#and yet that was still a sick burn; go lil feather

[flowerandthesongstress]

#Sometimes it feels like 'Asian Parent apologizes to Child' #is just a fantastical trope that can exist only in (mostly animated) Hollywood movies #and in cozy games with magic and mermaids. #siiiiiigh #coral island #coral island wakuu #and yet that was still a sick burn; go lil feather

[outerbankies]

i woke up sick so that means doing nothing today but re reading new light 😌 have a good weekend bestie!!!! 🤍

:( feel better my sweet ! hope this short lil one-off cheers you up <3

—

new light blurb: wake me — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

warnings: swearing, reader being sick

"y/n/n," a soft voice awakens you, the touch on your shoulder light as a feather. "sweetheart, wake up."

"hm?" you shuffle around in the covers, noticing you had an iron-grip on the comforter in your sleep. your body shivers involuntarily, and for a moment you think rafe just woke you up to complain you stole the covers from him again. but as your body wakes entirely, you pick up on more things—that nasty feeling in the back of your throat, the way every muscle in your body aches, or the intense heat you can feel settled in right behind your eyes. "rafe, i-i don't feel good."

"i know, baby," he hushes, already sitting up. he flicks the lamp on his bedside table on, the light casting a glow over his sleep-mussed hair. your body follows the heat of his as he moves away from you, but he's coming back soon enough to rest his hand on your forehead. "jesus, y/n/n. knew it—you're burning up."

you half-groan, half-whimper as you burrow further into the covers you'd wrapped around yourself in your sleep. rafe looks at you sadly, moving some hair out of his face.

"i'm gonna go get you some meds. but you're on fire, sweet girl," he tuts. "woke me up. cold shower would bring your fever down."

you protest immediately, shaking your head. "no way. i'm fucking freezing. just wanna cuddle."

"i'll cuddle you after. c'mon."

rafe somehow manages to drag you out from under your pile of blankets after he takes your temperature and finds it higher than he even thought it'd be. he gets your shower running and watches you get in (making sure you don't flip the handle to the hot water) before he's rifling through the medicine cabinet for anything that'll help, flicking the kettle in the kitchen on to brew you some herbal tea.

he's waiting for you outside of the shower when you finish, with a soft smile and a warm towel ready to be wrapped around you, fresh out of the dryer. "feel better?"

"yeah," you admit weakly, standing there on shaky legs while he just holds you for a second. "thank you."

"no problem. take this," he says, passing you a few tablets and helping you get a drink of water to wash them down. "laid out some fresh clothes for you."

you change into the sweatshirt of his and leggings of yours that he'd picked out for you while rafe finishes up with your tea, and you notice a fresh box of tissues and an array of remedies on your bedside table: some vaporub, chapstick, and a freshly refilled hydroflask (you were still proud of how you'd successfully convinced rafe to give up on plastic water bottles about a week after you moved in together).

the shower helped but the medicine has yet to kick in, and you sit down on the side of the bed and find yourself teary at the sight, sniffling as rafe comes back into the room.

"hey, hey," he says, setting your favorite mug down on a coaster and kneeling at your feet. "y'okay? what's wrong?"

"yeah," you sigh. "just hate feeling like this."

"i know, sweet girl," he says. "you should get back to sleep if you can, okay? your medicine will kick in by the time i wake up for work."

"oh, fuck," you murmur, letting him tuck you under the covers. "don't even wanna think about work."

"you're not working tomorrow," rafe decides, propping you up against his chest once he's settled back into bed. you noticed he'd stripped completely down to his boxers so he could still sleep next to you and the overwhelming amount of body heat you must be producing—along with the fresh blankets he'd stacked on top of you. "got it?"

"got it, i'll send out some emails when i wake up again."

"i'll do it for you." rafe presses kisses on the top of your head, stroking your shoulders and twisting some loose strands of hair between his fingers while you sip your tea and watch whatever sitcom re-run he'd found at the late hour. he'd made it just the way you like. "feeling better?"

"a little. thank you."

"think you might have the flu, baby. it's been going around—half of wheez's science class had it last week."

"nooo," you groan.

"i know, i know. i'll call your doctor and see if we can fit you in in the morning," he says, plucking your mug out of your hand and turning off the light. "think you can get back to sleep now?"

"yeah," you mumble, already on the verge of dozing off against his chest. "rafe, you should go sleep on the couch so you don't get sick."

"ah, c'mon, y/l/n," rafe says, pulling you even closer, a warm hand lifting up the back of your sweatshirt so he can stroke your back. "my immune system is stronger than that."

"i don't think that's how it works."

"s'how mine works. it knows i need to be around you," he says, and you can just make out his cheesy grin before your eyes shut for good.

#anon: i'm sick #me: is this... inspo? #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks

[takamikeiigos]

Okay I know made an ask already like 2 days ago🙄 but what if hawks s/o had to fake their death on a mission for like a month or 2😮‍💨 and when they come back the first thing they do is look for hawks even though they’re tired, beaten and look like complete shit😩😩 I’m just such a sucker for these kind of tropes !!!

Also how’s ur day been :))

ayo i got you fam!!!

this was legit all i could think of for like 3 days so i hope it's okay!!

Title: "You Came Back to Me"

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences (for now)

Relationships: Hawks x Reader

Tags: temporary character death, violence, drinking as a coping mechanism (minor on hawk's part), emesis

Word Count: 2.8k

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3

You look up at the villain who currently has you pinned to the floor, your ragged breaths leaving your mouth with every rise and fall of your chest.

His vibrant green eyes are piercing as they stare down at you, his expression wicked and merciless as he presses his foot harder against your throat as a warning.

"Here are your options, darlin'," he pulls his foot away, instead opting to sit back on his haunches. He brushes your hair from your face and rests his hand on your cheek. It makes you flinch and your breath hitch.

"You either find a way to dissappear, or I'll track down that precious little birdy of yours and take his wings for myself."

○ ○ ○

- three weeks prior -

"Let me come with you. Please."

"Kei.." you say softly as you back the rest of your necessities in your bag, finally turning to look at him.

He's on edge, you can tell by his posture. His wings are drawn tight to his back, but his feathers are puffed out. It reminds you of how hair stands on end and goosebumps make them selves known under fear and stress.

"You know I can't.."

"This is too much for one person to handle." His arms are folded across his chest now as he leans against the doorframe of your shared bedroom.

"You don't think I can handle myself?" The words leave your mouth sounding offended, and he instantly deflates.

"That's not what I meant. If you didn't know what you were doing, you wouldn't be working for one of the top agencies in Japan." Keigo steps forward, now in your space, and you can see a faint trace of fear flicker across his face. "I just.. this man is very dangerous, y/n. And if anything happens.."

"Hey. It'll be okay. It'll only be a month and I'll be home before you know it. I won't let anything happen, I promise." Your hand falls against his cheek and he nuzzles into it, both of his hands coming to rest against your own.

"You promise?" he asks quietly, needing one more confirmation that you'll be home and safe in a couple weeks.

"I promise."

○ ○ ○

"Have you made your mind up, sweetheart?" Kimura, the man who has had the utmost pleasure in beating you within an inch of your life, asks. He slams you against the brick wall of the alleyway one more time for good measure, his hand wrapped firmly around your throat.

"Please.." you gasp out, your hands coming to wrap around his wrist, trying to relieve the pressure against your larynx. "P-please promise me you won't hurt him, that you w-wont lay a hand on him.."

He chuckles darkly, tossing you aside onto the cold, dirty floor of the alleyway.

Your vision is blurring, slowly darkening at the edges, but you manage to see him move a few feet away, bending down to pick something up off the ground. You blink sluggishly and suddenly he's in your space once more, holding the object, which you soon realize is your phone, in your face.

"Go ahead, songbird. Give him one last goodbye."

You cringe at the abuse of the nickname that you hold so dear, but weakly reach out and take your phone from his hand, Hawks' number already dialed.

All you had to do was hit send and that would be it.

You close your eyes and rest your head against the brick wall, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. You can feel tears burning as they make themselves known, clinging to your eyelashes and not yet falling to your cheeks. You blame it on the amount of pain you're in, but you know the true reason is because you're absolutely terrified.

You press send.

As it rings you notice Kimura bringing out his own phone, holding it up and aiming it in your direction.

What a sick bastard.

"Baby bird!" Keigo's voice comes cheerfully from the other line. Though it warms and calms your senses, it still makes you sad knowing that he's completely oblivious to what's about to come.

"H-Hey, Kei.." you try your best to keep your voice steady, but the damage from excessive force to your throat is unforgiving and the words leave your mouth sounding raspy and distant.

"Y/n, where are you?" Keigo's voice drops an octave and you can tell his worry has set in, which was exactly what you wanted to avoid.

"I'm okay, just uh," you pause mid-sentence, your throat tightening around the words as tears threaten to spill again, "just got knocked around a lil bit."

Your laugh comes out bitter. You hate the sound of it.

"Y/n. Tell. Me. Where. You. A-"

"Kei, listen. I need you to know how much I.." your voice betrays you and cracks, and you suddenly find that you can't fight the overwhelming fear and sadness coming over you. You weakly bring a hand up to wipe at your battered cheeks, tears continuing to fall and mix with the grime and blood that covers your skin.

You try again to steel yourself, another deep breath falling from your lips shakily, making your lungs rattle. It's becoming harder each second to keep your eyes open and your mind focused, but if you make it through this one phone call, you know you'll be able to rest easy.

"I need you t'know how much I love you. 'N that everything's g'nna be fine. That you'll be okay. And to not c-"

Suddenly a gunshot rings out and your whole world stands still for a split second, before turning completely sideways.

You register warmth blossoming over your abdomen, spreading and soaking your hero uniform. You can hear Keigo frantically yelling from where your phone slipped from your hand and landed on the concrete next to your head. And the last thing you see is Kimura holstering his gun with one hand, tapping away on his phone with the other.

"What a shitty ending for a hero, don't you think?" Kimura grins down at you.

Yeah. What a shitty ending for a hero.

○ ○ ○

The quiet trickle of water finds its way to your ears, and the feeling of something cold and damp against your forehead is a soothing contrast to how hot your body feels.

Opening your eyes feels as though it takes half of whatever strength you have left, and your vision swims. Suddenly hit with a wave a nausea, you lean over and vomit over the edge of the bed you're laying on. Luckily there's a bucket on the floor, and you assume it was placed there for a reason.

That someone placed it there.

In a panic you sit up, your wounds pulling tight and your body protesting. Your vision swims again and it takes you a few moments to ground yourself.

"Ma'am, please don't move too fast. You'll re-open your wounds and you're already in bad shape," a quiet voice projects throughout the room. You look up and notice an older man, probably in his sixties, sitting in a chair next to the bed you're currently occupying.

"Who are you? Where's Kimura?" You grit out, grabbing the edge of the blankets and tossing them off of you. The man in front of you is ready for your attempt at escape and he places steady hands on your shoulders, pushing you back onto the bed.

"Please! My name is Daichi Tanaka, I am a doctor! I found you in an alleyway near Higashiosaka. I would have taken you to a hospital but you begged me not to," the man pleads, his hands persistent on your shoulders.

You glare at him momentarily, before relaxing back onto the bed, still weary of his intentions.

"Kimura? Is that the name of the person who did this to you?" The man - Tanaka - asks hesitantly.

You ignore his question in favor for asking your own, "How long have I been out?"

Tanaka stares at at you, seeming to contemplate answering, but you figure he finally realizes you aren't taking any shit because his answer comes out with a sigh.

"A little over a week. You've been in and out, your fever finally broke this morning."

Over a week. You've been out for over a week and you don't know where you are, where Kimura went, and where Keigo-

Keigo.

It all comes crashing back to you and you lie back, your hands resting over your eyes.

Tanaka seems to have been reading your mind, because he pulls your phone from the nightstand next to you and passes it over.

"I wiped as much blood from it as I could. You have many new notifications and quite a few missed calls. I wasn't able to unlock it to call anyone, but it seems there are many people worried about you." Tanaka stands then, making his way toward the bedroom door.

"I will give you some privacy for now, but expect me to be back in twenty minutes to check up on you."

With that, Tanaka leaves, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

You stare down at your phone, the screen cracked and a few specs of blood and dirt tucked into its crevices. You type your pin in and pull your notifications up, Keigo's name amongst others filling the screen.

You don't realize you're crying until a small hiccup forces its way from your mouth, your cheeks wet with tears.

You notice a voice-mail from him, and though you know it's only going to make you more upset, you force yourself to open it to make sure he's okay.

His voice floods the room and it immediately breaks your heart at how wrecked he sounds. You can tell he's been crying by how gravelly his voice sounds as the message plays out.

"You know," Keigo laughs bitterly over the phone, "I punched Ryosetsu in the face for letting you go on this mission alone. Gave 'im a real nice shiner on your behalf."

The message goes quiet and you can hear what sounds like a glass bottle being opened in the background, Keigo's quiet sniffles also making themselves known.

"Fuck, y/n. They didnt even.. they didnt even find your body. What the fuck am I supposed to do with that, huh?

"They wouldn't even let me anywhere near the scene, I had to sit back at the office while they kept me informed. He said there was uh.." you assume Keigo pauses to take a swig of whatever he's drinking based off the tink of the glass bottle, "heh, he said there's a low chance you're even alive because there was so much blood. Fuck."

You grimace at how blunt he is with the statement and how distant his voice sounds. You can only hope that he hasn't been drinking as often as your thoughts are telling you.

"Please come back to me," he whimpers over the message, and a new wave of tears fall down your cheeks. "Please.. I can't do this without you."

○ ○ ○

A few days pass.

Tanaka refuses to take any of your shit.

He most definitely refuses to let you leave until you had one more solid meal in you, and one more day of rest.

You're still a little weak, bruises and abrasions littering your skin ( not to mention the nasty bullet wound Tanaka managed to sew up for you ) but you finally have enough strength to stand and walk on your own.

He pleads with you to stay one more day, just to ensure you're strong enough to be by yourself, but you shake your head and bow before him.

"Thank you, Mr. Tanaka, but I have to keep moving. It might be unsafe for you if I stay."

So instead he writes down his phone number on a crumpled piece of paper and hands it to you, patting your hand briefly.

"You're a strong one, just be sure to take care of yourself." He smiles kindly at you, and you nod before taking your leave.

○ ○ ○

Days go by as you hop around from town to town, only stopping for food and rest.

It's been a little over two weeks since you made the decision to distance yourself to ensure the safety of your friends and Keigo, and nearly two months since you were assigned the mission. While you knew faking your death was the only way to keep people from asking too many questions about why you suddenly disappeared, you weren't expecting to actually get shot and almost die.

You keep up with the recent events as best as you can, continuously watching news coverage and especially keeping tabs on Keigo's agency.

Your breath catches in your throat one day while you're moving through a rural seaside town, large red wings and a familiar hero uniform immediately catching your attention.

A flood of emotions run through you and it takes everything in you to not run up to him and hold him. But the fear of Kimura's prying eyes hold you back, and you steadily remind yourself that you're doing this to protect him.

You keep your distance and watch his every move. He's staring down at his phone for a while and after a few moments it rings. He brings it to his ear and though you can't hear what he's saying, it must be something important.

Because soon enough his wings are spread out and he's taking flight into the afternoon sky.

○ ○ ○

'Pro-Hero Hawks makes appearance in. Tanabe - finds lead on hero killer'

'Hanamatsu hero case still under investigation'

'Top Hero Agency in Japan pursuing hero killer - Kimura'

The news headlines on your phone cause your blood to run cold. How foolish of you to think Keigo would let this go so easily.

To think he wouldn't trace every piece of evidence and go to the ends of the earth to take down someone who hurt you.

○ ○ ○

You keep tabs on him as best you can. It begins to feel like you're stalking him, in a weird way, but you'll be damned if you did all of this just to put his safety on the line.

Keigo stays in Tanabe for the time being, the week passing by in a blur as you track his movements.

You figure Kimura went into hiding since his criminal activity fell flat after your encounter with him, but Keigo is as persistent as he's ever been, nitpicking every lead that comes his way.

