. He sighed as he approached you, sinking to his knees before starting to clean your thighs. He worked his way up between your legs, cleaning the leaking spend from your cunt. He placed a few gentle kisses to the tops of your thighs, your eyes flicking over to him as he did so. That was the moment you got a good look at the man. Dark ink littered his skin, barely an inch was pure, untouched, the only areas you couldn’t see his tattoos were the areas in which you had drawn blood, the dried fluid flaking slowly. He continued cleaning you up, rubbing gentle and warm circles with the wet cloth. Part of you couldn’t help but find this incredibly thoughtful, your heart squeezing at the gestures, but the other half of you believed that you were probably just an easy lay. 

“Hush, yes I do. It’s the least I can do.” His doe eyes met yours as he looked up at you through his lashes. “I made a mess of you, darling, and I need to clean you up.” His voice was sincere, soft even, and you couldn’t help but melt. You allowed him to tend to your tired limbs, and once he got to your neck, he apologised, knowing that it would probably hurt. You couldn’t help but stare at the softness behind his eyes, the fire that burned within had fizzled out and was replaced by some unnamed emotion. As the towel made contact with your neck, you winced, earning yourself a kiss from the musician. It shocked you that even after the heat of the lustful moment he was still willing to kiss you but you accepted it, melting into his lips. They were soft, a little chapped, but inviting nonetheless. 

“Thank you.” You whispered against them, afraid your voice would give out if you spoke any louder. Your hand came up to his face, brushing your thumb over his sharp cheekbone before placing your forehead against his. “You’re sweeter than I anticipated.” 

“And you’re kinkier than I anticipated.” He retorted and moved back gently, only to give himself room to fold the towel over to a clean side before cleaning up your face with a gentle hand. “Thank you for indulging me.” He cooed out to you, his sincerity going straight to your heart. You couldn’t help but nod. 

“I should go.” Your voice broke, and in that same moment, so did Eddie’s heart. There was something to you that drew him in, that he wanted more of, that he craved. It flew past just the need for human contact, part of it had to do with the way you ran with the punches he threw, you went with the game you played from the stage all the way to the back room. Eddie nodded solemnly, pushing away. 

“Yeah, uh…” He bit his lip, tossing the washcloth on the coffee table. Surely worse things had been on that surface in the past, but right now Eddie didn’t care about that, not about what was on that table, what would be in the future, or what he just threw onto it. “You don’t have to, I actually, I don’t know that I want you to. Can I at least buy you a drink?” He asked, standing up straight. You turn around, grabbing your pants so you could slip them back on over your legs. 

“You want to buy me a drink?” There’s a hopeful tinge to your voice, head shooting over to look at the musician in question. As you did, you hissed out gently, the garden of blooming roses on your neck blossoming farther across your neck, bite marks adorning your skin like dark tattoos. There was no denying what had gone on. 

“Sweetheart, I think we both left a mark on one another,” he teased, “when you pray to the devil so well, I think it’s hard for him to resist.” A twinkle in his eyes told you it was more than just the sex you both had. “Besides, it might help with the pain. What do you say?” 

“Mhmm,” you hummed as if you were deep in thought, “only if the devil can treat me right.” You mused. “You going to change first?” You waggled your eyebrows, referring to his squirt-soaked trousers, only to receive a smirk in return.  “Oh no sweetheart, I wear my battle scars with pride.” With that, he pushed back to grab his helmet, slipping it back over his head before taking your hand in his and leading you off to the bar. He wasn’t what you expected, none of it was, the show, the music, Eddie, but as you took his hand you couldn’t help the feeling brewing in your chest; the feeling that maybe the unexpected was exactly what you needed.

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#eddie x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #musician!eddie #stranger things au #mask kink #ghost bc #sodo ghoul #eddie as sodo #i'm obsessed #eddie munson smut #reader insert #music

[yandere-romanticaa]

Here are some crumbs about yandere mortician! From now on, his name is Viktor. (I'll make a detailed post about him, his personality, looks later, I promise.)

masterlist.

Viktor can often be seen with headphones in his ears, his expression neutral and eyes glazed over with a sheen of nothingness. When he's spotted in public people want to give him the benefit of doubt and say he's just lost in his own world, consumed by the sound of music. Perhaps he's just so in tune with the lyrics, maybe they speak to him on a level which people often seek out when listening to music. His playlist is filled with all sorts of songs - be it long ballads, cheesy love songs, generic pop, heavy metal, screamo, classical music, frankly some songs you wouldn't even expect someone like him wouldn't even listen at all(a la WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion).

Even while working, Viktor likes to have something playing in the background. His co-workers often joke about his music taste but he just shrugs them off without saying anything. It's all just a rollercoaster, a complete mess but he likes it that way. It's fun to be on his toes.

Truthfully, Viktor never liked music. He never bothered paying attention to the lyrics nor the meaning or even the tune of the song.

He simply can't stand the silence.

Viktor is a walking contradiction - he dislikes most people and yet wishes to be a part of them. He wants to be someone. But he doesn't know how to do that. His way of coping became listening to music. He even learned to play some instruments growing up, thinking that maybe someone would take a liking to him.

Even so, no one bothered with him. He was still a nobody.

Some did admire him, from a safe distance at least. His aura was black as charcoal and posture stiff as a board. Even if one dared to look at him for too long it felt like Viktor would pluck their eyes out if he caught them looking.

Perhaps he would. He wasn't sure either.

The sounds had no meaning to him. It was all used to cover up the silence, pure white noise. Nothing more, nothing less.

All of that came to a screeching halt once he met you, his tiny piece of sunshine.

You'd go through his playlist, sometimes scoffing, sometimes liking the things you saw. His eccentric side never failed to amuse you. Amongst that jungle you'd ask him who his favorite artists were, if he had anyone specific he liked.

Viktor said the names of some random artists he thought you fancied yourself. He wanted you to like him.

His answer ultimately did not matter in the end as you would still recommend some of your own personal favorite songs to him. Viktor promised he'd give them a listen as soon as he could.

Later that evening, he was hard at work. As he was putting on his coat he turned towards his phone and reached towards it, slightly eager to see what you had in store for him. The song played quietly in the background as gently rain tapped against the window, giving the morgue a more tranquil feel than it ought to have. The person on his table tonight was an old man who presumably died of a heart attack earlier this morning.

Poor soul. That was all he could bother to say.

The evening went on as it usually did but Viktor could not stop thinking about you. His sweet little sunshine, he was so touched by the fact that you bothered to go so far for him. He could feel his heart racing as unfamiliar butterflies started to flutter in his chest.

Badum. Badum. Badum.

If he wasn't careful he would be the next one to die of a heart attack.

The music got a bit louder as it reached the chorus, its tune almost perfectly in sync with his heart. He hadn't even realized that he started to sway his hips gently. Left, right, left right.

It felt like the correct thing to do.

Viktor also picked up the sound of a male voice humming which was odd, considering the fact that the singer of the song was a woman. He nearly dropped his scalpel as he realized that the one who was humming was him, not someone else, him.

For the first time in his life, Viktor bothered to pay attention to the song. The singer detailed her undying feelings for her lover, promising herself to them and them only.

Viktor thought about you the entire time. He never fancied himself as a dancer but if he could, he would want nothing more than to dance with you.

Would you want to dance with him?

For the first time in his life, Viktor found joy in the music he listened to. And it was all thanks to his sunshine.

🔪 TAGS: @shamelessdarkprince

#yandere #yandere x reader #yancore #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere mortician #yandere mortician x reader

[tearskillstardust]

hello hello I have a genshin request!! genshin men Xiao, Neuvillette, Alhaitham, Wriothesley, (sperate) x y/n??

It's nothing special but hearing y/n sing for the first time?? She's very quiet and closed about her life but they go looking for them and hear them singing!!

(also shes singing Doria mermaid song!! I would suggest searching that up and listening to it first!! Have fun!!)

-🦇🎀

✎ GENTLE HARMONY... al haitham, xiao, wriothesley, neuvillette.

✎ they hear you singing once, but now that they've heard your mellow voice and seen your vulnerable side, they aren't letting you off the hook about it so easily.

— female reader. no trigger warning except that childe has a crush on scara which may be traumatizing lmao

✧ XIAO

serenity and peace had shaded the brilliant skies a gentler shade of grey as the trees leaned in towards each other in idle chatter.

in the eyes of the yaksha, it was an ordinary view. if the skies were grey, then all it meant was that rain would follow soon after, nothing more nothing less. but in the eyes of his lover, whose romantic nature he had begun to come to terms with and secretly adore, a grey sky meant so much.

it was rejuvenation after the bright seduction of the summer breeze— the first onset of the dance of the peacocks as they spread their wings in all their glory, and the onset of the romance of the lovers who had only recently united.

xiao had known you for as long as he could remember, you had just, sort of been there when he first began serving rex lapis. a nature spirit, rex lapis had simplified after a great struggle of trying to explain what you were. and though your discontentedness with the term was very great, because you were not just a spirit, you decided against voicing your opinions.

part of your reluctance stemmed from the fact that xiao had uncontrollably smiled then, unaware of what he was doing, not having controlled his emotions. he had blushed very harshly after that, and though he never explained the 'why' part of it, you assumed nature was simply a touching subject for him.

the yaksha stopped in his steps.

a lone bird at a distant tree took off in flight, the cranes choosing another spot for rest, complaining about the loud of a certain flute.

a flute.

in these high mountains?

he was the only one around himself he had known could play the instrument —other than a certain peculiar kid dressed in red who said he smelled like a distant past and a longing pain and xiao had to control himself from smacking him— so where did the tune originate from?

he would have moved, he certainly would have if the tune wasn't so melancholic in nature—it was like a paradox almost, bright where it was dull, buoyant where it was heavy, ephemeral where it was harsh.

suddenly, he felt like a young adeptus again, clad in green robes as he stared out into the sky, loud chatter behind him as the rest of his friends talked loudly, exchanging fruits and trinkets they'd got from villagers who thought of them as divine earthly spirits.

'c'mon xiao!', a certain rough hand pat his back, and he was so startled that he would have almost fallen down the ravine had another strong one not grabbed him right then as they dragged him back to the cavern where everyone else was and forced-fed him apples.

'haha! have some apples! especially for the most fearsome of yakshas!'. everyone around him laughed at that, and someone pinched his cheeks when he huffed, red at the teasing.

the memory was too distant for any image to properly solidify, his heart throbbing in pain of revived memories. but strangely enough, he remembered having felt so happy that day—the last day he had seen all of them smiling before everything dissolved to dust.

no, he shook his head, gritting his teeth as he held his spear tighter, ignoring the dull pain in his heart, stupid, stupid memories.

he moved slowly in the direction of the tune, spear in his grasp, agonizingly as though a snake trying to catch sight of the rabbit— and when the rabbit came to sight, his mouth fell open in slight shock.

it was you.

he almost called out to you but then realized that you would stop singing if he did. you had always been private about this side of yours, never quite revealing it to him entirely. he had always been slightly perplexed when zhongli would laugh and tell him about how skilled in the arts you were, and he would always have difficulty accepting his words for he had never even seen you reading a poem, much less sing or perform.

so when he heard you sing, he couldn't help but simply sit down behind the bushes as you completed your tune, humming peacefully, all alone, defneseless.

defenseless.

'so you hate the arts because it makes you weak?', cloud retainer asked him jokingly once when he told her he didn't like songs or arts. he wasn't entirely sure what to say to that response of hers.

'it makes you vulnerable.' he answered her back, clearing his throat.

and it was true.

the vulnerability that danced in your eyes at that moment made his heart mellow with equal parts love and nostalgia. of lost memories, lost friends, lost loves, lost happiness— everything he had lost, he had sacrificed for a single goal born out of devotion. he could not find it in himself to move away from your gentle song, nor did he have the heart to disturb you when you were so much at peace.

so he remained there until you were done, reliving old memories as he got further lost in your song, and he could have sworn your gaze flickered exactly to where he sat amongst the bushes, a smug grin on our features before you turned away, staring serenely at the sky as the downpour began.

✧ WRIOTHESLEY [modern au]

the captain of the baseball team had no business around the club rooms. especially around the music ones. and he knew it.

but when a certain ginger-haired, dumbass of a friend decided that it was best to have a crush on scaramouche, the most introverted, 'golden-kid' guy of the school, he had to decide against his better judgement to look for him around the music rooms where he would often be during afternoons.

but when he came across the rundown music room with the sign 'do not enter' hanging outside it, he was suddenly reminded of you who had been entering the room, continuously sniffing and coughing as you tried to gather the courage to enter, a broom in one hand and a mop and bucket in the other. he snickered quietly, remembering the snarl you had given him like a wounded cat when he offered help.

when he tried remembering who you were, however, his memory betrayed him. he only remembered that he had seen you receiving a reward for an inter-school musical performance you had given, but your name or class was entirely a different matter.

'childe can find out about her,' he thought, and then blushed furiously when he realized he was obsessing over a girl he had seen just yesterday. he shook his head once again, 'no i'm a confident man.'

pause.

actually, not so much.

because as soon as he slid the door open out of pure curiosity —hoping somewhat that if some of the cleaning work would be left, he would do it and act like the prince clad in white robes on a white horse— the sight in front of his eyes almost made him drop to his knees.

you sat in front of the piano, back towards him as you played a melody, your fingers working quickly as your voice filled his ears. you looked so pure and unbothered in that moment that he had to force himself not to march right up to you and ask for your number.

he could not help but stare at your fingers as they worked quickly on the keys, never staying still, and then your mellow voice as you sang the notes perfectly, the highs and lows evident in your voice. he was surprised how touching the song was, and almost complimented you when he felt a hand on his shoulder and almost screamed.

childe pressed his hand further against his mouth and pulled his back, and softly slid the door back in place before looking at wriothesley with a teasing grin.

'so?', he asked suggestively.

'so what? you absolute piece of shit i was about to get down on one knee and—

'do you even know her name?'

pause.

'w-well i will! eventually! '

childe sighed and rubbed his forehead. 'you know what actually? forget i ever said anything about that purple twink. i'll talk to him and this girl for us.'

wriothesley eyed his friend suspiciously, aware of his playboy tendencies. 'oh c'mon,' childe said, smiling smugly, 'i would never flirt with my soon-to-be friend's dearest—

'ugh, shut up.' wriothesley said, completely red in the face. he grabbed childe by the throat and began roughing him up affectionately, both of them laughing loudly in the empty corridor.

'excuse me?'

wriothesley dropped childe and straightened up immediately at the familiar voice. 'oh! hi!'

you eye him once before nodding. 'hi. i'm practising a song, please keep it low.'

he was a bit surprised with your short response but managed to smile nonetheless. 'oh, yup, we're sorry. also, your singing is amazing!'

oops.

to his surprise though, you smiled gently at him and blushed. 'thanks, i wrote it a long time back!' and he had to try not to combust with embarrassment and glee. he smiled widely, red in the face as you went back in and slid the door in place.

oh, he could marry you.

'let my shirt go, dumbass!'

'oh, go to hell ginger. i'll talk to her myself.'

✧ AL HAITHAM

al haitham liked his peace. period.

much to his annoyance, however, kaveh's best friend, you, that is, who was staying over at his place for some time to look after both, him and kaveh because both of them fell sick at the same time, hated silence.

no, not disliked. hated.

in your eyes, it was a day wasted if there wasn't an element of song and loudness in it. you always left a cd playing at the gramophone. you didn't even care about the genre, something just had to always keep playing. and you should always be able to listen to it. otherwise, you start becoming irascible.

once he had turned off the radio that you'd left on even when you were working in the balcony, hanging their clothes to dry and that night, as you placed the cloth over his heated body, you made sure it was extra cold making him hiss loudly.

it wasn't very fair, but he didn't go much against you after that.

he would not have needed your help, but tighnari had insisted that they keep you there to ensure that their viral does not get any worse. he had mentioned some botanical words al haitham was too annoyed to remember and then pushed you in the house, leaving.

still though, with his own fever which was always accompanied by chronic headaches, with his inability to read which was clawing at him, and kaveh's endless chatter about one thing or the other, even he was bound to lose his patience at one point.

today was precisely that day perhaps when he had thought of at least 101 reasons why silence was necessary right now in his house as he strided over to kaveh's study where you were working on your herbology work. or at least he thought you were.

standing right outside the room, he heard a soft tune of singing. right.

now that he actually thought about it, the entire house was quiet except for your soft singing that was infiltrating his ears right now. he had no interest in invading anyone's privacy or being rude, nor was he fond of the arts, but when he heard the softness of your voice, he couldn't help but press his ear further to listen closely.

he was so used to your loud, excited and energetic voice, which always irritated him —no offence intended— that when he heard the softer side of it, the more vulnerable one, he couldn't help but get mellow from the inside. he almost wanted to gag, but even he couldn't deny that your singing voice was beautiful.

he had always had a bit of a lonely life.

not that he was upset with it, no, he almost called it, welcomed it with open arms. he was rich, intelligent, no scratch that, genius, capable and competent. he simply didn't need anyone around.

but sometimes when he stared at kaveh moving around the house, holding a ladle one time, then a stack of books the other, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of emotion— something he couldn't quite place his finger at but something which forced him to smile nonetheless.

and then there had been you. there was nothing in you that the scribe would've liked romantically, initially anyway; you were loud and bright and energetic, always jumping from one task to the other, always had a story to tell and a joke to crack, never quite had a dull moment or a need for rest. he almost laughed every time he saw you interacting with kaveh and the way you two just clicked together—the two most annoying people on earth.

the only two people close to his heart.

wait a minute.

he suddenly realized that your song had stopped, and he immediately skipped from the door to the kitchen, or as far as he possibly, quietly could, when you opened your door and stared at him confusedly.

'scribe?'

'al haitham.'

'same thing, what are you doing here? you need a newspaper?'

he looked where he was standing and found he was in the middle of the hall in the most awkward way possible and then cooked up an excuse quickly. 'uh, yeah, kaveh's being a pain again.'

you snickered quietly and quickly came to where he was, standing on your tiptoes as he instinctively bowed down to let you press your hand against his forehead. when he realized his action, he blushed furiously.

you frowned seeing him all red, 'you still have a temperature, al haitham. go back to bed and if you need something, just call me. i'll bring today's newspaper.'

fuck the newspaper, he thought, quickly walking back to his room—confusing both of you; you, over how weird he was being all of a sudden and himself over why he cared so much for you all of a sudden.

