#because of that they look like an animal just slowly chewing on grass or

[thefreckledgymrat]

If I was a coach and I had an athlete competing I would be fucking PISSED if my athlete went out on stage with him in their mouth

#what the hell are they doing???? #like they're trying to not chew their gum and #because of that they look like an animal just slowly chewing on grass or #alfalfa

[dira333]

Sharing Secrets in the Dark - Reo x Reader

A/N: I think I can stop saying that Reo isn't my favorite...

“What was the hardest thing in your time at Blue Lock?” Hisako asks the team.

She’s the other Manager besides you and you’re glad she’s here and as bubbly and talkative as you are quiet. You don’t feel pressured to talk when she’s around, let your eyes wander and take in all the little things no one else seems to notice.

Like Reo leaving the room right after Hisako’s question, the look on his face new and uncomfortable. 

You get up to follow him, have to remind Isagi that you still exist so that he lets you pass.

Outside, Reo’s already gone, but you have a hunch on where he went.

Unsurprisingly, you find him on the field, dribbling a ball with an almost murderous expression on his face.

“Hi,” you greet him, your own voice echoing in your ears. 

He puts a smile on his face the second he hears you talk, but it doesn’t stick. It slides off his lips and reveals the scowl underneath.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, “Or do you want me to start the Blue Lock Man Program so you can play? I’d offer to play Goalie myself but that wouldn’t be much fun for you.”

He hesitates for a moment before he nods. “I’ll shoot some Goals.” 

It’s not surprising that he doesn’t want to talk to you. After all, you’ve only been introduced a few days ago and whatever’s bothering Reo, he doesn’t seem to be the kind of person to spill his heart to just about anybody.

You still take a seat on the side, the artificial grass tickling your bare feet as you sit.

Three Goals in, Reo stops to catch his breath and looks over.

“What do you think of Nagi?”

“He’s tall.” You offer and Reo laughs so loud it echoes.

“And what about his character?”

You pull your lower lip between your teeth to think. There’s not just the question of what you think, but also what he might want to hear. Or how he wants to hear it. Reo and Nagi seem close after all.

“I think… he takes a lot of things at face value. If he doesn’t care enough or doesn’t want to spend energy on it, he doesn’t, no matter how important it may seem to others. It could be a bit unnerving because most people tend to create energy to get what they want and go beyond their limits. I mean, I’ve seen him stop eating even though he was hungry just because he didn’t want to chew any longer.”

There’s a faraway look in Reo’s eyes. You wonder if he will tell you, confide in you what bothers him so much.

But just as he opens his mouth, he’s interrupted.

“Starting without us? How rude!” Bachira bounds onto the field, steals the ball from Reo, and passes it to Isagi.

The moment is gone, but you can still feel Reo’s eyes on you even as they play.

-

You turn at the sound of the door.

The rooftop is mostly covered in darkness, but the golden light of the street lamps doesn’t reach the newcomer's face. But you know that hair…

“Hi, Reo.” You speak up from where you’re sitting.

He turns toward you. 

“Hey. Are you okay?” His voice is low and careful as if talking to a scared animal.

With a start, you realize that he’s not here to destress himself. He must have followed you up here.

“Yeah, sure.” You croak out and wipe the remaining tears from your cheek. “I just overreacted.”

“I would have reacted the same way.” Reo offers gently, slowly inching closer. “Can I sit with you for a bit?”

“Sure.” You nod even though he can’t possibly see it in the dark. His body is warm next to you, his warmth reaching you even though you’re not touching. He feels safe, like a living, breathing shield. Some of the tension bleeds from your muscles and you sigh, wrap your arms around your knees, and stare at the streets below you.

“Do you think I’m useless?” You ask. “You can be honest. I want to improve.”

“I think Barou is a dick.”

You snort at this decisive comment. 

“He’s your teamm-”

“No, don’t make excuses for him. He’s a dick. You’ve been nothing but helpful to all of us. He’s just grouchy because Rin managed to score more goals than him. He gets pissy when someone else is better than him.”

“But Hisako-”

“Don’t tell her, but I think she could talk a little less.” He turns his face, and you think there’s a smile on his lips, but you can’t really tell in the dark.

“You’re just saying that to be nice.”

“I’m not nice. Just honest.” He leans over and brushes his hand against your arm.

Goosebumps rise under his touch. A warm scent fills your nose. It’s not the Blue Lock 3 in 1 body wash scent you’ve come to loathe and your breath catches in your throat.

“Just like I thought. You’re ice cold. May I warm you up?”

“How?” You ask, mouth running dry when he takes your hands into his, thumb running over your knuckles. He brings them to his mouth and blows on them, his warm breath shooting through you like electricity.

Something fizzles between you, a new kind of tension you would never have expected.

You wonder if he’d kiss you, tonight, on this rooftop. 

But the moment shatters with the sound of the door being thrown open, Bachira’s voice cutting through the night.

“Reo-chan? Are you out here? We’re looking for you and Manager-chan.”

Reo drops your hand and gets up, dusts himself off as he walks over to Bachira.

“I’m here. I heard a noise, but I think it was a Tanuki.”

“A Tanuki?” Bachira sounds scandalized. “On a rooftop? Are you seeing things?”

“It’s dark out here, okay?” Reo scoffs. “Also it’s way too cold out here for her to be staying outside for so long. She’s probably in her room. Has Barou gotten a grip yet?”

Bachira sighs. “Not yet. But Kunigami is working on it. We think he’d apologize if he saw her.”

“Ah well, serves him right to feel guilty a bit longer. That was uncalled for. Let’s get inside, I’m freezing my ass off out here.”

“Not much to freeze off…” Bachira teases and the door clicks shut behind them.

-

“It’s getting warmer.” You remark a few weeks later.

Just outside the reach of the street lamps, Reo’s shoulder bumped into yours and stayed there. He runs warm and having him next to you is like having a personal space heater.

Ever since that first night, you’ve found yourself up here again and again.

All it needed was a shared look, one eyebrow raised or lips pulled up to one side, and you knew to come up here after dinner.

So far you’ve managed to bring up a blanket and two spare pillows to sit on. Only once you had to turn back at the door because of the weather, heavy rain pelting every available surface.

“What a shame.” Reo mumbles.

“You like the cold?” You ask, always eager to learn more about him.

No matter how many secrets you spill up here, there still seems to be more to know.

By now you know what his worst moment at Blue Lock was - Nagi turning his back on him to play with Isagi, have shared memories of your childhood and dreams of your future.

Talking has never come easy to you, but it does with Reo.

“I like warming you up.” He says and your blood rushes to your head. 

“I- don’t… don’t say something like that.” Your voice sounds way too hoarse to be natural.

“What?” He asks and you wonder if you’re imagining the little quiver in his voice. “Can’t I be honest with you?”

“I… I’m just… I…”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks, voice so low you can barely hear him about the noise in your ears. Maybe you even misheard him. He’d never ask that, right? Maybe he asked if you’d miss him. That you can answer easily.

“Yes.” You say, quietly, like a mouse.

Only a heartbeat later his lips are on yours, warm, a little chapped, but so gentle in their touch.

Your heart stops, then barges on, racing in your chest. His hands are on yours, warm fingers around cold ones. You’re holding hands as he kisses you, again and again and again, as if he’s trying to imprint their touch onto you, so that you’ll never ever forget it.

-

The first kiss breaks a dam and the flood takes everything with it.

Reo’s play improves so significantly that Rin and Barou are now constantly wearing a scowl on their face. He doesn’t seem to get tired when playing and when he passes, he risks moves so crazy Bachira comes running right after, hugging him with excited squealing.

You don’t think that anyone suspects anything.

The two of you keep carefully calm around each other. You hardly ever speak to him outside the rooftop, just like you hardly ever speak to anyone. 

You hand over towels and waterbottles, massage Chigiri’s leg in between breaks or run from Barou when he misses a goal. 

You bite your tongue when Hisako drowns Reo in affection and you keep yourself out of reach of Isagi’s arms - he has developed the annoying habit of hugging people after a good game. Your efforts are rewarded with soft kisses, the caress of his hands, the warmth of his hugs.

More then once have you fallen asleep on the rooftop, curled into each other, your nose pressed against his neck as you inhale a scent you’ll never get tired off.

“I like it when you’re a little jealous.” He tells you one night when you complain about Hisako droning on and on about Reo’s latest streak of victories. “Makes me feel a little better about being jealous myself.”

“Like you have a reason to be.” You tease and lean forward to kiss his nose. 

“I just…” He huffs. “I can’t help thinking about Nagi turning away from me. Like I understand in my head that it was necessary for him to improve and that I want him to improve, but everything in me screamed ‘Mine!’ when he did that. I want to you to improve and be better and have a better life too but the thought of you turning away-” He stops in the middle of his sentence and swallows harshly. You press a kiss to his Adam’s apple, trying to soothe his unease.

“I’m not an egoist.” You remind him. “I don’t have to be. I like compromises too. If you can’t have all of two things, you could settle for half of both, right?”

“What do you mean?”

“If Ego finds us out and I have to choose between you and managing Blue Lock, I can’t have both, right? But I could keep being a manager, just for another team and I could… keep you?” You don’t really mean for it to sound like a question, but you’re also not confident enough to believe that he’d want to go through the effort of dating you when you’re not conveniently around.

Reo’s answer is a kiss that silences your doubt. 

“When we get our free weekend,” he says when you’re both breathless, molten into the pillows like candle wax, “Will you come with me and meet my parents?”

-

Jinpaichi Ego manages to glare down at you even though he’s sitting and you’re standing.

“It was never the plan to have two managers for this team.” He begins and your heart sends shockwaves of ice through your body.

This is it. He’s kicking you out.

“So while the boys are getting ready for their game today, I have to decide which one of our dear managers I want to keep. I have only one question for you, but I’ll give you a little context.” He smiles and your heart beats so fast and loud, you wonder if he can hear it.

“Today we’re playing against a team of Star Players. I won’t mention their names but since I know you’ve been a soccer fan for quite some time, I can assure you that you’ve always dreamed of meeting them one day. It wasn’t that easy to get them to agree to a game, but I managed to lure them in. Here’s the catch. They will leave with one of our managers, who I praised highly. Now I’m going to ask you your question. Will you be egoistic and go for the best team or will you stay where you are?”

Your mind is racing. Your time with Ego has been significantly shorter than those of the boys but you’ve learned one thing… He often says one thing and means the other.

Does he really want an egoistic manager? Shouldn’t those whose job it is to care about the team be selfless in nature? Also, he didn’t specifically mention that the best team would be the opposing team. With his confidence, he surely meant that the best team would be the Blue Lock team. But what if you misunderstood?

“What’s your answer?” Ego asks and you ball your hands into fists, clench them so hard you can feel your fingernails digging into your skin.

“I want to stay with Blue Lock.”

“Explain your reasoning.”

“I…” You swallow thickly. “I care about this team. And I think they have it in them to be the best team, so why would I settle for a different team?” 

Ego’s eyes widen and you wonder if he’s just furrowed his brows, hidden from your eyes by his bangs. You shouldn’t have phrased it as a question.

“I believe you mean you want to stay with Reo Mikage.”

Your heart stops cold. Your mouth is so dry you can’t unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth. 

“If you have nothing left to say, you can go.” 

“I…” You cough, try to gather at least some semblance of self-control. “Thank you.” You bow deeply. “For my time here.”

Ego stays quiet, a weird look in his eyes. He doesn’t speak up, and you shuffle out of the room, doing everything you can to keep from crying.

-

Hisako’s sitting on her bed when you enter your shared room, playing something on her phone.

You know she’d been with Ego before you and her unaffected mood is like a kick in the gut.

Ego probably already knew he’d keep her. 

You quietly start to pack.

“Oh,” Hisako’s voice stops you in your tracks. “Did Ego say something when we’re going to leave?”

You shake your head and unclench your teeth to speak. “He didn’t but I… it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“Right, right. Who do you reckon we’ll get to manage? Do you think we’ll play the Japan U-20 again?” She’s twirling her hair around her finger, her eyes locked on the wall as she’s thinking. “I wouldn’t mind massaging Oliver Aiku’s legs.”

You freeze in your movement. 

“Did you… Do you want to manage the other team?”

“Of course.” Hisako has mastered sounding like she’s smarter than you whenever she talks. But you might as well just be the only one hearing that. “Blue Lock is about striving to be the best. Who would I be not offering myself to manage the best?”

You don’t answer but she’s already caught on.

“Don’t tell me you said you wanted to stay where you are!”

“I…” You start and close your mouth again.

“Oh, what’s that?” Hisako’s behind you in a heartbeat. Her closeness unnerves you, but you don’t want to be rude. Your eyes race through the room, trying to pick up on something out of order.