A few days later word gets out that Kimura has been spotted in the village of Hidakagawa, just thirty minutes northwest of Tanabe.

You only hope you can get there before Keigo does.

○ ○ ○

Hidakagawa is exactly what you pictured, a perfect little town for a low-life criminal to live under the radar.

Its quiet and rural, its occupants living their lives happily tucked away from the bustling life of the city.

A few squad cars rush past you as you look at the map you have pulled up on your phone. It seems a little out of character for such a small town, so you push yourself forward and follow them.

○ ○ ○

When you finally catch up to the squad cars, the scene before you makes your hair stand on end.

Keigo has Kimura pinned to the ground, battered and bruised, his fist closed around a one of his feathers that he's currently wielding as a blade. A few dozen officers surround the scene, guns drawn and on edge.

Kimura smirks up at him and whatever he says is out of earshot, but its enough to piss Keigo off and send him into a frenzy.

"Kei, stop!" You find yourself yelling shakily. You finally manage to push through the barricade of officers and it's then that Keigo makes eye contact with you, his closed fist halted in the air.

Kimura takes the split second of distraction to knock the blade from Keigo's hand, flipping their position so the winged hero is pinned to the floor of the temple. He pulls out his gun and cocks it, pressing it to Keigo's forehead.

All the while Keigo keeps his eyes on you.

"I thought I told you to stay away, little one," Kimura grits out, wiping a trail of blood from his mouth, "Now it looks like your little hawk is about to lose his wings, all because someone can't listen."

You move on impulse when Kimura turns his attention back to Keigo, and you grab the handgun from the officer closest to you.

You waste no time in firing a bullet, hitting Kimura right in the temple. But as it strikes he squeezes the trigger of his own gun on impulse, which is still trained on Keigo, a second round going off.

- to be continued -

tbh i was super nervous to post this bc im so new to the fandom but here we go!!

also i just made up random characters bc im not quite caught up with the manga, and also picked random spots in japan that i know absolutely nothing about

rip to my writing skills lmfao

♡ ky

#im terrified to post this lmaooo #hawks x reader #bnha hawks #mha hawks #mha keigo takami #bnha takami keigo #keigo takami x reader #keigo takami #hawks #ky writes #ky answers #fanfiction #you came back to me

[thesightstoshowyou]

Bo Sinclair x F Reader (NSFW)

           Summary: Bo wants you to pitch in a little more. He gets more than he bargained for.

             Warnings: Dubcon, cunnilingus, orgasm denial, slapping, degradation, facial, swearing, objectification of reader, alcohol use, mentions of death and violence.

 ~~

             “Put this on.”

             You drop the rag in your hands to catch the yellow floral dress before it smacks you in the face. You glare up at Bo from you spot on the linoleum. Your knees ache. You’d been scrubbing grime off the kitchen floor for two hours.

             “What for?” you ask, bracing a hand against the counter to heave yourself to your feet.

             “It’s time you start pullin’ your weight.” You look around you, flabbergasted. What had you been doing all this time, if not ‘pullin’ your weight?’ Cooking and cleaning all day, every day wasn’t enough for him?

             You keep your mouth shut. The answer is obvious. Of course, it isn’t enough. Nothing would be. If it was up to Bo, you would have been dead the first day you walked into this God-forsaken town.

             “Can I at least know what I’m supposed to do? You know, so I do it right?” You adopt a sweeter tone, hoping to quell the sour mood Bo always seemed to be in when he spoke with you.

             “Two college assholes campin’ nearby.” Bo adjusts his hat and crosses his arms, leaning against the door frame before continuing, “They’ll be needin’ a fan belt. Lester is on his way to get ‘em. Need you to bring one up to the house for Vincent while I take care of the other one.”

             What is it with Bo and fan belts?

             Then, the gravity of what he’s said hits you. Instantly, you pale. They’ve never had you participate before. You can’t do it, no way.

             “Bo—

             “You’ll do this, or I’ll make sure the next one on Vincent’s table is you. Got it?” He snarls, leaning forward and shoving a finger in your face. You clench your jaw, hesitantly nodding. What choice do you have?

             “Make yerself decent and meet me at the shop in a half.”

**

             You understand why Bo chose this dress. It’s tight, flaring out at the hips and hanging just halfway down your thighs. Your breasts are almost spilling out the top too. It shouldn’t be hard to lure a ‘college asshole’ up to the house looking the way you do now. You wonder which poor soul wore this dress before they ended up in the museum.

             You think you might be sick.

             As you walk to the shop, the oppressive Louisiana heat beats down on you, making you squint and pant. Sweat beads along your forehead and chest before spilling into your cleavage. You adjust your outfit, hoping to hide a little more skin. You feel exposed. The old wax woman across the street peers disapprovingly out her window. You flip her the bird. Poor old bitch.

             You round the corner to the little gas station, heart hammering. Lester’s truck isn’t there, but you can see three shadows inside the darkened shop window. You fluff up your hair, sucking in a huge breath. You can do this. You have to do this. You don’t have a choice.

             “Hey, Bo, need anything?” You adopt a honeyed southern accent, resting your hands on your hips, your face breaking into a smile. You hope it looks genuine.

             The three men inside turn to look at you. All three are apparently struck dumb by the sight of you. As you lock eyes with Bo, you fight the blush creeping up your neck. Baby blues rake over your body before snapping back to your face. He grins.

             “Hey, sis. Just in time.”

             Sis, huh?

             “These boys need a V-belt. I don’t see any here. You remember if we have any up at the house?”

             “Yeah, we just got some in today,” you chirp, reaching behind you to pull your hair off your dewy neck.

             “Would you mind takin’ one of these two up to the house to get it? I ought to go over cost of repairs here.”

             “Can do.”

             “Dibs!” shouts one of the boys, a tall, lanky thing wearing the stupidest sleeveless shirt you’ve ever seen. ‘Party with Sluts’ it reads. Okay, maybe this won’t be so hard. His friend punches him in the arm and he laughs before sauntering over to you, motioning for you to lead the way.

             “Hey, behave yerself. That’s my lil’ sister.” If you didn’t know Bo, you’d think he was teasing, messing with the kid, but the smirk curling across his face tells you he’s dead serious. No part of that smile reaches his eyes. You do not envy the kid you’re leaving here with him.

             “Bo! Knock it off,” you giggle, pretending to be embarrassed.

             If you were to look back on the conversation you had with the nameless guy you’re leading to his death, you wouldn’t remember a word of it. Your blood rushes too loudly in your ears to hear half of what he’s saying. You just giggle and play with your hair every time he speaks. It seems to be working.

             “Uh, kay, wait here, I’ll just run upstairs and get the belt,” you say a little too loud so Vincent can hear. You leave him at the bottom of the stairs, careful to accentuate the sway of your hips as you climb the steps so he’s distracted.

             Vincent wastes no time. As soon as you make it to the top, you hear a strangled shout, a heavy thud, then nothing. You don’t turn around.

             The second you make it to your room you peel the dress off your sticky skin and hurl it across the room. Desperately, you fight the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and the burn in your throat. You had to. You had to. You can’t die yet, not after everything you’ve been through.

**

             You carefully level off a cup of flour before tipping it into a bowl on the counter. You do the same with the baking powder, salt, baking soda….

             It’s three something in the morning. You haven’t been able to sleep all night. So, you do what you always do when you can’t sleep: You bake cookies.

             You gather up the butter wrappings and head for the trash can. As you move, you catch something out of the corner of your eye and jump in shock, gasping and bracing a hand against your chest.

             Bo leans against the doorway, beer in hand, mechanic suit half off and tied around his waist. He chuckles quietly when you grasp the counter and take a deep breath to steady your racing heart.

             “You scared the shit out of me,” you chide, tossing the wrappings into the garbage. You glance down, noticing your bare legs. Right. You’re only wearing a pair of panties and one of Vincent’s flannels. You didn’t think anyone else would be awake at this hour. Three AM usually found Bo passed out, Lester camping somewhere in his truck, and Vincent toiling away in the basement.  

             “I’ll go put some pants on,” you mumble, moving to leave the kitchen, but Bo extends his arm across the doorway to block your exit.

             “Nah. You look good in my shirt,” he comments, mouth quirking up at the corner in that stupid self-satisfied smirk he always wears. You glance down at the red and black checkered flannel, then back to Bo again.

             “I thought it was Vincent’s. I must have got it mixed up in the wash.” You swallow, looking away. You don’t like how he’s looking at you, like a wolf eyeing an injured lamb. He sets his beer on the top of the fridge.

             “No harm, no foul,” he murmurs, dropping the arm from the doorway to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. You jerk out of his reach, backing away. He follows leisurely, pressuring you until you’re backed up against the counter. He doesn’t stop advancing until his face is inches from yours.

             “Bo,” you mutter, a shaky breath leaving your mouth with his name. You say it like a plea.

             “Yeah?” he purrs, placing both hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. He leans in closer, so close you can smell the beer and cigarettes on his breath.

             “Please,” you whisper, voice trembling. He groans quietly under his breath at that.

             “Hmm, say that again, darlin’.” You shake your head, tensing when he reaches up to glide his fingers, feather light, across your jaw. He continues, “I didn’t like the way those fuckers were lookin’ at you today. Not. One. Bit.” He taps you on the nose in time with the last three words.

             “Well, they’re dead now, so….” You trail off, your hammering heart trying to force its way into your throat.

             “Mmm hmm,” he hums, “You did good today, baby. Real good.” You swallow, face heating up, a jolt of arousal sparking between your legs. His voice, the fingers stroking along your collarbone, his words; they’re having an effect on you.

             “Bo,” you beg again, more insistent this time.

             “You don’t like this?” he asks, stepping forward so you’re pressed flush against him. The heat of his body is overwhelming.

             “N-no, please, s—

             Your plea is cut off by the gasp that sneaks from your throat when Bo shoves his hand into your underwear and drags his fingers along your dripping slit. He brings them in front of your face, showing you how your slick shines in the low light of the kitchen.

             “I think you’re a fuckin’ liar,” he purrs, grinning wider, “Open your mouth.” You bite your lip and Bo strikes, gripping your jaw hard. “Don’t make me repeat myself, sweetheart. You won’t like it.”

             Slowly, you part your lips, opening wider when he shoves his wet fingers in your mouth.

             “Clean ‘em off. That’s a good girl.” You roll his fingers and your own salty taste around on your tongue, sucking on them when he demands it. That pulls another low groan from him.

             “I knew that mouth was good for somethin’.” He pulls his fingers from your lips and pushes them back into your panties. You inhale sharply and bite your lip again when his deft fingers find your clit, circling slowly, torturously.

             “Fuck, you’re wet, baby girl.” The words are whispered against your lips, his warm breath washing over your face. You let out a shaky breath, forcing your hips to stay still and not buck like you want. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

             Bo chuckles against your mouth before dragging your underwear down your legs, kneeling as he goes. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder. Vincent could walk in any minute, or Lester, you’re right there in the open—

             Bo dives in, sucking your clit into his mouth and humming. All your thoughts derail, crash, and burn. Your eyes roll back and you grip the edge of the counter with one hand, the other flying to your mouth to muffle your wanton moan.

             He laughs, dragging his tongue up your slit and lapping at your clit, slow, deliberate licks with the flat of his tongue. You can’t help it this time; you grind your hips into his mouth and he grabs a handful of your ass to pull you closer. He slips two fingers into your sopping cunt, curling them and making you whine pathetically. Jesus Christ, you’re already close.

             “Bo, Bo, Bo, I’m…I’m gonna—

             And then he pulls away. Your frustrated gasp is silenced when Bo slaps the inside of your thigh, hard. It makes you yelp and try to squirm away. He stands and grabs your jaw roughly, squeezing painfully.

             “Uh uh, I don’t fucking think so. Yer gonna cum on my cock and nowhere else, understand?” You nod, skin feeling like it’s on fire. You haven’t been touched like this for six fucking months. You worry you’re going to be consumed by need. You’ll say anything he wants.

             “Oh, ya’ want that now? You want me to fuck ya’?” His lips are wet, shining with your juices, and inches from yours again. He grinds his hard, clothed length against your hip.  

             “Yes,” you slur. It’s hard to talk with his hand squeezing your face so hard.

             “You forget your manners, sweetheart?”

             “Please, Bo, please,” you beg, resisting the urge to jerk your head out of his punishing grip.

             “Good girl,” he praises, spinning you around and bending you over the counter. He tugs your arms behind your back, gripping your forearms with one hand while he frees his cock with the other. It slaps against your ass, hard and heavy.

             In one, smooth motion, he lines up with your entrance and slams home, impaling you. You shriek behind grit teeth. Your walls spasm around the sudden intrusion and you wiggle your hips in an attempt to adjust to the stretch.

             “Ohhh fuck, that’s tight,” he growls in your ear, giving you no time to catch your breath before he’s ramming into you. The wet smack of skin against skin echoes around the kitchen. Every thrust pulls a strangled moan or whimper from your throat as you desperately try to contain your sounds of pleasure and pain. Bo laughs cruelly, hot breath puffing against your ear.

             “What’s the matter, baby? Don’t want anyone hearing you get fucked?” He punctuates the last word with a particularly vicious thrust. You mewl, and Bo wraps his free hand around your throat, pulling until you arch uncomfortably.

             Despite the mean treatment, Bo still manages to push you to the brink of orgasm again, his cock battering that perfect spot within you. You can’t speak well at this angle and with his hand tight around your throat, but he feels you beginning to clench around him, feels your legs trembling violently.

             “Yeah, cum on my cock, sweetheart, c’mon, give it to me, fuck yes, yes, yes—

             You bite your lip so hard you taste the coppery tang of blood on your tongue. Hot pleasure curls through your core, numbing you as you tumble over the edge into bliss. Bo groans in your ear, releasing your neck in favor of digging his nails into your hip.

             “’M gonna cum. Yer gonna—f-fuck—gonna get down on your knees and open that pretty mouth, understand?” Dazed, you nod. Bo pulls out and as you turn around, he shoves you down to your knees so hard they crack against the linoleum. Your pained grunt is interrupted when Bo fists a hand in your hair, yanking your head back.

             “Open yer mouth, stick out yer tongue, yeah, fuck—

             His voice is tense, clipped, his hand pumping his slick cock. He utters a broken moan and you snap your eyes shut as he paints your face, lips, and tongue white.

             “Swallow,” he orders breathlessly. You do as your told, forcing the bitter taste of him down your throat. He hums in approval, releasing your hair. You wipe your face on your sleeve and crack your eyes open to peer up at Bo. His cheeks are flushed pink, sweaty hair clinging to his forehead, chest heaving.

             “Goddamn, you look good like that,” he says, mouth turning up in a crooked grin. After tucking himself away, he helps you to your feet and grabs a nearby washrag to blot away the cum staining your skin. Your legs wobble, your crimson cheeks growing redder the longer he grins at you. Bo smooths your hair back, tucking it neatly behind your ears.

             “There. Good as new.” He swats you on the ass, making you jump in surprise. “Now get to bed. I expect breakfast in the morning, as usual.”  

             What a bastard.

#bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax #house of wax (2005) #slashers #slasher x reader #slasher fandom #n sfw #dubcon #bo just looks like he eats pussy #don't you agree? #swearing #alcohol use #death mention #violence #reader insert #my writing

[reneejuliet]

Three Tangled Hearts

Author: reneejuliet

Pairing: Yoongi x Jimin x Reader

Rating: M (smut (see warnings), cursing)

Word Count: 2,669

Genre: Smut, Angst (lil), Idol AU (are you surprised?)

Author’s Note: Hello beautifuls! Here it is: my first attempt at a MxMxF dynamic. There is gonna be some missing context in this, as I initially wanted to flesh this out into something longer and/or a series. I currently have another drabble for this story that gives some more context, but not much. If the response to this is good, I can post that as well! Otherwise, it isn’t anything that’s going to ruin the story overall. Remember to read the warnings listed below since this is definitely smuttier. And feel free to lol at my inability to properly label warnings because I don’t even know what to consider my writing (but I’m always more safe than sorry, don’t worry). Enjoy, and as always, please let me know what you think!