✧ NEUVILLETTE

the chief justice of fontaine.

interesting title.

but the duties that came with the position were not so interesting. don't get the ludex wrong— he loves his people, and his job and he was completely devoted but it's simply that when he can, and wants to, spend time with a fun friend and funnier melusines, it's a bit hard to focus on your work.

it was just that time to time, it was nice having someone around who can alleviate your stress without being loud or obnoxious or landing him in more trouble. and it just so happened that you provided him the perfect gateway for that, his newly assigned guard.

he hadn't insisted on keeping one but wriothesley and clorinde had, telling him about the fragile state of fontaine in these times and how any kind of chances of attack on the ludex remained high and that even though he was the hydro dragon himself, a skilled and trustworthy mercenary was always worth keeping around.

what they never said to him though was that they had also assigned you the duty because they were aware of your jokester nature. they knew that you would entertain him with jokes and keep it light when he was getting too tense. and then there was this empathetic nature of yours, which always allowed you to comfort the hydro dragon when he felt upset.

he was genuinely amused by you. you were a nice influence to have around, with your light-hearted chatter and sweet-spoken self. what he didn't expect though, was that he would start getting so restless when you weren't around. he convinced himself for a week, then two, but when the third week passed without having you around, he wanted to visit you.

you had fallen sick, clorinde had informed him. surely, you would be better by now? where were you then? did you grow tired of being around him? he felt upset at that thought. of course. he never openly admitted to liking your jokes or witty banter, certainly, you hated him now. regardless, it was your duty now, and he didn't really ant any kind of stain on your reputation. he would gladly —well, not gladly— let you leave but with proper documents and papers.

he knocked thrice on your door, only for the door to open with a creak.

negative thoughts infiltrated his mind.

he walked in slowly, expecting anything and everything to jump at him. he looked around slowly as he closed the door behind himself, frowning deeply. then he paused.

a song.

and he was so relieved upon hearing that song that he couldn't help but follow it to its source blindly, the innermost room where you had once told him you kept all your musical instruments. you were playing the song on a lyre, and he could almost imagine your serenity as you pluck at the strings idly, staring out of a window.

you often sang it when it was dark and you were lighting all the lanterns around the place and switching the lights on. there was a certain joy, a promise of love in the sweet song that you often sang that made him love it so much. or perhaps it was not the song at all but the person singing it instead.

he stopped right at the closed door and heard your voice, putting him at peace. he thought about how peaceful you must be in this moment, so vulnerable with your closed eyes and parted lips as you addressed the wind with your gentle song—

'sir?'

the song stopped.

he turned, irritated at the interruption, only to find clorinde standing behind himself, holding a small pouch of herbs. now that the situation sank in, he realized that there was shock in her tone, as though she wasn't expecting him at all. he blushed.

'good evening, miss clorinde.'

she tried hard not to tease him and shushed him by pressing a finger against her lips and quickly hid him behind the cupboard, as he crouched, half embarrassed, half thankful as you opened the door.

'who's there clorinde?' your voice came, albeit a bit softer than its usual pitch.

'oh, it's no one.'

'but you said sir?'

'c'mon be serious, you really think i would address someone if they barged right into our house? i would crack their skull open just like that!'

neuvillette flinched slightly from his place before grimacing.

he sneaked out slowly when the door closed and moved out of the house, making sure to shut the door behind himself. and as he walked back to his quarters, he could not help but feel every emotion known to mankind— love for you, anger at clorinde, sorrow for himself, guilt at entering without thinking, then irritation for overthinking, sulking for not being able to see you and confusion at the fact that he was feeling so much all of a sudden.

one thing was sure though, the ludex had taken a liking to your voice, and when you returned, there was no way he was going to let you finish your shift for the day without singing him the song in your lovely, lovely voice.

i wanna kiss the anon who sent this request! this was so cute and fun<3 and the song was amazing my darling, love you for it! i hope i could deliver what you hoped

also, who wants to help point out what al haitham is feeling? 😌

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin x reader #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette fluff #fontaine #wriothesley x reader #wriothesley genshin #wriothesley x you #neuvillette #al haitham #kaveh #genshin alhaitham #al haitham x reader #al haitham x you #al haitham x y/n #al haitham fluff #xiao x reader #xiao genshin impact #genshin xiao #genshin fluff #fluff #anon <3

[bettysupremacy]

could you write something about drummer!james or bassist!remus? I’m spiraling about them…

for example one of them teaching reader how to play their instrument omg or performing and seeing r and forget their cue and the other band members are like??? I love your characterization so much!!

thank you!! I’ll never turn my nose up at rockstar! marauders

“Faster.” James mumbles, concentrated on the encouraging pressure of his fingertips into your wrist. “Yeah, you’re doing it!”

You sit on the tiny chair with him, back pressed firmly into his chest. He’s warm and broad, letting the expanse of his arms engulf around you and connect around your wrists. Faster and faster the vibrations of the drums bounce around the empty stage and arena as he helps you create a sound melody.

“You did it, baby!” He laughs, slowing to a stop and smooshing a kiss into your cheek squarely.

“Doesn’t that hurt your wrist?” You question, peering up at him. Your wrist aches.

He shrugs it off. “It used to, sure, but now I’m used to it.”

“D’you hear that, Rem?” Sirius chokes a laugh. “He’s ‘used to it.’”

James scoffs. “Oh, bugger off.”

The boys roll their eyes, trying to mind their own the best they can. You can tell Remus wants to say something, to quip towards Sirius, but they hold strong. It’s silly watching them force their eyes away from the sight that is you and James. The air has stilted and you shuffle in his arms.

“I think it’s cool.” You shrug quietly.

James beams, his shiny smile contagious. “Well if you,” his fingers tickle your sides. “think it’s cool, then I might as well not worry.”

“Why would you worry?”

“I want you to think I’m cool.”

“Do you?”

“Um,” he scoffs. “yeah, duh.” He says it like it’s obvious.

You smile. “Duh.”

“I’d quite like you to think I’m cool.”

It makes you giggle. The look on his face. Sitting in a wide arena, equipped to the thousands with empty chairs that’ll be filled with wild adoring fans in an hour, he wants your approval. He wants you to think he’s cool. It’s so preposterous it brings a smile to your face. He’s walks with a swagger, talks with an undertone that can only be classified as raw kindness. But strip him down and it’s just a boy. A boy who wants approval, and from you no less.

“What?” He laughs.

“I wanna be you when I grow up.”

“That’s a new one.”

You laugh, leaning into the expanse of his chest. “Or maybe morph into you.”

He squeezes you at the morbid thought. Like if he’s hard enough he can grant you your wish. Secretly, he wishes it too. “Not close enough.”

You agree, wrapping your arms around him selfishly to steal some time when you know he should be rehearsing. He’s so warm like this, and soft. Strong and built, but comfy to embrace. You could stay like this forever.

“Get a room.” Sirius drawls, tapping his mic.

Remus adjusts the strap of his bass. He doesn’t feel strongly about the situation at hand, but he supports Sirius anyhow. “This is a new low.”

James doesn’t seem perturbed. “You guys are so jealous.”

“Do you guys want hugs too?” You ask, peering up at the standing musicians.

“Um, yes?”

Sirius jogs over, pulling you up from the warmth of James and into his. His hug is more possessive, and you suspect he’s making a sort of face at James behind you. Softly, you bring your hand up into his hair to pet him and pants like a dog, mimicking their labored breathing.

“Good puppy.” You laugh.

“Smells like one too.” James jabs.

You’re pulled from Sirius to Remus swiftly. He picks you up off your feet and you wrap your arms around his neck securely, your giggles startled.

“Okay,” James moans annoyedly. “This is my girlfriend.”

“And she has things to do.” Comes Lily from the curtains. She stands impatiently, clipboard on her hip.

You peak up from Remus’ neck to Lily, ignoring exasperated James behind you. “You need a hug too, Lil’s?”

“No.” Though she bites a smile back.

“Oh, come here.” You pull from Remus to jog over and bind her in a tight hug. She laughs, hugging you back as best she can with one arm. Kissing her cheek quickly, you turn to James. Blindingly bright with your smile. “I’ll be in the audience tonight.”

“I don’t get a goodbye kiss? No good luck kiss or quick snog?”

You run over, sliding your hands over your boys cheeks like puzzle pieces. Bending down, you murmur about forgetting something before kissing him. He grips the fat of your hip as you bend to his lips, molding it into his large hands. It’s nowhere near chaste, but it’s still not enough for the love stricken boy. He pulls you closer, attempting to deepen the kiss.

You pull back breathlessly, guiltily. “See you tonight.”

He sighs, loosening his grip. “I’ll find you in the crowd, superstar.”

You beam at the name. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye.” James frowns.

“Jeez-us!” Sirius claps his hands. “The woman as things to do!”

#james potter x you #james potter blurb #james potter fluff #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james x reader #james potter fic #james x you #james potter fanfic #james potter fanfiction #james potter #marauders x y/n #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders fluff #marauders #marauders fanfic #marauders fanfiction #james potter x y/n #james potter x y/n fluff #james potter x fem!reader #james potter prompt

[daisyblog]

Cherry

Our Story Masterlist Summary: How Cherry was made.

Harry knew he had to get back to some sort of normality. He'd spent the last few months on tour, trying to work on his emotions and still trying to put a good show for his fans. It was hard.

It was hard for him without YN by his side. It was hard for him when they weren't talking right now. They hadn't spoken for a few weeks now, their last conversation was strained and it seemed that they silently agreed that maybe they needed to stop texting right now.

From the One Direction days, right up until his first solo album, Harry always felt inspired to write. It was his passion, the way he enjoyed expressing himself and music was his thing. But since their break up, Harry felt a lot, but trying to put into words was just something that he couldn't do right now.

He had a studio session with his team, he thought it was a waste of time because he had already explained to his manager, Jeff, that he wasn't in the right frame of mind to write, but Jeff and the team persuaded to join them, even if it was just to mess around with some of the instruments and sound board to see what they could do.

Harry sensed a tense and awkward atmosphere as he walked through the studio door, where everyone else had arrived before him. He noticed the look Mitch and Jeff gave each other and how Sammy and Tyler focused their eyes on the recording deck in front of them.

"What?" Harry continued to eye each of them, waiting to hear why they were all acting guilty, almost like they knew something he didn't.

Jeff broke the silence of the room. "Have you been online today?".

Harry shook his head no, confusion still evident on his face. "No..why?".

Jeff eyed Mitch quickly before he broke the news to his friend. "There's a photo of YN...and a man in a gallery in Paris".

Harry's heart felt like it was going to escape his body. It was thumping hard against his chest. He'd always been the jealous type, he'd get annoyed if another man checked YN out in front of him or attempted to chat her up, but this wasn't just jealousy, this was like he'd been hit by a bus. Was she really moving on?

Swallowing his emotions, Harry broke the tense silence. "Um..do we know who he is?". He asked his manager, knowing he would have made a few phone calls this morning.

"His name is Jack..his parents own the gallery they were at..it was their opening night". Harry felt his stomach twist again, all he could think about was YN and Jack and the fact that she had already met his parents.

Harry nodded his head in response, not quite knowing what to say. He just wanted to know, how they met, where they met, did she love him, did they have the same conversations they used to have, did she laugh at his jokes?

"Do you think he may just be a friend or something?" Mitch, who didn't get too involved in anything that wasn't his business, questioned Harry. He had known YN for a few years, and to him he just thought this was out of character for her. He witnessed how in love the couple are, the way YN would look at him with heart in eyes, the way they would say 'I love you' whenever they were leaving the room or how supportive YN had been when the guitarist first met them.

Harry let out a sarcastic chuckle. "I've met all her friends...and I've never heard of him". It was true, Harry had met YN's small group of friends. YN always said how small her circle was because she only trusted a small amount of people. "I'm gonna go and get a coffee, I'll be back in a bit".

Harry took a small walk around the area, needing to get some air. He felt like so many things were going through his mind. He didn't want YN to be with anyone else, he wanted to be the one to hold her hand, tell her how beautiful she is, tell her that he loves her.

Once Harry had arrived back at the studio, the four men was surprised to see that he had actually come back after the news they had shared this morning. They were even more surprised when Harry instructed Mitch to play a slow melody on the guitar. But they all did what Harry asked and once Harry began to sing some lyrics, they had realised that Harry was expressing his feelings and emotions through song.

Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't you call him what you used to call me

Harry thought about how he and YN had always had little pet names for each other, mostly being 'baby' or 'bubs". He couldn't help but think about YN calling Jack these names. He was also aware that they weren't talking right now so it made things feel even more intense for him.

I, I confess I can tell that you are at your best I'm selfish so I'm hating it I noticed that there's a piece of you in how I dress Take it as a compliment

YN was smiling wildly in the photo at the gallery, Harry could tell it was her real smile and one that he had been lucky to see many time over the years. Of course he wanted to see her happy, but not without him and with another man. As he was getting ready this morning, he couldn't help but reach for the pink beanie that sat in the drawer, one that YN had left behind and the one that was currently hiding his curls.

Don't you call him baby We're not talking lately Don't you call him what you used to call me

Harry re-sung the first verse, wanting to repeat the message loud and clear.

I, I just miss I just miss your accent and your friends Did you know I still talk to them? Does he take you walking round his parents' gallery?

He missed her loudness, he missed her laugh, he missed everything about her, even her thick accent. But the more he thought about YN, the more he visualised the photo of her and Jack so the last line came out without thought as he sung.

---

It was later that evening that Harry was back home by himself. He'd thought about his day and how everything changed so quickly for him.

He knew he was being cruel to himself, sat staring at the photo of YN at the gallery. He couldn’t help but notice how her eyes crinkled as she was mid laugh or how she was wearing her favourite black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. 

To distract himself he decided to go for a night time run, something he used to do when he couldn’t sleep or had something on his mind. As he run around the area near his home in LA, knowing the time difference between LA and England he wondered if YN was awake not able to sleep or if she had started her day early. 

Arriving back at his house, Harry showered and changed into some comfy clothes, he got into bed and out of habit glanced at the space next to him. An empty space where YN and Teddy were usually cuddled up. 

What surprised him was the sound of his pinging on the bedside table. He reached over and seeing the name across the screen made his heartbeat faster.

YN: Hey! Can we talk? x

Harry wasn’t sure if he was happy, relived or scared. Of course he wanted to talk to her, he’d do anything to have her back in his arms. But was this the talk where she told him it was officially over between them both.

Not wasting another moment, he pressed the phone button next to YN’s name and waited to hear her voice. 

“Hello”. YN’s voice was quiet, almost like she was trying to not to wake anyone. 

“Uh hey”. Harry was nervous. He didn’t know what to expect. 

“Sorry…I hope I didn’t wake you”. YN apologised.

Harry’s fingers began to play with the loose cotton on the duvet as he spoke. “N-no…of course not”.

There was a slight pause in conversation, almost like they weren’t quite sure what to say. 

“I…I wanted to explain the photo you may have seen-“. Harry recognised the nerves in YN’s voice. 

Harry interrupted. “YN…it’s okay..you don’t need to explain yourself to-“.

“Harry-“.

“-me…you can date whoever you want to date”. Harry continued to ramble, almost trying to sound unbothered about the whole thing.

“Harry…it’s not what it looks like-“.

Once again Harry didn’t let YN finished explaining. “You don’t need to tell me”.

“Harry…for fook sake let me finish”. Harry remained silent. “I’m trying to explain that Jack, who’s in the photo is Mia’s boyfriend…Mia invited me along because she was nervous and the media have twisted it”.

Harry has never felt relief like it. He wanted to jump up and down in excitement, but instead the smile was back on his face. 

When Harry didn’t respond, too happy about the news YN just shared, YN grew nervous. “Harry?”.

“Oh..oh sorry…I-I…I’m not going to lie…I’m so fucking happy to hear that”. Harry left put a chuckle, YN giggled on the other end of the phone at his honestly.

“So you really thought I would be dating someone”. YN decided this was the time to question Harry.

“Uh…uh…No…well maybe”.

“Harry….you know I still care about you…I was actually going to ask if you wanted to maybe go for a coffee or something next week…I’m flying out to LA to stay with Louis for a bit”.

Harry’s excitement started to grow. YN wanted to see him, she was flying out to LA next week, she made the first step. He couldn’t help but get hopeful that this was his chance to win her back.

“Yeah..yeah…I’d really love that”. Harry tried to stay calm and not give too much away.

“Cool…I’ll leave you to get some sleep ‘cause I know it’s late there…I’ll send you some details once I arrive”.

“That’ll be good…have a safe flight”.

“Goodnight bu-“. YN almost let out the little pet name she was used to saying. “Harry”.

As they both hung up, Harry whispered “Goodnight baby”.

Tag List: (let me know if you would like to be added) @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @harrys-flower @platinumbarbie143 @frickin-bats @harrysbbyh0ney @chronicallybubbly @goldensunflowe-r  @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @kaverichauhan @peterholland04 @panicattheuc @indierockgirrl @or-was-it-just-a-dream @hittiesontour @bunnyharold @fanfictioncafe @lilfreakjez @jerseygirlinca @iamahallucinationnn @theekyliepage @buckybarnessimpp

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harrystyles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles writing #one direction #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x tomlinson!reader #harry styles x oc #harry x reader #harry x yn #harry x y/n #harry x you #harry styles fic #harry styles series masterlist #harry styles masterlist #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine #louis tomlinson #niall horan #zayn malik #liam payne #harry 1d #one direction imagine #one direction fanfiction #tomlinson!yn

[psychovigilantewrites]

Sunshine's Shadow

Pairing: Jason Todd/Reader, Dick Grayson/Reader Genre: Slow burn smut? Porn with plot? Like eventually??? Word Count: 7,600 Read on Ao3 Part 1 of 2. Summary: You had powers of darkness that made you feel unwanted your whole life. Jason Todd was the first person to convince you that your darkness was sunshine. After his death, you went to Dick for comfort and started a relationship with him. And then, Jason came back. A/N:

I'm practicing writing again to prepare myself for the last chapter of Red Who? I'm not too happy with how I wrote this, but I'm hoping to start improving again along the way as I write and learn all over again. Also, I am not familiar with Titans! I know Jason never really joined? I just winged it I'm so sorry. I also aged up Jason's death here. I think the timeline is a bit messy pls forgive me.

Jason knocked on your door.

“Come in,” he heard your soft, muffled voice.

You were sitting on your bed, scrolling through your phone. You had soft instrumental music playing in your room. The table lamp was switched on on your bedside table, but the room was still dark.

“We’re getting ready for a spooky movie tonight,” Jason said, closing the door behind him and approaching you. “Care to join us this time?”

Your eyes darted from your phone to his, and you pursed your lips in hesitation.

“No thank you, I’m fine here,” you said and brought your attention back to your phone.

Jason sighed loudly and sat on the edge of your bed.

“Why don’t you ever join us?” he asked, “We’re the Teen Titans. We’re a team. You should join us for more team stuff besides official missions.”

You simply stared at Jason. He sensed that you had more to say but was hesitating opening up. So he got up and sat next to you. “You can tell me.”

“The room is dark, isn’t it?” you asked.

The question surprised Jason. “I mean, I guess? So what?”

“That’s me, Jason. You know how my powers work. This- this curse. The shadow I emit makes everything dark and gloomy, even if it’s a sunny day outside. And no one likes someone who brings darkness in a room,” you avoided his eyes and started picking at a hangnail on your finger.