“Is that one of Reo’s hair ties?”

You go rigid at her words, watch her pick up one of the distinct purple hair ties he had gifted you a few weeks ago. 

“It’s mine.” You rip it from her hands and clutch it to your chest.

Her eyes widen for a moment before she laughs, almost toppling forward with the force of it.

“Oh, poor you.” She stretches out her hand to ruffle your hair. “It’s okay to have a Crush on your players, but you can’t steal their stuff.”

She’s still laughing as she steps away from you again to take a seat on her bed.

Overhead, the speaker cracks to life.

“Girls, we’re leaving in twenty minutes. Please pack all your belongings and meet us at the entrance.”

Hisako huffs. “Twenty minutes? Well, I suppose you can help me pack since you’re finished with your stuff already.” 

You nod, glad that she seems to have forgotten about Reo.

“Oh, and make sure to give back his hair tie,” Hisako winks at you as she grabs her duffel bag, “I would hate to have to interfere.”

-

It’s weird to see Hisako’s back on the field, to not have her talk so much nobody’s asking you questions.

You’re constantly on the move, handing Bachira a bottle of water, getting Barou a new towel, avoiding Reo… You barely have time to take in the other team but when you do, you’re taken aback. 

You heard about the match against Japan U-20. It had been the main reason for you to apply for the manager position. It must have shaken up the sport because on the other side of the field is the National Team. All of them are adult men in their prime. 

And Ego is nowhere to be seen.

No wonder your team is so tense. This could very well end in a disaster.

“How are we even going to win this?” Isagi voices your terror. 

“He wouldn’t let us play if Ego didn’t believe we could do this.” Bachira, always the optimist, barely manages to keep up Isagi’s spirit. 

Your own worries move to the back as you take in the team.  These boys might not always be the easiest to get along with but you believe in them. You believe in Reo. 

“I…” The word leaves your mouth before you realize it. All eyes snap up to you and you feel your knees wobble. Oh no. You hate it when people look at you when you talk.

Somehow you manage to lock onto Reo’s kind eyes, on the vibrant shade of purple of his hair and the curl of his nose as he waits for you to continue.

“... believe in you.” You croak out, wringing your hands. Now that the words are out, it’s a little easier to continue talking.

“If I’d have to choose to manage the best team in the world or Blue Lock, I’d have to choose Blue Lock. There’s no other team as good as you.”

You’re too focused on the slow pull of Reo’s lips to see him coming.

When Ego stars clapping behind your back, you jump away in surprise.

“Well said, Manager. Now, you’ve heard her. I didn’t bring you here to be unsure of your abilities. I brought you here to show them that you’ve got what it takes. You’ve trained under me, you won’t fail. Listen up, I’ll only go over this once.”

-

“Reo. You’re out.” Ego’s voice is cold and careless. You’re standing next to him, muscles tensed from head to toe. You have to fight everything in you not to jump to Reo’s side.

He’d been the focus of some intense defense during the last quarter and one foul had brought him to the floor. You suspected that under the ice pack his knee was turning all shades of blue and purple.

“No! I’m good! I can still play!”

Ego turns his dark eyes to you. “Manager? Tell your boyfriend to listen to his trainer.”

You gasp but no air reaches your lungs. 

Someone asks “What?!” and Rin rolls his eyes, calling all of this “Annoying.”

Reo’s eyes are wide open, his jaw slack.

You manage to take in a raspy breathe, than another.

“I…” You start, blinking to get rid of the fog. You swallow hard. “If Reo says he can still play, he can play.”

Reo snaps up as if pulled by an invisible string. 

Ego takes a long breathe out throug his nose before he huffs.

“Alright. It’s your decision. If he hurts himself, you’re going to be responsible for it.”

You don’t dare to look at Ego or anyone else. There’s confidence in Reo’s eyes and you nod, forcing yourself to stay as calm as you can possibly be.

-

Blue Lock wins.

You tell yourself that you’re not surprised. It had been a tight squeeze at some point, like it often is, and there are half-moon-shaped red marks on the heels of your hands from squeezing too hard. 

But Blue Lock wins and Reo comes running, grabbing you by the waist and lifting you like you weigh nothing, pressing you into him like he’s not just sweated out half the ocean.

“Get a room!” Someone rumbles behind you but you’re laughing.

If Ego kicks you out today, this will make a worthwhile memory. 

“Good job, my diamonds in the rough.” Ego drawls, looking over the boys with a fondness in his eyes you can’t have imagined. “This will teach them what they’re up against.”

“Uh…” Someone says behind you and you turn to see Hisako.

You admire her confidence even as her eyes flicker over you and Reo and her brows furrow for a second.

“I’m sorry.” Ego’s voice is too nice to be genuine. A shiver runs down your spine at the sound. “This is no longer your team.”

“But they don’t need a Manager outside of this game.” Hisako points out. “They just told me. I’m…”

“No longer wanted at Blue Lock. You can leave.”

Hisako’s mouth is wide open and you feel bad for her until she screeches like a banshee.

“What about her?!” She points a finger at you. “How’s she allowed to stay? She basically never talks!”

“Last I checked talking isn’t a requirement for being a Manager.” Reo quips nonchalantly. 

“Must have messed that up.” Bachira offers sweetly. “Cause all you ever do is talk.”

Hisako turns practically magenta and opens her mouth, but Ego is faster. 

“Leave.” His voice leaves no room for argument. “Before I make you.”

-

Your hands holding the tray shake from nerves but you manage to press the button that opens the door.

When you step inside, Bachira hollers your name.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, bounding over to you.

“Reo invited me.” You mumble, looking for him in the crowd.

To your surprise, Kunigami has him in a headlock, ruffling his hair. Next to him is Chigiri, doing a poor impersonation for you.

“But Mr. Ego! I believe in my boyfriend who I love! If he says he’ll win against the National team all by himself, he’ll do it.”

“I didn’t say that!” You disagree and Chigiri snaps out of it, having the decency to blush a little.

“Sorry, Manager-chan!” He laughs.

“We just have to teach this punk some manners.” Kunigami declares. “Has a girlfriend and doesn’t even tell anyone.”

“That’s none of your business!” Reo huffs out and manages to break free. He walks over to you, smile lighting up his face as he pulls you into the circle.

“Sit next to me, okay?”

“Not fair!” Bachira whines. “Manager-chan has the best food on her tray.”

“We all share!” Reo scolds and slaps away a hand that’s moving towards your plate of Takoyaki. 

And they do. A piece of everything lands on your plate that never seems to get emptier until you realize that Reo steals food from everyone, slyly putting it onto your plate.

“Stop it.” You hiss and knock your shoulder into his. “I’m going to burst.”

“No such thing.” He says and drops another piece of steak on your plate.

You try to glare before you get distracted by something you’d been craving ever since you got here.

“Oh, is someone eating that pickled radish?” You point at the little bowl. “I love those.”

Laughter rings through the room. It doesn’t feel like it’s at your expense but you still wonder what it was that you said that was so funny.

“By the way…” Barou clears his throat and pins you down with a glare. “I wanted to say sorry.”

Someone gasps and you can’t hold it against them. 

You swallow, feel the warmth of Reo next to you and the fullness of your belly, how a day filled with excitement has made you tired. You smile.

“I forgive you.” You pause for a second, take a breath. “But if you ever say something like that again, I’ll slap you!”

There’s a lot of laughter after that. Like when Nagi drapes himself over your shoulder, asking if you want to be his girlfriend too - and declaring a relationship too much work when you explain why that won’t be possible. 

At some point the space between yawns turns so short you can barely talk and Reo pulls you up.

“I’m going to walk you to your room,” he declares, pulling you from the boys that make exaggerated kissing noises.

His thumb rubs over the back of your hand as you stumble along. 

Just one corner away from your room he pulls you close and stops to press a kiss to your mouth, to edge of your jawline, the curve of your neck.

“I love you.” Reo mumbles, his breath washing over you. 

“I love you.” You say, wrapping your arms around his neck.

In a way this reminds you of the beginning of you two, alone in a hallway, sharing secrets.

But this is no longer the beginning and there’s no end in sight.

@shoulmate

#my writing #Blue Lock #Reo Mikae #Reo x reader #Reo Fluff #blue lock x reader #Blue Lock Fluff

[mlmxreader]

Things Heard and Seen | John Price x gn!reader

Anonymous asked: Could I request "Are you flirting with me?" with our dear Price please?

summary: overnight patrols aren’t the best in the world, but sometimes, they’re absolutely terrifying. 

tws: swearing, smoking, depictions of injury, blood, body horror

support your fanfic writers by reblogging what you read & enjoy

Overnight patrols were the last thing that you had wanted to do, the very last duty that you had had in mind, but you still agreed to do it, as you were more than aware that if you didn’t, you would somehow end up with something worse to do around the base; it was cold, the night was only dimly lit by the dull LEDs that were used just outside of the bunkers, no moon and no stars visible thanks to the thick charcoal clouds that smudged across the dark blue canvas.

The night was quiet, a slight breeze that left a soft chill behind each whisper, and you had guessed that all the animals that you usually saw were probably hidden in dens and burrows to avoid the chill; the grass beneath your boots was stiff, and didn’t allow its blades to be dirtied by dewdrops.

It was too warm for ice.

But the night was getting colder, and although you tugged Price’s leather jacket tighter, and even did the zip up all the way, you could still feel the biting chill as it crawled up the back of your spine. You knew you were alone, whenever you looked back at where the one four one were, you could see plainly that no one was around, not even Price, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching you.

Like you were being observed from something crouched and lurking in the nearby bushes, or stalked by something crawling along the long and dark stretches of shadows that were surrounding you; something that would quickly duck behind something close so that you couldn’t see it.

Maybe you were just tired, as you rubbed your eyes and let out a soft yawn; it was weird that you could see your own breath, but you presumed you were probably just running hotter than usual because of the leather jacket. Even if the hairs at the back of your neck were standing on edge and your heart was beginning to hammer in your chest; you stopped, and searched your cargo trousers for a moment.

You let out a soft sigh of relief when you grabbed the small can of Red Bull you had brought with you, and cracked it open; you still felt like you were being watched, observed, hunted.

Something in your stomach didn’t feel right, and your heart was getting more and more rapid before you even thought about taking a swig from your can; you shrugged it off, thinking that it was probably just a deer or a badger or something nearby that was watching you curiously. It couldn’t have been anything more than that.

The sudden sound of radio static made you jump as you flinched and let out a soft breath, but you soon realised that something wasn’t quite right when you heard voices, distinct and panicked, asking when it would be time to head to France; you had heard stories from Soap about radio communications coming in years after they had been transmitted, but you didn’t think it was even possible. They sounded desperate, scared, and even hesitant.

The radio chatter died, and you swallowed thickly; your hand shook as you brought your can of Red Bull to your lips. You felt exposed, vulnerable, and you wished that there was something you could rest your back against so you at least knew that there was nothing behind you.

You were sure that it was just where the bins had not been emptied for a while, but carried by the breeze there was a strong smell of rotten eggs.

You didn’t want to take a look around you, chewing at the inside of your lip as you frowned and tried to steel yourself; you were a soldier, for fuck’s sake - wasn’t the entire point to be brave?

“Hey, mate, you shouldn’t be here.”

You slowly turned around, face falling and all bravery melting away as your eyes widened and a soft gasp left your open mouth; his head was tilted to the side at an unnatural angle, his vest was frayed and torn and didn’t even attempt to cover the gaping hole and the exposed ribs.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

A small puddle was forming around his feet as he stood there, and when he took a step closer, you could see that the bones in his neck were sticking up and out of the flesh. Still fresh and wet.

You swallowed thickly, and took a step back.

“Didn’t you hear?” He asked. “We’re shipping out to France tomorrow. You ought to be in bed.”

You swallowed again, hardly able to form even a syllable as you stared at him; when he took another step forward, the dull lights just and just hitting his features, you couldn’t believe it.

His skin had chunks missing from it, so deep that they exposed his bones, and his nose was no longer there; his eyes were completely white, and where his ears should have been, there were only more chunks missing.

He stank of rotten eggs, and when he tried to take another step forward, you wanted to weep; his bones were grinding and clicking, like there was no longer any living flesh there. 

“C’mon, mate,” he was starting to sound like radio static. “It’s a big day tomorrow - we should get you to bed… do you need a smoke? Calm your nerves?”

You whimpered, a shuddering gasp leaving your lips the longer you looked at him.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The puddle at his feet was growing, the ribs that you could see were cracked and the flesh around them burned; you took a look around, and when you went to look back at him, he was gone.

You stood there, staring at where the puddle had been; the smell of rotten eggs had passed, and the air felt a little warmer. You no longer felt like you were being watched, but that didn’t stop you from letting out a shriek and nearly spilling your Red Bull all over yourself when you felt a hand on your shoulder. 