Warnings: MxMxF, polyamory, not quite a threesome, MxM sex, anal, sort of exhibitionism, teasing, biting/marking, dom!Yoongi for like two seconds, whiny Jimin, hinted oral (female receiving), erections, Yoongi’s growl, use of ‘noona’ again because it’s me, love confessions(like I can’t stress how much they say ‘I love you’), there’s also some fluff in here but it’s hardly enough to label it

 You should have heard it, but you were too wrapped up in your own mind. You always were these days. So it wasn't until you opened the door and stepped inside that the rhythmic pounding hit your ears, and your heart dropped into your stomach.

Jimin was bent over the couch, Yoongi thrusting hard into him. Both boys' faces were twisted in pleasure, but there was something more straining their usually beautiful features. It was enough to give you slight pause, even if you suddenly felt sick to your stomach. You were right, after all.

They didn't need you; didn't want you. Not like they swore they did. They never would.

Yoongi's eyes latched onto you first and his thrusting faltered, his fingers tightening on Jimin's hips. His lips parted around the silent form of your name. The brief reprieve allowed Jimin to collect himself as well, and as soon as his glittering eyes located you, they were filled with tears.

"Noona," he moaned, only it sounded broken in a completely different way. You made to take a step back, to run for your life, but Jimin was quicker. His hand caught yours and he tugged you closer, threading his fingers through your limp ones. "Please, noona," he begged, a sob lodged in his throat. "Don't go, don't leave us."

"I..." you struggled, trying to find words. It was so much easier to ice them out with silence, to pretend you didn't care. This... you weren't prepared for this.

"Don't go," Yoongi's deep timbre echoed, and you felt the tears well at the corner of your eyes. Jimin's hand tightened on yours and you exhaled shakily.

"I can't..." you muttered, voice weak as the sobs you'd been suppressing for weeks finally crescendo-ed. "You... y-you don't..."

Jimin brought your hand to his mouth, pressing tender kisses to your palm and your fingers and your wrist. "We do, noona, we really do. Please..."

Yoongi gave an involuntary thrust into Jimin, who lurched forward with a breathless moan. His fingers grasped tighter on to you, though, as if afraid you'd pull away again. Yoongi's eyes also glistened now, fearful that his body's reaction would have undone whatever this progress was. You hadn't run away yet, anyway.

"Y/N-ah," Yoongi called, his voice low and throaty. You recognized the sound - he was struggling not to cry.

Your body betrayed you, and you sunk to your knees. Both boys lurched forward in concern, Jimin's face pinching as Yoongi accidentally thrust further into him again. But you responded by leaning forward and pressing your forehead to Jimin's. His lips trembled around your name and then you were kissing him, gripping his hand tightly as your other tangled into his hair.

Jimin kissed you back like his life depended on it. Truthfully, it felt that way. He'd missed you terribly in the past weeks that you'd withdrawn from them, his heart sick with your absence. To have you back now, and kissing him with a passion that rivaled his own - his body thrummed in joy.

Seeing the two of you kiss spurred Yoongi on, and he began thrusting back into the younger boy. Jimin tried to continue kissing you through it, but he was soon distracted by the moans being pulled from him. You simply kissed his neck reassuringly, tugging gently on his hair. He groaned your name, panting as Yoongi sped up.

Yoongi never took his dark eyes off of you as you suckled Jimin's skin, his tongue coming out to wet his lips. And when your eyes lifted to meet his own, the pupils blowing wide at the sight of him, he felt his dick twitch deep inside the other boy. Biting his lip, he hit harder, deeper inside of Jimin, stealing the younger's breath away until he collapsed against the back of the couch. You continued to run your hand through his hair, but you moved to reach your other hand out toward Yoongi.

He took it, wrapping his long fingers through your delicate ones and tugging gently. You stood, still cradling Jimin's head, but allowing Yoongi to bring your hand to his mouth. He pressed hot, frantic kisses to any inch he could reach, the knuckles of the hand still on Jimin's hips going white with the pressure he exerted to keep him still. One, two more thrusts was all it took with the way you looked at him for Yoongi to cum deep inside Jimin. The younger gave a high whine as he came too, air shuddering out of his lungs until he was left gasping.

As soon as Yoongi pulled out of Jimin, he was pressed against the couch to reach you. He dove his hands into your hair and brought your mouth crashing to his in the single most passionate kiss you had ever known. Your own hands moved to caress the hot, sweaty flesh of his neck and he shivered under your touch. When the kiss finally ended, he pressed his forehead to yours. You could feel his hands trembling in your hair, his warm breath stuttering over your face.

"I love you," he muttered, voice pitched so low you almost didn't hear him. He kissed you again, chaste but no less desperate. As if afraid he wouldn't get the chance again.

"We love you so much," Jimin agreed below you, having moved to circle his arms around your waist. He pressed kisses to your hip over your shirt, nuzzling his face against the soft material.

The tears fell freely from your eyes now and Yoongi was quick to kiss them away. "I love you too," you repeated, your words shaky but poignant. "I'm so sorry."

Yoongi shook his head, tightening his grip on your hair. Jimin burrowed his face into your stomach and squeezed his arms around you, forcing you closer. "No," Yoongi breathed against your lips. "No, you had every right to be upset."

"We're the sorry ones," Jimin mumbled into your shirt. His fingers scratched affectionately against the skin on your back, following the curve of your spine.

"Do you forgive us?" Yoongi asked in his low, husky voice. You knew the tone all too well - despite the indifference he put out to the world, the man often sought validation.

You slipped one hand up Yoongi's neck to the soft juncture behind his ear, stroking it gently. His lashes fluttered at the sensation. Your other hand fell to Jimin's hair, feathering through the lush strands until he moved to grasp it with his own and lavish it with kisses again. "Yes," you whisper, choking on the tears again. Both boys hear it and rush to soothe you. "I do, I -"

You don't get a chance to finish. Yoongi surged forward again, crashing his lips to yours. He inhales you like the oxygen he needs to survive. And truly, his time apart from you had felt like he was dying. Slow, torturous. He'd thought it would be never ending. Now you were back, and you miraculously forgave him for the hurt he had thrown your way. This - this he had to make sure never ended.

Below you, Jimin stroked the smooth flesh of your back while he watched the two of you kiss. It was hot, and he couldn't help the flood of heat pooling low in his stomach. His skin bristled with the need to be touched, a pleasant shiver racing down his spine. He turned his face into your stomach again to conceal a whine, one hand releasing yours to push the fabric away from your flesh so he could press kisses to your curves. It was a desperate attempt to stave off the growing need inside him.

As soon as Jimin's warm mouth touched you, a gasp was pulled from your throat. The kiss with Yoongi was broken, but he didn't seem to mind as he dropped down to your neck. The combination of both of them suckling at you forced an embarrassing moan from somewhere deep in your chest and you bit your lip in mortification.

"No," Yoongi growled, rising back to stare into your eyes with his own dilated pupils. They'd blown out at the strangled sound you emitted. His hand raised to your lips, long fingers pressing down until your teeth released their hold. He ghosted his touch over the swollen color, eyes going almost impossibly dark.

Your body suddenly lurched forward with a breathless gasp, forcing Yoongi to catch you against his chest. Gaze turning down, you caught sight of Jimin licking the remnants of his bite to your hip. He turned those hooded eyes of his up at you, pupils as dark as Yoongi's. You swallowed thickly, lips suddenly very chapped. A heat so hot it burned you red crept into your veins.

"Y-you guys have a show in a few, few minutes," you stuttered out, eyes involuntarily squeezing shut as Yoongi carded his hands into your hair again.

"But we missed you, noona," Jimin cooed into your skin. His plump lips brush over your belly button and a shiver absolutely wrecks your body. You can feel Jimin's grin at your body's response.

"So much," Yoongi agreed, voice just breath at this point. His fingers scratched against your scalp and another small moan escaped you. Another growl, this one happy, sounded in his throat at your noise. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear and you swear your body turned to jelly right then and there.

"But you just... you, you just..."

"Doesn't matter," Yoongi purred in your ear. "For you, Y/N, we're always ready for more."

In confirmation to Yoongi's words, Jimin slid his hands over the curve of your ass - giving it a squeeze for good measure - before running them down the length of your thighs. His fingers massaged the thick muscle and your breath stuttered. He shifted on the couch to give himself better access to you, allowing him to trail his kisses further down until he met the waistband of your pants.

"J-Jimin," you moaned, spurring him on. He curled his fingers inward on your thighs, tracing light patterns into the sensitive area. The air escaped you in a whine this time, invoking an unusually low moan out of the younger boy in response.

"Y/N," Jimin groaned into your flushed skin. His hips twitched against the couch. "Fuck..."

Meanwhile, Yoongi had gone back to work on your neck, busying himself with sucking dark marks into the pallor of your skin. He held your body flush to his so that every rise of your chest pressed into him, and already he could feel himself stirring again. He couldn't help it though. The taste of your skin was so sweet, so salty that he never wanted to taste anything else ever again.

Well, maybe not nothing else...

"W-wait," you called out when Yoongi began tugging at your shirt and Jimin's hands fiddled with the buttons on your pants. "Wait, stop."

Though there was no fear in your voice, both boys halted immediately as if they had done wrong. You took this reprieve from their mind-numbing touches to step back, fixing your clothes as you went. Yoongi's lips twitched with the hint of a scowl and a flash of heat wiggled in you. Running your hands over your face and through your hair several times gave you a moment to collect yourself before turning back to the boys.

"Your concert," you reminded softly, hands settling on your hips.

"Who cares," Jimin groaned, reaching out for you. It was endearing, but also distracting.

"You do," you replied. "Your fans are waiting for you."

Your eyes met Yoongi's and the sheer depth of love they reflected gave you pause. For a moment, you wondered how you could have possibly doubted him when he said he loved you. His entire being seemed to radiate it. If you were any weaker, your knees would have buckled, your resolve crumbled, and you would let them have their way with you. Because god did you wish they would.

As it were, you were built strong. Stubborn. And entirely too professional. Or at least, as professional as someone with an inappropriate relationship with not just one, but two of her charges could be. Still, you were trying.

"Will you still be here after?" Jimin asked, eyes softening. You softened with it.

"Yeah." You nod your head once. "Yeah, I'll - I'll wait."

They adjusted themselves to be decent again before abandoning the couch to come to your side. Jimin got to you first, coming up on one side and wrapping his arms around your waist. He pressed his face into your neck. Yoongi took up your other side, one arm wrapping around your stomach and the other cupping your chin. He turned your face to his, nuzzling his nose against yours as his lips teased your own.

"We don't deserve you," he mumbled against your lips, his fingers stroking your skin. "I don't..."

You silenced him with a kiss. He trembled against you, pressing closer as if afraid you'd slip away. You pressed just as close, tangling both of your hands into each of the boys' hair. Jimin answered by pressing kisses to your neck, albeit chaste ones this time. You could already feel both of their arousals against your hips; they were smart enough to know better than to try and agitate that any further.

"You have me either way," you exhaled against his lips when the kiss ended. "I'm sorry it took me so long..."

"We'd wait forever for you, noona," Jimin assured you. His fingers rubbed soothing circles into your waist.

You glanced over at him, catching his lips with your own. He responded eagerly, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and tugging. You sighed, and he smiled.

"Or maybe, just... a few hours?"

Jimin's eyes darkened, his lips pouting. He swallowed, hard. "Noona," he groaned, voice ending in a breathy pitch.

"You can't just say things like that," Yoongi admonished as you held Jimin's stare. His own voice had dropped in tone again, raising the hairs on your skin. You turned your head to meet his gaze now.

"I don't," you assured, words firm though their inflection wavered. Their affect on you was hard to hide, but based on the way it rounded Yoongi's cheeks, you hardly minded.

"Promise," Jimin breathed into your ear now. "Noona, promise that you mean it. After the show..."

His excitement was tangible, especially on your hip. You pulled lightly on his hair to rein him back in, but it only seemed to encourage him. He tugged on your shirt playfully, biting his thick bottom lip. You eyed it, and he whined.

"Promise," you said, glancing back up at him. He released his lip and surged forward, kissing you heatedly. He swiped his tongue inside your mouth, familiarizing himself for future reference. When you bit down on his bottom lip in warning, he relented, though reluctantly.

"I love you," Yoongi whispered in your hair as you kissed Jimin. He tightened his hold on you, reaching out for the younger boy with his other arm. Jimin grasped his arm, squeezing in an attempt to ground himself against your kiss. Yoongi squeezed back, reminding him to behave.

"I love you," Jimin echoed against your lips, once he had the breath.

"I love you," you responded, and Jimin's eyes crinkled with his smile. "And I love you," you said as you turned back to Yoongi. Your declaration sprouted his gummy smile and your heart absolutely burst.

"Now go," you insisted, extracting yourself from the boys and backing up to the door. With shaking hands you turned the knob to open it, ushering in the sounds of the crew preparing for the show.

The boys looked at you with their smiles. They complied, sure to send you knee-weakening glances over their shoulders as they went. Your heart tittered in your chest, and suddenly the show couldn't be over soon enough.

Let me know if you’d like to see the “prequel” drabble for this!

→ Taglist is open! Send an ask if you’d like to be added to my general taglist, or if you’d like tagged for a specific fic series or member!

@jin-fizz​ @fangirls94​

©reneejuliet 2021. No part of this material may be copied, photocopied, reproduced, reposted, or translated without consent.

#btsghostie #bts drabble #bts smut #yoongi smut #jimin smut #yoongi drabble #jimin drabble #yoongi angst #jimin angst #bts angst #kpop drabbles #kpop fanfiction #kpop fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #yoongi fic #jimin fic #yoongi oneshot #jimin oneshot #suga drabble #suga angst #suga smut #suga oneshot #suga fanfic #suga fanfiction #yoongi x jimin x reader #yoongi x reader #jimin x reader #yoongi x jimin

[snapdragon-mina]

Sunflowers and Snakes

Pairing: Dabi x Reader x Hawks

A/n: Written for the Bnha spring time event. Hi @amaamajiki , I'm your anon! I really hope you like this lmao.

Word Count: 2.25k

Warnings: Sorta spoilers for bnha, swearing, blood mention, Suggestive themes(Very very minor)

For the first time in about a month, You could go home on time. The restaurant you worked in constantly asked for you to work overtime. The only reason you continuously agreed was for that sweet sweet paycheck. Fortunately, everyone else was at work and did their jobs, so you were free to go home and cuddle the shit out of your dog. 

When you got home, all you could hear was the sound of paws on wood before your life flashed before your eyes. Seems your dog missed you a little too much because he pounced, knocking you off balance, and eagerly started licking your face. 

"Okay! Okay! Hey let's make a deal. If you get off of me, I'll give you a surprise?" You held your dog away from your face with one arm, while wiping off the sheer amount of dog slobber that was on your face with the other. The dog paused as if he were thinking before moving off of you and sitting down with a sharp bark. 

"That's a good boy." You smiled at him before turning on the TV for background noise. You walked into the kitchen to fix your dog's food. After pouring the food into the bowl, you stuck a lil treat in there. Boom! Recipe for a happy Schnauzer. The moment you sat the bowl down, he shot forwards and barely gave you back out of the way. 

Shaking your head, you walked back into your living room and sat on the couch. Moments of complete peace were hard to come by. After the fall of All Might, nobody was really safe. I mean, Endeavor doesn't give a shit about his fans, so why should you trust him to protect you? 

From what you gathered, the number two hero, Hawks has actually started searching for his soulmate. When asked to show off his tattoo, he refused. Something about "The thrill of the hunt". 

Tattoos are typically two of a kind. Only two people would have the same tattoo. Speaking of soulmate tattoos, Yours was a Snake winding around a single sunflower. It was actually huge, since it covered your entire left arm. It was a really cool design when you think about it.

A small whine managed to shake you out of your thoughts. You got up, grabbed the yellow leash, and hooked it to the matching yellow collar your dog wore. "Come on pretty pup, it's been awhile since I've had time to go on a walk, huh?"

He barked in response as his stubby little tail wagged rapidly. You opened the door and locked it behind you before letting yourself be led by your dog. Around five minutes into the walk, you felt your arm grow warm. Apparently your soulmate was close. It was like a game of hot and cold until you bumped into a guy with a black trenchcoat. Your arm felt extremely hot, so you looked at him. 