“That’s why you won’t hang out with us?” he couldn’t help but laugh. “I thought you hated us or something.”

“What?” you looked at him incredulously, “How could I? I was afraid that you all hate me for being so depressing.”

“Has anyone told you that before?” Jason asked. He didn’t know much about where you came from, but he knew that you went to a lot of different schools and orphanages. An outsider, not unlike himself.

“The kids were always scared of me,” you confessed quietly, “They refused to play with me. That was fine, but then soon after they would bully me. Make fun of me, push me down, kick me. Reminded me again and again that I was a freak.”

For some reason, Jason always had the urge to protect you, even though you were slightly older than he was. Now that urge was stronger and he wanted to hurt anyone who hurt you, to shield you from all that negativity.

“Well,” he began, “I don’t know about those assholes, but whenever I see you, I never saw darkness.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“Really!” he insisted, “I see a girl who likes to read, and who likes music. I see you smile whenever Roy and Jackson bicker. And when Wally does that thing where he starts vibrating when he eats? And on the field? The way you protect everyone, the way we can all trust that you have our backs.”

Jason held your eyes. “I don’t see any darkness. In fact, I see sunshine! Because whenever you’re around, it makes us all feel warm and safe.”

He saw the way you were trying hard to not let the tears brimming your eyes fall. “You’re not lying.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement.

“Of course I’m not,” he confirmed. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“I guess not,” you sniffled, “I can tell when people lie. And you have never lied to me.”

“What do you mean you can tell when people lie?”

“I don’t know. It’s sort of always been a thing I could do,” you shrugged, “I don’t join in conversations, so I just observe people, and I can sort of tell what they’re thinking or when they’re lying.”

“Ah, I think I know a thing or two about that,” Jason smiled fondly.

“Thank you, Jason,” you expressed.

“No problem, Sunny,” he grinned, “I’ll call you that from now on. To remind you.”

Jason thought that he saw you blush in the dim light. “So what do you think? Wanna join us for spooky night? I mean, your shadow would even be helpful. It’ll create the spooky ambience we’re all looking for.”

“Is there popcorn?” you grinned.

***

You dumbass, you thought.

The rain had you soaked and shivering.

Jason Todd, you absolute asshole.

The smell of wet dirt was overpowering. Your team stood with you despite your shadow engulfing them in darkness. Roy had his hand on your shoulder.

The white petals stuck to the polished wooden casket as it was lowered into the ground. Your heart had already broke, and you had gone through the stages of breaking down, sobbing uncontrollably, not being able to sleep for a week after they told you the news. Right now, you felt nothing but emptiness.

The casket hit the ground with a dull thud, and you heard the wet footsteps of others leaving the grave. You looked up at the crowd. Dressed in black, you saw some familiar faces. Clark Kent and Diana Prince were with Bruce Wayne, standing in solidarity. A fiery red color caught your eyes, and you saw whom you knew as Starfire. Tall, confident, and radiating with a soft warm glow- everything that you wished you were. She was next to Dick Grayson, and your eyes made contact with blue ones, ones that reminded you of Jason.

Dick gave you a sad smile.

“I heard you’re not going to continue with the Titans anymore,” Dick broke the silence. The rain was still pouring, pounding on the glass window of the car. “Where do I drop you off?”

“East End, along Murphy Avenue,” you replied. You watched two droplets on the window fall down, racing against each other. “I have some boxes left in the Tower, but I don’t feel like seeing them today.”

“Are you going to be okay on your own? You’re not even 18 yet.”

“I’m turning 18 in three months,” you rolled your eyes. “And I already got a job.”

“Oh? That was quick. What job?”

“Private investigator,” you responded, “Lot’s of scandals in Gotham. It’s quite easy to get a job if you’re half decent.”

“Pay well?”

“Well enough.”

Silence again. Dick made a turn.

No word was said until he stopped in front of the apartment complex. Unknown to you, Dick made a mental note to check the apartment out.

“Thanks, Dick.” Something stopped you from leaving the car. Something warm. Ah, it was Dick’s hand on yours.

You looked over and stared into his bright blue eyes. “I’m here for you. Anytime of the day or night. Text me, call me, whatever. You’re not alone.”

It was his expression. The pain and grief and sincerity in his eyes. A hint of desperation, even. By now, your talent for reading people had developed, and you could tell more than just basic emotions. Dick didn’t want you to leave him alone.

Your pulse quickened.

“Would you… Like to come in?” you asked.

Dick was surprised. His eyes darted downwards in a look of… guilt? And then- “No, it’s alright. You said you wanted some alone time. Go settle down first, then maybe you can give me a house tour sometime.”

Then he gave you the grin. Dick Grayson’s charming, heart-stopping grin.

You left the car.

THREE MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

You spent your birthday alone, ignoring the invitations from your ex team members. They all wished you happy birthday, and sent you voice notes of them singing. They said they wished you were there with them, and that they hoped you were well. You replied with a simple thank you.

The apartment you made yours was bare. The walls had no art, and the TV was unplugged. What was the point? Your darkness would have made the art on the walls difficult to see and it was not like you were planning to invite anyone over.

A couple of case files sat neatly on the dining room table, where you did your work. Your name had spread by word of mouth after your first client three months ago, and now you occasionally received texts from unknown numbers, asking for discretion and offering a few hundred dollars a day for a week of work.

Your phone buzzed. It wasn’t an unknown number this time.

Dick had sent you a text. Happy Birthday! Still waiting for that house tour.

You sent a quick thank you and ignored the rest of the message.

SIX MONTHS after the death of Jason Todd

You arrived late on purpose. “Sorry I’m late.”

You sat down in the booth seat opposite Dick and saw the way his eyes lit up when you announced your arrival.

“No worries,” he brushed it off. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah,” you grabbed the dirty menu from the table. Anything to fill up the awkwardness you were expecting. “What do you usually have here?”

“Waffles with ice cream.”

“For dinner?”

“Why not?”

Dick Grayson gave you his Dick Grayson Grin.

You told the aging waitress your order- “I’ll have what he’s having.”

“So how have you been doing? You seem quite busy now, since this dinner was postponed to two months later,” he teased.

“My work isn’t exactly nine to five, five days a week,” you replied curtly. You had avoided this dinner on purpose.

“No, no, I get it. Mine is the same,” he said. “It’s good that you have been getting lots of clients lately. You seem to be high in demand now.”

“Yeah, I am, actually,” you smiled softly to yourself, “I didn’t expect for business to move this fast. I’m mostly investigating cheating spouses and party daughters now, though. Hoping to move on to the more serious stuff.”

“Careful,” Dick warned you, frowning slightly, “Try not to get involved with the politics here. It’s messy, and dangerous.”

“I can take care of myself, Dick,” you assured him.

He paused. “Yeah, I noticed,” his expression quickly changed, “You’ve been controlling your shadow.”

Indeed, you have been working on pulling in your shadow while you were out in public, making it seem as normal as possible so you don’t engulf rooms with darkness, especially with your current state of mind.

Soon after Jason died, you found out that your shadow had grown larger and larger, directly linked to your moods. Then you noticed that it shrank when you were concentrating on your cases, leaving the room bright. So you meditated and practiced, day and night, to keep your shadow and your emotions in check. However, it was tiring to constantly shrink it for long periods of time.

“Practice makes perfect,” you replied bitterly.

“Jason used to talk about you all the time, you know?” he suddenly brought up.

This came as a surprise for you.

“Really?” you cocked your head to the side, “What about?”

“Lots of stuff,” Dick elaborated, “But mainly about how to make you feel more welcomed. How to get you to open up. What stuff to talk to you about. He considered you his best-friend.”

You had considered Jason the same. He was the first person you had truly bonded with, but you never knew that Jason had communicated with Dick about you. True enough, he always tried his best to make sure you never felt left out. You felt your throat tightened and gulped.

Your waffles arrived, and Dick immediately dug in.

“He said that he called you something,” he continued in between bites, “Sunny, right? Said it was short for Sunshine.”

You hadn’t heard that in six months.

Dick looked up at you and panic took over his face. “Shit- I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t stop the tears from falling down your eyes this time. You quickly wiped them away and stabbed the waffle with your fork.

“No- no, it’s fine,” you insisted, “I just hadn’t heard that name in a while. And I didn’t know he talked to you about me.”

Dick looked at you with concern. “Pretty sure he had a crush on you, with the way he was always talking about you.”

You were pretty sure, too. You could read people well after all.

“What made you choose this diner?” you asked, changing the subject. “We used to come here all the time.”

“Yeah, I haven’t stepped in here since that day,” he avoided saying Jason’s name now.

For the first time since you sat down, you actually studied him, beyond the basic emotions that you instinctively saw in everyone. The slight frown, the dark circles under his eyes, the short chewed up nails, the five o’ clock shadow that was rare for Dick Grayson.

He was grieving alone.

“Whenever Jason faced a problem when he was with us, out in the field, or anything, he would always ask himself- ‘What would Dick Grayson do?’” you told him.

His eyes softened, and you could see tears start to well up too.

“He really looked up to you,” you went on, wanting to give Dick the same comfort he gave you. “His older brother. Though, he kept it quiet. He didn’t want people to notice how much he cared. You know, the whole tough guy act.”

Dick chuckled at that. “But you noticed, of course.”

“Of course,” you smiled fondly at the memory. When asked if his injuries hurt, Jason would always reply with Only when I laugh.

But he accepted the cold compresses and paracetamol you gave him.

12 MONTHS AFTER THE DEATH OF JASON TODD

The camera shutter clicked. You checked the quality of the photo on your digital SLR. Even from across the street and in the darkness of the night, your camera caught the couple entering the motel, hand-in-hand, perfectly. This would be sufficient evidence for your client. The classic case of Cheating Spouse was going to earn you a couple thousand dollars. Frankly, you had considered rejecting the case. You only went for high-profile scandals now. But the client was desperate, and offered a large sum of money for something so easy and simple. It was difficult to refuse.

You contemplated on whether you should go the extra mile to catch them in the act. Or maybe you should just stake out in your car and catch them coming out of the motel. You took pride in how detailed your reports always were, and that was how you managed to build your clientele.

You took a sip of the bad, black coffee, already gone cold.

Peering through the zoom lens, you angled the camera up to the rooms facing the street. The movement you caught, however, was not the lights of a room switching on. Instead, out of the corner of your eye, you saw a shadow hanging about the fire-escape in the narrow alley next to the building. You zoomed in more, and saw a familiar blue and black spandex, white eyes, and a familiar grin.

“Fuck,” you swore to yourself. Of all the places to bump into him.

You had gotten close to him since that dinner. The both of you had been texting regularly, getting to know each other and sharing stories about Jason. It helped you with your grief, and you knew it helped him too. You found out that Dick Grayson was voluntarily very expressive with his emotions, unlike his late younger brother who always needed an extra nudge.

Despite all that, you had been trying your best to avoid Dick for the past few weeks and had been giving him the excuse that you were busy. The truth was, you were scared. You knew how close you were getting to him, and right now you were lonely. So lonely that you were afraid of doing something you would both regret.

Knock, knock, knock. The glass rapped three times.

You looked over at the passenger side and saw that grin. Sighing, you unlocked the door.

“What a nice surprise,” Dick greeted you as he shut the door. “Didn’t think I would see a beautiful lady when I left home tonight.”

You rolled your eyes at his usual flirting. “I’m on a job, Dick.”

“I can see that,” he shamelessly went through your case file that was sitting on the passenger seat before he entered. “I thought you don’t take these cases anymore?”

“The poor guy was desperate, and he offered a lot of money for a simple, menial task,” you explained. “I don’t get why he doesn’t ask someone cheaper. Literally anyone could do this.”

“But they can’t do it as well as you do,” Dick booped your nose with his gloved finger.

“What about you? What brings you to this side of town?”

“Tim needed help with some training. And patrol brings me everywhere, sweetheart,” he smirked.

You noticed that your body had subconsciously turned towards him. His eyes were not visible then, covered by the whites of his mask. He was slightly damp due to the drizzle outside.

You cleared your throat. “I’m going to stake out here until they come out. Note how long they were together.”

“That could be until the sun rises.”

“Yep.”

“Need company?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “I thought you needed to patrol, and help Tim.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he sighed dramatically, “I’d much rather be in this steamy car with you, though.”

“Go and help your Robin, Dick,” you chuckled, unable to resist him. “Your mentee needs his mentor, Gotham needs its hero and you’re here cozying up with a PI.”

“How irresponsible of me,” he muttered. You hadn’t realized that both of you had moved closer.

You risked a quick glance to his slightly parted lips before tearing your eyes away. He was right, it had suddenly got steamy in the car.

“Text me when you’re back? It’s dangerous to be alone at this hour,” he said before stepping out and flying off in the most flamboyant, Dick Grayson way.

I can take care of myself.

You took deep breaths to calm down and slow your heartbeat.

Maybe you were scared that you were so lonely. But a part of you knew that starting something with Dick wouldn’t be too bad.

You were just scared of being judged by Dick’s dead, younger brother.

The next weekend, you found yourself on your balcony. It was 3 AM, and you were slightly tipsy from the cocktail you made yourself. You closed your eyes and listened to the sound of the wind, the cars, the occasional police siren. You made your decision.

Need you. you texted Dick, knowing he was out on patrol.

15 minutes. he replied.

Jason was dead. There was no one else who understood and accepted you almost as well as Dick did.

You waited out there in the cold for his arrival. When he did land straight on your balcony, his hair was a mess and he was panting slightly. You grabbed his face and kissed him roughly.

It didn’t matter anymore because Jason was dead.

SIX MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD.

It was more difficult to control your shadow, but you tried your best. Moving in with Dick helped a bit more as compared to when you were alone, but you were constantly on edge.

He was alive, and what would he think of this? You and Dick? Would he see it as a betrayal?

Dick was having sleepless nights and was gone most of the time to help Bruce with Jason’s tantrum. Six months since Jason had appeared alive, and God knows how long before he crawled out of his grave, but he had not contacted you even once.

And you knew, you knew he was angry at you. That this whole villain arc had at least something to do with you. Even though it didn’t make sense, that you were never together, that you were nothing more than just best friends.

Somehow you felt that the rage and destruction was directed towards you.

For as long as you got together with Dick two years ago, and a whole year of playing cat and mouse with him ever since that kiss, you never had radio silence from him for this long. Two or three days was the maximum, and he would reassure you that everything was fine while you continued on with your PI business. A week long was unheard of.

Then, your phone buzzed.

I’m fine. He’s fine. Everyone’s fine.

You let out a breath that you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Is he back? you asked.

He’s gonna take some time off. Need to go. See you soon.

And so you didn’t sleep until Dick came back home the next morning.

“He’s so… broken,” Dick whispered above your head as he hugged you tightly.

You frowned. You didn’t like that word used to describe Jason. A person couldn’t be broken. People weren’t objects. You knew what Dick meant, that Jason was traumatized- but it didn’t mean that he was broken. Broken meant that you needed to be fixed before someone accepted you, that you needed to be functional or useful.

Broken meant that there was a state where people were whole, and you knew too well that there’s no such thing as a whole person. People just existed in different states, and each state was just as important as the other.

Jason told you all of that when you opened up to him about your past. One day many years ago, you fucked up during a mission. Your shadow had hurt someone a little too badly.

“I don’t even know how it works, Jay,” you had cried, “Sometimes it has a mind of its own and it just reacts outside of my control.”

“You saved me in the end,” Jason tried comforting you, putting his arm around your shoulder as you sat on the carpet of the empty living room.

“But I could have hurt you too,” you argued, “It could have attacked your shadow and killed you, the same way I killed my parents.”

You hadn’t told anyone about that. Only the Justice League knew.

“It was an accident,” Jason insisted.

“I’m just a broken person,” you choked. “No one should be near me.”

That was when he took his arm away and held your shoulders in both his hands, forcing you to face him, to stare into his piercing, fierce gaze.

“Don’t ever let me hear you say that about yourself ever again, got it?” he scolded you, “You are not broken. You’re like- like water. Or air. You exist in different states of matter, and each state you’re in is no less broken than the rest. You’re not broken, okay? You’re Sunny, you’re sunshine. You’re just sunshine…”

NINE MONTHS AFTER THE ARRIVAL OF RED HOOD

“Cheating spouse, undercover at Harvard, cheating spouse again…” you muttered to yourself as you browsed your cases in the living room, illuminated by a single warm light above your head. Dick would complain about the mess in the morning when he eats his cereal.

If he even comes back by tomorrow. you finished your own thought.

The blackmail material requests sounded interesting, but you always hesitated to accept the morally gray ones. You usually would go for missing or runaway children, the evidence of corruption, and the occasional journalist request for an inside scoop.

In fact, your eyes caught one such request. An anonymous journalist from the Gotham Gazelle. You received a text from a disposable two days ago, detailing a locker combination and an address. The contents of the locker were documents within a crisp and new light brown folder- a typical case file, along with a thousand dollars in cash and a promise of another two thousand after completion.

Journalists were not usually this cautious, but if they were investigating someone high profile, it was better to remain anonymous. Especially in Gotham.

You took a sip of your dark roast Arabica coffee, engrossed by what your anonymous client wanted you to get. It was already 11 PM.

Then, you heard the bell ring.

You frowned. Dick wouldn’t ring the bell to his own apartment.

Concentrating on pulling your shadow back, you walked barefoot to the door and looked through the peephole.

Your heartbeat quickened at who you saw standing on the other side of the door.

Calm down, calm down, calm down. Deep breaths.

The door clicked when you unlocked it, and creaked when you pulled it open.

You couldn’t remember when you had stopped counting the amount of days since you saw those piercing blue eyes that were so similar, yet so different from Dicks’. Now they were even more different from what you remembered. They were like battleworn armor standing in an enclosed case.

“There’s my sunshine,” Jason smiled weakly at you.

There was no chance of stopping your tears from falling down your face, so you didn’t even try. You let them flow freely as you speechlessly embraced him and felt his warm arms snake around you. The warmth of an embrace you thought you were never going to feel ever again.

He grew much taller than you. He was 16 when he died, and you were just turning 18. You had stopped growing a year or two before that, but boys kept on growing, didn’t they? He was the same height as you were the last time you saw him, but now he was at least a couple of feet taller. Did that mean he was back long before he started going as Red Hood? What did he do for two and a half years? Who-

“Don’t mean to be rude, but can I come in? I’m freezing my tits off out here,” he said. Even his voice was much, much deeper.

You chuckled and nodded, taking a step away to let him in.

You closed the door behind Jason and watched as he walked in slowly, looking around at Dick’s apartment. You noticed he paused at the dining table where you were working, and then strided to the sofa in the living room before taking a seat. You followed suit and sat next to him, not yet trusting your voice to make a sound.

“So,” he began, “You and Grayson, huh?”

Looking so intently, taking him all in, you almost missed the question.

“You’re bigger than him,” you blurted, before widening your eyes in horror at what you were implying.