Price looked at you, brows furrowed as he cleared his throat. “Fuck me, I only came to check on you… you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You shook your head, looking around again. “There’s… there was… there’s… just here, he was… he was… he was right here.”

He nodded slowly, bringing two cigarettes out of his coat pocket and offering you one; he lit it for you before he did so his own, and took a long drag. He raised a brow, humming. “Did you see a ghost?”

You nodded, crashing yourself into his side. “He… he was right there! I’m not making this up!”

“Alright, I believe you,” Price told you gently, putting his arm around you. “But, I’m with you now, so you ain’t got anything to worry about.” 

You were comforted by his presence, admittedly, and couldn’t help it as you leaned more into his side; Price had always been a source of comfort for you, you couldn’t lie, even before he had asked if he could be your boyfriend, he had always been comforting.

Now, when you needed it the most, you were even more grateful for that. You felt safe, you knew that you were going to be just fine so long as he was nearby; but you dreaded to think what would happen if he left, when he left. 

Price wasn’t about to say it, but he could feel your body trembling as he kept you close to his side, and he wondered what the fuck had shaken you up so much; surely it couldn’t have been something as silly as seeing a ghost - ghosts weren’t real, and you were probably just suffering from being up for a while. But, it wasn’t his place to judge, he knew that; he wasn’t Captain at the moment, he was the boyfriend.

His duty was to make you feel safe, and to offer you some comfort while he could. 

There was that feeling again, like something was watching, and you didn’t even hesitate as you pressed yourself into Price’s side, chewing at your lip and nearly dropping both your cigarette and your Red Bull, wide eyed and pressing your face against the side of his neck so that you didn’t have to see whatever fucker was going to come after you next.

Price took another drag from his cigarette as he debated what to do, how he could make you feel better and how he could possibly help you get through being so shaken up; he pursed his lips, and hummed quietly as he gently tapped your shoulder. “Have I ever told you how thankful I am that I met you?”

You nodded, squeezing against him even more when you heard static from your radio. “Ev- every day.”

“I still think,” he started, “honestly, that you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I’d quite happily be yours forever, y’know. I’d be chuffed to say yeah, that’s the person I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with.”

“Jo- John,” you swallowed thickly, only daring to break away from him so that you could take a swig from your Red Bull and steal a few drags from your cigarette. “Are… you’re… are you- are you flirting with me?”

“Glad you noticed,” Price hummed, gently tapping your shoulder again as he smiled. “I’m gonna stay here until Soap comes to relieve you, though… don’t really want you to be all alone right now.” 

“I’ll, I’ll be fuh- fine.”

“You don’t sound it, pup,” he frowned, shaking his head. “Don’t look it, neither.”

Your bottom lip trembled, and you sniffled. “Y… you don’t fin- think less of me?”

Price shook his head, gently kissing your forehead as he let out a harsh sigh. “Because you got scared? No… even Ghost, tough as he is, has shit a few bricks here and there whilst doing the overnight shift.”

You could relax a little, trying to steady your words and your breathing as you unzipped the jacket to give yourself a bit of a breather; it was warm enough now that you could, and with Price beside you, knowing that he was going to comfort you all night, you could let your guard down again a little bit.

It helped that he kept his arm around your shoulders and that he stayed near, the closeness a harsh reminder that you were not alone, and that you did have someone there to keep you safe during the rest of your patrol; it did bring a slight smile to your face to know that even Ghost had gotten scared doing it before, and you would have been lying if you ever said that it didn’t help to calm your freshly shocked nerves, too. 

Every now and then, just to remind you that he was actually there and that he wasn’t about to leave your side, Price would pull you close enough that he could gently kiss your temple or your forehead; he could see it in your eyes that the fear was dying out, and that the tension from being shaken up and scared was slowly melting from your body.

He was glad of that, at the very least; he didn’t like seeing you scared, even if he was certain that just a silly ghost had never gotten to you that much. Even if he was convinced that something else had happened. He wasn’t going to push the subject, though, not unless you decided to talk about it openly; if you said you had seen a ghost and had gotten scared, then he guessed that you had seen a ghost and that it had scared you. 

Besides, Price liked spending time with you enough as it was, and in the quiet and the dark, he could say things to you that he couldn’t say in front of others for fear that it would undermine his authority; he could openly tell you he loved you, he could compliment you and he could shower you with all the praises he had bottled up. It was more than worth a bit of sleep deprivation. 

#mlem writes #captain john price x reader #captain john price x you #captain john price x y/n #captain john price x yn #captain john price imagine #captain john price fanfiction #captain john price fanfic #captain john price fic #captain john price oneshot #captain john price one shot #captain john price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #captain price x y/n #captain price x yn #captain price imagine #captain price fanfiction #captain price fanfic #captain price fic #captain price oneshot #captain price one shot #captain price #john price x reader #john price x you #john price x y/n #john price x yn #john price imagine #john price fanfiction #john price fanfic

[kingofthe-egirls]

INTROVERT: LUFFY x OC

(cw: food mention, eating, est relationship, reader is a devil fruit user)

(a/n: basically im an anti-touchy introvert sometimes)

Songs: "Supercut" by Lorde

words: 805

'cause in my head, in my head I do everything right

when you call, when you call i'll forgive and not fight

because ours are the moments i play in the dark

we were wild and fluorescent

come home to my heart

****

Love isn't so bad after all, you think.

You're watching Luffy jump around the deck, chasing Chopper and Usopp in another game of tag. You'd join in, but you've already run twenty laps around the Sunny, and now you have a stitch in your side.

You huff, hand on your hip, trying to puff out air on the opposite step as your stitch, slowly pacing around next to the citrus trees. Nami takes such good care of these, you think, seeing the soft, tended grass around the tree roots. A few ladybugs hum through the air: bugs allowed as aphid-devourers. No stowaway pests allowed.

"Nami!" You say, seeing her standing among the trees. She ducks around a branch, harvesting a few ripe tangerines. She smiles, and tosses one your way. You portal it to your hand: a small oval circle opening in space and time, halfway through the tangerine's arc.

It lands in your palm with a satisfying thump, dropping out of the horizontal portal you'd opened above your hand. Flicks of blue sparks hover, suspended in midair, before you close the portals shut.

"Nice," Nami compliments, surveying your devil fruit usage. She rips open a tangerine, swiftly peeling it with expert strokes. You watch her long fingers deftly separate the slices. She pops one into her strawberry mouth. You stick your thumb under the skin of your own citrus fruit, feeling the fizz of the juice spurt into the air.

"Food!!!" Luffy gasps, suddenly by your side.

"Ah!!" You scream, still not used to Luffy's little jump scares. He giggles, swiping your tangerine before you have time to react.

"Sorry, kitty," he grins, chewing next to your ear with a loud, open mouth. You glare at him, marching over to Nami to grab an extra tangerine replacement. He crinkles his nose at you, smiling at you with eyes like crescent moons. You roll your eyes.

He's lucky he's cute.

"You owe me," you tell him, letting Nami peel your tangerine for you. He slumps over in defeat, waddling toward you with his arms hanging loosely in front of him. He whines.

"Aww, c'mon, kitty! Ya let me share your food all the time," he headbutts your chest. He looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. He slowly lifts his hand to try and swipe your new tangerine, but you swat it away. He grumbles, rubbing his knuckles, but steps away.

"You're an animal," you tell him, and turn to huffily walk back to your cabin.

****

Luffy creaks open the door to your room.

"I brought ya a dumpling," he stage-whispers, his voice carrying across the moonlight room as he steps across the wooden slats. He has a plate in his hands, the smells of sweet pork and barbecue flooding your senses. You smile, breathing in the scent with your eyes closed. Your bed folds under Luffy's weight as he sits on the side.

The light pouring in from the porthole on the west side of your room silvers Luffy's shoulders. He's shirtless, in nothing but his lightweight red shorts, and his sandals. You push at his feet, trying to get his dirty shoes off your bed. He snickers, but he moves. He stretches out a gum-gum hand to plop a warm, steamed dumpling into your mouth. "Mmmn," you moan, eyes fluttering shut.

"Like it?" Luffy bumps your shoulder, thumbing at your cheek. You wriggle out from under his grasp, needing room.

"'Lone time, Luffy," you complain, slurping at the excess juice that runs down your fingertips. Luffy whines, leaning his weight against you. You shove him off you. "Mean it, Lu!"

"Vasya," he narrows his eyes, feeding you another dumpling. There's six more on the plate. He groans, frustrated. "What's wrong?"

"I just--," you huff, crossing your arms as you chew, "I'm used to being on my own, Luffy, remember? Raised by wolves?"

Luffy snickers, "So cool."

"Sometimes," you agree, taking a dumpling and feeding it to your darling captain-lover. He chews, humming happily at the savory taste. His feet tap together like a monkey's.

"Not used to so many people around," you stumble through your words, trying to find the right ones. You shift, your cotton shorts brushing over the skin of your thighs. Luffy's warm hand shortly follows suit. He squeezes your leg, and feeds you more food.

"Need alone time, kitty?"

You nod. He hesitates.

"Even from me?"

"Mhmm," you twist your lips, "M'sorry."

Luffy sighs, stepping up from the bed.

"Hmmm, okay! Can we play tomorrow though?" He stretches his arms over his head, empty plate in hand.

"Probably," you say, sleep heavy on your eyelids. Now that your belly's full, your body wants to sleep. "No more tag, though..."

You trail off, weight already settling back into your pillows.

Luffy quietly closes the door behind him.

#dumpster dive #my writing #one piece fanfic #luffy fanfic #luffy x reader #luffy x y/n #luffy fluff #one piece fluff #fox tales #vasya #luffy x oc #one piece oc

[but-make-it-sapphic]

Sapphic Eivor x FemReader Fanfic

Here’s Chapter One of ‘Let’s Call It A Truce’, my sapphic fanfic for Assassin’s Creed Valhalla.

I decided to do a reader/Eivor pairing for this one and it’s been super fun. Slow burn, going for real story as opposed to quick smut. But I hope you enjoy it!

SUMMARY: You're being offered up to the Raven Clan as a peace offering after your father broke a promised oath. You're furious and you're worried what sort of life awaits you, but the powerful woman who is soon to be your ruler makes you a little more interested to find out.

_____

You cling to the slick stones of the cliff face with shaking fingers. Your heart hammers in your chest as you stretch upward, willing your grip to hold strong as you pull yourself higher and higher. The deafening cascade of water beside you drowns out any creeping doubts. There’s no turning back now.

 You grit your teeth against the icy spray that mists your face and soaks through your linen blouse. But you welcome the cold as your muscles burn from your efforts. Sure, you could have taken the easier route. But you want to keep yourself strong, agile. To be ready for whatever comes.

  Heaving yourself up the last few feet, you hook your arm over the top ledge to give your aching fingers a break. The rocks below look like palm-sized river pebbles now and you spit down upon them with a triumphant grin. You hope the Allfather takes notice.

 Then you hoist yourself up onto solid ground and collapse flat on your back in the gritty soil. You gaze up at the clouds. Adrenaline is pulsing through your veins, leaving an exhilaration even better than sex. But warmth pools low in your belly when you remember the latter isn’t far behind.

 A beautiful young woman, with hair as fiery as a fox and a smile just as cunning, leans into view and gazes down at you. “I’ll never understand why you can’t just take the hill.”

     What fun would that be?     you wonder with a wicked grin. You push to your feet and, still riding the high of your near-death experience, pull Agatha close against you like a starving animal. She sighs against your lips, igniting a fire within you, as your hands search her svelt body hungrily.

 “Wait,” she says breathlessly, pushing your hands away.

 “I cannot!” You confess with a laugh. It’s been too long, and you’ve been looking forward to this all morning!

 A gentle moan escapes her as your hand grazes the inside of her thigh, but still she grabs your wrists in a strong grip that only makes you burn hotter. “Just…wait. I have news that might change your mind.”

 “Then I don’t want to hear it,” you protest!

 But the look in Agatha’s eyes sobers you. She has something she needs to say and there’s no point in arguing it. So you draw in a deep breath to calm yourself and gently straighten Agatha’s dress that you so eagerly wrenched from her shoulder.

 She smiles—grateful, because she knows how difficult that must have been for you—and motions toward a blanket that lay in the grass nearby. With a reluctant groan, you drop yourself upon it. You pick up an apple and take a chomp out of its tart flesh. Anything for a distraction. Agatha delicately kneels beside you, her spine stiff and her head held high. “The way a lady should sit,” she’d often remind you. Since you both met, this woman has affectionately teased you about your lack of proper manners. But you don’t mind your more informal ways. You know that’s one of the things she likes most about you.