"You gonna apologize? You were the one that bumped into me." He had a relatively bored tone of voice. He was eerily calm for someone to be in this scenario. It felt like his eyes were staring deeply into your soul.

"Yeah uh, sorry… But-" You couldn't even finish your sentence, because he walked off with a dismissive wave. You wanted to follow after him, but your dear dog had decided he wanted to shit right then and there. You were forced to wait on him to finish. 

After cleaning up and disposing of the waste, you just decided to go back home to get some much deserved rest.

•••

Two weeks later, you had a day off and it was really nice outside, so why not go for a walk through the forest? You went through your typical morning routine and got dressed. You fed your dog and took him out for a bit. "Alright pup, I'll be back soon, okay?" You blew a lil air kiss and left the house. 

After roughly 15 minutes, you reached a clearing in the forest. It was peaceful and nothing seemed to be out of place. There was a river a few steps away from you, and all sorts of flowers blooming. The trees actually provided very nice shade. You wouldn't mind living out here or at least somewhere just as peaceful as it was out here.

You took a deep breath and sat on a nearby stump, just taking in nature. You didn't get to enjoy the peace for long, due to the sudden burn on your left arm. Your soulmate was quickly approaching your location. You glanced around, but didn't see anyone. Yet your arm was getting warmer and warmer. 

Suddenly, a voice spoke out. "You're the person from that night, right?"

You recognized that voice. You focused on where the sound came from and fixated on where he was standing. He was leaning against a tree with his arms crossed. "Yeah, I am. Hey can I-"

"I'm not your soulmate." He interjected. You shot him a confused look. There was no way you were wrong about this. "Don't believe me? I don't even have a tattoo." He held up both of his scarred arms. 

This only served to confuse you more. "Yeah no, I'm right. There's no fucking way I'm wrong." You shot back. He raised an eyebrow at you. 

"Are you sure about that? People are born without soulmates, y'know." He said.

"Let's say you aren't my soulmate. Why the hell did you follow me here?" You sighed, already annoyed that he ruined your perfectly peaceful moment. 

"Because I know who is." 

"Why would you help me? You don't seem like the type to help someone just out of the kindness of your heart." You narrowed your eyes and he laughed. He laughed at you. 

"Oh trust me, I'll be getting a pretty little payment for this," His eyes shone with amusement. "Follow me."

He walked off. Bold of him to assume you were gonna follow him. You stayed put for a moment before ultimately realizing it was useless. You had to speed walk to catch up to him. He walked out of the forest and towards a building that was pretty much hidden from view. 

Your arm was still extremely warm, due to you being close to the strange man. Hold on. You don't even know his name and yet you followed him to some secluded building where he's probably gonna-

"Dabi." 

The statement broke you out of your train of thought. That was… weirdly coincidental. He suddenly announced his name just as your mind began to wander. "Yeah… I'm Y/l/n Y/n…" 

He just hummed in response, as he continued to lead you through the strange building. Eventually the two of you came to a stop. The both of you stood in front of a door that had been painted red. He didn't even bother knocking and simply opened the door, revealing none other than the number two hero. 

Hawks' head perked up at the sound of the door opening and grinned lazily. "Hey, thanks again for bringing her." He had a glint in his eyes. Like he knew something you didn't. 

"Mhm. I'm expecting my… you piece of shit." Dabi trailed off before there was suddenly emotion in his voice. It definitely wasn't a good one. Had something happened between the two of them? Should you leave? Yeah… you definitely should. Dabi seemed extremely hostile and you were getting bad vibes. You went to take a step back but paused when you felt a hand tightly grip your wrist. 

"Huh?"

"You aren't going anywhere" His eyes were still focused on Hawks. Nobody moved for a moment before suddenly, the hostility drained from the air. Dabi let go of your wrist and walked out of the room. 

"Hawks-"

"Call me Keigo."

"Okay, Keigo… can you explain to me why I'm here?" The past like 5 minutes was a trip from start to finish and you really wanted answers. Keigo patted the spot next to him, so you took a seat and waited for him to start. 

"Your arm still feels really warm despite Dabi no longer being in the room, right?" His feathers ruffled slightly as a breeze drifted through the window. You nodded, unsure of what to think before it hit you. His grin got wider and he removed his jacket. "Well, Y/n, we're soulmates." He held out his left arm for you to see. Low and behold, The exact same tattoo was covering it. 

You felt extremely happy that you'd found your soulmate, but still extremely confused. How did your tattoo still burn in Dabi's presence if Hawks was your soulmate? It didn't make sense. 

"I should probably explain Dabi since he won't do it himself, and you're probably hella confused. Dabi is also our soulmate." 

That… that actually makes sense. You nod as Hawks explains everything and suddenly he gets to a topic that you'd been curious about for a while now.

"Because of his scarring, he no longer has the tattoo. But nature had him covered because he developed a telepathic connection to both of us. Aka, he can very easily read our minds."

That made even more sense. But that doesn't explain why he refused you as a soulmate. You shook off that thought and decided to get to know Hawks a little better. Eventually the two of you came to an agreement. Since you liked to cook, and he liked eating, sometime this month, you'd bake or fry chicken for him. 

It was starting to get dark and your dog probably missed you, so you decided to try to find Dabi. 

Dabi did not want to be found. It took you 30 minutes to finally get to him, and when you did he ignored any small talk you tried to initiate. Eventually he grew tired of your shit. "Look, I'm not your soulmate. Leave me alone."

"Yeah? Bullshit. Hawks explained everything to me. Why are you brushing me off?" 

"I don't fucking need a soulmate. Certainly not someone like you or Hawks." He snarled, turning on his heels to walk away. 

"I don't care about what you think you need. You need us, you can't deny that!" You argued back. You were really starting to get sick of this.

"I can and I will." 

And with that, he walked away. You balled your hands into fists tightly. You would've stayed, but your dog needed someone to take care of him.

•••

Almost a month had gone by since that argument, between you and Dabi and you hadn't heard from him since. Hawks moved in and actively bothered the hell out of your dog. He would complain about him biting his feathers, but you would often catch him sleeping with y/d/n curled up at his side. 

You were in the middle of baking cookies when a crash could be heard from within the house. You grabbed a kitchen knife and went to investigate the sound. It couldn't have been the dog, he was asleep when the crash was heard. Silently walking into the room the sound was heard from, you were kinda shocked to see him. 

He had numerous cuts in various sizes on his body. All of them were bleeding. "I just need somewhere to lay low for a bit, I'll be gone by morning." 

"Dabi…" Your heart ached at the sight of him, but you refused to be someone he could walk all over. "Get out."

It seemed like he was too preoccupied to listen to your thoughts, because your words shocked him. "...Out? Y/n, it's me." 

"I know. But you said you didn't need us, yet here you are." You stood your ground and he stared up at you for a moment. He was analyzing you, seeming like he was studying you for a weakness he could exploit. 

He let out a sigh and spoke under his breath. You raised an eyebrow at this and he cleared his throat before speaking up. "...I'm sorry. I just… don't want the two of you dragged down with me."

"Elaborate." You demanded and he nodded. 

"I'm a villain, you're a civilian, and Hawks is the number two hero. Being associated with me is like killing your chances to actually do something with your life." He hissed out. Seemed like the pain from his wounds was getting to him. 

You helped him up and led him into the bathroom. There, you cleaned up and bandaged his wounds. He studied your face carefully and you worked. "No hard feelings?" 

"No hard feelings. But Keigo should be getting home soon, so you're gonna have to relay your little speech again." You snorted as you finished up. He stood up and walked out of the bathroom with you trailing behind him. 

The two of you walked into the kitchen. You pulled the cookies out of the oven and offered one up as a peace treaty. He rolled his eyes and pecked you on your lips as a peace treaty. 

A minute or so later, Hawks walked in. He noticed Dabi sitting on the counter with a chamomile flower crown on his head. How you managed to get him to wear that is unknown to humanity. 

"Yeah, I'm gonna live here from now on. And no, you won't be topping."

Hawks rolled his eyes as you laughed. "At least you're not being a pussy about soulmates anymore."

"Fuck you too."

#bnha #bnha imagines #bnha spring time #bnha x reader #mha #mha dabi #mha x reader #bnha dabi #mha hawks #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #dabi x reader #hotwings #dabi x hawks #dabihawks #onsehot #mha oneshots #bnha oneshots #touya todoroki #touya x keigo #keigo takami #keigo x you #dabi x keigo #touya x reader #keigo x reader

[palettepainter]

DO NOT REPOST/EDIT/COPY/TRACE MY ART OR OC!!! Warning to his backstory, mentions of abuse and murder Adding yet another Hazbin Hotel OC to my swarm of other characters, because why not? His backstory is still in the works but I'll dump some ideas I've had for his personality/character/backstory below -Captain Cutthroat hails from Safe Haven, born to a wimpy scullery maid and being born at sea, Cutthroat's (or Kennedy as he was called when he was alive) life has been a rough sail on the sea's from the start. His mother, a small frail looking thing was sold to his father, the captain of a famous fishing crew as a servant/errand girl. His father, a brash, crude leader to a gang or rotten, backstabbing crew of pirates, and his father found a sick liking towards the skittish, pale looking cabin maid. Cutthroat is born out at seas and right after a long hard night at sea through a long storm. Years to follow are filled with back breaking labor given to Cutthroat curtsy of his beloved 'father', all the while he's under the sharp eye of all of his fathers intimidating crew members. Swabbing the deck after the crew had a drunk night of celebrating, washing the laundry, cleaning the dishes after meals - but at least little Cutthroat has his mother, it makes things bearable. Sneaking away scraps of food, managing to weasel his way out of trouble by the skin of his teeth, being made a fool by the crew members while his father barks with laughter along with them. But having his mothers side to cry into, it makes life bearable. -Cutthroat and his mother make their escape from his fathers clutches when Cutthroat is at the brisk age of 16, he's just turned in after he's finished mopping the decks, and overhears his dear old dad gabbling away with another sea captain. His father, not keen to part with his gold, bets his mother. Cutthroat is frozen with fear, anxiously watching and listening through the crack in the door, as the other captain earns himself a win - it is decided, Cutthroats mother would be handed off to him first thing in the morning. Cutthroat has done his best to push the memory of that night from his mind, but that night he was body was shaking worse then a scrawny nobody in a storm as he woke up his mother, and hurriedly made his escape with her in the dead of night. Life on the streets was no better for them, cold nights and days without food left his mother sick and weak, and Cutthroat had to work tooth and nail just to scrape by with savings for food. Lie, cheat, steal, he did it all - the boy had it rough in his young adult days, selling whatever he had on him for whatever coins of gold he could get to care for his mother. Unconsciously he follows in the footsteps of his father, turning to the black market where anything and everything can be sold for cash - if you're clever enough to know the ropes. Cutthroat knew the black market was not the most moral of jobs: trapping and hunting sirens without drowning was rare, but their scales and fins where worth a pretty penny or two. Snaring griffins was a shot in the dark, but their skulls and feathers would pay them enough to live comfortably for half the year. The more magical the creature, the more it was worth - but money is money, and Cutthroat, young and desperate, was prepared to sell soul and left leg for it -His mother, despite suffering from the abuse and mistreat by his father, still tried to guide Cutthroat down a good path, one that wouldn't make him turn out like either of them. She genuinely tried, but in her sick state she couldn't do much, even when at sea she was not the best - she would sometimes forget to feed Cutthroat as a baby, she simply didn't have time, would spend days on end sleeping when Cutthroat was old enough to take the burden of tasks off her shoulders. To wee Cutthroat, his mother was an angel, and you can imagine his distress when his mothers sickness grows worse. She becomes sicker and sicker by the day, every day she's a little weaker, more colour draining from her face. Enraged at his own weakness, Cutthroat takes his mother to the nearest inn, slaps some gold in the owners face, and sets off to sea in search for his father. New at sea he doesn't fair well, he gets lost a lot, nearly gets himself killed a few times, but somehow, through spite and determination (but mostly spite) he tracks down his father. Cutthroat may not be a good sailor, but at the age of 20, he's become pretty darn good at playing his cards right - he's young, his father is old, and the black market has taught Cutthroat the best ways to throw a man off guard. Cutthroat infiltrates his fathers ship, putting up the facade of simple new lad on the ship, and one by one he poisons his fathers crew mates, slowly by surely riding his father of his little lackeys, no one to call for now. Daddy dearest he saves for last, the poison works on him slowly, Cutthroat WANTS his dad to feel every bit of pain. Cutthroat draws out the torture, taking his sweet time to give  back to his dad all the pain he put his mother through - just when his father goes to draw his final breath, he turns to give Cutthroat a pained crooked smirk, spitting blood before he slurs 'just like yer old man, eh boy?' - something within Cutthroat snaps, and he deals the final blow to his father with a knife to the throat (hence his name, Cutthroat) -With revenge done and his old man dead, Cutthroat spills oil upon the deck and sets the boat alight while escaping in one of the emergency boats, his fathers ship burns into the fog, and is left to crumble and rot at sea. Cutthroat, stronger and tougher, returns home, not regretting an ounce of his actions. Returning home to the inn, Cutthroat isn't prepared for the hord of staff and people crowded round his mothers room: There she is, laying in bed, face pale and forehead cold with sweat, bags under her eyes as a doctor tends to her at bedside. Pneumonia, and it's bad. Cutthroat is at his mothers side in a heartbeat, the tears already swelling in his eyes as he grips her hands, they're cold to the touch, and she can barely manage to keep her eyes open to look at him. When the doctor tells him that it is unlikely she was survive the month Cutthroat warns him to shut his trap, when the doctor offers for them to end her suffering humanly, Cutthroat has to hold the urge to throw a lamp. He yells at them to get out, to leave, and to never come near him or his mother again! As soon as the door closes, he breaks, leaning his head gently onto his mother as she weakly rests her hands in his wind swept hair. On top of having to get enough money for food, to pay to stay at the inn, and for whatever medicine he can find to ease the pain for his mother, Cutthroat decides it's time to skip town, he'll get her help elsewhere..They don't make it far, carrying his mother is not hard, years of working on his fathers boat built up his muscles - but the cold is not helping, and even Cutthroat needs rest. The pain is getting worse, his mother is struggling to breath, she's eating less, her coughing is becoming more violent. It takes three days of travelling for Cutthroat to realize the harsh truth, his mother wasn't going to make it, and he'd been putting her through hell by pushing her forward, when all she wanted to do was rest. Cutthroat asks his mother one day if she wants to rest, and his mother replies, barely above a whisper, that she is very, very tired. They both know what has to come next. Cutthroat ends her life, as swift as he can - it hurts him, hurts him so damn much - her death is sadly slow, Cutthroat does not have the power to make it fast and painless, so he cradles her body, his tears dropping onto her face as he howls with sobs, body trembling as she rubs her hands gently over his back one final time. Cutthroat gives her her own burial, in a nice field by the sea, which he knew she loved to look at -Cutthroat, having lost his only true family member, falls back into the ways of his younger, troubled self: he sells on the black market, does illegal trading, hunts down exotic creatures across safe haven and becomes a notorious criminal (the work nullifies the pain from his past, if he just keeps working, he'll forget it). Years later when hunting and trading of exotic creatures is banned in safe haven, that does little to stop Cutthroat, he continues about his way, not shy of getting rid of any lil sneaks that may run the risk of turning him in. Cutthroat eventually dies by a spear to his throat, the aftermath of a little disagreement between Cutthroat and another crew of traders that tried to swindle him of his treasures. It's no surprise to Cutthroat when he ends up in hell, and he makes himself very much at home at Hellside coast: Hellside coast is his turf, he owns that part of town, and even though visitors are scare, he does well to make his reputation known. He is a big dealer on the black market and a local hunter and trader of goods, he charges a high bargain, but is willing to trade for the right valuables. Despite his gruff and his towering height and strength, Cutthroat can be somewhat decent, he's a lil on the snarky side and makes playful jabs at visitors - jabs that often have a darker meaning or jabs that are meant to serve as a warning - 'Swimming eh? Knock yerself out meatbait, just make sure yet rugrats are attending too. All unattended children will be snapped up by a' sea serpent, don't stand a chance against those...HAHA! Lighten up, was just a joke..last year only half as many kids disappeared then usual' -Cutthroat, no matter what, deep deep DEEP down will always have a hidden soft spot for kids - he goes by the motto 'talk shit, get hit', if he sees someone being a prat or more so, sees someone being a prat to a someone who can't defend themselves, this man is quietly lumbering over to break things off, and this man gets violent very quickly when those who are weak are involved. This is mostly because Cutthroat, despite his reputation, understands what its like to be vulnerable and helpless. He claims he is not capable of being soft, but that's a big fat lie -He knows of Pip, and has actually grown fond of the little rats company. Pip came to Hellside coast when he was spending the weekend with his Uncle Angel Dust, he and Iridescence had been playing outside when a turf war broke out in the area they had been playing in. Pip, rightfully afraid, scrambled down to Hellside coast and hid in the first place he saw, inside an empty barrel by the coasts docks. Little Pip is then rightfully terrified and can barely manage to speak when the barrel is rolled onto the ship and the boat pulls out from the harbor. Hours go by, Pip is scared, his small body trembling from the cold. Deep below deck Pip finally manages to crawl out from his barrel, the sea tossing the boat and causing poor Pip to stumble his way along the boat, maybe he could sail back in one of the smaller boats? How far from shore could he be? News flash: Very far. Pip is very nearly tossed over board by the raging waves, until a firm hand grabs him by the scruff and drags him back inside, Cutthroat. Rightfully so Pip pushes himself into the furthest corner from Cutthroat. Cutthroat, rightfully so, tears Pip now with all his yelling and demanding 'What the BLOODY HELL where you thinking?!' - Pip, shaken and scared, soo begins to cry and the sight of Cutthroat and curls in on himself as the boat continues to rock...which is why he is very surprised when Cutthroat offers him a blanket (all be it a smelly one, but it kept him warm), a small meal and some water, and reassures him he'll make a turn around back to the docks as soon as the storm passes. Cutthroat roars with laughter when Pip meakly asks for Cutthroat not to throw him overboard, Cutthroat admits though he could easily toss Pip across the room no sweat, he isn't big on killing a helpless kid: maybe grow up a little first, then the next time you sneak onto his boat he'll toss you over, if that's really what you expect him to do. Pip becomes comfortable very quickly on Cutthroats boat, and Cutthroat quickly becomes annoyed at the boys jabbering and constant questions, as soon as he reaches shore the next day he drops the kid off at the hotel and makes his way back to his boat when he's sure the kid is A-okay at that fancy shmansy hotel. Every visit from that day on Pip visits Hell side coast, some days he'd simply watch Cutthroat do his thing about the docks, other days he'd follow behind him like a lost duckling, completely in awe at seeing a real pirate! Cutthroat is..50/50 with his company, he likes the attention, but he does love his peace and quite, and having a kid constantly chew your ear off made him realize how much he loved his silence in the afternoons, but somehow - he ends up liking the brat -When Pip excitedly told Cutthroat he wanted to be a pirate just like him, Cutthroat stared at him blankly, then replied with a casually: 'Heh, a terrible decision kid' - and told Pip to change his life goals fast. The day in which Cutthroat properly began to care for Pip was the day the little brat came running up to him, tears pouring from his eyes, Cutthroat didn't get a chance to ask what was wrong or scold him for fleeing up onto his ship with his tail between his legs, before two other men dressed in suits come rushing down the path. Cutthroat goes up to his deck to retrieve the boy when the two men approaching his ship, he goes to tell them his business for the day is closed and to come back tomorrow, but freezes when they explain they're looking for a little scruffy haired boy, how his father is looking for him, and demands that Peter be brought home. One scared look from the shivering boy is all Cutthroat needs to tell the two men that he ain't see no boy, and to get lost. Cutthroat couldn't pry all the details from Pip, but he quickly gets the impression that Pip's father, this Castello character, ain't a nice man. Cutthroat knows he's been through some stuff, he ain't the best person to be giving advice, but something about the sad slump in the boys shoulders and his messy untamed hair made him think back to a time when he was like that. From that day fourth, Cutthroat takes the boy under his wing. He asks Pip if he still wants to be a pirate, when Pip sniffles with a weak nod: Cutthroat says lil pipsqueak has a long way to go, ties a red bandage round Pip's shoulders, shrugs, and says that an old sea dog like him will just have to show him the ropes. The way in which Pip's face just lights up, it's hard for Cutthroat to not chuckle at. Pip becomes Cutthroats prodigy, at first, he spent time with the kid in hopes it'd make him feel better, but in the end, he too began to grow to enjoy their time together, his mouth would quirk up into a lazed but happy grin when he saw the pint size running down the beach to greet him, he couldn't help but be smug when Pip failed miserably to reel in an escaped fish from his net (may or may not have had several heart attacks when Pip was nearly swallowed by huge deep sea demonic lobster), can't help but ruffle that messy hair of his, can't help but tease at how utterly tiny Pip is, how terrifying he is for a pirate in training, he's seen scarier goldfish! Cutthroat loves that little brat, and also loves the free adoration and idol like praise Pip gives him. That's all for now! Had a tone of fun drawing this guy so I hope you like him! Cutthroat/Pip/Iridescence - me