Jason raised a scarred eyebrow.

“I mean- you- your build,” you quickly explained, “Your frame. Shoulders. Length. Big.”

“Length?” he smirked.

“Height!” you almost yelled.

Jason leaned closer to you and frowned. “Am I making you nervous?”

You couldn’t bear his piercing eyes, so you looked down at your hands.

“I thought maybe you never wanted to see me again,” you confessed, “I thought maybe you were angry at me, and hated me.”

“I was,” he simply stated.

You looked at him in question.

“Angry at you. For a bit,” he sighed and leaned back against the couch, “But I was angry at everyone. You were no exception. I was just mad everyone had forgotten me. Especially those I cared about.”

“I never forgot you, Jason,” you vowed, “How could I ever?”

“Then why did you-” he cut himself off, “Nevermind. I just wanted to say that I’m not mad anymore. I get it. I was dead, and everyone moved on.”

He crossed his arms and again, you noticed how large his arms were. His face was more mature, jawline more defined and square, eyes now more deep set with extra dark circles underneath them. As if your body had a mind of its own, you reached out to his face and caressed the scar across his cheek.

Jason jumped slightly in surprise at the sudden contact, but then closed his eyes and leaned into your touch.

“You have more scars now,” you pointed out, “What happened?”

You felt his breath down your wrist.

“Another story for another day,” he smiled and opened his eyes. You took your hand away, blushing at how intimate that must have seemed to an onlooker. “Where’s Boy Wonder?”

“No idea,” you shrugged. “You want something to drink? Tea? Coffee?”

“Aw, come on, Sunny!” he got up and walked to the kitchen, “It’s a Welcome Back, Jason party. Where are the fun drinks?”

He started opening your cabinets.

“Wow, make yourself at home, why don’t you?” you shook your head and went to join him.

“Mi casa es su casa,” he sang, “At least, that’s what Grayson told me when he gave me the address. Aha!”

He found the cabinet of liquors. “Wow, I’m quite impressed by his collection.”

“That’s my collection,” you corrected him, “Dick couldn’t tell the difference between tequila and rum even if his life depended on it. I have a variety. What do you feel like?”

“You’re the bartender,” he teased, “Surprise me.”

You nodded and proceeded to make him a drink. Jason sat down at the dining table and nosily looked through your files. That was one thing he and Dick had in common, at least.

You set down a whisky sour for him and yourself before clearing your paperwork to the side, giving him the side eye as you snatched a folder from his hands.

Taking a seat across from him, the both of you dinked glasses together and took a sip.

“Strong,” he commented, “That’s good.”

You accepted the compliment silently.

“So, you don’t know where Grayson’s at?” he inquired.

“Nope,” you replied, “I know he has missions sometimes. Helps out here and there. He’s gone for two or three days before he comes back home with a new bruise or cut. I don’t ask for details unless he starts to tell me about it.”

Your chest made an involuntary squeeze that you tried to hide. There were times when you had asked Dick, and he lied to you. You had arguments over where he was, and who he was with before.

Jason studied your poker face intently, and for a second, you felt as though he was interrogating you.

He took another sip.

“How’s business going?” he changed the subject, “I heard you never went back to the team.”

“I couldn’t,” you answered simply.

“Why not?”

“Everything reminded me of you. It hurt too much.”

A deafening silence. A look of guilt. A looming darkness that grew.

“Business is great, actually,” you went on. “And I enjoy the slower-paced nature of the work.”

“Ugh, even stake outs?” he made a face, not commenting on how your shadow became slightly bigger.

“Stake outs can be nice sometimes,” you argued, “Crank down the window, put the radio on, snack on some fries. Sometimes I read, as well. I’m used to spending long hours by myself.”

“Sounds like you haven’t changed much,” he smiled endearingly at you.

“Not even physically?” you pouted, “I’ve been going to the gym.”

He laughed at that. “Yes, I’ve noticed. You look much more… Mature?”

“Are you saying I look old, Todd?” you huffed.

“So fucking old. A hag.”

You stuck out your tongue at him and laughed together, as if nothing ever changed. As if he never died, as if you never grieved for him and longed for him.

“I’m kidding,” he conceded, “You look good. Really good. Dick’s a lucky guy.”

You frowned at the last comment. “It doesn’t bother you, does it? Me and Dick?”

Another pause. “As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Jason knew you well, so he knew how to answer you. His statement wasn’t a lie.

You heard the jingle of keys in the distance.

“Speak of the fucking devil,” Jason whispered into his drink before taking a big gulp.

“Honey, I’m ho- oh. Jason, I didn’t expect to find you here,” Dick stood in the doorway, stunned.

“Welcome back, babe,” you walked over and greeted your boyfriend with a kiss. For the first time, Dick looked slightly uncomfortable with your display of affection.

“You guys have been hanging out without me!” Dick whined, his child-like persona immediately taking over.

That was how Dick was. You noticed it after a few times with him, how he would mask his emotions or awkwardness with his happy, warm personality. He was a people person, charming his way anywhere and everywhere regardless of any situation.

Yet, you could see through it all. The grief, the aching fatigue, and the countless battle scars.

“Was just leaving,” Jason announced curtly.

“Ngaw, don’t be like that,” Dick tried to persuade him, “Stay a little while. We can catch up.”

“There’s nothing to catch up on,” Jason insisted, “Bye.”

He glanced once at you, and then left without saying a word.

There was a stark difference between the way he was with you and the way he was with Dick. In the short future, you would come to realize that it wasn’t that he was different with everyone else. Jason treated everyone else with the cold, rough demeanor you witnessed- but never you. You were the only one who knew him as though that Jason never died.

You saw Dick’s shoulders slump in disappointment. “How long was he here for?”

“About an hour?” you answered nonchalantly, going back to your case files.

“He has never spoken to me for more than 15 minutes,” Dick informed you, “Even then he would give non-committal answers.”

“Really?” you asked, frowning to yourself. It took just a little while for the both of you to go back to how things used to be. “Maybe he’s more upset at you since you’re his brother.”

“Nah, don’t think that’s it,” Dick came up behind you and nuzzled his face in your neck. “You smell good. Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” you hummed, “How was… Your mission?”

“Tiring,” he complained, “You choose a case already?”

“Maybe,” you replied, “Who was there?”

You heard Dick gulp. “Donna. Kon. Wally.”

“And?”

“Kori.”

You felt your chest tighten again. “Okay. I’m tired too. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

“You just drank coffee,” he pointed out, “You’re going to sleep now?”

“Or just lie in bed,” you responded, “Seeing Jason was… emotional.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he ran a hand through his dark, wavy hair.

“You coming?”

“I have to patrol,” he looked at you guiltily.

“But you just got back,” you argued.

“They can cover more ground when I’m around,” he explained. “Sorry. I’ll spend time with you tomorrow, okay?”

You smiled at him and reached a hand to press on his chest. He was so committed, and that’s what you loved about him. He really, truly cared.

“Just stay safe,” you gave him a deep kiss, tasting the cola chapstick he stole from you months ago.

“I’ll see you in the morning, darling,” he breathed.

That night you lay awake in bed, staring at darkness. You let your shadow go at night, allowing it to take over the room. A buzz came from your phone all of a sudden. Another unknown number.

You tapped it open.

This is my number if you need me. J.

It had been a while since you smiled whenever you lay alone, unable to sleep.

And how did you get mine?

You didn’t actually care. You were just so happy to be texting your best friend again.

I’m just a genius, Sunny. You staying up late to work?

You contemplated your answer.

No. Just couldn’t sleep. What do you do now, anyway? Do you patrol with the rest?

Sometimes. I mostly do my own thing now.

What thing?

Another story for another time, sunshine.

I’m glad you’re back, Jay. Thank you for seeing me today. Can we hang out soon?

We can hang out whenever you want.

You were typing a reply, but was interrupted by another message from him.

I missed you lots.

I missed you too, Jason. We have to get caught up with all the slumber parties we missed.

Don’t think Grayson would be too happy with that though.

My best friend is back from the dead. He can suck it up.

I’ll see you soon then?

You contemplated again.

What are you doing tomorrow? I got an interesting case. Wanna tag along?

***

Jason’s heart broke when he found out that you were with Dick. It was a large reason why he was so angry, and why he became so destructive. But he tried to stay angry at you, tried to hate you, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. The years without you were lonely, and he tried to fill up the emptiness with rage.

It took him so long after Bruce brought him back to his senses to finally see you because he was practicing. He knew he couldn’t bear to look at you and Dick while you were together, so he practiced controlling his emotions so he wouldn’t snap and scare you away.

But when you opened the door and he saw your face for the first time in years, everything dissipated. He didn’t need to control any anger because all he felt was longing. It didn’t matter if you were in love with Dick, all that mattered was that you were there next to him.

“Okay, so,” you began as you pulled the car to a stop in a street at Diamond District. “Rupert Thorne.”

“The guy who is running for mayor?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, browsing through the documents, “He allegedly backed Hill in the previous elections, but now he is running against Hill. My client wants me to find evidence of corruption and find out who his sponsors are.”

Jason saw the way your brows stitched together as you read through the file.

It was difficult to be in the same car as you. Even though he was in the passenger seat, he felt like it was a small closet, being suffocated by your demanding presence.

“Why doesn’t he sponsor himself? Isn’t he some sort of closeted crime lord too?” Jason asked.

“I guess that’s the mystery,” you hummed, “He must have been promised something, or he must have promised something- if he wins.”

You smelled like warm cinnamon and vanilla. All Jason wanted to do was to bury his face in your neck and breathe you in. The pull he felt towards you was almost physical. He needed to stop himself from touching you, from claiming you.

“So what’s the first step?” he tried to focus on the case.

“He works in that building there,” you looked outside across the street to the tall mirrored tower. “COO of Trident Shipping Company. He’s doing quite well in popularity lately… Articles say he is modest and humble, charming, thoughtful, charitable… The list goes on. Must have a great PR team.”

Jason smiled to himself. You were starting to think out loud, a habit of yours he noticed one night during a strategy meeting with the team. So many years ago.

“Anyway, we want to see where he goes, who he meets, what he does-”

“Oh no,” Jason groaned, “You scammed me into a stakeout!”

He really didn’t mind if it meant spending long hours with you in your cozy car.

“It’ll be fun!” you tried to convince him, “We can catch up in the meantime! Plus, I do also need to bug his phone. Might need your help with that. I also have some metka, so maybe we can pollinate some lead suspects once we narrow them down and-”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up,” Jason started chuckling in disbelief, “First of all- one step at a time, please. Let’s make a structured flowchart first before you start rambling off fifty-seven steps ahead. Second of all- metka, are you fucking with me right now? How did you get your hands on Soviet Cold War tech?”

Metka or spy dust- chemically known as nitrophenyl pentadienal or NPPD- was an old and outdated, yet still effective, Russian method of marking or tagging suspected CIA agents during the Cold War by the KGB. It was a discreet powder that stuck to everything. They would tag the agents at the airport, and then anything the agent touched would have traces of the dust. Including Russian assets- spies or informants working for the CIA. They would be able to identify the traitors.

“I’m a PI,” you said smugly, “I’m resourceful.”

Yes, you were. Jason beamed proudly at you. But he said, “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, how about the bug?”

“I have this-” you rummaged through your messenger bag and took out a small silver card the size of a hotel matchbox. It had the Bat sigil.

“So I assume you have Batman’s NFC card because you’re resourceful?” Jason teased. He knew the gadget well. The near field communication device allowed hijacking into another electronic device with NFC just by near contact. It could allow for cloning the device, or installing spyware.

You stuck your tongue at him childishly.

“I wonder what Batman would think of you stealing his gadgets for personal use,” Jason jested.

“Okay, I borrowed it from DIck, and it’s not like I’m using it for personal reasons. This is a highly professional operation,” you huffed, “Anyway, if you could let me finish telling you my plan. It says that Thorne is into French girls and he usually comes out for a smoke break around this time.”

“And?”

“I will be bumping into him. The NFC needs about 30 seconds of contact. I’ll slip the card in the pocket where he keeps his phone. But in case I can’t stick around to take it out, you will have to come walking behind me to pickpocket it from him.”

“Sounds good. What if he’s using his phone?”

“I’ll bump it out of his hand and apologize profusely,” you grinned. “Okay I need to get ready.”

You unbuttoned your weathered leather jacket to reveal a white top with a low neckline, giving Jason a good view of your cleavage.

“Uhhh,” he started awkwardly.

You ignored him and looked in the mirror, smearing lipstick on your lips and smacking them. Then, you ruffled your hair to give it more volume before turning to face him with a “How do I look?”

The red you chose for your lipstick matched your skin tone perfectly. And he never noticed you had a tiny cute mole on the top of your left breast. The way your hair was effortlessly messy made Jason imagine that was how you would look like in the mornings, or when he takes a handful of it while kissing you rough-

“G-great,” he complimented weakly.

If he hadn’t already died, then you were going to be the death of him.

“Oh shit, there he is,” you opened the car. “Quick, hang around a few feet behind me.”

Jason saw you strut as you approached Thorne. He was tall and handsome, and looked good for a man his age. Jason could tell that his suit was expensive. His coat was probably cashmere. He could see why Thorne was so popular. He definitely looked the part. He was talking on his phone, and he was now curious as to what you had in mind.

From down the block and in the crowd, Jason saw you pretend to talk on your phone in perfect French, rushing somewhere unknown. He didn’t notice the cup you were carrying before.

“Ah, putain! I am zo zorr’y, Monsieur!” you bumped hard into Thorne, spilling liquid all over his coat and yourself.

Thorne looked surprised, and then pocketed his phone in his coat. “It’s quite alright.”

“No, no, pleez. Let me ‘elp you,” you made a fuss. You took out a handkerchief from your bag and simultaneously shrugged off your jacket. Jason smirked to himself. No hot-blooded male would be able to resist the sight of you in a wet white low neckline t-shirt.

“Let me pay for your dry cleaning,” you worried, “Oh, putain it speeled down here too.”

You got on your knees and started dabbing the hem of his coat.

“You really don’t have to do that,” Thorne smiled and held your shoulder in a gesture to help you up.

“I am really zo zorr’y,” you looked up at him.

A flash of lust sparked Thornes’ eyes, and Jason knew you were batting your eyelashes at him from that angle. It made him want to punch Thorne square in the jaw.

“It’s really alright, madam,” he insisted, “It was my fault for standing in the middle of a busy pedestrian walkway.”

“I should ‘ave watched where I was walking,” you bit your lip and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well, let’s just both move on from this. Please don’t worry, I can get my assistants to get me another coat,” he rested his hand on your lower back as he walked you towards the street. “Here is my business card. Feel free to contact me if you need any help navigating the city. I would love to show you all the fine restaurants in Gotham.”

“Monsieur, you are too kind,” you pouted.

“I should thank you for bumping into me,” he winked, “It’s not everyday I get to see a beautiful lady.”

You pretended to blush.

“I have to go now,” he announced, “Please give me a call.”

And with that, he entered the building.

You walked towards Jason with the look of a kid who scored his first goal.

But then, facing him now, Jason swore under his breath. No wonder you managed to bewitch Thorne so easily.

Your shirt was practically see through, and everyone was turning their heads at you. He could see your black lacy bra, and how your tits bounced as you jogged towards him.

“Hells to the yes!” you celebrated, “That was more than thirty seconds. I got the card back and- what are you doing?”

Jason had grabbed your jacket and forcefully put it over your shoulders. “Let’s hurry back to the car.”

Yeah, you were going to be the death of him.

#jason todd #dc comics #batman #red hood #dick grayson #jason todd/reader #dick grayson/reader

[renren-006]

Heyo! How are you? I was wondering if I could put in a request for a Geralt x fem reader one shot?

Reader is injured in some sort of way but tries to hide it from Geralt coz she doesn’t want to worry him but he obviously finds out?

I’m bad at descriptions😪

Please and thank you xx

Wounds and Kisses | Geralt x fem Reader

a/n: hello! thank you for the request and i hope you like it!

fluff and angst

word count: 966

You tagged Geralt along on another one of his quests. You had before, and Jaskier seemed to think it was an excellent idea to have another person join them. So it was you and Geralt on Roach and Jaskier on his own horse, Fawn, playing tunes on his instruments. You were not a Witcher, but you did have basic abilities passed down from your mother, who was a half-elf and half-sorcerer, making you a mixed-blooded woman. Your abilities revolved around the elements, like your mother and her mother before her. You were trained by her before she died and before you had met Geralt.

He was adamant about letting you on quests; he wouldn't tell you why, but you knew the brooding man had some form of feeling towards you. The two of you never discussed it, but there was always something between them. You had slept together, kissed in halls, and spent the nights together, but no relationship was formed, and no words of love were ever spoken. You wished he would; you wished he would just tell you he loved you so you may finally not have to steal glances at the man without him knowing. 

The beast was something of a bigger size than either you or Geralt had previously thought it would be. Jaskier was back at the tavern drinking away and singing about adventures, while the two of you were stuck dealing with a beast that continuously terrorized this poor town. You didn't expect it to also be so difficult to defeat but its hard armor made things worse. It also made things worse when the beast tail slammed into you sending you flying to the ground. Geralt was too busy with a second beast that charged that he had no idea you had been flung by the beast. You stumbled back over to the fight, trying not to clutch your side. Your powers roared in you as you launched yourself on top of the beast, shoving your sword in any place between the armor before finding its weak spot. You shoved your sword deep into the spot by its neck in between the brakes in its armor, it wailed loudly before it fell. You stumbled off the beast intime to see Geralt doing the same with the second beast. Once you stumbled out of the muddy water onto land your side erupted in pain, you bit back a cry as you got onto Jeskier horse, Fawn, and rode back alongside Geralt who was far ahead of you and determined to finish the job fully and get home. You didn't dare touch your side or grimace about it, not wanting the boys to know you got hurt. 

You sat by Jaskier who held his nose by the stink of the beast coming off you. 

“Damn Y/N you stink” he said “Oh and Geralt smells worse…both of you go take a bath!”

“Were fine Jaskier” Geralt said, not wanting to jump to the bath and instead started drinking whatever it was he bought.

“Ill go” you said. As you stood a flash of pain crossed your face, making Geralt straighten. You stumbled your way to the room finding that someone had already filled the bin with hot bath water. As you undressed you didn't hear the door open or the heavy footsteps of Geralt entering. 

“Y/N” he said, standing still at the sight of the entirely too large gash and hole in your side. The beast tail had been spiked and its tail punctured your side while also slashing the entire length of your stomach. The blood and ooze that gushed from you seemed like it didn't matter under the eyesight of Geralt who stumbled over to you. “Why didn't you say anything?” he asked you. His voice was…soft. 

“I didn't want to worry you” you told him. You clutched the bin, your vision blurring as Geralt caught you, finished undressing you and got you into the hot water. You screamed a bit from the feeling of the hot water in your wound. Geralt held you, sliding in after undressing himself and holding you close to him.