 “I also…have news,” you admit. Though you don’t believe it’s worth interrupting your fun for.

 “You go first.”

 You roll your eyes toward the sky. “Me? I’ve got to know what was so important that you couldn’t—”

 Agatha squeezes your thigh with a playful smile. “Come now! You’ve got me curious.”

 You take another vicious bite of the apple, your gaze steadily locked with hers. Agatha is toying with you now. So you chew slowly, drawing out the silence. Two can play that game.

 “Another clan has arrived from Norway,” you say finally. “They’ve settled nearby.”

 All traces of humor leach from Agatha’s face. “What? Like you or…?”

     Like you    , you laugh to yourself. It was true, though. Your clan is a poor example of the “fearsome heathens” the people of England speak about in hushed, terrified whispers. Your father brought you from the frozen coast of Norway to the greener shores of England when you were only ten years old. At first, he was a jarl whose name struck fear into the surrounding villages. But he quickly realized it was much easier to get what he wanted through trade and carefully forged alliances. And all he wanted was fertile land and some peace and quiet.

 You widen your eyes for effect. “Not from the way Father speaks about them.      The Raven Clan.     I think he’s afraid of them, honestly. Called them barbarians.”

 “Has he warned the other villages?”

 “You know he doesn’t tell me anything,” you say with a shrug. “All I know, I overheard. What’s your news?”

 But Agatha had paled. Her eyes darted back and forth across the treeline as thought these barbarians might come bursting forth at any moment. You follow her gaze, the thought finally occurring to you at that same moment. Like an idiot, you left your weapon at the bottom of the falls.

 “I’m getting married,” Agatha whispers.

 You gasp. A bit of apple catches in your throat and you choke. “You’re…what—”

 “Chew it, you fool!” she scolds.

 “I know how to eat, thank you! You’re getting…what? The water’s so loud, I’m not sure I…”

 You’re lying, of course. Buying time for your heart to return to its normal rhythm. Agatha is only twenty-one! Surely, she’s got plenty of time to toy with suitors before running off and getting…

 “Married! I’m getting married!”

 A heavy weight settles on your chest. Heat spreads across your cheeks and you can’t tell if you’re angry or hurt or…jealous? You toss the apple into the grass, your appetite spoiled.

 “My father owes a debt he can’t repay,” she says quietly, a hint of shame in her voice. “They’ve come to an agreement that I…could fulfill it.”

 “You can’t be serious, Agatha!” you growl, pushing yourself to your knees to loom over her. The heat of fury now spreads through your chest. Agatha isn’t just some currency to be passed around!

 She reaches out and takes your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay. I’m one of the lucky ones. He’s not a bad man.”

 “Lucky?” you ask breathlessly. Your head feels light, dizzy. “How lucky can it be to be sold off like swine?”

 Agatha is clearly wounded by your words, but she works her best to hide it. “It’s not…uncommon. Though I dislike being referred to as swine, darling.”

 “I’ll never understand this ridiculous practice. And you call us uncultured!”

 Agatha sucks in a breath. “Your people have done so much worse! Don’t pretend that just because your father is a peaceful man that your people aren’t pillaging, raping, and murdering mostly for the fun of it!”

 You settle back on the blanket with a heavy sigh. And what had started as a beautiful morning…

 “You’re not a swine, Agatha. And you’re not currency.” You reach forward to place a gentle hand on her jaw, guiding her forward until your lips meet in a kiss. “You are…everything.”

 She smiles. But you quickly notice that it doesn’t reach her eyes. Your heart plummets unto your gut as she pushes to her feet and begins to dust off her skirts.

 “Where are you—”

 “Goodbye, (y/n),” she says simply. “I hope you find that adventure you’ve been craving. And…I’ll pray for you.”

 She doesn’t even allow you a moment to respond. Agatha turns on her heel, mounts her horse, and disappears through the break in the trees. You watch, breathless and heartbroken, until you can no longer hear the mare’s retreating hooves. How wild is the world that, in just a moment, someone you’ve been in love with for two years could just disappear? That they could just get up and walk out on you? You can’t cry. You can’t scream. You can barely breathe.

 You’re not sure how long it took you to get home. You walked in a trance, your breath shallow and your eyes swollen from the unavoidable tears. Torchlight guides you into your family’s longhouse. You collapse flat onto a bench by a banquet table and stare up at the rafters in the ceiling. Your thoughts are too jumbled to sort.

 “I broke my oath, Helge! That’s unforgivable!” Your father’s muffled voice rings out through the hall.

 You blink for the first time in what feels like hours. Curiosity piqued, you push yourself up to sit, but your mother’s response is too quiet to make out. So you creep around the tables and over the raised platform where your family dines, and settle against the wall beside the door that separated your parents’ private chamber.

 “Offer them silver, as much as it takes. We have livestock, weapons…” your mother says.

 “It won’t be enough to sate Sigurd Styrbjornsson! He’s the worst of them all, I tell you. He’ll loose my head from my shoulders before the feast is even laid. And if he doesn’t, then he intends to make our lives here unbearable.”

 “We still have warriors…”

 “Who haven’t seen battle in how many years? No, Helge, we could never defeat them! I have to offer something grand…something invaluable.”

 Your father’s tone sends a cold shiver down your spine. He sounds horrified by his own thoughts.

 “What do you have in mind, Erik?” your mother asks suspiciously.

 “A truce offering. The most valuable thing to me in this village. I have to offer (y/n).”

 Your mother gasps in horror. You slide to the floor. Your breath comes in short gasps as you clench your fists by your sides. Angry tears spring from your eyes and you curse the overwhelming emotions inherited from your mother. You refuse to be offered up like some coveted object! And you’ll make your father regret ever considering it.

 You jump to your feet and stalk off toward your bed chamber. If you are going to get out of this, then you need to come up with a plan that would make you completely undesirable—even to a disgusting, soulless barbarian.

Read Chapter Two here!

#eivor varinsdóttir #eivor wolfkissed #eivor #assassins creed valhalla #ac valhalla #sapphic #lesbian pride #sapphic stories #eivor x reader #female eivor #assassins creed eivor #Eivor fanfic

[birdo-is-here]

woop woop

word count is about 600 words, short and (not very) sweet this one

trigger warnings for animal harm, and some blood as well. Also some stuff with paranoia?? not sure if that needs to be tagged but yeah, if i missed any lemme know pls /srs

ends a bit abruptly this one but wehh

Kitsch studied the Deer across the room from him, as he had been for a couple cycles now. He was still trying to figure out how exactly it got here.

Maybe he was hallucinating now. That would certainly explain a lot. Nevermind how real it felt and acted.

It chewed at the wooden floorboards as if there were grass there. Add that to his list of evidence that it wasn’t real. Deers don’t do that. Deers don’t typically end up in a hotel room a few floors up, regardless of any given time loop.

Robotically, he sat up, his gaze still fixated on the animal. It flicked an ear in acknowledgement of his movement, but showed little other reaction. Yeah, he’d take that as more evidence. He stood up, out of bed, with a groan. His bones creaked and ached from the lack of use. Everything got slightly more blurry. He didn’t mind, this happened a lot.

He slowly approached the Deer. It finally raised its head as he approached, regarding him impassively. He extended a hand to it, feeling the too-long, wolf-like fur along its neck. It felt real. It felt real. But how did he know?

His grip tightened on it, nails digging into the skin under the thick fur, hand pulling at the hair itself. For a second, the Deer still showed no reaction, almost convincing him of his suspicions.

Then it opened its jaw, and it had a full set of canine teeth. Suddenly, those teeth were in the space between his neck and his left shoulder, biting into him with an iron grip.

Kitsch let out a cry of agony, his hand pulling chunks of fur out as it was retracted from the animal, trying to pull his body away. He felt its hold tighten in response— –

Kitsch awoke in his bed again, another loop wasted. His shoulder was newly healed – well, ehh, not quite. It was never struck in the first place now, technically. Still, the phantom pain remained, as it would for perhaps a couple more hours now.

Strange. Hallucinations aren’t usually able to kill you. Or at least, severely wound you. He looked to the Deer — Yep, still there. It was watching him now, perhaps a little cautiously. The fur on the side of its neck was still matted and slightly bloodied.

Wait, no. That. Didn’t make sense. How was it still injured?

He sat up again, and this time its ears pricked up attentively. He decided not to move any more, just in case it chose to run off instead of attacking him again. He didn’t want it to leave yet.

Surely, it couldn’t be real. That wouldn’t make any sense. He’d been stuck in this time loop for how long and never once had he even seen a deer like this one. Aside from the unnatural things about it – the pure white eyes, the long fur, the teeth – he was quite certain this type of deer was from Africa. He was in Canada.

“... How are you real..?” His voice was hardly a whisper, tinted with confusion and even a little fear. Maybe this was some trick. Surely. It had to be. That was the only explanation.

The Deer made little response. As it always did. It still seemed to be on high alert.. He wondered if it could understand him… Probably not. He scoffed a little at the thought, in hindsight. Yeah, most likely not. It’s an animal.

“I… Apologise. I thought you.. weren’t real” He wasn’t entirely sure why he chose to apologise anyway. Perhaps he was desperate to find humanity in this thing.

Very desperate, in fact, because he could have sworn he saw it relax, ever so slightly.

#tw animal harm #tw blood #birdo’s silly little guys #birdo babbles about the sillies #birdo babbles #birdo babbles for an extended period of time

[dracopetal]

@hp-fruit-fest​

read on ao3

wc: 749

Pairing: Draco/Harry

Long fingers pluck a blackberry from the bramble bush, and place it onto a pink tongue. Rolling it around his mouth, savouring the sweet-sour taste, before biting it with white, sharp teeth, and it goes pop in his mouth.

Another. Pop. Purple-red juice drips down his chin, coats his teeth. Thorns cut his skin as he picks them, but he barely feels the sharp pain.

Draco is ravenous; transforming is always hard, always leaving him exhausted and starving. He could eat for a hundred years and still not be satisfied.

It’s still only dawn, the golden sun just beginning to rise on the horizon, and the doors will still be locked. He’ll have to wait to get back in.

No matter. Draco lies on his back in the grass, the dew soaking his skin, and closes his eyes in the shade of the bramble bush, occasionally reaching up to pluck another blackberry, slowly feeding the hunger.  

His body aches, and his skin feels tight, but at least the taste gives his senses something to focus on.

The sun rises higher. Golden rays touch his skin. It’s a deceptive sight: it’s not warm, it’s a chilly spring morning, but his blood is warm enough from the wolf, and he thinks he could lie there until his lips turn blue and he wouldn’t even notice.

He picks another berry, swallows it without chewing. A few birds twitter nervously around him, curious but wary. Draco feels something uncomfortable settle in his stomach. He doesn’t really remember what he does when the wolf takes over, but the birds remember, clearly.

He thinks about the red coating his teeth, juice from the berries. And what else?

Draco groans from deep in his chest like an animal, and a small, brave bird that had been creeping towards him disappears into the air.

He stares up at the sun until it stings his eyes, then he rolls over, chest to the earth, and smushes his face into the wet grass, breathing in the scent. It cools the burning under his skin, soothes the instinct of the wolf inside to tear through his human skin, soothes the burn of want, desire, until it is settled, quiet and muzzled, trapped somewhere under his ribcage. Waiting, patiently, for the next full moon.

That’s how Harry finds him later, whether minutes or hours Draco doesn’t know, isn’t counting.

Draco can smell his approach; he smells strongly of broom polish and mud, but he doesn’t stir. Twigs snap under Harry’s ratty trainers, and the sound makes Draco want to snarl. But he doesn’t.

“Hey,” Harry says when he’s close, like he always does. Hey. A shadow falls over Draco. He opens his eyes and stares at the mud caking Harry’s trainers.

A snap and a rustle of leaves above him, and Draco knows without looking that Harry is picking the bramble bush. Wants something to do with his hands. He can’t sit still for hours like Draco can, he always needs to be doing something.

Harry chucks one in the air and catches it in his mouth. Draco hears him moan quietly, the sound almost silent. He can imagine juice dripping down Harry’s mouth, begging to be licked off. Sweet-sour taste on his tongue. Pop.

“Are you ready to get up now?” Harry says. Draco’s body feels stiff after lying in the wet dirt. He’s hungry, still. He makes a noise that isn’t a word but isn’t animal, either.

Harry reaches out a hand, fingers stained purple, and Draco reaches for it. He lets Harry pull him up, even though he could easily drag him down into the grass with him. Harry doesn’t comment on his nakedness, on the cuts and bruises that litter his body. Later, Draco knows that he’ll wipe away the dirt and bandage up his wounds, all without comment, because that’s what Harry does.