#HHOC #Hazbin hotel OC #Ref sheet #My OC #Captain Cutthroat #OC #Palettes art

[gingerwritess]

What about a Loki x fem reader where the reader is having period pains and Loki trys to help? Also your writing is amazing and i love it

sorRY THIS TOOK SO LONG

and thank you everyone for your love and support this last week, it was a really shitty week and well, inspired this lil fic biscuit.

i appreciate you all more than you’ll ever know so this is my best way to say thank you—more loki content. enjoy!!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You’ve had a long, overly shitty week.

Loki knows it too, which is why he had cleared both your schedules for all of Saturday, rolled right back over when he had woken up early that morning as usual, and let you stay asleep for however long you wanted with his arms around you.

The week had been brutal, absolutely brutal to you, and Loki couldn’t do much but watch you spiralling into a sleep deprived, anxious wreck who also woke up sick Friday morning, just to top it all off. He offered his arms and warm embrace whenever you needed, his shoulder to cry on was always available, but everything this week was just going wrong.

You’re coughing again, hacking up a lung as it rouses you from your precious sleep. Loki’s already awake from your last coughing fit and he sits up, brushing cool fingers along your sweaty forehead with worry in his eyes. “Sorry,” you whisper hoarsely in your half-asleep daze, squinting at him through puffy, bloodshot eyes. “I can’t stop coughing, I can go to the couch instead—”

“Absolutely not.” He smiles softly down at you, tugging the blankets higher up under your chin. “Sleep as long as you need. You deserve some rest, and I’ll stay as long as you want.”

“Don’ move,” you mumble gratefully, already rolling back over and dozing off. “Everything hurts…”

You’re trembling, skin sweaty but still cold, and Loki’s heart twists when you curl in on yourself, clutching your stomach. Great, now your stomach hurts, too?

He looks you up and down, trying to decide if it would only make you feel worse if he wrapped you in his arms, but then he notices a dark stain on the sheets where you’ve rolled over.

Oh.

Oh, my poor darling.

He knows about this, a “period,” as you call it, and he’s been through quite a few with you. Every month, he knows you suffer through a whole week of bleeding, some worse than others but all so horribly awful to experience.

It just figures that you would start another one of those periods today, having finally survived that brutal week and almost getting the rest you deserve, only to have this ruin everything and cause you even more pain.

“Darling,” he whispers, gently rubbing a hand over your hip. “You’re bleeding.”

Your head whips around to stare at him, suddenly awake, and you see the stain and right away bury your face in your pillow with a groan. “No, no, no…” you can’t bear to look at him: you’ve leaked in a bed with someone else in it. “I’m so sorry, Loki, I’ll clean it—”

“No.” He’s chuckling quietly, running a soothing hand over your back. “You go get in the shower. I’ll bring you a change of clothes and take care of this.”

“No, I’ll do it, you don’t have to, it’s my fault—” you struggle to sit up, your stomach cramping and screaming at you as you move.

He shuts you up with an airy kiss to the corner of your mouth, and you immediately melt into his arms. “Come with me,” he tells you, an arm around your waist for support as he helps you to your feet.

Another coughing fit nearly drops you to the floor and Loki quickly holds you steady, an arm tight around your waist and the other hand cupping your face. “Can you breathe? Are you alright?”

You just nod and wipe at your stinging eyes, eyes watering with embarrassment at everything that has happened this morning. Disgusting, your brain screams at you, you look gross, feel gross, you bled through to the sheets, you’re coughing up mucus, all in front of the man you love? Disgusting, pathetic…

“Don’t you dare think that,” Loki scolds, naturally listening in on your self-depreciating thoughts. “This is only natural, you had no control over any of this. Let me take care of you.”

“M’sorry,” you cough again, clutching onto his shirt as a stabbing pain shoots through your abdomen.

He’s walked you to the bathroom by now, refusing your apologies and turning on the water to warm in the shower. “No apologising, is that clear?” He turns back to you with a sweet smile and lifts your shirt over your slumped shoulders, carefully tugging your arms out. “You just focus on feeling better, I will take care of everything else. No distractions, just find something that makes you feel in any way better.”

He isn’t suggesting, no, he’s ordering it, albeit with a gentle voice of persuasion. You weakly nod your head and he smiles, leaning forward to kiss your cheek. “Good. Now help me get these off of you.”

Kneeling on the tile before you, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your sweats and underwear, tugging them down for you to step out. He doesn’t even look once you’re exposed, not doing anything remotely sexual as you half-expected him to, just keeping his eyes trained up on yours as he strips you bare.

“In the shower, come on.” He reaches a hand under the stream of water, testing the temperature. “The water’s warm. You stay in here as long as you want, understood?”

All you can manage is a grateful smile, and you take his hand and step under the warm shower. “I’ll check on you in a moment,” Loki promises, shutting the fogged-over glass door behind you and leaving the room.

Everything still hurts, from your throbbing headache down to aching ankles as you let the hot water soothe the tense muscles in your back. Breathing deeply, you guide your face under the gentle stream, letting the water wash the sleep and embarrassment and tension off of your face.

You stay there for who knows how long, breathing in the steam from the hot water and letting it calm your raging sinuses, the burning in your throat simmering down and you think you might have fallen asleep with your forehead against the tile wall.

The door opens again after a while and you crack an eye open, watching Loki walk in and start pulling his shirt off. It doesn’t register that he’s going to join you until he’s already stripped, opening the door to the shower and slipping in behind you.

Oh no.

“Loki, no, not today, I don’t want to—”

“Relax,” he soothes, turning you around to face him and pulling you into his arms. “I’m not going to do anything.”

You breathe a quiet sigh of relief and lean against him, your cheek pressed to his damp chest and tucked securely under his chin. Of course he won’t do anything, he would never force himself on you unless you want him.

In that moment you’re more grateful for him than you could ever express, just safe in his arms engulfed in the steam from the hot water running down your back, and you stay there for a long while. His hands rub up and down your spine until you think you might’ve fallen asleep again—his chest is better than any pillow money could buy.

Eventually though, he places his hands on your shoulders and carefully lifts you up just enough to turn you around, taking your head in his hands and placing a sweet kiss on your forehead before you do. You lean right back against him and drop your head down to your chest with a groan, neck aching now, too.

Skilled fingers skim up your sides to press into the knots of tense muscle in your shoulders, working their way up the curves of your neck to release the stress and cure the pain there as well. All is quiet save the trickling of the shower, the thudding of Loki’s heart, and your breathless sighs of relief as his fingers knead magic into your sore muscles.

The pain and tension slips from your body, almost completely, leaving you limp and exhausted in his embrace. “Love you…love you, Loki,” you managed to mumble, jaw falling slack under his spell, too.

His head dips down to trace a gentle, open-mouthed path up to just behind your ear, and he starts slowly washing you. You start to wonder if he’s drugged you, everything seems so strangely peaceful—you cannot keep your eyes open and he murmurs for you to stop fighting to, pressing a feathering kiss to each closing eyelid.

It’s too perfect, too tranquil under the water with his hands gliding across your body—hand that are for once warm to the touch—and by the time he’s worked his way up from your sore feet to aching breasts, you’re certain you’re dreaming.

But he kisses you, slowly and softly and stealing your breath for himself and you know he’s real, and better yet, here with you; no one’s mind could ever create something so ethereal as that.

You feel better.

So much better; you take a deep breath and pry your eyes open, watching Loki continue to kiss you with his own eyes still closed, beads of water caught on his dark eyelashes.

He pulls away when he feels you start to smile against his lips. “Better?” He murmurs, keeping his forehead resting on yours, hands cradling your jaw and neck.

“Better…better than ever.”

He smiles, a bit of pride in his success worming it’s way into his heart. “In that case, I’ll get out now. You take your time, get yourself situated…then come back to bed.”

You nod and reach for him one more time before he can leave the warmth of the shower, curling your fingers into his wet hair and pressing your lips to his with all the strength you can muster. “Thank you,” you breathe, “thank you, thank you.”

“Not needed,” he chuckles and kisses you back, moving up to kiss your forehead. “It’s the least I can do.”

He squeezes your hand reassuringly and steps out of the shower, quickly drying himself off and slipping back into the sweatpants you had gotten him ages ago.

You watch Loki leave and hurry to get out of the shower, wanting nothing more than to crawl back in bed and drag him down with you, staying there as the day wastes away. Fresh clothes are folded neatly on the ground when you get out, and you smile when you feel they’re warmer than usual—thanks, Loki.

Once you’re done, you pad down the hallway wrapped in your still-warm towel—again, thanks, Loki—in search of your lover. He’s in the kitchen, pouring something steaming into a mug, and he looks up when you poke your head through the doorway. “Need help…?”

“Back in bed, my love, now.”

“Fine,” you huff, turning on your heel and trudging back to your bedroom, hearing Loki chuckling quietly behind you. He’s quick to follow you, bringing the two cups and setting one on each of your nightstands.

The bed has already been remade, no mark of anything that had happened this morning left of the sheets. And they’re still warm, so you clamber under the blankets without a second thought.

“Drink this.” Loki hands you your cup, propping your back up with another pillow. “It’ll help with the coughing.”

He plants another kiss on the top of your head, then slips into bed next to you, pulling the blankets over your legs as you both slowly sip your drinks.

“We could watch a movie,” he suggests quietly after a moment of staring at the wall.

“Good idea. Rom-com, please.” You grin and nudge him in the arm—he hates rom-coms. Or at least, he claims to hate them.

“…only because you’re closer to death than I’ll ever be.”

“Gee, thanks, babe.” You roll your eyes and nuzzle down deeper into the blankets when he gets up to go find the remote.

He stops in the doorway, turning around to flash you a grin. “Drink that,” he orders again, pointing at your ignored mug. “Are you hungry yet?”

You take another drink and grimace when the rancid taste hits your tongue again. “Hungry for something that tastes better than this, yeah.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes, shaking his head at you. “After all I’ve done for you? That hurt.” He presses a dramatic hand to his heart and stalks out of the room.

“I want waffles!” You yell out after him, voice still a little hoarse from all your coughing. He bangs a few pots around in response and you smile to yourself, taking another drink—bleh. “Oh! And I want French fries!!”

“French fries? With waffles?”