“I want you to tell me when you're hurt. It means nothing against your skills when you are” he told you, making you feel worse about not mentioning it.

“I'm sorry,” you told him. 

“No apologies. Just heal” he told you, knowing that with concentration and his strength behind you, using the water and your magic can help heal the deep wound on you. The water swirled slightly as you used the magic in you to heal what you could. The deep gash slowly faded to a large gash, and the scratches along your stomach turned to scabs and then to scars. Your body had enough scars that you hated the sight of them but your magic only worked so far.

“I'm sure Yennefer would be happy to show you how to heal scars” He told you, pulling you even closer to him. “I know we never talked about what is between us…”

“I love you” you spoke faster than he could finish his thought. 

“I love you too y/n…if you had let me finish” he said, causing you to laugh. 

“Sorry, just wanted to say it before I couldn't” you told him looking at his face. 

“I should have told you sooner. I took advantage of your feelings before mine came around..”

“I know, but i never told you to stop” you said, “I just wanted all your love not just parts”

“Now you have it all” he told you, “so no more hiding your wounds” 

“Promise,” you said, kissing his cheek before falling back and laying on him.

#witcher geralt #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt of rivia #henry cavill

[circeyoru]

I just wanna see alastor and reader (from unwanted soul) slowly dance in a big dark empty room and for him to give her/them a kiss ❤️ (no matter if it's forehead, cheek or mouth kiss) I just love thinking about such soft moments with them

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

Yes!! Another sweet moment!!

This one had me thinking of a certain video in mind, you can watch it if you like, but I imagine them dancing like this. Somewhat. @angel-tsugikuni-kamukura, I wonder if you've seen this one.

You pouted, staring menacingly at the scribbled-out ideas you had been thinking while rewatching a few anime and TV shows to give you some sort of idea.

"What's all this?"

"Oh, something I'm thinking about our next dat-!" You realized your mistake but it was already too late. Turning your head, Alastor's face was right next to you. "Hey! What did I say about you taking advantage of my thinking moments!?"

"To not take advantage or leave you alone." Alastor answered proudly, ignoring your glare. He grinned and sat next to you, "Darling Love, I truly don't mind what you have planned as long as it concerns you. I'll be enjoying it all the same." He laughed, "Hahaha! Why even watching a picture show would do!" His eyes gently glaze towards you with that loving look on his face, "What I care for is the time we spend together, not the activity itself."

That didn't make you feel better, though it did make your heart skip a beat. Alastor has been very much the same; the only thing that has changed is your perception of it all. You sighed, not even bothering to look away to hide the brush that Alastor so loved to paint you in, the perfect red as he claimed.

"Still..." You looked back down to your notes.

Alastor hummed loudly, his eyes scanned through the page now that you had let him know what you were planning. He respected your privacy beforehand; if you had lied, he would have taken it without saying another word. But you were pretty honest when you were in your own little world, he gotten a few pass on you, never when it was something deeply guarded.

"Why not have a slow dance? Like waltz or ballroom dances! Ha! Those are perfect excuses to be close to one another, don't you agree?" Alastor suggested, the idea pumping his blood and energy surging high at the thought.

But at your silence, he turned his attention to you. Your hands clenched to fists, a bit white. Your lips pressed against each other to a thin straight. Why were you tense?

"Dearest, you know how to dance, it's not that hard when you include another in your steps." Alastor tried to understand your hesitation. "Besides, I'll be leading! So you only need to follow."

You internally sighed, Alastor's excitement clouding your thoughts. He's excited, no, ecstatic at the idea. You gave him your hand with a wonky smile, "Fine. Lead away."

With a snap of his fingers, your surroundings changed to a ballroom. Themes of red and black all around. Fitting for Alastor. The lighting was dim but comfortable for your eyes and bright enough to know what you were looking at. Even your outfit has changed to match the occasion. Your eyes stopped at Alastor, who was bowing, with his hand offered to you, "May I have this dance?"

"You may." You put your hands in his.

His shadow minions took their places, playing instruments of all kinds to fill the giant room with music. Alastor took your hand and placed his other on your waist, you put your other hand on his shoulder. You smiled when Alastor gave you a look that meant he noticed your familiarity with the pose.

He took the lead and moved, bringing you along. In the beginning, your head was tilted down, staring at the two pairs of feet moving to the music. A while into the music, you were staring ahead at Alastor. The two of you moved in sync, like you were each other's fated dance partner.

Alastor had danced with other ladies in his prime. None were up to his standards, though now he wondered if it was because they were you. Those other ladies stared up at him with lovesick eyes in hopes of being his or fiery eyes with the goal of taming him. Then there was you who stared at the feet to get the feel of things before looking up at him. Eyes of uncertainty.

"My Love, you dance wonderfully. I didn't even need to help you!" Alastor praised. His words always brought you comfort and solace.

"I may have been taught a lesson or two in this." You looked away as if recalling a memory. "Family standards to uphold and all that. The wealthy love their pride. I don't particularly like dancing with others too, like a partner."

Alastor's smile twitched. He made you uncomfortable. He made you—

"But now that I'm dancing with you, Alastor," There was that smile he loved so much. A smile to die for. "I think I quite like it." Touch to go numb over. "We make quite the pair," Words to melt over and be further entangled under your command and wish. "Yes?"

In a swift move, Alastor gave you a twirl before dipping you down and helped himself to a kiss that you returned.

"That we do, My Heart."

The soul to kill for.

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

[cillianhead]

hii! your work is amazing from what i’ve seen. so so amazing. i know you do a lot of smut but i was just wondering if you would do fluff headcanons of cillian with a fem reader who absolutely adores music? also maybe what would he do if you like dragged him to a music festival? would he enjoy it? thank you so much!!

Oh my gosh! Thank you. I'm glad you enjoy what I've written so far :)

Thank you so much for your request and I will happily write a fluffy fic just for you <3

Put The Beatles On, Light The Candles, Go Back To Bed || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: None really, fluffy <3, mentions of an unspecified age gap between reader and Cillian, reader and Cillian aren't married.

You and Cillian had a very harmonious relationship. You showed him how to get out of his comfort zone more and he showed you the finer quieter things of life. Like books, new music, poetry, and films.

You've always loved music, obsessing over it since you were little, not being able to go anywhere without your headphones and something with some sort of music that could play through it. Without it you're an irritated mess. And when you met Cillian, he introduced you to new music you'd never heard before, it's what you bonded over when getting to know each other.

Before you lived together, you'd stay up all night, listening to records he'd recommend you or calling all night long, talking about whatever together, talking about music. And when you moved in, it was just perfect. His record collection was large and full of rare finds, when he was away for work, you'd play the same Beatles album over and over again, falling asleep to it. It was comforting to you, in the presence of music, you felt Cillian there, even in his absence. You couldn't listen to one song without thinking of him.

Swaying in his living room with him, his arms wrapped around you as he sung along softly to the words. He was the perfect man for you, you both had a shared love and passion for music. You'd stay up writing songs together, playing various instruments, and making up melodies to gentle love songs dedicated to one another. It was cheesy but it was also so beautiful.

One time, Cillian wrote a short sappy love song on his guitar for you, the words were simple but meaningful, you sat cross legged, watching him play his guitar with that shy smile on his face and rosy cheeks and when the song was over, he'd look at you to see your reaction to find you sitting there crying quietly.

"Oh no, Y/N, what's wrong, baby love?" He gently placed his guitar to the side, kneeling on the ground in front of you, cupping your face in his hands. "Why are you crying?"

"That... that was the most beautiful thing I've ever heard, Cillian," You sobbed, whimpering as happy tears streamed down your face. That was the moment he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life with you. "I love you so much, I love you, Cillian... thank you for writing that for me." You cried softly.

"Oh you sweet girl," He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your lips in the hopes to calm you down. Even though he knew you were happy crying, it still pained him to see your tears. "I love you more than anything, that song was only a small example of it, please don't cry or I'll start crying too..." He pulled you into his lap, tears starting to well in his own eyes, cradling you in his arms, on the floor of his living room. He hummed into your hair. You were both so incredibly in love. Two souls perfectly intertwined, your love was a slow gentle waltz and life was the music that let you dance.

Though you weren't the most extraverted person, you were definitely more outgoing than Cillian himself. He was quiet and reserved, though around you he would open up a bit more, he couldn't help being quiet when the two of you went out in public, for whatever reason it was. So when you got tickets to a one day music festival with some artists that you liked and you thought Cillian may like too, he was very hesitant to go with you. Not because he didn't want to but because he knew there would be thousands of people there, probably a lot younger than him, he'd definitely feel out of place. But he couldn't deny you something that seemed like it made you so happy.

So on the day of the festival, Cillian kept a tight arm around your waist both for his own comfort and to protect you, even if you didn't need protecting. You were so excited, raving on about how excited you were to see Lana Del Rey and all the other artists that were performing. He smiled at how happy you were. You had a glow around you when you were smiling, one that made him give you big heart eyes.

"You're so cute, love," He muttered into your hair as he placed a loving kiss on your temple. "Gonna make you m'wife, love how you love music, love you."

"Oh shut up!" You teased, nudging him softly as you shook your head bashfully. You stood more towards the back of the mosh pit, so you guys had a little more room to dance and privacy to yourselves. The event was quite colorful, people covered in glitter and nothing else walked by and tight revealing clothes, you could see Cillian's flushed face, he wore one of his cardigans and dress pants, a very modest outfit, one he usually wore everyday. You thought he was so cute. You could tell he was nervous. "I love you, Cillian, we can always leave if you don't feel up to it... I won't be upset. I just want you to feel okay." You kissed him reassuringly, he just smiled at you in response. That's all you needed to see to know he was telling you he was alright.

Your relationship was like that. You didn't need to speak to understand each other, you could give each other a glance and you would know how the other was feeling. Your hearts were connected, after all.

When the performer came on stage, Cillian took a step back, leaning against one of the barricades and watching you with a grin on his pretty face, arms crossed loosely over his chest. You danced and swayed to the music, singing your heart out to the words. You were the most beautiful thing to him, so carefree and free spirited, an angel in human form. Occasionally you'd look back at him with that big dopey smile of pure bliss, your eyes full of love and Cillian didn't know how he could love you more in that moment. He'd never met anyone like you, anyone that he could spend days and days on end with and never get sick of.

Though big crowds and festivals weren't his thing, the sight of you dancing to the music and laughing at how much fun you were having was the most lovely thing. It made his heart swell and a sense of calmness floated over him. You were all he ever wanted. As long as you were happy, he was happy.

As one of the slower songs began to play, you walked over to him, leaning against him and swaying softly, his arms wrapped around you from behind as he placed gentle kisses on your neck and collarbones. Your skin was like a drug to him, the high washing over him in waves. "My lovely girl," He'd whisper. "Love of my life."

"I love you, Cillian." You felt like the luckiest person in the world. As long as you had Cillian's love and music, you knew you'd be okay.

-

Oh to be in Cillian's arms and swaying softly to music :(

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x reader #cillian murphy fluff #cillian murphy fanfic #cillian #peaky fookin blinders #peaky blinders #oppenheimer #oppenheimer 2023 #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy x y/n

[daichiduskdrop]

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚⋆·˚ ༘ *𝙎𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡 ⋆·˚ ༘ *ੈ✩‧₊˚

Chapter 35

Pairing: BTS Ot7 X fem! reader

Genre: A/B/O AU, Fluff, Angst, Strangers to lovers,

Warnings: anxiety and panic attack, light implications of attempted rape

Words: 3457

A/N: Hello everyone! I'm sorry I didn't update earlier, I've been very busy. Currently I'm away with my school so I won't be able to post for a while!

Please enjoy this soft chapter :)

Taglist: @thelilbutifulthings @ilovemoneymorethenmen @singukieee @cherrysainttt @felicityroth @mageprincess7 @lucis-noctiana @danielle143 @osakis-gf @girl-nahh @vintageoldfashionstyle-blog @neverthefirstchoice @juju-227592 @silentreadersthings @i-have-no-life-charlie @everyonehatesshani @iamkookiesforyou @dragons-flare @fangirl125reader @roseidol @frieschan @popcatx0 @liz67900 @exfolitae @plexcaffeinate @strawblueberrys

Previous:

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„What a great choice, little pup. Of course we can go see; come on, let's go, sweet baby.” The packalpha smiled widely at you, taking your hand in his before he started to lead your little group towards the said store.

Yuki and Moonsik followed happily, both okay with going to the music store. While neither of them played any instruments, they enjoyed listening to music, so they wouldn't mind.

Plus, sometimes seeing all of the gadgets and things lined up cleanly just satisfied them, even when they weren't there to buy them.

And so, Namjoon led you close, watchful so you wouldn't bump into any bypassers as you were caught too deeply into explaining the new art technique you only just learned.

The packalpha knew a fair bit about art, but by no means did he know enough, considering how much new information you shared with him during the few small seconds.

Litography for sure sounded complicated, but you looked ecstatic about it, even though you repeated many times that you really didn't know what you were doing most of the time.

Maybe he could start a course with you? Or maybe some of the other packmates would go. Or maybe, if you don't want them to be there with you, you would prefer to do so alone?

Seoul was a large city; for sure, there must be a printing unit of some sort, an atelier, or anything like that.

Namjoon really wanted you to persue your hobbies and dreams, and he knew you held art very close to your heart.

The packalpha wasn't sure what type of school you would want to continue to study at, but he realised well that the pack could for sure help.

He thought a little about what you might be able to do to help them, and the packalpha already had quite a few good ideas.

But nonetheless, Namjoon was more than happy to have you around, and you could choose whichever path you found interesting, and he and the pack members would support you.

The walk across the mall wasn't lengthy, and so soon enough, you were aware of the music store you desired to see when it was closed.

It was open this time, and the lights that were turned on made the display of the instruments and gadgets much clearer and simpler to see.

To your eyes, it looked quite magical. You knew your fair bit about art—of course you would; you studied it after all—and when you were young and lived in Japan, sometimes you would go see theatres too.

Your budget didn't allow you to see the interesting plays anymore, and it wouldn't be too safe for you to go on your own either.

Since most of the theatres would play during the evening, starting at the earliest of 18 o'clock, even when it would be the summer and the sun would come down later, by the time the play would end, it would be dark.

Seoul wasn't a small city by any means, but your apartment was on the outskirts, and you didn't live in the nicest part of it.

You were an omega. Only now were you being courted, and before that, you had no one to make sure you would get safely home.

The last time you went to see the play R.U.R., which didn't wow you but didn't hurt to see either, you left the theatre by the evening, and the stars would twinkle and shine.

The bus you had to wait for took quite some time to arrive, but whenever a bit off-looking alpha or beta would come sit by you on the waiting bench at the stop, you would make sure to get up and create a distance so no contact would be created.

You were on your phone, busying yourself on Instagram as there was free WiFi available, and so when your bus arrived a good half an hour later, you entered.

All went well in the beginning, but as the drive continued, less and less people stayed, and it came to only you and an alpha.

The man didn't seem too suspicious at first, but when he stood up, to you seeming to go to leave the vehicle, he didn't step out but instead stepped closer to you.

You were more than lucky that night, to be certain. Just the reminder of the sickling smell of the rut had your stomach turning, and when you noticed the look in his eyes, you realised what was meant to go down.

Before the alpha could do anything, you left the bus in a hurry, as your stop just came, and luckily for you, the dreaded man didn't follow you.

Since then, you wouldn't go outside comfortably and would always be wary of being on your own during the night.

Just the terrifying memory made small tears spring up in your eyes. What would happen if that man took you to mate that night? What if he marked you too?

Surely, none of the pack members courting you now would be interested in you then.

You felt your fingers shake a little, and you could tell you were about to cry. You couldn't go crying in the mall like this, and if Yuki and Moonsik were with you too, what would they think of you now?

Your breaths started to cut shorter and shorter, and as your eyes squeezed shut, a slight ringing clouded your mind.

Then, you couldn't tell well what was going on—too much in a haze to realise. You could hear your heartbeat, or was it yours?

It sounded close to your ear, and you felt your lungs hurt from how unwell you were breathing, your intakes shorter and shorter every moment passing.

„...okay, pup,'s okay...."

You recognised the packalpha's voice well, but it sounded distant and far; your ears were somehow weak, and you were tired.

The soft smell around you brought you a slight comfort and warmth, but even then, your shoulders shook and tears would come down your face.

Whenever your sobs would get louder, the warmth brought to you felt more close, as the scent felt more strong and noticeable.

Somewhere deep in the back of your mind, you knew you had stressed yourself out so much that you had another omega drop, but then again, you couldn't think too clearly.

„...don't worry, sweetheart, just breathe for alpha baby;.."

Namjoon's voice caressed you in the background as you sobbed and cried softly. You were just too scared and anxious at this point, too worried out of your mind, to really pay attention to what was going on around you.

It took you quite some time to calm down to a point where you would realise what was going on around you. Sobs wrecked your body, and your shoulders would shake as you gasped for air.

„...there you go, pup, just like that. Breathe for Alpha little 'mega..."

Namjoon didn't know what exactly went down to cause you to suddenly drop on him, but he knew it wasn't good.

It was just like that—your scent would change, and he would notice something was wrong. And before the packalpha could do anything to help prevent it, your soft sniffles and cries already came.

And what was he to do? He knew he couldn't do much as the rest of the packmembers weren't there to help, and surely all of their scents would do you good.

Namjoon didn't even have that lamb plushie they bought for you, and gosh, he was cursing himself for not getting at least a keychain to carry around himself in case of need—like now.

They all will, for sure, purchase one right away after they hear about your soft state. None of them will care about how bulky or weird their keys might look; that would not matter.

If they would get a keychain that would carry all of their scents, for sure, that would help when you might drop on them so suddenly.

Namjoon didn't have that at the moment, and so he was stuck with what was possible to help relieve your anxious state—his own scent.

And so he did what he thought would be best, releasing all of the protective and calming pheromones he had as an alpha.

The moment the packalpha realised you entered an omega drop, from standing before you crouched while caressing your cheeks with questions pouring out about your dazed state, he was quick to get into action.

When your tears appeared and your scent fully changed, he took you into his arms, not caring one bit about anyone looking—you were his top priority.

And so Namjoon cradled you to his chest, safely tucking away your face into his scent gland as he would try to calm you down.

When your sobs and cries turned into gasps for air, he could truly feel worry cloud his mind, and he could tell his brain was dashing up with only a few simple words screamed at him.

Mate; Danger; Breathe;

And he held you even closer, going from trying to gently talk you out of your closed state to feeling himself start to go feral in worry.

Was it one of the bypassers that made you freak out so much? Was it the shop owner? Oh, he was going to have a word with him if that was the case for sure.

But before the packalpha could do anything, Moonsik, who still held Yuki's hand closely as they both looked worriedly over the two of you, stepped closer.

„You need to go somewhere where it's calm and quiet, Namjoon-ah.” The beta's voice held a sense of urgency in it.