In Harry’s other hand roughly a dozen plump round berries. Draco reaches forwards clumsily, limbs not quite his own yet, and snatches some of them, shoving them quickly into his mouth.

“Hungry, then?” Harry asks, more rhetorical. He offers up the rest of the berries, and Draco savours them, eating them one at a time, rolling them around his mouth and over his teeth until they explode in a mess of red-purple on his tongue.

Harry leads him back up to the house, and Draco pops the last of the berries with his teeth as he crosses over the threshold, into the warmth.

#hp #harry potter #draco malfoy #drarry #hp fruit fest #my writing #werewolf draco

[bisexual-horror-fan]

i heard spite!

let's go different way. reader getting under the grabber's skin. authors choice for what that means or how you wanna play it. I wanna see that man squirm one way or another

Well I hear a certain Bug needed some cheering up so here! I figured why not some Grabber! This is very different from my last few Grabber pieces. Hope you love it all the same though! Let’s go!

—

Rating. NSFW. Dark fic! Length. 2K. Grabber And GN! Reader. No Pronouns Or Parts Specified. Warnings: Kidnapping. Anger. Name Calling. Verbal Abuse. Physical Abuse. Blood. Gore. Angst.

—

A Bad Call.

—

You hated him.

A deep and burning kind of hate that had settled into your bones and refused to move, the kind that made it hard to sleep, sitting up and stewing as opposed to resting. You hated how he stole you away, hated he took you and stuffed you into his basement like some kind of animal, no less than an animal, less than a dog, like a fucking insect. A little thing shoved into a jar with far too few holes poked in the lid and torn and dying grass for a bed and expected to just take it. Treated like you were just meant to be gawked at, for him to pick up the glass container and shake you around for his amusement before setting you back down and forgetting you for however long until he was bored enough to come bother you once more. 

He made you feel so fucking small.

Every time he came down the stairs to see you, that hatred you had been feeling grew. Like a seedling that was being watered, a sprout that steadily climbed upwards, that’s roots twisted deeper under the ground creating a mass as complex and tangled as your thoughts were since arriving here, wherever the fuck here was. 

Every grating word he uttered, that stupid fucking mask he wore, the way too wet and under seasoned scrambled eggs he would bring you for sustenance would solidify that feeling further. As you chewed the food hurriedly, sucking it down along with the soda he provided at a pace so rapid it makes you hate yourself, all under his watchful eye, all too amused at your current desperate state you were sure. 

You were so hungry, he was practically starving you and so when he did bring the weak mockery of breakfast food you would eat it with such rushed enthusiasm it could be mistaken to the outside observer that he presented you with your favourite food. 

You despised all of this, the lumpy mattress, the lack of sleep, the clothes you had been stuck in for days, the fact you couldn’t clean up properly or shower yourself. It was all fucking terrible, every single last thing.

There was nothing but time on your hands, time meant you could think on and on about your current station and how bullshit it all was and how you couldn’t fucking take it. 

It took a week.

A week of all this shit and more for you to break. 

You had been pacing the small space of the basement, had been thinking in circles, working yourself up so when you hear the heavy door opening you look over your shoulder to see the door slowly swinging open. He was in that mask, as always, and that stupid fucking blue sweater and his hands were empty, no food for you, again. 

It was a massive piss off because even though you hated what came from his limited cooking ability you needed to eat. You are sure he is doing it to keep control, keep you not at full strength and you think some big part of him gets off on the control. You don’t say anything to him, eyes turned forward, staring at the wall, not wanting to acknowledge his presence, not sure if you can handle it, handle him.

He greeted you, even though you weren’t looking at him, you could imagine how he said it, hands at his side, a small wave without even fully raising his hand, a cock of his head, torso slightly turned to you but feet forward. You hate that after a week you can know just how he is approaches you, that you can predict the stupid lilt of his voice when he said, “Hello.”

You didn’t respond, you didn’t want to deal with him at all, you wanted to be anywhere else, pretend you weren’t stuck in this God Awful basement with him. 

The silence between you and him was oppressive, it stretched on for nearly a half a minute though it felt much longer before he spoke again, his tone still surprisingly light,  “I said hello.”

He gets no response from you.

That doesn’t stop him, next he asked, “Not feeling talkative?”

A heavy sigh, your shoulders sagging, head hanging, you know that he isn’t going to leave you alone until he gets whatever he wants out of this interaction. You respond after another healthy beat of quiet, “No I’m not.”

You hear a sound, an annoying one that could be potentially read as a hum of sympathy from his throat, which makes you want to clench your fists. How dare he even pretend to have sympathy when he is the cause of your current suffering?

“Well why is that?” The mirth, the lilt of his voice right now, it makes you want to scream. This was all so fucking funny to him, some sick game he was enjoying way too much. You bite your tongue, a deep breath as you consider what would be best to say to him. What kind of satisfying answer could you even give him right now?

You do what you had been doing for days, think. You think and as you think the anger comes back in full force, it turns your empty stomach, you actually clench your fists now. You have so much you want to say, you try to swallow back the harsh words, bitter and acrid like bile but this time, this attempt? It fails. 

“Why is that?” You repeated. Head raising, a small nod, repeating again, quieter, “Why is that?” 

You turn to look at him, seeing him, just like you thought he would be, head cocked, watching you with so much interest, it makes the fury mount further that you were right. 

“Well fuck me, why could I not be in a talkative mood?” You asked, faux innocence bleeding through every word, a wide gesture of your hands. “I mean I have everything I need here, right?!”

A few steps forward, his eyes followed you but his stance still had that strange mix of tense and ease as he always had when down here with you. 

“I’ve got stagnant, musty, mildewy basement air with no sunlight!” Another move of your hands, up by your head, eyes raised as you reference the open space, sarcasm clear as you speak loudly.

A few more steps and you point down, “I’ve got the worlds shittiest, lumpiest fucking mattress to toss and turn on-” 

You point to the hallway, staring him in the eyes now as you expound further, “-a toilet that flushes one out of every five times! It’s like a fun fucking game I get to play to pass the time.”

A deep breath before your rant goes onwards, “I get the distinct pleasure of sucking down a soda and a plate of disgusting scrambled eggs that make a greasy spoon look like The Ritz-” 

And in a very bold move, you take a step forward, your eyes locked on his behind the mask, refusing to look away or even blink, “-and best of all, I get to put up with you.”

The look was unreadable in his eyes as you pressed onward, unwavering, unafraid, “You are so right, I’ve got it made, it’s like staying in the fucking goddamned four seasons! I’ve hit the jackpot!”

You let the fake smile fall from your face, saying much more seriously, much more honestly, “What would I have to be upset about? What excuse do I possibly have for not being a scintillating conversationalist right now?”

There was that silence again. 

Even thicker than before. 

His eyes narrow, gaze still fixed on you as his arms cross as he says,a misguided attempt at humour to hide his true feelings.  “Tell me how you really feel.”

You laugh. For the first time since you have been taken to this basement. You laugh. Long and it steals some of your breath. When you finally do stop laughing, even as you see how hard he is gripping his own arms, see the tenseness of his muscles, you don’t back down. 

It was a bad call but you were in too deep to stop now, starving and running on no sleep, you weren’t in a head space to be making good decisions. What did you have to lose honestly? The chance of you being found and saved before he did whatever he was planning on was slim to none. 

So fuck it.

“You want me to tell you how I really feel? Sure, sure I can do that.” You clear your throat, another step, another risk, you settle in, it flows so easily because you had been thinking all of it for days on end.

“I think that you are sick and sad. I think you are lonely and pathetic. I think you have no control in your life so you do this shit, you kidnap people weaker than you and bring them here so you can feel big and important for once in your miserable life.”

You know logically words cannot have a physical impact but you swear it is like you see it, that when the sentences leave you and hit his eardrums it causes a move, a subtle one but him taking a quarter of a step back. His mask doesn’t show much, but with you squinting, his eyes tell a deeper story, one that said he wasn’t expecting you to say this.

Surely the others he had done this to had choice words for him but you had been very quiet ever since he brought you here. It was like he wasn’t prepared for you in particular to verbally tear into him. The small bit of power, the slight shift, it pushes you. 

You feel better than you have in days as you tell him, attacking his physical appearance, “It’s funny though because you are for sure the weakest looking man I have ever seen, like what is this fucking outfit, huh? Cute sweater.”

You mocked him, “The rings? And your hair? More grease than a burger and what is with that length? Have you heard of a haircut? And don’t get me started on that mask. Are you so fucking ugly that this mask is a better alternative?”

You laughed again, louder, right in his face as he was cringing away from you, "You know, I think I was wrong. I called you a man before, but you aren't a man, you aren't even a boy, I dunno what the fuck you are but you make me sick-"

That was the last straw. You went on and on and he was simply too stunned, too in shock to do anything but that last insult, it was as if it woke him up and his hand connected with your face. The hit is brutal, particularly because of those rings you had just been poking fun at it.

You are knocked onto the ground from it but your body isn’t exactly in peak condition at the moment. You can’t even look at him, his hand is in your hair and his other hand is meeting your face again, closed fist and you taste blood, the pain knocks the breath from your lungs and shocks your system. Another strong hit and you feel something on your tongue, something you shouldn’t, you spit, blood and drool and a clatter.

Through hazy vision you see white stained pink, he knocked one of your teeth out from three hits. You looked up at him, you registered the rage in his eyes and again, another bad call. 

You force a weak smile, blood and spit run down your chin as you ask, “That all you got? You tryna hurt me or not you fucking freak-”

His fist comes down again and the last two words you hear, shouted in your face, before it goes black are, “Stop talking.”

First he complains that you aren’t talkative, then complains you talk too much. What a funny guy.

#darkestamrailme #BHF asks #BHF writing #Hope you like it!

[chayacat]

Littles phobias grows like us.(Oneshot Fiction)

Fandom: Road96

Characters: Stan, Mitch and Sonya.  

Context: All children have a phobia. And if we don't face it, she grows with us. Some end up fighting it, others do with it. But some deny having a phobia for multiple reasons. And when you're the eldest of a sibling with a tragic story like Stan, the case is even more real. even in front of Mitch and Sonya.  

***

A wonderful day was ahead in Petria. The sun was shining, the fresh air kindly caressed the faces of those who were outside, and the water of Repentie, the most famous waterfall in the country, flowed slowly and peacefully into a water that, since the election of Florres, had been emptied of its waste. Sonya had finally formalized her relationship with Adam at work, and if at first the TV channel wanted to change her bodyguard, so that she and Adam could live quietly, they quickly changed their minds when Sonya threatened to withdraw if they took away Adam's work. Two real opposites. Adam was shy and never dared to say anything, while Sonya didn't chew her words. And her gestures. But when you have two brothers like Stan and Mitch... nothing is surprising.

That day she had invited her brothers at home. Even though Stan's relationship with Adam was... how to say... Quite complex. They didn't hate each other! But let's say Stan was still suspicious. A brother remains a brother, he always worries about his family, even more so about his brothers and sisters. That's why when Sonya's cry sounds in the house was heard, Stan was the first to arrive in the kitchen, Mitch and Adam behind him.

“Sonya! What's going on??” he said before seeing her on the kitchen counter.

“Th-there is... There is a m-monster! Right there! Pl-Please! Make it go!” responds Sonya, pointing to a corner of the kitchen.  

Stan raised an eyebrow as he walked towards the corner indicated by Sonya to see a small trembling grass-snake curled up in a corner. Mitch gently took the little beast in his hands before stroking his head, laughing. He loved animals, so when Stan accidentally crushes one, you can be sure he will stop him so he can bury it properly. And of course, he will resent Stan... for a short time.

“Is this YOUR monster? Come on Sonya it’s just a little snake! these snakes are the most harmless of all! they are more afraid of us than we are of them! Don't be afraid!” said Stan sighing.

“I-I don’t care! Put that monster away from me! N-now!” she responds, shaking.  

“There you go little snake! Be free again!” said Mitch happily before released the snake in the nature.  

“What a horrible creature! I never want to see it again!”

“Come on sis’, you exaggerate! the little beasts do not eat the big ones!” replied Stan.

“Stan, you forget that Sonya has a phobia of snakes. It’s normal for her to react in this way.” said Mitch.  

“Oh yeah...that’s true. I forgot that you’re not as courageous as me...afraid of nothing.”

“Stop making fun of us! everyone has a phobia, Stan!” replied Sonya pointing at him.

“Ah! that's where you're wrong little sister! you see, as the eldest of the family, it is my duty to protect you and mitch! but what would a big brother worthy of the name be if he had a phobia! That's why I, Stan Sanchez, was trained by parents to be afraid of nothing!” said Stan proudly.

“Stan...” said Mitch.

“What?”

“You exaggerate things. Mom and Dad didn't train you, on the contrary they ran after you to prevent you from touching everything because you were too curious.”