“French fries. With waffles.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

hope you enjoyed, feel free to send me ideas!

loki tags: @bluediamond007 @himitoshi @drakesfiance @destiel1597 @dangertoozmanykids101 @archy3001 @jcalpha1 @yzssie @skullvieplu @forthesnakeofdragons @skulliebythesea @wegingerangelica @storiesfrommirkwood @agarwaeneth @adaliamalfoy @laurfangirl424 @paradisaicsam @fitzsimmons-is-forever @ladylokimischief @katelinwrites @tarynkauai @polaristrange @loavesofmeat @canadian-ravenpuff-multishipper @lou-makes-me-strong @holyn0vak @chocolatealmondmillk @swtnrholland @kenzieam @jessiejunebug  @catticas @the-republic-and-face-of-texas @doralupin01 @whitewitchdown @atomiccharmer @falconfeather23435 @babygirlicecream  @avengrcs @vethrvolnir2 @bookgirlunicorn @wabisabigrl @myhealingstar @khaleesi-marvel @ei77777 @spacecrumbs @scarlettrosella @rocks-are-pretty-odd @confessionsofastrugglingteen @easilydistractedwriter @arttasticgreatnessoftheawesome77 @fluffyllamaswearinghats @milktearose @lcyouinhell @h0tshotholland @dontmesswithmemundane @southsidesarcasticwriter @helnik-s @lilith-akemi @fire-in-her-veinz

#loki laufeyson #loki x reader #loki fanfiction #loki fluff #domestic!loki #caring loki #loki period pains #sweet loki #loki x reader fluff #loki requests #loki drabbles #loki odinson #loki fanfic #loki x you #loki #loki fic #marvel requests #marvel drabbles #marvel loki

[crazy-little-cool-cat]

Hand in Glove - Chapter 9 | Ben Hardy x OFC

A/N: Well! As much as I love cheap thrills, I think we need a little break from all the angst, yeah? Thank you all for liking my story, by the way. Dry your eyes, grab a snack, get comfy - this one is one long fluffy fluff. 

Word Count: ~3.6 (I’m not sure how that happened...)

Warnings: FLUFF. Lots of it. Obscene amounts of fluff. Also, I put in a lil’ smut for you all. Because, you know. Why not. 

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8

Ben and Annie felt weird, to say the least. Although both had realised they essentially share a home, they drove there in two different cars, thanks to Annie’s urge to flee two night prior. Annie followed Ben through traffic, her mind racing and making up lists of tasks she must do, in light of recent circumstances. 

After she parked her car, Ben walked over and opened her door, extending his hand for her. She blindly took it and let him pull her out of the car. Ben talked a mile a minute as they entered the building. Annie’s forehead knotted in the centre while she processed the drastic change in her plans for herself.

“Hey Franks,” Ben cooed as he opened the door and ushered Annie in, “did you have fun on your walk with Steve?” Frankie jumped up and down, wagging her tail, excited to see her dad home, “sorry I couldn’t be here to walk you, my love, I had to go get Annie.”

“I have to call my landlord!” Annie’s eyes widened, as if she had woken up with a jolt, “I have to get the rest of my stuff here, I have to -”

“Annie,” Ben walked over to her and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly to him, “shut up, calm down. You can do everything in the morning.”

“I have to get back to work, I -”

“No, you don’t. You have the day after tomorrow off, anyway. Just use tomorrow’s sick day for errands.”

“We need to set up an appointment with my OB-GYN,” Annie started counting tasks on her fingers, “we need to tell our families, our agents…”

“We’ll do everything,” Ben peppered kisses on the top of her head, “I promise.”

“But Ben -”

“No,” he started swaying with her in a slow dance, “tonight is just for us. No distractions.”

“No distractions?” Annie craned her neck up, her cheek pressed to Ben’s chest.

Ben searched his back jeans pockets and fished out his phone. Making a whole spectacle out of it, he powered it off and handed it to her.

“None.” Ben leaned back a little and gazed down into her eyes, “you were all but missing for two days.” He kissed her forehead softly and pressed his forehead to hers, “I need you. Just you.”

###

Annie walked out of the bathroom wrapped in Ben’s huge, fluffy, baby blue bathrobe. She found Ben lounging on the bed in nothing but his favourite grey sweatpants, watching TV. Frankie cuddled up on the rug at the foot of the bed. Ben glanced at Annie sideways, his eyes slightly hooded with fatigue. A smirk tugged on the corners of Ben’s mouth as Annie carefully sat next to him, cuddling into his robe even further.

“Stole it again, did you?” Ben toyed with the ends of the belt. Annie nodded and stared straight ahead, pretending to be invested in whatever was on the telly. “I’ll just get another one so we could both have one.”

“I’d still steal whichever one you’ll use,” Annie bit the tip of her tongue as she giggled, “so there really is no point to that, is there?”

“Guess not.” Ben swiftly pulled the hood of the robe over Annie’s head and started rubbing it roughly, making her flail her arms. “What, I’m helping you dry your hair!”

“This is domestic abuse!” Annie’s hand grabbed his thigh and squeezed hard, “Ouch! Ben!”

“Sorry!” he slowed down his movements and softened his touch, carefully massaging her head through the towel. Annabelle all but purred at the pampering. “Better?”

“Much.” Annie’s grip on Ben’s thigh loosened and he could feel her melt into his touch.

Ben tugged the hood back down and grabbed a lock of Annie’s hair, twirling it around his finger lazily. He watched Annie run her fingers through her hair to give it somewhat of a brush and felt his heart fill to the brim with warmth. He studied her profile carefully; the pout of her lips, the slope of her nose, the way her long eyelashes curled up naturally and fluttered softly when she blinked or batted her eyes.

On impulse, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to his lap, feeling his heart race at the sound of her laughter. She wiggled around so she could face him, her legs straddling him.

“Yes?” she drawled teasingly, her eyes locked with his, “did you need something?”

Ben bit his lower lips as he toyed with the belt of the bathrobe again, slowly untying the knot. His eyes darted from his hands to her lips and up to her eyes, his mischievous grin mirroring hers. Knot undone, he slipped his hands inside the robe and onto her velvet skin. He let his hands wander around a bit. He could sense her breath quickening in response and let his hands work their way up her body, to her neck. Holding her head in his hands, as if it was a precious crystal ball, he pulled her closer and kissed her hungrily.

Shimmying her shoulders, Annie managed to shrug off the robe before her hands threaded through Ben’s hair. She nibbled and sucked on his bottom lip teasingly in between kisses, smiling against his lips every time a soft grunt escaped him.

Wrapping one arm around her waist and reaching down between them with the other hand, Ben nudged Annie’s head to the side to gain access to her neck. He started trailing wet kisses up and down, side to side, making sure to cover every little bit of her neck with his lips. He placed his hand down on his groin, palm facing up. He could feel Annie’s body heat radiating on the skin of his palm and wiggled his fingers a little, his touch feathering onto her, barely touching.

Annie gasped and leaned back, away from him. Cocking her head to the side, she lowered herself onto his hand and slowly rocked her hips. Keeping eye contact, Ben licked his lips when he felt how wet Annie was and shifted a little under her as his cock grew impossibly harder with every roll of her hips. He pressed his thumb to her clit, rubbing slow circles, and leaned in for a kiss. The moment she raised herself a little to meet his lips, Ben’s fingers wasted no time. With a smooth motion, Ben nudged his fingers into her, feeling her warm walls spasm around him.

“Shit,” Annie broke the kiss, her head dipping down a little while she fucked herself on Ben’s fingers. Nibbling on the curve of her neck, he kept pace with his thumb on her clit, alternating speed and pressure, pumping his fingers into her. He felt her hands grasp at his shoulders for balance and smiled against her skin. “What’re you still wearing pants for?”

Annie grabbed the robe and chucked it on the floor as she moved off of Ben’s lap, giving him the chance to lose his sweatpants. She smiled to herself when she saw he had, yet again, opted out of wearing boxers.

“C’mere,” giving his cock a couple of pumps in his fist, he reached over and pulled Annie to him, back to hover over his lap.

Annie cupped his cheek in her hand, rubbing her thumb across his plump bottom lip. She smiled when he pressed a kiss to it and giggled when he took it in his mouth and bit it gently. His hand still wrapped around himself, he teasingly moved his dick against her. Annabelle gladly took the hint and lowered herself down on him, sighing as she felt him fill her up so perfectly. They touched their foreheads together, their warm breaths mixing.

“I fucking love you,” Annie whispered with a sly smile and started rolling her hips again, “and I love fucking you, too.”

Ben grabbed a handful of her hair and tugged on it, pulling her head back so he could look at her face as she rode him. Bucking his hips up whenever she pushed down, they gradually increased the tempo, pants and moans filling the room. Ben worked his lips and tongue on and around Annie’s nipples, grunting softly when he felt her pull on his hair.

“Annie,” Ben let out a guttural moan, “Annie I -”

“I know,” Annie’s hips rose up and down frantically as she felt herself edge near her tipping point, “just a little more -”

“I’m so close -”

“Me too -”

Ben held Annie’s hips to keep her in place and pounded into her as if his life depended on it. He felt her clench around him, her fingers pulling on his hair roughly as she rode her orgasm, eyes shut tight, legs trembling with effort and pleasure. He could feel a familiar tightening in his stomach, letting it spur him on. It was only when Annie opened her eyes and looked right into his that he came with a deep growl, feeling her clench even harder around him as he shot his load into her. He pushed his hips higher and deeper into her with every spurt of his cum, his fingers gripping her hips tightly to pull her down onto him.

“God, I love that we don’t have to use condoms anymore,” Annie murmured with a breathy laugh.

“I fucking love you, too.”  

####

“Honey!” Ben called dramatically as he entered the flat, “I’m home!”

Annie peeked over the back of the sofa at Ben as he took off his jacket and shoes at the door and picked Frankie up. Cradling her like a baby, he walked over to Annie and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips and then pecked the tip of her nose.

“You’re home early,” Annie smiled up, “it’s only 10 o’clock!”

“Do I detect snark?” Ben carefully put Frankie down on Annie’s chest and rubbed behind her ear, “I can go away and come back in the middle of the night if you want me to.”

“Ha, ha,” Annie stuck her tongue out at him, “I’m just saying, I didn’t expect you home until at least midnight.”

“Surprise! How was set today?” Ben called from the kitchen as he fixed himself up a quick dinner.

“Just peachy!” Annie said with mock enthusiasm, “I found out the wardrobe girls can’t lace up my bodice as tight as they used to because I gained a few.” Annie felt her face burn at the memory. “My director called me out on it and asked me to ‘back away from the fridge’ because he’s not ready for me to show yet, Jamie is extremely protective of me now and I think Clara started dating some mystery man.”

“That’s…” Ben bit off a chuck of his sandwich and chewed as he contemplated the right word to use, “eventful.”

“Yes.” Annie huffed, “how dare he say that, though? I only told him I’m pregnant, what, two weeks ago? I’m not even showing!”

“He’s an asshole, Annie, what else is new?” Ben shrugged. “Did you manage to get your landlord on the phone?”

“I did,” Annie nodded, “he was on vacation. He said he’s willing to let me break the lease if I sell him my furniture.”

“Thoughtful!”

“Yeah! So, obviously, since you own furniture...”

“Smart move.”

“I’m a smart girl!”

“Most of the time, yeah.” Ben shooed Frankie off the sofa as he munched on his sandwich.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me just fine.” Ben grinned. Annie kicked Ben’s arm playfully. “What’s the itinerary for tomorrow?”

“Promo day.” Annie groaned, “interviews, lots of social media stuff, photo-shoot, more interviews.”

“Yeah?” Ben wolfed down the last bite and brushed the crumbs off his lap, “mind if I tag along after I’m done filming? I’m off quite early tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to -”

“I just said I wanted to.”

“Ben, it will be horribly boring.”

“We hardly see each other as it is. I just want to spend some time with you.”

“But I’ll be working!”

“So, I’ll spend time around you, then. It’s just as good.”

####

Ben arrived on Annie’s set right in the midst of a photo-shoot, and found his pregnant girlfriend sitting in her co-star’s lap, her body slightly turned to the camera, looking deep into Jamie’s electric blue eyes.

“Annie, stretch your left leg back a little,” the creative director called and Annie complied, arching her back uncomfortably.

Someone rushed up and fixed the hem of her skirt so the tips of her toes will peek out. The royal couple sat at the throne, shifting ever so slightly with each click of the camera. They whispered to each other in between shots, occasionally laughing, earning cross glares from the people around them.

Annie hadn’t seen Ben arrive yet and was mindlessly moving curly locks of red hair on Jamie’s head, her face soft. Jamie’s one arm wrapped around Annie’s bodice-constrained waist, the other hand resting casually on the her leg over his lap. Jamie said something that made Annie throw her head back in laughter. Ben tried to stay hidden behind the equipment and just watched his girlfriend work from afar. He and Jamie locked eyes and exchanged a quick nod. Ben pressed his finger to his lips, letting Jamie know that he doesn’t want his cover blown just yet.

An hour and a half later, it was all over. Annie slouched against Jamie, still on his lap, yawning wide. Jamie said something and pointed over to where Ben was standing, directing Annie’s attention. Her face lit up, the fatigue all but gone, as she jolted up and ran to him. She picked up the skirt of her rustling dress, practically floating towards him and leaping into his arms.

“You looked very queenly over there!” he mumbled against the skin of her neck, “I almost couldn’t tell you were all but dead inside!”

“It’s been a long day, okay?” Annie giggled, “don’t judge me!” Ben put her down and pressed a tentative kiss to her lips, trying to avoid messing up her makeup. “How are the boys?”

“I’m pretty sure they are internally losing their shit, but they’re keeping up appearances,” Ben chuckled, “we’re keeping a close eye on Joe to make sure he doesn’t blab.”

“Good, good!” Annie nodded, “who’s on Joe duty now?”

“Everyone but me.”

“Perfect!”

“Annie, interview starts in 20!” Karen, Annie’s agent called from the snacks table and waved sweetly at Ben.

“You’d better go get changed, Her Majesty,” Ben smiled cheekily, “your ladies of the wardrobe are probably waiting.”

####

Annie, Jamie and Clara sat in a 16th century style sofa, on the set of the royal palace. All three of them looked fed up and exhausted. The only thing keeping the stars sane and cooperative was their playful chemistry. For Annie, Ben’s presence, lurking in the shadows, helped a great deal, as well.

“If you could choose one song to describe your character on the show,” the interviewer peeked down at her notes, “what would it be and why?”

The trio exchanged impressed glances as they considered their answers.

“I’ll start, then?” Clara chuckled at her two best friends’ eager nods, “right. Um,” she scratched the side of her nose, “I feel like Mary Boleyn would be best described with I Believe in a Thing Called Love by The Darkness.”

“That’s…” the interviewer tried to stifle a laugh when she saw Jamie and Annie’s bewildered expressions, “interesting. How come?”

“First of all, that song is just fun!” Clara nudged Jamie with her shoulder to make him stop snickering, “and Mary is truly a romantic, fun-loving person. She was cast aside by her lover after being his mistress but was still so optimistic,” she waved her hands as she spoke, “and she really did believe in love. She married a nobleman she didn’t really care for but she knew she’ll grow to love him, and she did. Love was her faith, in a way.” Clara crossed her legs, “everyone thought of her as the ditzy blonde girl, when really all she ever did was love.”

“That was unexpectedly deep!” Annie breathed, “How are we supposed to top that?”

“You might as well try!” the interviewer laughed.

“Might as well,” Annie shrugged with a smile, “I think for Anne it has to be Losing My Religion by REM.”

“Good one!” Jamie high-fived Annie.

“How so?”

“Well, that song is about a person falling into an obsession with the wrong person and losing any control they had. Losing themselves too,” Annie shifted around in her seat, “and Anne’s biography is just that. She started off hidden in the shadows of her sister’s glow, and then she was pushed into the spotlight and played like a pawn by her family.” Annie glanced playfully at Clara and winked. “At some point, she lost any sense of herself and became entirely obsessed with Henry. Everyone saw her as a villain throughout history but in truth, she was just lost. The entire kingdom watched her lose her head, literally, but by then it was far too late for her.”

“Jamie?” the interviewer blushed slightly when she addressed him directly, eliciting snorts from Annie and Clara.

“I was going to say Losing My Religion but Annie stole it,” Jamie grinned, “so I’ll go for different REM song. Imitation of Life.”

“Copycat!” Annie scoffed.

“Why did you choose that song?”

“Because Henry Tudor never had a real life,” Jamie shrugged, “he always had to keep up appearances and play this ridiculous part, which he performed horribly, if I may say so myself!” Jamie leaned back and stretched his arms on the back of the sofa, “he was so far up his own arse! He was essentially a big phony. His way to deal with anything bad that happened to him was to destroy it, to pretend like it never existed. In reality, he was just a big ol’ coward, pretending to be this almighty powerful king. Just like Anne, Henry had no control over his life. He hardly had any bloody control over himself!”