His own pack's omega wouldn't drop too often, but when he would, it was always a great worry for both Moonsik and Juwon.

He recognised the short and quick breaths, along with how off your scent seemed, and knew that you really weren't doing well at the moment.

And so, he was quick to step in as soon as he noted Namjoon's growing distress; it was understandable that he was worried. You were their courted omega after all, and it was every packmember's worst nightmare to see their littlest ones cry of fear.

Moonsik calmly came over, a harsh but not really meant growl leaving the packalpha as he took a step back. The beta understood—the younger wasn't thinking too clearly and wouldn't take time to realise who was safe and who wasn't.

At this point, the only ones allowed to come closer to the distressed omega were the packmates, and even then, the packalpha would strictly watch.

And so, the beta took the lead and started to walk to one of the stores where it surely would be quiet and calm—the small library, which had a café at its entrance.

Namjoon rushed to follow, pecking your cheeks and temples repeatedly as he would comb his fingers gently through your hair.

The only thing he wished for was that you would be okay.

None of the drops he experienced with you went to such an extent, and you never had such issues with breathing. What if something was seriously wrong?

Hastily, the small group of yours entered the café. Moonsik brought Yuki over to order, as he didn't want it to seem like you all just came over to sit and not have anything.

The other omega was scared and worried for you, asking the beta numerous times if you were okay and saying, „Y/N doesn't look fine, hyungie!” Nearly bursting into tears himself.

Though the beta was professional in distracting the younger and calming him down, he by no means needed Yuki to drop too; that would be truly bad timing.

And so, Moonsik asked the omega about which drink he thought you would like the best, or what pastry, but the conversation always stopped, as the omega would go turning to look at you sitting in a secluded booth, curled up closely to Namjoon.

Yuki couldn't see much, as the packalpha had tucked you closely against himself and kept you in the corner, his back partly turned to the entrance.

„You're okay, my baby; breathe now; breathe for Alpha." He would whisper, a little frown on his face as he held you to his chest, making sure your ear was pressed right up against his heart where you could hear it the best.

The alpha caressed your hair softly, pecking your forehead as his chin would rub up against the top of your head.

His scent was noticeable all around the booth, and while he might feel a bit emberassed normally, considering that it's not really well with the etiquette to have one's scent take up the whole room, he really didn't care at the moment.

Luckily, the people working and in the café were understanding and didn't freak out or start a scene over it, and everything truly was calm.

Apart from the soft, calm music playing in the background, the shop was quiet and calm, and he only then realised that it was definitely omega-centred too.

And soon after, your teary eyes, Namjoon so restlessly viped over and over, fluttered open. The moment you realised it was the packalpha who was gently looking over you, holding you close as he would caress you, soft shushes leaving him in hopes of you breathing better, a soft sob left you again.

Namjoon looked over immediately, his eyes widening, before he held you even closer, tucking your head right into the very crook of his neck.

„Oh baby...” He whispered gently, pecking your temples repeatedly as he rubbed your back and petted your hair.

You gripped onto the alpha's t-shirt tightly, the man pulling you up and closer to his chest in answer.

Your cheek rested against Namjoon's collarbone as the still slightly agitated alpha held you very close, trying his best to settle you.

Just then, Moonsik and Yuki came over with the order they thought both of you would like the best: an americano for Namjoon and a sweet lemonade with a little cheesecake for you.

Just as Yuki went to whine out, noticing that you wouldn't turn to look at them, the packalpaha being the only one to have acknowledged them, the beta was quick with his thinking.

„Hyungie-”

„Sh, baby, sh, come here." He whispered gently as he pulled the younger omega over to himself, letting him sit on his lap too.

The beta knew well that you needed some space and time to truly relax and calm down, and staying with the packalpha for the time being was for sure the safest bet.

And so, Moonsik fed his omega small bites of the brownie cake and had him drink his own lemonade. Yuki hoped you would like yours just like he always liked his.

„Should I call someone, Namjoon-ah?” Moonsik asked after a little while, worried eyes set on you. While you weren't sobbing and gasping for air uncontrollably anymore, you were still softly sniffing, no matter what the packalpha would say.

Namjoon looked up from pecking your forehead, frowning a little in thought. The packmembers would for sure freak out if they knew, but it was necessary, he thought.

And so, as the alpha pulled you even closer, your nose right against his scent gland, he stayed for a little while in thought.

„If you would be so kind, Moonsik-hyung, that would be very helpful.” He whispered softly, not wanting to startle you, as he gently patted your hair.

The beta nodded and ushered Yuki out of his lap, taking the younger's hand before he went over to the more secluded area—he didn't want you or anyone else to hear to call.

You didn't need to drop on them the second time in a row today.

Precautions were a must in such situations, and your fragile state for sure required one, so they needed to be careful now.

Moonsik quickly switched on his contacts, searching through them until he found the first packmate he had saved on his phone, Yoongi.

And so, as Yuki looked over the books on display, opening and closing them after he realised they were in the horror section, the ringing noise sounded in the beta's ear.

It took a while for the alpha to pick up, but he did soon after, having the beta sigh from the pent-up worry he didn't even realise he kept inside.

„Hello?”

„Hello, Yoongi, it's Moonsik...um, the beta, we met in the mall and-”

„Yes, I remember. What do you need? Is Y/N okay?”

„Y/N dropped a few minutes ago, but Namjoon is trying to settle h-”

„What?! Fuck, where are they?”

„We are in the reading café right now, but maybe you all shouldn't come at the same time..."

„Aish, send me the address, and I'll be there soon; I'll let the rest know.”

„Of course, I will. Thank you.”

Yoongi was the one to switch off the call, but in the background, Moonsik could very well hear his keys jiggle as the alpha quickly got ready to leave.

He wasn't sure where Yoongi was at the moment or if they were all planning to come into the café, but he trusted them and knew that they would do their best to help you.

„Come on, baby, let's go." The beta softly said, gently tugging onto Yuki's hand, the omega following right away, abandoning the book he held before.

They walked back up the stairs and over to the booth to see you still closely held by the packalpha; only now you weren't really sniffling too badly.

Only when they sat down and Moonsik got a better look at you did he realise what happened—you cried yourself to sleep, far too exhausted to keep up with everything.

Namjoon held you close, very much in a protective headspace, wary of anyone and everyone passing by.

The alpha tried to feed you a little bite of the sweet cake or have you at least take the smallest sip possible, but you wouldn't budge, a soft whimper leaving you whenever Namjoon would slightly pull away to give you a little bite.

And so, after a short time, the packalpha has given up on having you eat or drink at the moment, and as you fell asleep, he would hold you just as close as before, if not closer.

He sipped on his coffee the beta and omega, so kindly got him, but it was still quite hot, and he didn't really know how to relax at the moment.

„I called Yoongi; he said he was on his way.” The beta almost whispered, not wanting you to wake up, but seeing your truly tired state, you weren't about to.

The packalpha murmured soft thanks, glad that the beta was kind and considerate in such a jumbled situation.

Just as Namjoon went on to apologise about the hangout taking a terrible turn, the beta was quick to shush him.

„It's okay, Namjoon-ah; it's not yours or Y/N's fault; things like these just happen.” He said it calmly, cutting off a little bite of the brownie to feed Yuki again.

The packalpha could only thank him softly, holding you close as he rubbed your back up and down, keeping you close.

It didn't take a long time before the other packmate came, and it wasn't just Yoongi either.

The moment the youngest recognised your distressed scent in the mall, he took off running, with the older alpha following soon enough, finding the path to you by your scent.

And soon enough, Jungkook stood at the entrance to the café, a mask and heavy jacket on, as he came just from the outside, where Yoongi had driven them.

A soft gasp left him as he finally saw you and Namjoon, your body tightly cuddled up to the older alpha.

„Babybun!” He whispered, taking long strides over before he came to the side of the booth with you.

Jungkook reached over to hold you, Namjoon sighing out gently, before he let you be held by him, only a soft whine leaving you.

„Don't cry, my bunny, it's okay. Alpha is here now. Alpha is here." He would whisper, his chin and cheeks rubbing vigorously over your head as he tried to have his calming scent mask your still unsettled one.

„Oh, kitty...” Yoongi murmured, taking a seat next to the youngest as he too gently petted and brushed through your hair, worried eyes set on your still-half-asleep form.

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#bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts a/b/o #bts #bts imagine #bts omegaverse #bts jimin #hybrid bts #bts namjoon #bts ot7 #bts jin #bts yoongi #bts Taehyung #bts jungkook #bts hoseok #bts hobi #bts jhope #bts suga #bts rm #bts v #kim Namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jeon jungkook #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #suga #rm #v

[bloatedandalone04]

Wrapped Around Your Finger - Part 1.1

Series Masterlist | Original Fic

➪in which you pack your bags for paris, still unsure of whether or not you’ll return to london for anything other than the rest of your belongings, and anakin is forced to reach out to liz after she crosses another line.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 3.2k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Guilt had followed Anakin all week.

He talked to you for a good hour over the phone on Wednesday, and not once did he mention the fact that Liz had kissed him. He knew the longer he kept it from you, the worse it’ll be for him, but he was terrified of your reaction. 

Anakin had been faithful for nearly five years straight, and the one time he’s away from you for more than a few days he lets another girl get close to him. Close enough for him to break that streak in a single night. 

He knew that as soon as he told you, it could very well be over, and he never wanted to lose you, let alone because of something so out of character for him. 

Still, it wasn’t fair for you to be kept out of the loop, and though he hated to do it, he’d rather tell you in person. He could only hope that you saw it from his perspective, and how hard he’s been trying to get rid of her. 

Anakin was sitting on the couch, the passing scenery doing wonders at keeping his mind busy. He wanted to call you, but you told him that you needed to sort some things out today, and he’d just have to wait until you were able to talk. 

He had headphones on with the track Vinny and Theo had recorded during all the time Anakin spent with Liz, and he felt like the worst excuse of a friend and band member ever. 

They were actually trying to get music out while he just went out and partied. But he wouldn’t be doing that anymore. 

If one good thing came out of that whole club situation and the wake up call, it was that Anakin was finally inspired to write. Theo had come up with the idea to create a slower song rather than the loud and intense songs they’ve been playing for the last year and a half. He was sure it was because the bass player was feeling down a lot lately and needed a way to vent, and Anakin and Vinny were more than willing to agree to it. 

He listened to the track on repeat as he thought about possible lyrics, and Anakin was happy that Vinny had decided to try his luck with a piano. He played it for about four years before he switched to drums, but he clearly still knew how to play the string instrument as it sounded amazing through his headphones. 

Before long, he had a whole page done and was starting his second when Vinny emerged from the back of the bus. His hair was a mess, signaling to Anakin that he had just woken up from a nap. 

Anakin could probably use a few more hours of sleep, too, but he knew it would never come. He’d just end up tossing and turning and wasting time, so he didn’t even bother. 

Vinny sat down next to him with a huff, taking the notebook out of Anakin’s hands as he did so. Anakin scoffed at him, taking off his headphones and setting them aside as he turned to face his friend. “Is this for a new song?” Vinny asked with a yawn as he read over the page.

“Yeah,” Anakin answered, grabbing his phone and sending you a quick text. 

Vinny set the notebook aside after reading it over. “Sounds good,” he mumbled. “Glad to see you got your inspiration back.”

“Yeah, but at what cost,” Anakin muttered.

“Anakin, Y/n will understand,” he tried to reassure him, but probably knew that it was pointless as Anakin would continue to feel like shit until he knew for sure that he wouldn’t lose you because of the mistake he made with Liz.

So when he didn’t respond, Vinny just shook his head and stood back up. He rummaged around in the mini fridge before grabbing two water bottles and heading back to Clara, leaving Anakin to finish up the song he had titled ‘Falling’.

-

“I feel like I’m wasting everyone’s time,” you confessed as you sat on the grass in the Quad. “I completely messed up that last assignment. I didn’t even try.” 

Evan gave you a pointed look as he sipped from the straw of his smoothie. “You’re not wasting everyone’s time, Y/n,” he stated, making you roll your eyes. “I’m serious. Kenneth would’ve sent you running on the first day if he thought you were wasting his time.”

You shrug and look at different flights on your phone. “Maybe, but I still accused him of favoring me when he was literally just trying to be nice,” 

“Y/n,” Evan called out to you, making you look up. “You’re a good writer. You’re one of the best in the class, don’t think that you’re not. One bad piece doesn’t make you a bad writer, you know that.”

You shrug again, sipping on your own smoothie. “Yeah, I guess,” 

Evan set down his drink and moved closer to you. “I mean it. You’re going places…if you decide to stay, that is. While it’ll certainly give me a better chance at getting published, it’ll still suck to lose you. But if you’re no longer happy here, then you deserve to do something that does make you happy.”

You give him a smile and lean over to hug him quickly. “Thanks, Ev,” 

He returned the hug before standing up. “Are you coming to class today?” 

You think about it for a few seconds then shake your head. “No, I have some thinking to do,”

He nods and gives you a reassuring smile. “Okay, I’ll just see you later then,”

You nod back and watch as he makes his way to the building the class is in before pulling out your phone. 

Ani: I hope you’re having a better day today, baby. I can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I love you. 

The text brings a smile to your lips as you stand up and throw away your garbage as you reply to him.

So far so good. I can’t wait to see you, too, Ani. I love YOU.

You head in the opposite direction of your class, planning on going back to your room and packing your bag for Paris. Maybe you’d even start packing up to go back home. While Evan’s attempts at reassuring you were nice, you still didn’t feel confident in yourself anymore. 

Anakin had even tried to reassure you, but he also said that you didn’t have to force yourself to stay if it wasn’t what you wanted anymore, and to have that support from him had your head feeling clearer than it had in weeks. 

If all else failed, you still always had him, and that was enough for you to know that you’d be okay. 

You pack the essentials and set your bag down next to your desk before sitting down on your bed. Grabbing your phone, you begin to look through more flight options. There was one for three in the afternoon, meaning you’d be able to be in Paris by five thirty at the latest. You’d have to swing by class tomorrow to talk to Kenneth, and to possibly say goodbye to him. 

You really weren’t sure if you were going to come back for anything other than the rest of your belongings once Anakin and the guys leave France and you’d have to say goodbye again. Maybe you could just pack the rest of your things and meet him at the next location. You wouldn’t mind sharing that small bunk with him for the next two months, and you knew he wouldn’t mind either. 

Without another thought, you buy the ticket and set your phone down, pulling out your laptop and continuing to write the rough draft of your short story, despite your plans potentially dropping the class.

The rest of the day passed by in a blur, and before you knew it, it was the next morning and you were packing last minute things and making sure you had your ticket ready. You set everything on your bed, excitement pulsing through you at the fact that you’d be seeing Anakin in less than nine hours.

His text had you feeling the happiest you’ve been all week, and you had shamelessly read it more than once. 

Ani: I can’t wait to see you tonight. I’ve missed you so much, princess.

He was the sweetest, and you were shaking with nerves at the thought of feeling his arms around you again after four weeks of zero physical contact.

You leave your dorm and make your way to class, well aware that it had ended at nine and it was now nearing ten. With a quick inhale, you enter the classroom and meet Kenneth’s eyes from across the room. He was sitting at his desk, his brow furrowed as he looked back down at the papers he was reading. “Miss Y/l/n,” he greeted in a monotone voice. “Glad to see you could make it to class today, though you are an hour late and the class is already over.”

Giving him a forced and embarrassed smile, you step into the room. “Yeah,” you trail off, playing with your fingers as you stand by the door. “I’m sorry I missed the last two classes, it’s just….I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.”

Kenneth didn’t look up from the papers as he said, “Well, you’ve certainly done a great job at trying to prove that,” 

Your face heats up and you look at the floor. “Yeah…I’m really sorry, Kenneth,” you murmur, glancing down at the A on your wrist. You feel the smallest bit of comfort from just looking at it, and you lift your head with a newfound confidence. “I didn’t mean to waste your time. That was the last thing I wanted to do.” 

That had your instructor looking up at you. He studied your face for a few seconds before sitting up in his chair. “You didn’t waste my time, Miss Y/l/n,” he stated. “In fact, I quite enjoyed reading your previous pieces, so I don’t know why you think you wasted anyone’s time.”

You shrug at him and avoid eye contact. You just needed to get through this, then you could go to the airport and be with Anakin again after a month of not seeing him. 

“I assume you came here to tell me that you’re dropping out?” Kenneth asks and you look over at him.

“Do you think I should?” You ask.

“That’s not up to me,” he says. “It’s your choice.”

You huff, “Do you think I’m…..good enough?”

Kenneth raises his brows. “Do I think you’re good enough?” He repeated your question and leaned back. “I think you’re a great writer, Miss Y/l/n, and it would be  unfortunate to lose you before I got to really see what you can do. But, it’s your decision, and I can’t make it for you.”

You give him a small smile and nod. “Right. I guess that’s a good answer,” 

He returns the smile before asking, “Are you going somewhere?”

“Yeah, I’m….my boyfriend is performing at a few venues in Paris, so I’m going to meet him there,” you tell him. “I’m sorry, but I’ll be missing a few classes next week.”

Kenneth nods. “It might be best for you to take some time to figure out what you want to do,” he says. “If you decide to stay, there’s always a spot for you in my class, but if you want to go then I can’t stop you. But just know that one bad piece doesn’t make you a bad writer, and you shouldn’t let it have that much control over you.”

Your smile fades a bit at how similar his and Evan’s words are. Maybe they were right. “I’m trying,”

He shrugged, “That’s all you can do,” 

A few seconds pass before you nod. “Well, I should get going. I don’t want to be rushing to the airport,” 

“Before you go,” he called out to you just as you began to turn around. “I want you to know that, whatever you decide to do, I support you.”

That had a genuine smile forming on your lips. “Thank you, Kenneth, and I’m sorry for…everything,”

Then you were off. You headed back to your room to grab your bag, finding Evan leaning against the wall next to your door. Your look of surprise had him raising his brows, “What, you thought I was gonna let you leave without saying goodbye to me first? Especially since I might never see you again after this?”

You laugh and walk into his open arms. “I haven’t decided if I’m dropping the class or not, Ev,” you say and rest your head against his chest. “And I’d say goodbye to you before I left, anyway.” 

“How generous,” he teased and pulled away. His eyes flickered all over your face before he met your gaze. “Have fun, okay? Go spend time with your famous boyfriend, and don’t worry about anything else, alright? You deserve it.”

You smile and nod, “Okay,” you agree. “I’ll see you next week, Evan. Promise.”

He squinted his eyes at you. “You better,” he said back, giving you another smile before leaving. You grab your bag and look around your room one last time before setting down the note you had written to Bailey. She was still at her parents house since there was some family emergency, and you didn’t get the chance to say goodbye to her. 

You leave it on her bed before locking the door and ordering a ride to the airport, the stress of everything finally beginning to lift once you’re seated on the plane. 

-

Anakin could not stop pacing the length of the small hallway on the bus. 