“And?? This is the same thing!”

“Absolutely not!”

“Anyway! Unfortunately for you I have no phobia. But it doesn't matter to have the phobia of snake's little sister, or your phobia of the heights Mitch. one day you will get to fight them! I am convinced of that! in the meantime if you will excuse me, the bike needs repairs... again.”

Stan left the place to head outside the house where was resting the motorcycle. Mitch and Sonya looked at him squinting, not at all convinced by their brother.  

“Why he must always be so... dramatic?” ask Sonya, sighing.

“He may be my twin brother, but I confess that even today I have trouble understanding him.” responds Mitch, sighing too.

“In the meantime, he just challenged us there!”

“Huh?”

“I, Stan Sanchez I'm not afraid of anything, Haha Haha! You're talking, my ass yes! Sir is fearless because we don’t know his phobia, but he knows ours! but it won't happen like that! I will find his fear!” replied Sonya determined.

“And how do you plan to do it? You know Stan... he can no longer be surprised.”

Sonya walked to her library, looked for a book, and when she found it, she took it out delicately, before settling on the sofa and starting to flip through the book. She always has this little mimic, when she was concentrated, frowning and pinching her upper lips. Don't be fooled by appearances, the Sanchez siblings look crazy and a little silly, but they are much smarter than they suggest. They each have a favorite field.  Mitch a little more than the others.  

“what’s this book?” he asks.  

“This book brings together all the phobias that exist. And they have more specific names. For example, my phobia of snakes is called Ophiophobia. You, your fear of heights is Acrophobia. But there are many others!  and I'm sure we'll find Stan's in there! and all this is thanks to the openness of our country to others! we are gradually starting to catch up!” she responds

“Sonya, did you see the size of this book? How do you want us to find Stan's phobia with all this?”  

“Thanks to Adam.”

“Huh?”

“Adam's shyness has its advantages. And as in addition he is afraid of Stan. At the same time given the glances he throws at him I understand, as soon as he is in the same room as him, he no longer makes any noise. And it turns out that he saw Stan reading this same book some time ago! And he told me he was at... this page there!” replied Sonya, showing the pages where were listed the phobias that began with the letter C. “All we have to do is find which of these phobias is that of our dear big brother.”

“It certainly reduces the possibilities but... there are quite a few lefts. But we can eliminate some things already.”

Both eliminated all the phobias Stan couldn't have. since he also loved animals like Mitch, all of this was crossed off the list. Gradually they ended up keeping some phobias: Cartophobia, Capeophobia and Cnidophobia. There is one that should work in there... Sonya and Mitch glanced at each other, and with a nod, they stood up and began their search. They caught everything they needed for each phobia: a card, a rope and a hat.

Stan was outside, under the motorcycle, protective glasses on his eyes, Sonya had managed to convince him to buy a pair, to avoid burning his eyes. Stan and Danger is obviously a great love story. He swore, not being able to fix something at the level of the engine. He generally avoided swearing in front of Mitch and Sonya, even if these two did not hesitate to do so.  

“Stan? ~” said Sonya with an adorable voice.  

“Give me two minutes, sis. Daggnabit ! I'll end up having you! You dirty screw!” responds the latter before sighing with anger and get out of the underside of the motorcycle. “Sorry Sonya, what did you want?”  

“Look at this hat! it's a fedora! isn't it amazing? I thought that when it's too hot you could... take off your hood and wear it.”

“Oh yeah sure he is. But I feel very good with my hood and then I don't want to dirty it...”

“Oh, come on! Just try! And without the hood.”  

“Ok,ok...give me that.” Said Stan, taking off one of his gloves and hood before gently taking the hat to put it on his head. “So? How do I look?”

“...Handsome...” responds Sonya with a sincere smile. She had forgotten how much her brothers' faces were... attractive. Over time, nothing had changed in their appearance. And she thought it was a shame that they wore their thief outfits all the time.

“Well thanks. But I don’t think it’s fit for me. I feel like...totally naked without my hood.” he said by giving back the hat and putting back his hood.

Sonya returned to Mitch, who had seen it all, hat in hand. It was the turn of the latter to go there, a card and a rope in hand. The discussion between the two brothers lasted a few minutes, and then Mitch came back to Sonya shaking his head. Bad pick for him too. The two went inside to store the objects in their place.

“You know...” starts Sonya, looking at the hat, attracting Mitch’s attention. “With your hoods... I had forgotten what you looked like underneath. I had forgotten how adorable you were.”

“... I can't count the number of times I've tried to convince Stan not to wear our outfits all the time. Without success. The only times we don't wear them is when we shower... and that we wash our outfits. But we are always at our hideout at these times. These are the only opportunities I have to be able to feel the wind on my face again.” responds the latter, sighing but with a smile.  

“I know. I know...”

“Sonya! Sorry to bother you but... Wouldn't you have an old cloth or tea towel that I could use to wipe my hands?” said Stan, trying not to dirty the room.

“Yes, in the shed. Adam keeps them a lot to use when he has to take care of the limousine. Serve yourself.”  

Stan walked to the shed and when he opened the door, he felt his heart tighten. The room was rather small, making 5m², barely enough actually to store equipment. Stan swallowed and walked into the room which seemed even smaller to him given his size. He reassured himself when he saw the door open, he was not totally locked in this small room, and then he began to look for the rags. But it was without counting on Adam who, not having noticed that his "brother-in-law" had entered the shed, locked the door before leaving. Stan suddenly turned around and tried to open the door, then he tapped against it by calling for help. Without success. Panic caught him and he curled up in a corner of the room, holding his head with both hands, swinging slightly back and forth to calm down.  

It was only after a few minutes that he heard voices, including that of Sonya scolding Adam. He then heard the door unlock and open but didn’t move continuing to hold his head in his hands and swing slightly back and forth, still trying to calm down.

“Stan!” starts Mitch, rushing to his brother. He gently put his hand on Stan's shoulder who jumped and looked at him, his breathing being really fast... And that's when Mitch understood. He took his brother in his arms and hugged him as best he could. “Calm down...I'm here. Come. We get out of there.”

He helped his brother get up and both get out of the room. Sonya approached them, but Mitch made her wait a bit, Stan needed to calm down. The latter's breaths became more regular and he delicately distanced himself from his brother.

“I... need to get some fresh air. ALONE.” he said angrily before going outside.  

Mitch and Sonya looked at each other sadly, before looking outside and following their brother. The latter was sitting far away, against a cherry tree, curled up on himself and sulking, while looking at the horizon. He clenched his fists. He didn't want to remember that horrible feeling. And even less of what caused this fear in him. He thought it was just temporary, but he has to believe that she was still there. This stupid fear.

“Claustrophobia. Fear of enclosed and small spaces.” said Sonya before she and Mitch sits each on one side of Stan. “This is the scientific name of your phobia. This causes in the one who is affected, a deep panic, an acceleration of the heart rate and breathing. You feel cramped and airless all at once.”

“Great. Congratulations, you must both be happy that you both managed to find my phobia.” Responds Stan angry without looking at them.

“You... did you know?” asks Mitch.  

“Maybe I'm not a genius... but you are not discreet either. I heard both of you. And anyway, when leaving the room... I knew you would try. Now you can make fun of me. Stan Sanchez is not as brave as he says. He is like everyone else. And he lied. What for? Maybe by ego. Or maybe because he didn't want to look like a coward to his brother and sister, while his role as a big brother is to protect them...”

“Stan... everyone has a fear of something. It doesn't matter. we're not going to see you any differently for that. I'm sure even Mom and Dad were afraid of something., And for all that, that didn't stop them from taking care of us. Whatever happens, you will always remain our big brother, the one who is ready to do anything for us. And now that we know... we can help you manage your phobia. And we will be there to comfort you when you’ll have your crises.”

“... What would I be without you two, frankly...”

“A beautiful fool.” said Sonya, smiling before hugging Stan with Mitch.

“Haha...True.” replied Stan taking his brother and sister in his arms. “Daggnabit true. Thanks.”

“Anyway ! we absolutely have to talk! You really need to avoid wearing your hoods all the time!”

“Oh no! you're not going to get into it too! the subject is already closed!”

“Come ooooon !”  

Stan plugged his ears waving that he couldn't hear anything anymore, while Sonya insisted and Mitch laughed out loud. everyone has a phobia. They may be common. as they may differ. But they do exist. And just like us, they are growing.

But just like us, we can control it, if we are surrounded by those we love.

***

(Phew! Finally! sorry for the wait but finally it's here! between work schedules, internet that didn't work too much, I've been really struggling to write lately! but now it's done! I wondered what I could have done this one shot on, and I thought it would have been nice to imagine the phobias of the Sanchez siblings! Sonya and Mitch’s one was rather simple, Stan on the other hand was more complex in view of the character. I hope you’ll like it like the other ones! Feel free to tell me what you think about it! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya!)  

#road 96 #road 96 game #stan and mitch #stan sanchez #mitch sanchez #Stan and mitch road96 #sonya sanchez #sonya road96

[taechaos]

A Night of Discovery

pairing: hybrid!Taehyung x fem!Reader

genre: oneshot, yandere au, smut

synopsis: For a learning trip, a seemingly innocent fox has taught you to never trust a predator in one day.

warnings: noncon, mention of murder, sadism

word count: 3.3k

a/n: ok so i may have made a moodboard to make up for how bad this is, SUE ME 😭 the request (spoiler warning)

The road is bumpy as the bus navigates through the looming forest, endless pine trees passing by your eyes in a blur. Chatters swirl in the fresh cold air, windows slightly cracked open as you try to sleep for the nth time with your head leaning against the smudged glass. You jolt awake each time, and it’s been two hours since your first attempt because of the reckless driver in the front. You’re clutching your backpack in your lap as you fantasize about the summer, your upcoming graduation.

Being in your final year of high school, the stress has been eating at you, but your biology teacher had the sheer niceness to give her students a break by taking you on a field trip to a marine zoo. It’s related to your syllabus, studying about marine ecology and all, and you were given the freedom to choose an aquatic animal of your choice to make a project on. You aren’t the least bit excited, because the zoo is so huge that your parents had to pay for the night you have to spend in a motel. Walking for hours and searching for one interesting fish is not at all thrilling.

Your body lurches forward when the driver abruptly hits the brakes. You take out your earphones as everyone stands up. The bus doors open with a hiss from the rush of air as students step outside one by one. You are sluggish when you hop on the cement, and the zoo is huge in front of you. The glass panels complement the surrounding greens, and you can catch the crashes of the waves from the shore behind. You can’t see it, and the environment is rather lonely except for the building close by: the motel next to the zoo.

Ms. Kang is directing your classmates to the motel first, and you’re about to follow before you stumble on your shoelaces. You crouch down to tie them, and when your teacher looks back, you say, “I’ll be there in a second!” When they’re inside, you decide to stretch your limbs after sitting in a stiff chair for so long. You walk to the woods by the parking lot, curious about the sights under the grey clouds. The weather is rather gloomy, and it doesn’t exactly help you feel better until you step on the grass ahead of the road. You sling your backpack over your shoulders and start touching the tree trunks out of boredom. It isn't entertaining, but it's relaxing.

A distant growl snaps you out of your sightseeing and you search around with your eyes for the source. The sound is very peculiar, and it has you feeling slightly nervous but undoubtedly curious.

You aim to take a step forward until your name is hollered, and you yell, “I’m here!” You hear hasty footsteps until Jimin appears next to you.

“Ms. Kang is asking for you. It’s your turn to check in,” he informs and you’re about to reply until you hear another growl. It’s louder compared to the previous one, and the both of you look into the forest in fright. It’s drawn out, but it gradually grows quiet. “What the hell was that?”

“I don’t know,” you furrow your brows a little anxiously and eventually enter the building with Jimin.

After everyone settled into their rooms, ate in the café provided by the zoo, the real trip began. You have to admit, the aquarium is gorgeous. The blue light reflecting from the water is easy on the eyes, and you’re fawning over all the swimming fish in admiration. There is a guide with you, and you listen to any information that is related to your favorite animals so far. You note down the names as a requirement from the teacher, and research some on your phone throughout your exploration. It’s actually interesting in the beginning, but you do get somewhat bored when a few hours pass. It’s 7PM when the tour ends for the day, and the rest of your time is leisure. 

You’re allowed back in your rooms for the evening, and you rest on the comfortable bed to gain back some of your energy. You’re more interested in the forest just outside, and you take out a box of fruits from your bag before leaving the motel. It’s dark when you munch on a sliced green apple while eyeing the forest. The lights from the motel sign help with your vision and you’re just standing on the empty lot while twirling around absentmindedly. It’s not like you’re close enough with anyone to hang out with them at this time, but it allows you to appreciate the breeze more. You’re wearing a cardigan to keep you warm, and you’re enjoying your time until you hear a whimper. 