“Brilliant answer,” the interviewer praised Jamie, her eyes shining in adoration, “one more question before we’re done.”

“Just one more?” Jamie winked at the interviewer, “I don’t think I’m ready to let you go yet.”

“For fuck’s sake, Jamie!” Annie and Clara choired.   

####

Ben and Annie were just about to fall asleep, a mess of arms and legs. Annie’s head rested on Ben’s arm as he held her close, her body pressed back into him, his face buried in her hair.

“Annie?” Ben’s popped up behind hers, “I forgot to tell you about a dream I had!”

“Hm?”

“You know how we’re going for that ultrasound tomorrow?” he asked, his voice soft and throaty Annie rolled on her back and nodded, looking up at his face. “I had the most realistic dream. That there are twins in there.”

“Twins?”

“Yeah!” he placed his hand right under her bellybutton, “two babies. One for you, one for me.”

“Ben, I’m hardly okay with one baby!” Annie squeaked anxiously, “what the hell?!”

“No, it will be amazing!” Ben’s smile was so wide, Annie thought she can see his molars.

“Are you taking the piss right now?” Annie propped herself up on her elbows, “are you just fucking with me, for shits and giggles?”

“No, Annie!” Ben moved back to let her sit up, “where are you going?!”

“Not to sleep, apparently!” Annie muttered every profanity she could think of and stood up, “Come on, Franks. We’ll go watch some late night telly and never sleep again, because Daddy’s being a fartbucket.”

“Fartbucket!?” Ben gasped, “why?!”

“Twins, Ben?! Twins?!”

####

“Ready?” Annie’s OB-GYN, Dr. McCarthy, rolled on her latex gloves and smiled warmly, “this is the first time you’ll meet your baby!”

“Fire it up!” Ben was bouncing on his toes, one hand resting on Annie’s shoulder, as he bit his nails nervously.

“Ah,” Dr. McCarthy giggled, “seems like someone is particularly excited.”

“Don’t encourage it!” Annie groaned, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Hey, there’s a lot at stake here,” Ben wagged his finger at Annie, “don’t you forget that.”

“Oh?” Dr. McCarthy’s ears perked up, “most couples usually say that at a later stage.”

“Ben had a dream.”

“I sure did.”

“Should I ask?” Dr. McCarthy chuckled.

“I just…” Ben looked at his girlfriend’s horrified expression and smiled cheekily, “I had a dream that there are two babies swimming around in there.”

“Is that so?” Dr. McCarthy squirted some gel onto Annie’s tummy, “two?”

“Yep,” Ben said smugly, “and if I’m right, Annie promised to -”

“Ben!” Annie squeaked and whacked his arm.

“Let’s see, then,” Dr. McCarthy started gliding the probe around before a dark, grainy blob appeared on the screen, “ah, there it is! Hello baby!”

Time seemed to stop still. Suddenly, a fast, loud womp-womp-womp sound started. Annie’s jaw dropped and she snapped her head sideways to look at Ben, who mirrored her expression and stared at her.

“And there’s your baby’s heartbeat.” Dr. McCarthy took Ben’s hand and placed it on the probe. Slipping off her glove, she rolled her chair back and stood up. “Annie, I’ll just go make sure we’ve got all of your tests and I’ll be right back.”

Ben probed around on Annie’s tummy as if he was looking for something. His tongue poked out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the task at hand. Annie giggled and grabbed his wrist to stop him. They stared at each other in awe, processing the reality of it all.

“Well, we have everything we needed!” Dr. McCarthy broke them out of their spell, “do you have any further questions?”

“I do, yeah,” Ben glanced over his shoulder to look at her, “are you sure that there’s just one heart beating in there?”

“I’m sure.”

“Oh, thank God!” Annie breathed and smiled in relief while Ben pouted, his brows furrowed.

TAGLIST: @ramibaby @xgoingdownx @clara-who @violetpond @sweeterthancheese @drummerqueenrmt @westansstuff @rogerinamainbitch @justgivemethekeys  @blondecarfucker @cheeseedreams47 @rogerspoison 

#ben hardy #ben hardy fanfiction #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy x ofc #ben hardy smut #ben hardy imagine #gwilym lee #gwilym lee fanfic #gwilym lee fanfiction #gwilym lee imagine #gwilym lee x ofc #joe mazzello #joe mazzello fanfic #joe mazzello fanfiction #joe mazzello imagine #joe mazzello x ofc #rami malek #rami malek fanfiction #rami malek fanfic #rami malek imagine #rami malek x ofc #BoRhap #borhap fanfic #borhap fanfiction #borhap imagine #hand in glove

[novantinuum]

Rating: T

Words: 2200~

Story summary: 

Before the summer of 2012, Ford and Fiddleford never thought they’d get the opportunity to see each other again.

Now… they have a second chance. A chance to rekindle the love they once shared, reconnect a family once lost, and to mend old wounds. But as they’ll quickly discover, fixing the mistakes of the past doesn’t always come easy. Nor is it always possible.

RP to fic.

Next chapter

This is the beginning of a lil’ Fiddauthor reunion story @the-ill-doctor and I have been creating together for the past few months. The first chapter includes nightmares and the power of Mabel, and there’s a lot of family bonding, fluff, and angst to come. :DD

Warning for mild non-consensual touching in this chapter. 

_________________________

~Chapter 1- Real~

Stanford Filbrick Pines wondered for a moment if he was simply going mad.

He rapped his fingers against his desk, knowing that maintaining any degree of focus on the diagrams and equations he’d transcribed was fruitless. Their study was silent, but today the silence spoke louder than any rehearsed words could.

Surely he’s not the only one who notices. Not the only one who’s slipped back into that familiar college domesticity they once shared. Not the only one who can’t seem to keep from touching him… Their unspoken spark manifests primarily in those small, affectionate, longing touches- a hand pressed to the other’s shoulder for a second too long, a gentle brush against his fingers as they talked over breakfast in the morning- the kind of contact that traditionally, wasn’t shared between men of their age. At least, not men whose relationship could simply be catalogued as that between ‘close friends.’

“Fiddleford?” he called out, finally having built up the nerve. “Fidds? Can… can we talk? Please?”

Ford’s partner glanced away from his work for the moment, answering his plea. A warm glow searing through the study’s window illuminated half of that man’s face. Behind round frames, intelligent blue eyes meet his soul halfway, and his lungs tightened, feeling as if the whole horizon had come to rest upon him at the realization of all the thoughts and feelings he’d yet to fully impart.

“Yes, Ford?”

Stanford was sure he’d only blinked, but Fidds now sat directly adjacent to him, features draped in curiosity, eager to hear what he had to say. The southern man nervously tugged at the hairs at the nape of his neck as he waited for Ford to speak.

In retrospect he’s actually not sure what words come out of his mouth, but whatever they were, it proved enough to evoke a positive response from his old lover.

“Golly I- I thought it was just me,” Fidds choked out between happy tears, suddenly caressing his cheek. “You really still feel this way?”

He answered with a kiss, feeling his heart soar as Fiddleford eagerly reciprocated. Ford’s hands threaded through his hair, pulling him as close as he could, wanting— no, needing — to feel the rhythm of his chest against his own. His mind swam in an infinitude of directions, never quite touching ground. He was kissing air, embracing daydreams.

He felt light’s warmth against the back of his neck, his best friend in his arms, and the last components of his world slotting neatly into place.

“I almost can’t believe this is real,” Ford breathed, their foreheads now resting against each other’s. This sentiment proved overtly cheesy the moment it left his lips, but nevertheless its meaning held true. Somehow, by some strange force of reality, everything fell into place perfectly. Almost… too perfectly.

Fiddleford laughed softly, the man leaning close enough to him that his breath tickled his face. His eyes were obscured by the deep shadows his brow cast.

“Are ya’ sure it’s real?”

The mood dropped, through the floorboards and into the maw of that forsaken basement that lay beneath their feet. As he backed away, his lover’s eyes flashed yellow. Ford shook his head in denial, for a moment not wanting to believe that he’d been tricked— been tricked again, all these years later and he still fell for that demon’s ploys and— NO! No. Y-yes? He was right. This wasn’t real, couldn’t be real, couldn’t be re -

It was at that moment that ‘Fiddleford’s’ mouth split into an awful, unnaturally wide smile, and it was then that he couldn’t deny the awful truth any longer.

He tried to jerk away. “No! Get- get away from me!!” he shouted, working desperately to wrestle from his grip, but to no avail.

‘Fiddleford’ gripped his wrist with a force Ford knew was unrealistic to his true ability. “What’s wrong, suga’? I thought ya’ said you loved me?”

His voice. Sounded wrong. All wrong. It was completely his, completely Fiddleford’s, except it had been siphoned of all the warmth it usually held. The room turned to ice, the light once streaming in from the window growing uncustomarily dim. Fidds leaned closer, mockingly puckering his lips.

"Bill! BILL! Stop this!” he hissed, averting his face as best he could, quivering in fear. Oh g-god, he couldn’t tell if this were a nightmare, or the mindscape, or reality, o-or… Tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt like everything he thought he knew was fragmenting.

Fiddleford’s— no, Bill’s — eyes glowed, the pupils lengthening into slits. Ford felt his limbs go slack, and suddenly powerless to stop him, Bill Cipher lifted his stolen hands to caress his cheeks and wipe away his tears, managing to almost perfectly mimic Fidds’ gentle touch. Subtly he flinched away at the feather-light sensation, trying to keep from eliciting a reaction.

“FACE THE MUSIC, Stanford!” Bill said manically, shades of the demon’s true voice slipping in through the edges. “You’re old. You’re broken. Incapable of love or of ever being loved. Luckily, just like me, what you ARE good at is some good ol’ fashioned destruction!” In an instant, the caresses quickly turned rough, and his fingers curled inwards.

Ford screamed as he felt nails sharpen into points and break through skin, thrashing in his vice-like grip. With all the strength he could muster, he kicked his knee up into Bill’s gut, swiping at him with his arms, using any limb he could to get away. As a last resort he swung his skull straight into Bill’s stolen face, assuredly breaking the other’s nose. Instantly, he began to feel woozy from the impact of delicate brain tissue against bone, realizing all too late what a risky idea physically using his head to get away was.

Thankfully, the blow was enough to knock Bill— who hollered in pain—tumbling onto the floor. Ford stumbled backwards himself, taking heaving breaths. He prepared himself internally to fight again, holding his hands in tight fists by his side.

However, the fearful eyes that darted to meet his own were no longer his enemy’s.

“F-Fiddleford, please” he stuttered in horror, and held out his hands repentantly. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m-“

The man slid himself away on the floor, away from him, expression boiling over with panic. “How could you? How could you attack me like this?!” he said, gripping at his hair. “I thought you promised you’d never hurt me again!”

“But I saw-” Ford sputtered in shock, splaying his hand across his face. Where he just felt Bill slice his face open was nothing but smooth, whole, blemishless skin. “-I thought you were… o-oh my god.” Horror dawns on his face. This couldn’t be happening. It was- it was all just-

Fiddleford curled up brokenly against the wall, cradling his injured nose. He’d already begun to swell and bruise around one of his eyes.  "Y-You lied to me. All this time we’ve been together ‘n I keep getting hurt!“

-it wasn’t ever real. It was only ever his own sick delusions.

Everything around him felt like it was spinning. Orbiting around him, around an inescapable black hole, about to be torn to mere quarks and protons under the surface of the event horizon. Fiddleford lay prone beside his feet, the man’s eyes oscillating between normal and sickly yellow. Had to ground himself. Ignore. Avoid… He raised his own hands, began counting to six. One-two-three-four-five-six one-two-three-four-five-six one-two-three- But the task was fruitless, and he could barely focus on them without the digits melding together and apart, the skin wrinkling and then fading smooth, like violent tides churning in and out. Ford crumpled to his knees, gripping at his head. Shadows clouded his mind and he let out a loud, keening cry.

And as he sank to the floorboards, Fidds only rose higher. Soon he was looming over him, holding his palm flush against his swollen eye.

"The Gremloblin… the shapeshifter… that damned portal!” Fiddleford hissed, his voice trembling less and less. "It was you… All you! It’s your fault this happened!”

As he approached, he pulled a familiar device from behind his back. A sliver of light bounced through the bulb and off of its metallic casing. Frantically, Ford crawled away backwards, stumbling against the frame of his desk. He was cornered. Trapped. He extended a trembling arm.

“No- no, please…!”

"It’s your fault Tate didn’t have a father anymore,” he spat, advancing to press the bulb flush to Ford’s temple, finger extended over the trigger. The bulb flashed blue. “It’s YOUR fault I lost my mind!!”

Ford woke up with a shout, snapping upright on the couch like a spring had been affixed to his back. He took a moment to catch his breath, to make inventory of the empty parlor he sat in and let the memory of his most recent night terror fade. The finer details were already too fuzzy to recall, but nevertheless the overarching theme of it remained. Shame burning at his cheeks, he buried his greyed, wrinkled face into his knees. He was old, haggard, full of regrets, full of laughably embarrassing paranoia- this was his reality. No more sleep for tonight, he couldn’t take it any longer. He was supposed to be safe in this dimension, and yet his nightmares were only getting worse and worse.

He adjusted the crooked glasses on the bridge of his nose. Perhaps, rather than attempt to sleep any longer this morning, his time would be better spent hard at work. Forget Stan’s insistence that he needed to ‘get some shut eye’ before he passed out. He knew his sleep pattern (or lack thereof) intimately, and once he’d awoken from a nightmare there was no chance he’d find himself getting any more rest. Or at least, not rest free of nightmares. He kicked the weighted blanket off his legs and swung his feet over the side of the couch, his mind whirring to life slowly as he began to consider what precisely he should do with his time now.

Soon, a small knock at the door caught his attention.

"Grunkle Ford?”

Ford ran his hands through the front of his hair, not quite at a state of consciousness suited to interact with children, or to even determine which one of them was calling on him. “Come in,” he said hesitantly, unsure as to why anyone besides him was up at this time.

Slowly, shyly… the door swung ajar. Mabel peaked through the crack almost impishly, her long brown tresses framing her face. She smiled softly at him, but concerningly, this smile never reached her eyes. With everything Ford knew about the child this was unlike her. His brow furrowed. Something must be bothering her.

"What’s wrong, my dear?”

In seconds she had crossed the room and latched herself to his side. Minutely he flinched, still not used to unexpected physical contact like this, but soon relaxed into the embrace.

“I heard you scream,” she whispered. “Are you okay?”

Ford’s features immediately softened. This child cared enough about a near stranger to express worry when she heard signs of distress at three in the morning. He both admired and was thankful for her compassion. However, no one but him deserved to suffer under the weight of his burdens, and thus he couldn’t- in good favor- tell her the truth. No child her age needed to know the depth at which a weary old man like him regretted his past.

“Oh Mabel… I’m so sorry you had to hear that. Yes,” he lied, deliberately smoothing out the roughness in his voice. “Yes, I’m alright. Don’t you worry about me. Now, it’s past three in the morning. How about we get you back to bed?”

Mabel tightened her hold around his midsection and shook her head. “But what if you have another nightmare again? I don’t wanna leave you by yourself!”

Ford glanced at her for a moment, the hints of a smile crossing his face. A deep love and affection stirred in his heart. She wanted to protect him from his nightmares. And as much as he wanted to escape into the basement, the last thing he’d want to do is give away a chance to get to know her.

"All right then,” he said with a soft chuckle, “since it appears we’re both decisively wide awake, what would you suggest? We could make hot chocolate? See what’s on TV? We’d have to be quiet though- I’d hate to wake our brothers.”

And like a spring reliably completing another cycle of oscillation, Mabel’s smile returned. “Maybe we can do both!” she chirped, excitedly tugging at his sweater sleeve. “Me and Dipper figured out the perfect volume to put the TV on to not wake up Grunkle Stan and still hear everything!”

“That sounds lovely,” Ford replies. And, smirking guiltily: “Truth be told, I don’t desire to return to bed either.”