He was shaking, he was so excited to see you. 

He couldn’t think about much else other than your sweet scent, your kind smile, your achingly pretty face, and the way your body fit perfectly against his own. He was craving your touch and the sound of your voice. He couldn’t believe he had gone a month without you.

Vinny was watching him with a tired expression, his arm draped over Clara’s shoulders as she slept next to him on the couch. “Dude,” he grunted after watching him pace a few more times. “What are you doing? Why are you pacing?”

Anakin flexed his fingers as he shrugged, passing by the brunet once again. “I can’t help it,” he answered. “I have to leave in less than half an hour to pick her up and bring her back here. Half an hour, Vin, then she’s here.”

Vinny let out a laugh of disbelief, glancing down at his sleeping girlfriend. “I hope she’s this excited to see me at some point in the future,” he muttered to himself as Anakin tried to calm himself down. 

“I missed her so much, Vin,”

“I know,”

“I can’t wait to see her,”

“I know, Anakin,”

“Please tell me that you and Clara are doing something tonight,” Anakin was powerless to stop the desperation from coming through in his voice.

Vinny smirked up at him, “Is that your way of asking if the bus will be empty tonight?”

“I need to be alone with her,” Anakin groaned. “I need it to be just the two of us, so we can talk. I need to clear a few things up with her.”

Vinny laughed. “I understand, man,” he said. “I’ll take Clara out for dinner or something and we’ll tour the Paris nightlife.”

Anakin gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you,” then he checked his phone and nearly dropped it when he saw Liz’s newest Instagram post. “Fuck.”

It was a close up picture of Anakin on stage a couple nights ago, his hair damp and his skin sweaty as he finished the last song of the set. He remembered feeling the high of that night, and he would’ve been happy to see that Liz had captured a photo of it, but right now all he felt was rage as he read the caption. 

elizaphotography: Thought you’d all enjoy a hot, up close and personal shot of the sexy lead singer of Screaming Whispers ;) 

She added a bunch of stupid hashtags and even tagged him, and Anakin wanted to throw his phone at the nearest wall. Vinny must’ve sensed the sudden change as he sat up a bit and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“She- I can’t fucking believe her,”

Vinny reached forward and grabbed his phone, his gaze hardening once he saw the post. “Wow, this bitch won’t quit,” he muttered, reading the caption over and over again. “She must think she’s invincible or some shit, because- what are you doing?”

Anakin had swiped his phone out of Vinny’s hand and clicked on Liz’s contact as he left the bus, hoping that the air would cool him off at least a little. It rang for a few seconds before the call connected, “Ah, I knew that would get your attention,”

“Back off, Liz,” Anakin rasped, leaning against the side of the bus as he felt his heartbeat quicken. “I mean it.”

“You’ve been avoiding me like the plague, Anakin,” she stated. “You’re acting like a prick. I thought we were friends.”

“You thought wrong,” he said and tried to take back control of his breathing. “Change that caption, or better yet, delete the entire fucking post.”

Liz hummed, “Thought I was allowed to post you? In fact, it’s on the contract that I get your image out there for the world to see,” she laughed. “Well, it says something like that, anyway.”

“I’m not joking, Liz,” he muttered under his breath, and her annoying voice had his body heating up in rage.

“I’m not joking either, Anakin,” she said back. “You led me on. I can claim that. Don’t piss me off, Anakin, or I’ll tell Y/n myself that you cheated on her.”

“I didn’t-”

“But you did,” she cut him off. “I’m living proof.”

“What do you want, Liz? Huh?” Anakin asked in frustration as he tugged on his hair. “Why do you insist on being such a-”

“A what, Anakin? What?” She pressed. “Call me anything other than my name, and I’ll message her right now.”

Anakin bit his tongue, holding back on calling her every bad name he could think of, because it really wouldn’t help much at all. “Keep her out of this,” he said as calmly as he could. He didn’t like her holding you over him like this when she had no fucking clue about anything involving yours and his relationship. She was just the fucking tour photographer, why did she think she had such an important role in his life? 

“Yeah,” she hummed. “Maybe I’ll do that.” 

Then she hung up and Anakin cursed under his breath as he opened the Instagram app. He deleted all the photos she took of him from his account, wanting nothing to do with her at all anymore. Sure, the photos were great and he actually liked them quite a lot, but he refused to be associated with her in any way. 

Before he got off the app, he clicked on Liz’s account and saw that she did actually change the caption, but it still didn’t settle the anger brewing within him. Without a second thought, he blocked her and pocketed his phone after calling a ride that would take him to the airport and to you.

-

They reunite soon :') (but is that a good thing?)

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen edit #hayden christensen gif #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen icons #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker x reader #star wars anakin #anakin star wars #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #tcw anakin #sw anakin #anakin x you #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #rocker anakin #rocker anakin skywalker #wrapped around your finger au #wrapped around your finger #screaming whispers au

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Thinking thoughts about the TokRev boys (from all different corners of the show but this got out of hand when I started writing for Hanma playing the trumpet. Sorry {not sorry?}). How strong their lips and lungs would be while they're going down on you. Fuck me, dude.

A/N ::: I was watching something today and there was a band. A couple of neurons misfired. Hanma popped into my mind. Here we are, guys. Hanma, again.

C/W ::: Hanma x F.reader, implied drinking, oral M->F, unprotected P->V, and a whole bunch 'o' lies about Hanma being nice ; ).

WC ::: 1,219

TrumpetPlayer!Hanma ::: Stands up on stage, staring at you the whole time he's blowing into the instrument. Don't think he doesn't notice how you're rubbing your thighs together. Such a cute girl, trying to play off her arousal as dancing. Silly, cute, girl.

He sees it. And it's all he can do to keep the tent from popping up in his pants. After the (kick ass!) show he's helping the rest of his band mates take their equipment down and load it up into the van.

You walk up to him and tell him how great the they played tonight - and every night, really. You've been going to their gigs for a while now. He smiles, thanking you for supporting them wherever they play and he puts the speaker on the ground, sitting on it.

Hanma asks you what you're doing right now because the band is having a small after party and it happens to be at his place tonight. "You wanna come?" He brushes his hair from his sweaty forehead and you're sure you're going to squeal if you open your mouth, so you just nod sweetly as he takes your phone and puts in his address and number just in case you get lost.

10 minutes later you're on the road to meet up with him everyone and kick back. His apartment isn't that big, but it's perfect for an intimate gathering. The guys are all there and they all seem to know each other well.

You're standing by the wall with a red cup in your hand when Hanma comes up to you and tells you how glad he is you could make it. You smile and tell him you're happy to be here too. Hanma suggests you go somewhere quieter so you can talk and you both end up in his room.

He shuts the door behind you and you stand next to his bed. You ask him what else he likes to do besides play the trumpet and he tells you to have a seat next to him. He tells you that he doesn't bite - hard - unless you want him to. You laugh too much, you think, at that overplayed joke and hope he doesn't notice.

Hanma turns to look at you, his eyes serious. He says he wants to kiss you and it's like he's sucked all the oxygen from your lungs with just his words. You say yes. And then his lips are on yours. His tongue swipes along your bottom lip and you open your mouth to him. He tastes like cigarettes and beer and it's so fucking intoxicating to you that you have some sort of out of body head rush.

Hanma pulls away, breathing heavily for someone who has such an already impressive lung capacity. He looks at you, a question in his eyes. You nod and he kisses you again, this time harder and more desperate. Your hands find his hair and you tug at it, making him moan into your mouth.

Hanma moves his lips down your neck, biting and sucking at the skin there. He unzips your jeans and slips a hand into your panties. You buck into his fingers and he tells you to keep going. "Oh? You like that? Want me to fuck you with my fingers? How about my cock, huh? Orrr ..." he says between kissing your neck and lips, "maybe my mouth. You ever have a trumpet player go down on you? It'll change your life."

You cry out when he pushes two fingers inside of you and starts moving them in and out. You can feel the pressure building up inside of you and when he rubs your clit with his thumb, you lose it. You cum all over his fingers and he laughs, licking them clean. Hanma leans down and kisses you one more time before getting up and walking over to the door.

He opens it and calls out to his band mates, telling them to get the fuck out of his house. They groan in disappointment but leave anyway. Hanma shuts the front door and locks it. He takes off his clothes and you can see his hard cock bouncing between his legs. "Now ... I'm gonna do this properly."

You smile, taking off your shirt and pants. He walks over to you and kneels on the floor, spreading your legs open before diving right in. Hanma tongues your clit before licking up and down your slit. He dips his tongue inside and you gasp. He works his magic for a few minutes until you're begging him to fuck you. Hanma doesn't do what you ask, of course. He wants you to have the full experience. He eats your pussy like it's the last day the earth will rotate. He's so thorough.

You cum again on his mouth and he slurps up every last drop of it. You're ready for him to stop at any second, but he doesn't. No. He lets you ride out one of the best orgasms you have ever had on his lips and tongue until you're shaking and coming all over his face again. And when you're done, he stands up and gets on the bed, hovering above you.

He brushed his cock up against your twitchy hole until he had you begging for him to be inside of you. Your fingers grip his back, digging your nails in occasionally as he thrusts in and out of your soaking cunt. He moans and grunts as he thrusts into you harder and faster. Hanma's mouth is on yours again and then he's panting into your ear. "Fuck, I'm gonna cum." He groans. "Where do you want it ... where do you want me to cum, huh?"

The question threw you for a loop because you've never really been with anyone who has asked you before. "Ins-inside! Cum inside of me, Hanma!"

He laughed, "Call me Shuji, doll."

You pulled your lips from his and said, "Ok, cum inside of me, Shuji!"

His hips slapped against yours a few more times and he was spilling inside of your warmth.

"Fuck," he said. He collapsed on top of you and you ran your fingers through his hair. You felt his cock twitch inside of you and it made you shiver. Hanma moved and slid out of you, cum dripping onto the sheets. He got up and went to the bathroom, coming back with a towel for you to clean up.

You both lay there in a comfortable silence until he started playing with your hair. "So, did I change your life?" he asked. You turned to him, a smile on your face. "I, um, it was definitely the best pussy eating I've ever experienced. Did it change my life?" Your lips twisted to the side and you said, "I think I'll need you to run me through that a few more times before I can make a sound judgment call." He laughed and pulled the sheet over your head. "Oh, look. You're dead!" You giggled and let him kiss your cheek. It was the beginning of a beautiful, horny relationship.

(*Just kidding. Hanma is probably a real prick who doesn't love anyone but Kisaki. But a girl can dream!)

Roadies ::: @katkitkats @kazutora-kurokawa @arlerts-angel @viburnt @darkstarlight82

#tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev smut #tokrev smut #tokyo revengers hanma #hanma shuji #tokrev hanma #tokyo rev x reader #tokyo rev x you #hanma shuji x reader #hanma shuji x you #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you #hanma x reader #hanma x you #hanma shuji smut #shuji hanma smut #tokrev x reader #tokrev x you #shuji x reader

[boltlightning]

hey gamers. the dead man’s chest soundtrack has been rolling around my head a lot lately; the extended soundtrack from this playlist has been a godsend. specifically i want to gush about the instrumentation.

the potc soundtracks use a standard orchestra composition, focusing on strings and brass and less on woodwinds. DMC introduces the kraken and davy jones, who are associated with davy jones’ organ (of course) and — well. hans zimmer went nuts and recorded the orchestra, then piped that recording back over the music through a guitar amp. it sounds uncannily like an electric bass (and yes, a guitar now and then), so for our purposes i am going to say it sounds like electric bass with CRUNCHY reverb. it seems a little counterintuitive to associate ancient and cursed beings with more modern, experimental sounds, but altogether it creates this delightful, otherworldly, primordial rock band feel.

let’s take the track from when we first meet davy jones, dutchman arrival, for instance. it gives us a touch of that electric bass underneath jones’ theme when the sailors first show up, then pivots to normal orchestration as will is fighting. HE doesn’t know who they are, only that they’re odd — and when jones shows up finally, you get the bass holding that melody all on its own, this terrifying, growling refrain that sounds like it’s seething just under the surface. an undercurrent…a heartbeat, perhaps.

hold onto that thought. let’s move on. davy jones and his organ. jones having something as dramatic, expensive, and dominating as an organ on his ship speaks to how authoritative his character is — he’s playing his self-pitying music while his crew is breaking their backs to keep this awful ship sailing. he plays it solo, then the entire orchestra joins in, and beneath it all…the thrum of a heart. the melody of jones’ theme fits lock-and-key with the beat of a heart. here, everything is orchestral, but we’ve added the warm tones of choral voices under it all, like this is a horrible waltz that everyone aboard is doomed to keep dancing. and then it spirals into discordant chaos.

as a bonus: pipe organs have the countermelody playing with foot pedals, usually. imagine jones and his peg leg playing this kind of shit while the squid beard tickles the keys

i also L O V E the chorus humming in the back half of the whipping scene. it makes my skin crawl.

this all builds to the second kraken attack, the attack that introduces the viewer to the kraken in person. just…the constant buzz of the bass under these insane, warning low brass flourishes. the guitar-alike sound is in full force here and drapes this growly, eerie echo over the entire score. just when you hit the natural apex of the song, when you think you might reach some sort of musical resolution, it cuts out for a caesura — and bursts back in with the organ melody, huge and overwhelming over it all, as the kraken FULLY CRACKS A SHIP IN HALF. just in case you forgot who made this all happen. this is the EXACT way a heroic theme would triumphantly emerge in any classical piece of work. eat your heart out, holst.

the way jones’ theme is reprised with horns in the ship to ship score is so chilling too. it’s played in will's instrument after all! it's this teeny little bit of hope, a sign the pearl might get away — yet it’s getting lost in all the tenor voices just to really remind you how hopeless this all is. and then everything drops away and jones’ theme fully emerges in the low bass; it’s raunchy and nasty and so, so scary. god. what a score.

they do such a good job with the themes, even without visuals it’s so easy to tell who is on screen doing what in any of the tracks from the wheel of fortune section (specifically heart madness on the extended soundtrack). if there’s soaring brass and string stings, you know local romance heroes will and norrington are trying to kill each other on the wheel. if it’s quiet with a plucky little string soli, low reeds, and snare accents, you know jack is doing some shenanigans off to the side. if there’s deep and growling bass and organ swells, it’s elizabeth and pintel and ragetti racing against the crew of the dutchman for the heart.

in particular there’s this delightful bit in the track immediately preceding it, 3-way sword fight, where the melody starts and stops as all three dudes with swords are getting their footing on the various precarious places they take their fight. it builds and builds, and soon the melody is getting juggled by three different groups of instruments as elizabeth gets drawn into the fight too. talk about chaos.

on a related, but more lowkey character note: i ADORE that beckett’s associated instrument is the harpsichord. you only hear it a little bit in the track when will is bargaining with beckett. the harpsichord immediately puts you in the mind of aristocratic england; it was a household instrument back then, it’s plausibly an instrument beckett could play himself! it’s particular, but at the same time it’s subtle. it’s not dominating. he’s a new player in the game with a unique position, and damn does he know how to play the game.

and FINALLY. to compare beckett to someone ostentatious in a much different way: jack is associated with two themes, summed up perfectly in this track. this big, great, sweeping, seafaring melody we know and love, with regimented snare drum and timpani, the whole nine yards. it invokes jack’s reputation, the captain in his title…and then it fades to that stupid little soli, the gremlin trickster we all know and love.

yet compare that track with this demo of the same themes — it’s the exact same music, just with a solo piano, and it sounds so moody, even when the key and tempo pick up. THAT’S the power of instrumence baby! the texture, timbre, and context of any given melody changes the weight and impact, even if the notes are exactly the same. 

finally finally: i hope the timpani player finds a million dollars every day in the street.

ok. phew. this soundtrack makes me want to go learn cello and i needed to get that out of my system. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

#bolt watches potc #pirates of the caribbean #dead man's chest #music #(i worked hard on this i'm putting it in the tag) #hey also. if anyone knows which orchestras recorded the soundtracks i'd be forever grateful!! want to make sure they're credited

[minty-mumbles]

Marks on Your Body, Marks on Your Soul

Summary: Wind was part of the largest soulmate group that Outset Island had seen in nearly a century. There were eight people in his soulgroup. Nine, including him. Eight corresponding little marks were inked onto the skin of his forearm. Eight precious marks that symbolized that he was going to be so, so loved.

(Read on AO3 here) (There's also a bonus Warriors angst scene in the notes that I couldn't fit into the fic)

~~~

Wind was part of the largest soulmate group that Outset Island had seen in nearly a century. There were eight people in his soulgroup. Nine, including him. Eight corresponding little marks were inked onto the skin of his forearm. Eight precious marks that symbolized that he was going to be so, so loved.

In another rarity, not one of his eight soulmates lived on Outset Island. It was a small island, and while Wind hadn’t seen everyone’s soulmarks- some people liked to keep them private- they wouldn’t have been able to keep it a secret. Everyone knew everyones’ business on Outset. If one of the island’s residents was one of Wind’s soulmates, the rumors of someone else with eight soulmarks would have spread to him when he was still a young child.

So, Wind was an anomaly, but he didn’t mind. Those eight little marks that symbolized his soulmates were something to be cherished, even if they made him an oddity.

His first soul mark, the one nearest to his hand, was some kind of red bird with its wings stretched wide in flight. Wind had never seen a bird like that before, and even his Granny didn’t recognize it. Wind thought it must mean that this soulmate was from some faraway island with animals and birds that no one on Outset Island had ever seen before.

The next seemed to be a coin of some sort. It was split into four sections, with each section a different color, green, blue, red, and purple. It looked nothing like the rupees Wind was familiar with, but maybe this soulmate was from a distant land too?

Below the coin was a simple blue ocarina. Wind wondered what it meant or symbolized, Perhaps they were a musician? Wind had always smiled at the thought. He always loved listening to music, even if he couldn’t play an instrument himself. Maybe his soulmate would teach him how to play!

Next was a profile of the dog's head, thrown back and mouth open as if caught in the moment of a triumphant howl. (Something had always rubbed him wrong, thinking about this mark as a dog. It looked like a dog, but something about that seemed off to Wind. This animal was no tame beast.)

The next mark was a small pink rabbit, sitting up on its hind legs. Wind’s Granny had cooed over this particular mark plenty of times when he was a child, remarking that whoever it belonged to must be a very kind individual. Wind wasn’t so sure about that, the rabbit might be cute, but the way it defiantly stared back at Wind made him think twice about calling this soulmate soft.

Below the rabbit was a picture of a fairy. It was green, which was an unusual color for a fairy, but other than that looked pretty standard. Maybe this soulmate was a healer?

Next was a silver sword, wrapped in a piece of blue fabric. It was the most cryptic mark of them all, revealing the least about the person it belonged to, other than the fact perhaps they were good at fighting. Wind wondered, often, what the blue fabric symbolized.

The last mark, which was nearly nestled into the crook of his elbow, was a bow with an arrow drawn and ready to fire. When Wind had been young, he’d thought the mark was laid over a background of red. When he’d grown up, though, he realized that it wasn't simply a background of red, it was blood, a large splatter of blood. That mark had always made his Granny nervous, but it had never bothered Wind.

He’d spent long hours staring at these marks in wonder as he grew up. Daydreams of what his soulmates would be like were constant. Every time a ship arrived at Outset with new people aboard, Wind would be there, trying to sneak a glimpse of their forearms. Even the trading ships that came biweekly would draw Wind down to the docks, just in case there was someone new aboard he hadn’t met before- someone who shared seven of the same marks with him. 

Of course, if his marks were romantic none of the sailors would ever be his soulmates as they were much older than Wind. But with such a large soulgroup, odds were that his bonds were platonic, and there were no age restrictions for platonic soulmates.