You stop in your tracks before inching closer to the sound. It’s pained, or at least you think it is, and you take out your phone to shine a flashlight at the eerie forest. More whimpers resound in your ears, and you timidly trudge into the darkness. You yelp when you feel something soft lightly graze your calves, and jump away before seeing it: it’s the tail of a red fox. You gasp in slight fear because you don’t know if you trespassed or are in danger. The fox stares at you, and you stare back until it quietly whines again. “Awww,” you unintentionally coo. You’re scared when it wraps its fluffy tail around you, but you’re not so intimidated when it starts snuggling into your legs. You crouch to level with it and hesitantly bring your fingers to its head. Its fur is so soft that you wonder if it has been tamed.

“You’re so cute,” you gush in a whisper when it leans into your hand. You retract your hand and take out a blueberry from your container and feed it to the fox. Your heart warms just by watching it chew, and you give it some more. This encounter might be the best part about this trip, because the animal is just so adorable. You want to cry from how overwhelmingly precious and pure it seems with its adoring gaze. You’re grinning brightly as you eat with it, sharing your only snack for this whole expedition. 

You entertain yourself with it for a little while before deciding to go back. You ignore its protests guiltily and bid farewell, “I’ll see you again, cutie.” It’s already been an hour and your legs ache from bending for so long. You know you shouldn’t be out too late, and as you retrace your steps back to the motel, you hear it run off deep into the woods. 

The night is spent tossing and turning in bed because you wanted to sleep early in order to function at 8AM the next morning, but you can’t force it. Surfing through the media or keeping your eyes closed for 15 minutes straight didn’t help in the slightest, and somehow your energy has been increasing instead. The window adjacent to the mattress glares at you with its beauty of the crowd of unsaturated trees. You didn’t bother pulling the curtains because it’s a pleasant view, and the stars that you rarely see in the city shine brightly in the countryside. You think back to your interaction with the fox, and a smile creeps up on your tired face. You want to see it again.

Putting your shirt back on, you’re adjusting your cardigan when you crack open the door of your room. No one’s roaming in the halls, as expected since it’s midnight, but you try to be mindful of your temporary neighbours as you sneakily exit the building. You turn to your left instantly to scurry towards the mysterious forest. You don’t know if the fox is still around, but you whistle lowly anyway. Twigs snap beyond your vision, and you warily wait for something to happen. 

An extremely loud growl rips a tiny scream out of you and you immediately flinch backwards. You’re frozen in your spot, almost paralyzed as the growls continue. It’s confusing because the noise is more like an aggressive hiss, and it’s unlike anything you’ve heard before. It suddenly switches to a whimper, a plea. You don’t know if you have to break a fight between two animals, but it doesn’t matter when your curiosity takes over and makes you confidently (albeit feigned) stride into the jungle. 

As if your actions are being encouraged, the whimpers grow more desperate and you take slow steps while watching out for any predators waiting to attack. You’re trembling in fear, but then your fox also might need help… 

The motion is way too quick for you to process and you let out a blood curdling scream when you’re tackled to the ground. You don’t stop screaming even when your mouth is covered, muffling your cry for help. 

“Calm down,” a honeyed rich voice tells you, soothing with its calm tone, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You quiet down and peek at the assailant through heavy lids. A confused hum catches in your throat upon seeing batlike ears that poke through dark hair. They easily blend in together, and you scrutinize his features and notice a swishing bushy tail behind the man on top of you. Terror dawns in your eyes, though the man looks fairly tranquilent by the ordeal.

“You fed me earlier,” he recounts and slowly removes his hand from your face. You’re gawking up at him as he clarifies, “Fox hybrid.” You squeak when his tongue darts out to lick your cheek and chuckles at your expression.

“What a-are you doing?” you snivel shakily. 

He gently tucks a stray strand behind your ear before answering nonchalantly, “Scenting my precious doll. You’re so pretty, and kind… and naive.” 

Your breaths quicken when he leans into you, but he conveniently misses your lips to bury his face into your neck. The fur on his pointy ear tickles your jawline, and you’re startled when he starts to sniff you. You feel him lick your sensitive skin and clench your fists with a mewl. You’re utterly terrified by the discovery of a new species, who also seems to be very strong and stealthy. He’s handsome, gifted with a heart shaped face and a set of charming black eyes with full lips, but it’s not important when he’s crushing you with his weight to keep you in place. His mouth and nose are all over you as they explore your taste and smell, and his satisfaction is evident with his sighs of bliss.

“I couldn’t get enough of you earlier,” he reveals with a subtle moan, “I've never had the experience of smelling something so delicious. It's fortunate that you're so easy to fool.” The only thing that you do know about foxes is how cunning they are, but you didn’t think one would land you in this situation. You’re heaving to breathe with a struggle, but he pays no mind to it. “I can’t wait to claim you.”

Despite rendering you immobile, he sounds more desperate and needy than you do; as if he’s the weaker one, like the roles are switched. You might be able to use that to your advantage… “I would love that,” you choke out, though you have no idea what he means by his words, “but I can’t move. I-I want to kiss you.” You want to smack your forehead for coming up with such a terrible lie; you don't even know if his intention is to kiss you.

“Yeah?” he drawls seductively and withdraws his knees from your thighs, most likely leaving a bruise from how hard he dug them in. He holds himself up by his palms that previously clung onto your shoulders and limits your peripheral vision. Your eyes trail to his defined collarbone for a short moment, the moonlight casting a shadow over his fine features. “Kiss me then.”

You inhale sharply before raising your leg to kick him, but his reflexes are faster than yours as he prevents it with one knee. He tuts, “I’m offended; I thought you found me cute.” A knowing smile graces his pink lips, and it doesn’t falter even when you open your mouth to scream again. His calloused hand immediately silences you before you can make any noise, and his other hand reaches down to your lower region. “I even wore a pretty outfit for you today. Such an ungrateful doll...” 

He tugs on your pajama shorts, dragging them down to your knees along with your underwear. You shake your hand and beg unintelligibly, “Please don’t.” You clench your thighs together, but he forces them open and leans back to take your bottoms off completely. The weather feels like it’s dropped to negative degrees as you shiver and he gently hushes you when you begin to sob. 

“Oh doll, there’s no reason to cry yet,” he sighs in fake empathy, “I just really, really want to fuck you.” He heaves his shirt over his head, and that’s when you get a glimpse of his so-called “pretty outfit”. The black garment is familiar because it's the merchandise of an indie band with its flamboyant logo; you know you’ve seen someone else wear it today. He has to use both hands to take it off completely, and once it’s off, your wails echo in the deserted land as he ties it around your mouth. It’s Jimin’s outfit. “Don’t take your eyes off of me. I love having your attention.” His voice is a mere breath, filled with anticipation to touch you.

He slides down to your knees as he continues to undress himself. He’s throbbing under the uncomfortable fabric of the tight jeans, and instead of attacking him with your now free hands, you cover your face stained with tears as you cry. You feel like you’re having a heart attack as your gut churns in defeat; there’s no point in fighting a man who might’ve killed your classmate, a fox no less.

The moment his pants are down his thighs, his stiff length grazes his stomach before he palms it and rubs himself up and down your folds. Your heat is damp with your natural discharge, but it’s so warm and he feels so aroused as a moan slips past his luscious lips. “You must think I’m so rude,” he whispers and hovers over your face, “I haven’t even introduced myself and yet I’m already marking you.”

He whines cutely at a particular tingle before saying, “My name’s Taehyung. I’d love to hear you moan it, but you’re just so naughty.” His emphasis is airy, and you’re terrified by the contrast of his soft tone and rough actions. He’s calculated, but also very reckless; almost amateur as he begins to position himself by your entrance.

Your words are gibberish as you repeat: “No, no, please no!” He clicks his tongue in response and locks eyes with you just before he shoves his cock inside, no adjustment whatsoever as his pitch grows higher in wonderment. He’s down to the hilt, and the fabric in your mouth isn’t enough to drown out your scream of pain. The stretch is excruciating. His eyes screw back as he loses himself in you, and it’s as if he’s lost all control when he starts slamming into you at an unforgiving pace. 

As opposed to your protests, he starts chanting, “Yes, yes, fuck yes, my perfect little doll.” He’s never had intercourse with a human before, but it’s not up for comparison when he’s feeling so heavenly because of your tightness. You’re pulsating around him, walls clenching in discomfort because you’re in so much agony. You push his shoulders, but it’s futile as he doesn’t budge in the slightest; he almost appears possessed, but his loud moans disprove the theory. 

He can’t form coherent words, and neither can you. If you weren’t in such a shock, you’d be encouraging him to be louder in case anyone is nearby to help you. You thrash under him, but your movements are limited because of his firm build. You beg and beg, but he is animalistic with his chase for his high. The sound of slapping skin have no pauses in between because of his pace, and dare he admit that the predator in him enjoys your attempts at getting away. It makes it so much more fun for him, but he’s unable to savour it from how your pussy sucks him in so deliciously. "You feel so fucking good, I'm going crazy."

Once he’s gained some of his sensibility back, he latches onto your neck to lick and bite you. You pull at his hair to yank him away, his canine teeth sinking into your flesh for a second before he moves onto another spot. His torture is endless, and his growls scare you enough to remove your hand and shake like a leaf under him. He wants to taste all of you, and you can't serve as an obstacle.

“Pet my ears,” he grunts, “touch me, touch me, dolly.” 

The initial pain is starting to subside, and your thoughts are coming together although they’re hazed. You’re still aching, but you know he just dropped you a hint; the sooner he’s satisfied, the earlier this nightmare ends. Your fingertips stroke the back of his twitching ear. His fur is so velvety, and petting him is the least bad part about this experience. You must be doing something right, because he’s getting so noisy that there’s no way someone would miss you now. You suck your teeth with a hiss as he sets an impossibly rapid rate, rearranging your guts with every snap of his hips. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he cries breathlessly. His release washes over him as spurts of cum paint your throbbing walls in white, and you’re relieved that this is the end. 

His intakes of air are hot on your skin as his breath fans the crook of your neck. Your stomach drops the moment he murmurs his next words, “I want to do it again.”

“Hey!” a gruff voice interrupts his huffs, and your whole world lights up when you see a man in a uniform with a flashlight over your heaving nude bodies. Taehyung is surprised that he didn’t catch the man’s footsteps when he walked over. “This is indecent exposure, you know–” the security officer goes quiet in shock when he notices the perk of Taehyung’s ears, and then the stiff, unmoving tail behind. “What the fuck?”

Taehyung rolls off of you before disappearing from your sight in a single second. He is stealthy and quick, and his footsteps are light when he leaves; presumably shifting as he goes. The guard attempts to chase after him before stopping in front of you. His eyes trail down your figure before he looks away in disgust. “Goddammit, kid, put your clothes back on.” 

“Thank you so much,” you choke on your tears of joy as you ignore the ache in your thighs, the swelling in your heart and your suffocating turmoil. You stand up on wobbly knees and slowly dress yourself. The officer has his back facing you while you change, and you’re grateful he doesn’t witness how fragile you are. 

“What are you thanking me for?” he asks after a moment of prolonged silence.

“H-He was raping me,” you speak in a hushed tone, “and I think h-he killed my classmate.”

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath. “I’ll go notify the police. Are you staying in the motel?”

When you return back to your room with the company of your savior, you’re hurting everywhere and sleep comes to you easily from all the crying you’ve done. You wake up from a knock on your door, and it’s early in the morning as your teacher says, “Pack up dear, we’re leaving in half an hour.”

They found the clothes, you note when you limp outside with your bag dragging you down. There are dried tear stains on your cheeks when you step on the open bus, and you see a bunch of cops surrounding the forest through the window. Jimin isn’t inside, and you shake your head with pursed lips as sobs bubble up in your throat. This feels nothing short of a nightmare. 

The class is informed of Jimin’s disappearance after taking off, and you lean your head against the window as the driver recklessly drives. Your vision is blurred with tears as you watch the forest, but it doesn’t distort it enough for you to miss the flash of a blood red tail skip between the trees, following the path of your transport.

After all, foxes are known for being fast. There’s no way this one wouldn’t be able to track you down sooner or later, your scent bringing you back to him.