The girl was positively glowing now.

"Then you can spend the rest of the night with me! It’ll be our own private slumber party!”

She placed a solitary finger over her mouth, a pantomime hint that they should remain as quiet as possible, and giggled softly. He wiggled his own fingers in response, gesturing for her to take hold of his hand.

“Shall we, my dear?”

#my writing stuff #gravity falls #stanford pines #fiddleford mcgucket #fiddauthor #mabel pines #bill cipher #ford and mabel bonding #gravity falls fanfiction #fiddauthor rp goodness

[indesperateminds]

Jayne/River Ficlet from forever ago

So, this is the beginning of a Firefly series loosely based on Tennyson poems that I never got around to writing and now can’t find the notes on plotting and am not sure I want to start all over again. I didn’t want to put it on my AO3 because then I’d need to come up with a lot more coherent tagging than: sometime pre-Serenity and probably going totally AU if I had any idea where it was going.  But it’s probably the set of characterizations I’m most proud of so I thought I’d see if anyone on here was interested. Italicized text is from “The Lady of Shallott” and you should definitely go read it if you haven’t already.

There she weaves by night and day

A magic web with colors gay.

She has heard a whisper say,

A curse is on her if she stay

To look down to Camelot.

She knows not what the ‘curse’ may be,

And so she weaveth steadily,

And little other care hath she,

The Lady of Shalott.

 Whispered footsteps filled the silence of the night cycle on the Midbook Transport, class code 03-K64 – a Firefly named Serenity.  Pale hands and feet appeared ghostly in the dim light as the shell of River Tam danced to a music only she could hear.  She and one other – if she concentrated, River could easily have ascertained whether it emanated from Simon or Inara’s dreams.  Embracing the threads of her sanity, she elected to dance instead. Dreams tended to be much more pleasant than waking thoughts, splashes of color on a canvas rather than needles pulling thread through stiff, unyielding fabric.

“And moving thro’ a mirror clear that hangs before her all the year, shadows of the world appear…”

 Her breathed words melted into the air, caught by a hidden pair of ears.  A frown creased Jayne Cobb’s brow as he leaned against the wall of the cargo bay.  Girl shouldn’t be wandering about on her own in the middle of the night… not that it had ever stopped her before.  Somethin’ unsettlin’ about how she seemed to shine in the low light that way and those words could’ve been a spell for all he knew.  Still – a merc knew about pretty things and River Tam stretched out all graceful like that held up by one slender ankle – that was all kinds of pretty. So it maybe wouldn’t hurt him to watch a minute.

 Down below, a prickle of awareness began and the web began to quiver in response.

 But in her web she still delights

To weave the mirror’s magic sights,

For often thro’ the silent nights

A funeral, with plumes and lights,

And music went to Camelot

 “Whatcha up to up here, lil’ witch?”

River tilted her head, her dark eyes studying Captain Malcolm Reynolds as he stood over her on the catwalk where she perched, observing the comings and goings of the crew down below in the bay.  Coming to some sort of decision, she smiled wanly at him and gestured toward the temporarily empty space.

“Sometimes a troop of damsels glad, an abbot on an ambling pad, sometimes a curly shepherd-lad, or long-hair’d page in crimson clad, goes by to tower’d Camelot,” she mused softly.  

“That don’t make a lick of sense, River.  We’re running powerful low on damsels and towers these days,” he grunted back to her.

“Maybe you’re not looking in the right places.  Look again,” she whispered.

Despite a sigh of annoyance, Mal slid down to sit next to her.  The crew had learned over the months that humoring River tended to make life run a mite smoother and often came with its own sort of amusing payoffs. Just as his patience began to wear thin, Mal heard voices float up to their perch.  Soon Inara and Kaylee came into sight, their smiles and laughter lighting up the gray space as they giggled softly.  Their heads were close together as the conversation dropped to whispers before breaking into full shrieks of glee as they collected some packets of food before moving off towards the kitchen.  They passed the Shepherd on the way, his eyes fixed intently on the Bible in his hands.  He crossed the space and settled in a chair that had been set up near Jayne’s workbench within the past month.  

Suddenly Mal was startled by River’s quick movements as she swung her legs up and dropped flat on the grating beside him.

“What in the name of – “

“Shh! Quiet, like a mouse,” she whispered faintly.

He might have protested had Simon’s dark head not appeared across the way.

“Captain, have you seen my sister?  She’s not in her room and I wanted to make sure she was cleaned up and ready for dinner.”

“Doc, your sister’s not some lost lamb or somethin’ – she’s a genius, I’m sure she can manage to get herself to the dinner table without an escort.”

“Yes, Mal, I’m certain she’s off right now dressing for dinner… probably in a space suit!  I’m going to check the bridge, maybe Wash will be more help.”

Simon’s voice faded out as he exited the room, the irritation in it clear even in the echoes.

“Starting to think you might have something there,” Mal muttered softly.

“Sir?” a voice called from the end of the catwalk where they rested.  Looking up, he saw his first mate, clad in a red shirt, leaning against the doorway.  

“Yeah, Zo?”

“Happy to see you’re enjoying your little conference here.  I’ve been sent to inform you that the doctor’s just about driven my husband to distraction with his worrying.  We’re on auto-pilot while Wash takes a breather before he has a fit.”

Her voice was as dry as usual, but a spark of humor was apparent to a man who had known her for years. River just smiled her ghostly smile as Zoe settled down next to the two of them, slipping into the quiet moment with practiced ease.  

“Well, River-girl, we’ve got damsels, an abbot, a shepherd, and a page.  Any other additions to our little circus?” he asked, voice gentle and amused.

“And sometimes thro’ the mirror blue, the knights come riding two and two…”

At that moment, Wash and Jayne ambled down the steps across from them and went towards the Shepherd and the weight bench, a playful banter between the odd pair of men.  A light touch against his forearm made Mal whip his head around to look at River’s troubled eyes gazing up at him from a dejected face.  Her whispered words barely crossed the space between them.

“She hath no loyal knight and true, the Lady of Shalott.”

Moving his hand to squeeze hers, Mal shot a sad look at his longtime friend before answering, “I know, little witch, I know.”

All in the blue unclouded weather

Thick-jewell’d shone the saddle-leather,

The helmet and the helmet-feather

Burn’d like one burning flame together,

As he rode down to Camelot...

His broad clear brow in sunlight glow’d;

On burnish’d hooves his war-horse trode;

From underneath his helmet flow’d

His coal-black curls as on he rode,

As he rode down to Camelot.

 “Jayne, we’re just doing a meet for a job, not starting a gorram resistance army!  All this go-se really necessary?”

“Aw, hell, Mal – you know how long it’s been since I got to have any fun on a job? If I ain’t gonna get a chance to shoot nobody, least ya can do is let me look mean and scary!”

“Petulance uncharacteristic of such a heavily armed subject,” River softly mused, hand floating in the space near one of the many guns strapped to the large mercenary’s waist. “However, given the subject…”

Before Mal could get in a warning, Jayne’s hand snapped out seemingly of its own volition, setting a course that seemed in a direct line with the young woman’s jaw.  The collision never occurred, though. River’s small hand trapped his mid-flight, the fingers of her other hand reaching out to caress across his calloused ones as she held his wrist at a nearly impossible angle.  

“No,” she murmured, “we’re not ready to dance yet.”

Her eyes held his, unusually clear and focused, and he would later swear he could feel in that moment something changing.  Jerking his hand away, the moment was shoved aside in favor of the job.  River’s swaying form stayed rooted to that spot, however, until minutes before the group returned several hours later.  Her reverie was broken by the arrival of Simon and Kaylee’s appearance on the stairs.  His arm wound around her waist as she smiled up into his face and River slowly moved back out of sight.

A bitterness filled her voice as she intoned, “Or when the moon was overhead, came two young lovers lately wed; ‘I am half-sick of shadows,’ said the Lady of Shalott.”

As the sound of their return filled the ship, Jayne’s voice boisterously singing “The Hero of Canton,” River stood poised in the shadows of the catwalk and felt the threads of her life begin to shift.

She left the web, she left the loom;

She made three paces thro’ the room,

She saw the water-lily bloom,

She saw the helmet and the plume,

She look’d down to Camelot.

Out flew the web and floated wide;

The mirror crack’d from side to side;

“The curse is come upon me,” cried

The Lady of Shalott.

#firefly #own fic #rayne #river tam/jayne cobb #alfred lord tennyson #what even is this

[askjayvance-blog]

About Me

I’m the kid you don’t wanna mess with. Or else.

The physical embodiment of karma A dark angel

The arbiter Her main purpose is to help liberate the world and destroy demons. She also can decide whether someone she kills goes to heaven or hell, but only if she kills them herself. She knows what you’ve done, and will judge you based on that.

Zodiac: Gemini

Human Date of Birth (In the story): June 3rd, 1999 Angel Date of Birth: Sometime over 12,000 years ago Count of Human Lives Lived: 12 (one every thousand years, ending with Jay)

Powers Mind read Jay has a strong mind and a powerful piercing stare that can see into the souls of others. She can tell when someone is guilty, especially dirty murderers. Intuition and fast reaction time Jay has this ability to mentally just know when something’s about to hit her. With little defense, this is very necessary, for this keeps her alive when fighting is necessary. She can react just as fast as when the attacker even starts to pull out their weapon. She can even use this to further extent, like to deflect one’s manipulating or deceiving powers. Because she is such a geeky nerd, she calls this power “jedi reflexes”. Bend will (Skyrim reference OwO) This is kind of like mind control, but different. She can summon the ability to bend the will of others, but only the weak-minded. She can only force them to do simple tasks though, like keep an eye in that kid. Mind control Without bending their will, Jay can take hold of the mind of whoever she wants, and it tends to also work best with the weak minded. She can make the victim do whatever she’s making them to do, like even making them throw themselves around viciously. Psychic Jay can have visions and sometimes see briefly into the future, which helps with her intuition and reaction. This provides her a psychic shield to protect herself from demons. She can also know what’s happening in the present, more than the average human senses can know. Mental torture There are times where Jay’s powers, with or without her command, take some kind of living form and torture the mind of its host. This can go as far as making the weak-minded go mad, or the guilty committing suicide. It doesn’t really have any affect on those with a guilty, yet powerful soul. Telepathy Jay can communicate telepathically, whether who hears her voice can do the same or not. She can send warnings, threats, and even just a simple “hello”. Telekinesis Jay can only use this very slightly, and to a point. She hasn’t really been too much aware if this power, but she can use this as an attack when needed. Even if it’s contrilling something as mere as a bunch of sticks. She can also use this as a way of flight, allowing her to levitate for a short period of time. Because she is such a geeky nerd, she has named this power “the Force”. Anti-Gravity Jay can walk on walls, water and ceilings, but only for a limited amount of time. This can be used as a way of evading attacks, and is also useful for her attacks. Plus, it helps her with practical jokes and is fun. Dream walking Jay can walk in one’s dreams, only if she is a weakness to that person’s mind, specifically her father. He mostly has dreams of his childhood, so Jay spends most of her nights in the late 70’s and early 80’s. Don’t worry! Nobody can see her in the dream. Of course, because she is a geeky nerd, she sometimes calls herself “Jay Dreamwalker”. Weakness Getting injured past her skin All of that power comes with a price. Jay has very little defense, causing her to instantly die if something pierces far enough through her skin. Things like papercuts can’t kill her, but can make her sick and very weak. This may be her only weakness, but it has a huge affect on her. It is unclear why this is her weakness at all. Powers (Afterlife) Mind read Jay has a strong mind and a powerful piercing stare that can see into the souls of others. She can tell when someone is guilty, especially dirty murderers. This is a lot more powerful in the afterlife, and she can do this to anything with thoughts, even animals. Intuition and fast reaction time Jay has this ability to mentally just know when something’s about to hit her. She can react just as fast as when the attacker even starts to pull out their weapon. Though she still has this ability, it’s not that important to her in the afterlife. She can still use this to further extent, like to deflect one’s manipulating or deceiving powers. Bend will (Skyrim reference OwO) This is kind of like mind control, but different. She can now have the power to alter the minds of all living things, except for that few with an extremely powerful mind. Mind control Without bending their will, Jay can take hold of the mind of whoever she wants, and it tends to also work best with the weak minded, but it now can work for anything with a mind or thoughts of its own. She can make the victim do whatever she’s making them to do, like even making them throw themselves around viciously. Psychic Jay can have visions and be able to see the near future, sometimes even the far future. This provides her a psychic shield to protect herself from demons. She can also cast her present senses farther now. Mental torture There are times where Jay’s powers, with or without her command, take some kind of living form and torture the mind of its host. This can go as far as making the weak-minded go mad, or the guilty committing suicide. It doesn’t really have any affect on those with a guilty, yet powerful soul. This tends to be more haunting when she’s no longer alive. Telepathy Jay can communicate telepathically, whether who hears her voice can do the same or not. She can send warnings, threats, and even just a simple “hello”. Teleportation Jay now has the power to teleport! This is more of a substitute for her intuition and fast reaction ability. She can also teleport things along with her, or just them without her, as long as whatever she’s teleporting has physical contact with her. She can also use this for shortcuts. Shapeshift Jay can only turn herself into a shadow version of herself, or a blue jay. The blue jay form can be touched, but can’t be harmed by the living. The shadow form can’t be touched or harmed by anything. Invisibility If she’s dead, it’s logical that she can remain invisible for as long as she likes. This is ideal for stalking; or haunting; that dirty murderer. Telekinesis Jay, more strongly in the afterlife, can use telekinesis as an attack, defense, and of course, shortcuts. She can also use this as a stronger version of mind control, but different. This works a lot better for her in the afterlife, and it’s her main fighting technique. Dream walking Jay can still walk in one’s dreams, no matter the circumstance. Nobody can see her in the dream still. Almost Fully Immortal Hey, you can’t get rid of me so easily anymore, Lil’. Deal with it. ;3 Appearance When Using Powers Glowing blue eyes/Bright whitish-blue eyes with no pupils Blue jay dark angel wings (Afterlife) Some sort of terrifying human-sized blue jay skeleton with head and wing feathers and glowing blue eyes; STILL wearing the sweatshirt (Not a real form; only seen in nightmares and sometimes during mental torture. It’s believed that this is her powers taking living form.) SERIOUS Quotes and Thoughts… basically quotes and thoughts that aren’t references… :( “I am karma.” “Hey, kid. You lost or something?” “Playing the genocide route again? Kid…” “Let’s go. I don’t have time to stay your end further.” “This isn’t a joke. However, the joke’s on you.” “What goes around comes around. It’s funny, isn’t it?” This is pointless. I know that I most likely can’t escape my end… “Play with this, Lilith.” “I promise to always take care of you.” That little sh*t. “I’ll see you burn in hell.” Why can’t everyone be a good person? F*ck it. I had all the time in the world to save her. But I did nothing! I knew there was something wrong with her the moment I laid eyes on that brat. “I am four foot ten. You had better sleep with one eye open.” I know what you are. “When will you f*cking learn that your actions have consequences?” “Why should that matter when I have nothing to live for?” Why am I trying when it’s all pointless? What’s the point of my life when everyone I cared about is… gone? “Do you comprehend the powers you were possessed with? They are the same powers to rival the ones I was born into.” “I’m coming, Swan…”

Theme Songs: Blue - Eiffel 65 Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing - Set It Off Echo - Crusher-P Again - Crusher-P I Can’t Decide - Scissor Sisters Radioactive - Imagine Dragons Everybody Wants to Rule the World - Lorde Why Did You Change - Innerpartysystem Louder Than Thunder - The Devil Wears Panda Angel of Darkness - Alex Christensen You’re Gonna Go Far Kid - The Offspring In the End - Linkin Park

Custom Made Theme Songs: Dark Angel - C D Stronger Than You - C D (Corrupted Series version)

UT Theme songs: Megalovania - Toby Fox Mogolovonio - Sr. Pelo (THE MEMES) Judgement - TryHardNinja

Strength in power: Incomprehensible Strength in defense: Very weak, but very invulnerable Status: Mythical

I would certainly hope that I would approve myself!