~~~

With such a large group of soulmates, Wind couldn’t just refer to them as “his soulmates.” It quickly became cumbersome, when speaking about his soulmarks, to constantly have to clarify which one he meant. It didn’t take long for him to come up with nicknames. 

It wasn’t a strange thing to do, especially for those who had more than one soulmark.

Feathers, for the red bird. Then Coin, Ocarina, and Doggy, which soon evolved into Dog as he grew older. Bunny, which quickly became Rabbit. 

Flicker for the fairy, after that way fairies flitted around when they flew, and the way their light would flicker like a candle. And finally, Sword and Bow. Most of the nicknames were simplistic and not at all creative but Wind had been four when he’d made them, so he cut himself some slack. 

~~~

When Wind is seven, Dog’s soulmark changes. 

It’s an insane thing to say- soulmarks don’t change. The only change that a mark should ever undergo was fading away to gray when your soulmate died. Other than that, they were set in stone. 

But it was undeniable. One day when he went to sleep, the mark was of a brown dog. When he woke up, the dog was gray, with new markings that hadn’t been there before. Startled by the change, he ran to show his Granny. 

At first, she’d been horrified to hear her grandchild shouting about a changed soumark and see unexpected gray on his arm. But it soon became apparent that the mark had not faded to death-gray. The eyes of the animal were still a brilliant blue.

His Granny had scrubbed at his forearm in a basin of water so hard his arm had turned red. When she finally admitted that the mark truly had changed, and Wind hadn’t simply managed to color it somehow, she had insisted he not tell anyone of this development, not even his little sister. 

Frightened by her intensity, Wind had agreed. 

Granny inspected his marks daily after that. It took months for her to be satisfied they would stay the way they were. 

~~~

A year later, Wind noticed that Flicker’s mark had changed as well. Previously, it had been a simple fairy. Now, the yellow symbol of the triforce glimmered faintly from the center of the fairy’s glow. It was barely noticeable unless you squinted. 

Wind, remembering how Granny had fretted and stressed over Dog’s soulmark, kept his mouth shut. The yellow of the triforce was so subtle that no one who wasn’t closely inspecting it would notice it, so he was able to keep this new change secret, even from his grandmother.

~~~

The night before Wind turned twelve, he lay awake shivering in bed. It wasn’t a cold night- quite the opposite, in fact. 

But something felt… wrong.

It felt like someone was watching him. He’d checked and it wasn’t Arryl, who was deeply asleep. Granny was sleeping in the other room, so it wasn’t her. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was very wrong.

With nothing to justify the dread he was feeling, Wind lay awake in bed, unable to sleep. He drew his blanket over his head like he was five again and hiding from monsters. The feeling of dread persisted, not allowing him to slip into the comfort of sleep.

As his mind often did in quiet, solitary moments like these, it turned toward the topic of his soulmarks. Since the changes in two of his marks nearly six years ago, he’d grown to understand just how strange the fact that his marks had changed was.

Wind had never heard of anyone’s marks changing. When he was eight, he’d gotten it in his mind to run around Outset Island and ask everyone he could find if they’d ever heard stories about soulmarks changing. The answers were always a resounding no.

When Granny had eventually heard what he’d been doing, she'd given him a stern reprimand. He understood now why she was so strict about not telling people that his marks had changed. People weren’t kind to those they saw as different or strange. It was probably a very fortunate thing no one had ever noticed the change in his marks. 

Wind didn’t know what people would do if they noticed, but he couldn’t imagine it would be pretty. 

Wind worried about his marks often. He worried about what might happen if someone noticed that two of them had changed. (Unlikely after all this time, but all it would take was one person who had been there when Wind was born and had inspected his marks asking why the dog wasn’t brown like they remembered.) 

He worried about what it meant that Dog and Flicker’s marks had changed. Was it possible that they would change again in the future? Would his other marks change? Was it possible that the marks had changed because the gods had messed up his marks, and maybe he wasn’t meant to be with these soulmates after all?

Wind had nightmares, sometimes. That one day he would wake up and his marks would be gone. That he would meet his soulmates, and they wouldn't have any mark representing him on their forearms. 

He tried his best to ignore those dreams.

When midnight had long since come and gone and the feeling of dread and anticipation still haunted him, Wind thought it might be a good idea to clear his head. The night air might help. Maybe he should head to the lookout, he thought. He would be able to watch the stars easier from there, and no one would bother him if he ended up falling asleep. 

~~~

Wind turned twelve, and everything went horribly, utterly wrong. 

After Arryl had been taken and he’d set out on his quest to save her, Wind hadn’t bothered to look at his soulmarks much. He didn’t forget they were there! No one could forget their soulmates. 

It was just… they’d become less important in the face of the possibility of losing his sister. She was out there, possibly in danger, possibly dead, and Wind was pretty sure his soulmarks weren’t going to go away anytime soon. He hadn’t even met any of them yet. He couldn’t afford to spend his time thinking about them when he didn’t even know what they looked like.

Then he’d gone to Fire Mountain to get the power bracelets. 

Even with the aid of the ice arrows that kept the volcano from erupting, the heat was nearly unbearable. It felt like if he stayed on the island for too long, the very air itself would burn his skin.

That didn’t happen, thankfully. But what did happen was almost worse.

Fighting off the fire bats so he could reach the power bracelets had been the most annoying part of the island. There were several of them, coming one right after another, but they weren’t that strong. He’d been careless, more focused on avoiding plunging himself into lava than the swooping bats overhead.

His carelessness had earned him a few burns. He hadn’t thought much about the burns at the time besides pushing away the pain. Getting the power bracelets and getting out before the ice arrows wore off was more important than fussing over some small injuries. 

Later, when his adrenaline had faded and he was safe enough to look over his injuries, he realized where exactly the burns were, and Wind had never felt more horrified and sick to his stomach in his life. The burn wrapped around the back of Wind’s left arm. One edge of the burned skin stopped less than a quarter of an inch away from Rabbit’s mark. 

Wind ended up using the only fairy he had to heal the burns. It was a waste of resources, probably, but Wind couldn't help it. He hadn’t wanted to heal it naturally and risk infection or something similar worsening the injury. He couldn’t live with the possibility of it leaving a scar. He couldn’t risk it. Not so close to one of his marks.

What would happen if the burn had been placed just a few inches to the right? It could have ruined Rabbit’s mark. It wouldn’t have affected his bond with his soulmate. 

He’d heard stories about people whose marks got burned off or scarred over before- it wasn’t something that was unheard of. In many of the stories, the injured party still managed to find their soulmate in the end, but it was more difficult to do so when you didn’t have a mark for your soulmate to identify with. It left the burden of finding your soulmate entirely on you, saddling you with the responsibility of recognizing the mark that represented you. 

It also left you with no way to tell if your soulmate had died. 

After that, Wind started to pay more attention while he fought. He was more careful with guarding his left arm, and he inspected his marks more often. Just as reassurance. Just to remind him that even if everything went wrong, somewhere out in the world there were eight people waiting for him. 

~~~

It was this new caution that led him to discover an interesting quirk of Coin’s soulmark. Wind was sure this was a recent development, as he would have noticed this when he was a kid and still enamored with his soulmarks. 

Wind had never heard of anything like this happening, but… his fourth soulmark changed, sometimes. He was sure of it- had even seen it happen once. The difference was so small that no one besides himself would ever notice, and he kept his mouth shut about it. 

He knew two of his other marks had changed when he was little, but for the most part, Wind was able to delude himself. Perhaps he had misremembered the color of the dog or had simply never noticed the triforce hidden in the green fairy until he was eight. Perhaps those marks hadn’t changed at all. 

But this…

He couldn’t lie to himself about this.

He didn’t know what it meant, but every so often, the four sections of the coin would separate, showing the smallest sliver of his skin between the marks, clearly showing that there were four separate soulmarks instead of the usual one.

He didn’t know what it meant, but the mark always fused back together eventually, so Wind hoped everything would be fine. It was just one more thing to ask his soulmates about when he finally found them. 

In his mind, Wind started thinking that having eleven soulmates instead of eight would be pretty cool, if a little overwhelming, but he kept that thought to himself.

(If he started having nightmares about his faceless soulmate getting ripped limb from limb until they were torn into four pieces and left in a bloody pile, then he kept that to himself, too)

~~~

When Wind discovered that Bow’s mark had gone gray, it was the worst hours of his life.

He’d checked his marks over carefully in the morning- noting that the second mark was once again split into four- and had been satisfied with them. They were all as they should be. They had been free of blemishes, with colors just as vibrant as they had been the night before.

Later that morning, Wind was working on tying up the sail on his little boat. The storm clouds on the horizon didn't look promising, and he needed to get the rigging all tied down before the storm hit. As he gave one last tug on the rope, he happened to catch a glimpse of his forearm, and the sight of gray near his elbow startled him completely out of his concentration. 

Dropping the rope he’d been using to secure the sails, Wind grasped at his arm. His eyes hadn’t been deceiving him- his last mark was no longer bright and colorful. The bright red of the blood and the brown of the bow had been leached away, leaving the mark a sickly gray.

Breath caught in his throat and he staggered, a soft keen escaped him without permission.

He’d heard of this happening before- marks fading to death-gray before a person had even met their soulmate. It was always a sad tale when someone was killed before their time, and left behind grieving partners who didn’t even have a name or face to go with the gray mark.

And now Wind would be one of those people, forever left wondering about that last mark. It would stay with him for the rest of his life, a horrible reminder of the pain his soulmate no doubt suffered before their untimely death.

Wind didn’t know how long the mark had been gray by the time he noticed. How long had one of his soulmates been gone from this world, while he had remained blissfully unaware? 

His heart sank into his stomach as he slowly sank to his knees. He felt more alone than he ever has, alone on his boat. His sister was gone, his Granny unconsolable to the point of being nearly unresponsive, he hadn't met any of his soulmates, and one of them was dead.

Wind sat alone in the bottom of his boat, the rain beating against his form. The waves were tall. Wind could faintly feel them tossing the boat around, but couldn’t muster up the energy to care. 

Let the waves take him. What was the point? One of his soulmates was gone! Before Wind had even gotten the chance to meet them, they were gone. 

In the dim light of the storm, everything looked gray, so it took a while to realize that the bow mark was changing again. The realization came to Wind slowly as he stared at his arm blankly but when it did, Wind whined, squeezing his eyes shut.

Why couldn't the gods just let him be? Why did his marks keep changing? Were his soulmates with monsters? Shifting abominable creatures that couldn't stay consistent even after they died? Were the gods refusing to let his soulmate rest even after they died? 

Why why why? 

It took even longer for Wind to gain the courage to open his eyes and look at the marks again. When he did, it registered that the mark wasn’t simply changing. It was regaining its color.

The relief that slammed into Wind was what finally broke the dam in his mind. The numbness that had crashed over him when he realized that one of his marks had faded finally broke, and Wind cried. He cried from the relief, the pain, the worry, panic, and grief he’d felt. 

Wind wondered if any of his other soulmates had noticed that the Bow had gone gray. Had Rabbit cried? Did Feather drop whatever they were doing to find a private place to grieve? Had Blue screamed when they saw?

By the time Wind had uncurled and started taking in the outside world again, the storm had long since passed. The King of Red Lions was able to guide the boat through the treacherous waves safely, but without Wind’s help, they’d been blown miles off course. Wind didn’t even care. 

His soulmate was safe- safe, safe, safe, they were safe, he had the mark to prove it- and alive. That was all Wind needed to know.

Most of the rest of the day was spent clutching at his forearm and staring at the last mark in alternating horror and relief. Slowly, the horror abated, leaving a sharp flash of indignant anger in its wake. 

How dare one of Wind’s soulmates nearly die before meeting him? That was totally unfair of them. Wind was so going to punch them in the arm when they met as payback for scaring him so much.

~~~

For once, Wind hadn’t heard of the arrival of a new ship before it made landfall on Outset Island. He was notified by a kid running up to Granny’s house in the morning, yelling something and banging excitedly on the door. 

Wind was the one to open the door, looking down at the kid in confusion. He’d seen him before, running around the island, but couldn’t for the life of him remember the kid’s name.

As far as Wind knew, they weren’t expecting any visitors. It was late afternoon, early enough to assume everyone would be awake, but still too early to be calling on your neighbors without giving warning. Scenarios of pirates (the unhonorable kind) attacking the island, or someone getting hurt or even dying flooded Wind’s mind. Anything that would make someone come calling this early.

At the unasked question in Wind’s eyes, the kid, who was nearly shaking in excitement nearly yelled that there was a strange group of people on the island, and that they were looking for him.

When the kid finally got around to saying the group consisted of eight people, a shock of anxiety shot through Wind. Was it possible? After all this time? 

Wind was still only fourteen and all told, that was a young age to meet all your soulmates, but Wind felt so much older. He’d been through so much, sometimes he felt ancient. And he’d done it all without the aid of his soulmates. 

It would be strange to finally meet them now, if these strangers truly were his soulmates. 

The kid was still looking at him expectantly, eyes wide in excitement. Everyone on Outset knew about Wind’s soulmates. Even if they hadn’t gotten a good look at Wind’s soulmarks, they knew. Having a group of soulmarks that big was going to make you a constant source of gossip. 

The gossip could have spread beyond Outset, and if there was a soulgroup of eight looking for their ninth soulmate, those rumors might have been enough to bring them here.

Wind did his best to keep a straight face, even as he was screaming inside. It probably didn’t work. Granny had always said he had a horrible poker face, and she was right. There was no way that he could hide the shock, hope, and excitement that crossed his face.

Wind quickly thanked the kid and slammed the door shut, but not before the kid ran off, no doubt to spread the gossip to everyone else on the island. Shoving the thought out of his mind, Wind ran to put on some acceptable clothes. There was no way he was meeting people who might be his soulmates while he was still in his pajamas. 

He tore through the house to his and Arryl’s room, earring a shocked exclamation from Granny, who was sitting in the main room working on her knitting. Wind ignored her questions about who was at the door. 

Arryl- who was still asleep after staying up too late last night- murmured sleepily as Wind slammed the door open, but was quickly soothed back to sleep by his assurances. It took Wind longer than it usually did for him to choose what to wear that day. He had to look nice if he was going to meet his soulmates.

By the time he ran back out of the room, his Granny no longer looked confused. No doubt more of their neighbors had stopped by to inform her of the news. The people on Outset might be gossipers, but Wind also silently thanked them. Outset wasn’t a very large island, and it shouldn’t have taken this long for the group to find him if they were really looking. Someone probably decided to take pity on him and send them in the wrong direction to give him a bit more time to prepare.

Of course, this was all assuming that they truly were his soulmates. There was a possibility that it was a complete coincidence that eight strangers no one on the island had ever seen before were looking for him specifically.

Yeah, even in his head, that sounded unlikely.

Even with helpful neighbors and getting dressed quickly as he could, when he stepped outside, a group of strangers was already coming up the path.

They stopped a good bit away from Granny’s house huddling together. Wind could feel their eyes on him, and his face was betraying his hope and excitement. 

Though the group obviously saw him, they clustered a little ways away, talking about something. Wind winced, his expression falling ever so slightly. Did they not want him now that they’d seen him? 

Each one of the strangers was obviously older than him- if these were his soulmates, he would be the youngest person in the group. Even the smallest of the group, someone in a colorful tunic who was shorter than Wind, looked to be older than he was. Were they disappointed their last soulmate was young?

On top of that, every member of the group was heavily armed, even if it wasn’t obvious. Most of them had a sword strapped to their back and several other weapons besides that. The magic that Wind could sense from them even at this distance told him they had more than enough hidden defenses as well.

Even the one in a blue tunic- who carried no sword- was armed with a bow and quiver. More excitement filled Wind as he realized that the bowman was heavily scarred. The kind of scars that come from injuries that might kill you. (And then there was guilt that he felt excited that someone had suffered.)

Breath stuttered in Wind’s chest, and he was nearly bouncing on the balls of his feet. Still, he didn't approach. He would let them do that. Because what if Wind was wrong, and these weren’t his soulmates after all? Arryl would never let him live it down if he ran up to a bunch of people just assuming they were his soulmates. That would just be embarrassing.

After a few more moments of Wind barely being able to contain himself, one of the strangers peeled away from the group. The others mingled together, talking but still obviously keeping an eye on Wind.

The man who approached was wearing armor- a pauldron and chainmail. Wind wondered about that for a split second. Even people who were going to be fighting often opted for padded cloth or leather armor, not heavy plate or chain that could cause you to sink like a rock if you were knocked into the water.

The thing that really caught Wind’s attention, though, was the blue scarf that was wrapped around the man’s neck. 

A blue scarf, or in other words, a blue scrap of fabric.

Sword.

Wind’s hand drifted up instinctively to rub at his marks, feeling a bright grin break outacross his face. The sleeve of his undertunic was in the way, but that man seemed to catch the motion anyways.

In seconds, the man who was almost certainly one of Wind’s soulmates stood in front of him. His smile was confident as he held out a hand expectantly to Wind. Despite his confidence, Wind could feel his hesitance. 

There was an unspoken understanding between them now. They both thought that they were each other's soulmate, and that the rest of the group behind the man was the rest of Wind’s soulgroup. But there was only one way to know, and although there wasn’t anything wrong with not covering your soulmarks, asking flat out to see them if you weren’t someone's soulmate was a very violating question.

Wind hesitantly held out his arm, using his other arm to push up his sleeve. 

The man instantly relaxed at the sight, the tenseness in his shoulders melting away. Joy and relief spread across his features as Wind watched the man’s eyes (as Wind watched his soulmate’s eyes!) trail down the line of soulmarks until he reached Sword’s mark. 

Until he reached his mark.

Wind watched a shiver go up the man’s spine. Wind had heard countless tales of what it was like to see the soulmark that represented you for the first time, and now he was witnessing it in real life.

The stranger-who-wasn't-a-stranger smiled at him, warm affection filling his eyes. Then he spoke for the first time, the words tender. “There you are, little seagull. We’ve been searching everywhere for you.”

#mint's fanfiction #marks on your soul au #linked universe #lu wind #lu warriors #soulmate au #lu fanfiction #angst