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts x reader #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #bts fic #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #bts smut #taehyung imagines #bts taehyung #bts yandere #yandere taehyung

[boytouya]

𝘉𝘶𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘭𝘺’𝘴 𝘙𝘦𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦

words:0.9k

request: “Hello! Could i pls request tamaki amajiki just being a sweetheart and infodumping about how much he loves butterflies to his boyfriend? Need fluff in this gay gay month, thxs! :]”

tags: i know nothing about butterflies, appalled by the feet tasting ngl, and the fact that it’s true, tamaki is SO in love, not mentioned but he really hopes you love him too, he knows you do though, i didn’t mention the butterfly color but it’s probably like that big one from animal crossing, but the butterfly isn’t big ykwim?, once again named after a song, but i wasn’t even listening to that song i was listening to butterfly by umi, in case you wanted to pair it while you read ;)

warnings: none!

a/n: i feel like i did amajiki dirty in this...maybe i’ll rewrite it. anyways, happy pride month!

When Amajiki told you he wanted to take you somewhere special, this was the last place you expected. A quiet field, full of freshly trimmed grass, daffodils, and various flowers occupied by well fed bees, wasn’t what you expected. But you loved it nonetheless, smiled brightly when your anxious boyfriend picked a flower to put behind your ear with shaking hands. You did the same for him, watched his bottom lip tremble as he sputtered out thanks. How sweet.

In hindsight, perhaps he should’ve brought something to sit on. It didn’t matter much though, as you took turns resting your heads on the other's lap. No matter what, whether his face was twisting into a grimace because of the sun in his eyes- or melting into a smile because he got to look down at you, Tamaki was always so cute. He always looked cute.

He chats you up and down, talks about anything and everything, listens to you talk about anything and everything, and soaks it up. He loves the attention from you, lets it seep into his skin and past his ribcage, straight to his quickening heart. He laughs quietly into the palm of his hand when you tell a joke and looks down at your hands when you speak. Everything about you truly was quaint, isn’t it? You remind him of home. The butterfly flapping towards you must agree, because it’s blue wings flutter almost as fast as those in his stomach until it finds a place on your head. You can feel it’s minuscule amount of weight, and you still completely.

It’s such a sight to see, he thinks. Such a fragile little thing finding comfort in you. The way your immediate response to it isn’t to smack it, kill it, or rip it off makes his chest fill with warmth. You reminded him of a butterfly, actually. Perfect on all sides, fragile when you want to be, but way tougher than anyone gives you credit for. Perhaps he’s projecting onto you, but either way, he couldn’t be more in love. You bring out something in him he didn’t know was there, and one day he’d thank you for it.

“A butterfly,” He watches it crawl, hesitating to flutter back into the horizon, and lifts his hand. It does move, but not to fly away. It makes its way onto his finger and rests. Of course Amajiki would be good with animals, he’s probably the closest anyone could ever be to them. A smile spreads across your features; makes your eyes squint and hurts your cheeks. He raises the hand to his face, his eyes widening. They’re such a deep shade they could pass as currents of indigo. It’s wings beat gently, and you can hear Tamaki gulp.“I hope we get to see her next time, they don’t live long.”

“Maybe she’s your Guardian Angel,” You joke, leaning in to watch him inspect the insect. His pink lips remain parted in awe, the sunlight beaming down on him adds an extra sparkle to his eyes. Or maybe it’s the butterfly. Maybe it’s you. You can tell he’s making an effort to breathe slowly, to remain as still as possible (though his hands have always been quite shaky) so he doesn’t scare off the animal. In a way, Tamaki is quite the butterfly himself. “More like Spirit Animal.”

“..Maybe,” He agrees as his smile widens, only for a second until he blinks away the laugh threatening to ruin his once in a lifetime opportunity. It would’ve been nice to have a camera, or some sort of ability to take screenshots through your eyes. This would just have to be one of those moments cherished through memory, you suppose. “Did you know butterflies have transparent wings? They.. They can’t bite or chew, but...they can taste stuff with their feet.”

“They don’t eat then?”

“Oh..Oh! They drink nectar...with their tongues... from flowers. They like sugary stuff too.” His grin looks dopey when he tilts his head to the side.

“Like Fatgum.” Amajiki tries not to choke on his own tongue. Such a bizarre comparison that only you could make up on the spot. This is why he likes you.

“Yeah...but he doesn’t taste things with his feet…” Tamaki puckers his lips after fully processing what he just said. It’s almost like he stops thinking when he’s with you.

When you crinkle your nose in disgust he can’t help but laugh. He was wondering if it was boring you, perhaps you weren’t that interested in useless butterfly facts. But there you were, asking questions and nodding along, making faces that dusted pink across Amajiki’s cheeks. There you were, smiling and laughing, letting the Sun hit you just right. You were perfect. You were his perfect boy. His boy with such a sweet smile, his boy with such a contagious laugh. He loved it. He loved that you were his, and vice versa. He loved you. Even more than he loved butterflies.

He lets the butterfly flutter away as his shoulders shake, and for once you can finally see his smile reach his eyes. He lets you place your hand where the butterfly once was. This felt way better anyway.

taglist:

@ryoukuna @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @kissesdenji @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @princejasno @mel-bigia04 @mhasimp666 @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shadows-of-nightmares @double-homiecide @rintarosaku

#💕.tamaki #tamaki x male reader #amajiki headcanons #amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki x reader #tamaki amajiki x you #amajiki x male reader #x male reader #anime x male reader #bnha x you #bnha x male reader #suneater x reader #suneater x y/n #anime x reader #mha x male reader

[shatteredatthealtarofwinchester]

Umm, wait. It's more a 15x20 rant than an analysis. I'll call it... a ranalysis. 😏

I just saw J*reds last online panel again, where he called the finale "magical full circle storytelling". 15x20 is his "favourite episode ever" because he "is a fan of good storytelling". Uh-huh... Okay. So the following just was built on pure rage. This makes it more of a rant than an analysis. As usual. You guys know me.

Well. There are various possibilities here, Jared. Possibility A is, you are lying, what I do not believe. To lie that obvious you have to be a talented actor, which you are not. Possibility B is, you really think that way. You believe, the finale was "magical full circle storytelling" and you actually loved it, it was indeed your favourite episode. This again brings me to the only conclusion: You have no fucking idea about good storytelling, not even decent storytelling.

Lets look at every single ending, shall we?

Dean. We all know you think Deans death was a "success story." You think that Dean "ultimately gave his life for his number one on planet." I am sitting here, laughing in pain. First of all, let me say that Dean didn't died for Sam, Jared. He didn't took a bullet for Sam or sacrificed himself or whatsoever. He died in the most ridiculous accident I've ever seen. But lets go back to the very start.

Dean’s childhood was highly abusive. Dean was 4 years old when he saw his mother burning alive and learned that monsters are real. In that age he developed PTSD and stopped talking. Dean had a childhood with a father that was an alcoholic and physically and mentally abusive, who had believed that Dean had a “killer instinct". When Dean was about 6 years old, John forced him into a nurturing role for Sam. In the same age Dean was forced into the soldiers role as well when John taught him how to shoot and hunt. Dean had to obey orders without questioning. If he acted “out of line,” (aka something John didn’t like) John chewed him out or left them alone. Dean was trained to be Daddy’s blunt instrument. Dean gave up his own life to keep Sam safe, because he had no other choice. More than a brother Dean had to be a father and a mother to Sam. He suppressed everything, every psychological pain, every emotion, he just lived to protect Sam and to obey as Johns blunt soldier. Short: Dean gave up HIMSELF for Sam and John. Not because Dean wanted to, because he was forced into it! Dean hated himself, he was suicidal. He was convinced he isn’t worthy of anything, especially not being loved. Dean never had a life for his own, never had a choice, never had a chance, never had own original thoughts, never felt safe or loved. He was used to being left. He felt like he was nothing. Worthless. He was dead inside. Broken. You get what I mean, Jared? Since you own a mental health campaign, you should. And guess what Dean did? He kept fighting. Despite everything, he kept fighting. And his mindset slowly changed. He understood that his father was an abusive bastard, he unterstood that he was forced into a life he never wanted. He understood that he is more than that, that he is not like John. He changed. He opened up. He even wanted to retire. And now it gets interesting, because something happened that REALLY is the start of magical full circle storytelling. Something in Deans mind clicked while Cas' confession. His confession was fundamental to Dean to finally accept his own goodness and the value of his life and love, of his identity. It was the moment of breaking free of the structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. It was the only way out of his abusive and traumatizing cage to experience something for his own the very first time. For the first time in his life he had a chance. A choice. The start of his very own life. Free will, baby! Well, no. Because exactly in that moment he stumbled into a nail and died. Do you even realize how dumb this is? Do you even realize what you did? Wait, it gets worse. Yeah, that's possible, even if you dont believe it. In heaven he goes right back to the life he has spent his whole journey learning to free himself from: Left only with the persons he had been forced, time and time again, to sacrifice his identity, goals, and soul for. None of the family, support, or love, nothing he has built or chosen for himself remains. This is not magical full circle storytelling, Jared. This is abysmal pointless butchering. This has NOTHING, not a single percent of magical or good storytelling! YOU call that magical? YOU call that a success? Seriously, what shit are you on? If it would've been full circle storytelling, there is not one single fucking possibility that Dean would've died in the end. I don't know whats going on in your twisted brain, but Deans death never was and never will be a success. To make it magical full circle storytelling, he MUST have been the one who survives and overcomes his trauma (and raise a certain someone from perdition.)

Sam. He's actually the one who kinda got the best ending, huh? I mean, it was fucking horrific, but it was the best if you compare it to the others. When Sam was young, he wanted a normal life far away from hunting, while the truth is, Sam always was more like John than Dean ever will be. Over time his mindset clearly changed. He even said: "When Dean came to get me at school, I told myself, one last job, you know, (...) it was always one more job and then I was gonna go back to law and to my life. I guess, I really understand now that THIS is my life. And I love it." Sam couldn't imagine a normal life anymore. He had the chances for that and he declined. He loved hunting. He loved working and making progress with the BMOL, he very much enjoyed being a MOL and even took the lead often. I can clearly picture Sam as the lead of a rebuilt version of the MOL, that would've made sense. What did Sam get? Right, the ending he didn't wanted anymore, but since we yeet every single development of every single character out of the window, Sam has to be Season 1 Sam again, BUT with a fancy party wig! And there he is! And what a happy life he lives, exactly what he wanted, woohoo! So much joy, so much fun! Oh look, there is BlurryWife™, who Jared made sure is not Eileen, because “Dean wouldn’t want Sam to be with Eileen”. But wait, didn't Dean wanted Sam to be with Eileen? Didn't Dean literally said: "If it was to work, Eileen, you know... She gets it, she gets us, she gets the life. You could do worse. And she could certainly do better, like SO much better. I'm happy for you, Sammy." Yeah, NO. This was just a writing AND acting AND producing mistake and had no matter at all. *cough* So... As you can see, magical storytelling strikes again. I can feel the magic, I can feel the full circle, it's... Amazing...

Castiel. Castiels story was magical, it was mindblowing. I've never in my entire life seen such a meaningful and deep storyline and I mean this. It's fucking massive. There is this blunt angel soldier, one of the post powerful forces, who was built to blindly obey, who lived for aeons of years, who wasn't supposed to feel anything, but he fell for a broken, suicidal, abused human who never felt loved or worthy the very moment he touched him. He fell so hard he rebelled against his own race, against his own family, against everything he had without any safety. He was the ONLY one in Chuck-knows-how-many universes who GREW outside of Chucks CONTROL! His love was so fucking massive, it couldn't be controlled by the God who built every-fucking-thing. Chuck built millions(?) of parallel universes, heaven, hell, life, death, purgatory, the empty, he created every single being, the light, darkness, every single angel, demon, leviathan, monster, animal, plant, sea, blade of grass, every centimeter of mountains, the four seasons, emotions, what the fuck ever. Everything you can ever think of, Chuck created it. And he controlled it. In every single one of his fucking millions of universes. But not Castiel.This is actually not possible. You can't outrun god. You can't outrun the one who creates, writes and controlles everything. But Cas did. Out of love. And not only that, you also imply that what happened between Dean and Cas was the only thing  that was real. Everything else was corrupted, controlled, manipulated, written by Chuck. But what happened between Dean and Cas, he couldn't affect.

Seeing Cas standing there, crying, confessing his love to Dean actually even makes me think that Dean made Cas human. Dean completed Cas. Cas didn't simply said "I love you", he actually said "In all existing universes, in all millions, all aeons of years, you are my only happiness." And Cas completed Dean. He freed Dean. While Dean was used to being left, was used to feeling worthless and unlovable, Cas saw Dean exactly the way he is and chose to stay. With every obstacle, every difficulty he loved him even more and yes, freed him from the abusive structure that had controlled and corrupted him his entire life. Something that no one else could, not his parents, not Amara, not God, not even Sam. Beautiful, isn't it? Unique. Mindblowing. Pure. You enjoyed it? Let's fuck this up in 3...2...1...

Castiels story ended exactly the same way it started. A blunt angel who doesn't care about people and feelings, blindly carrying out instructions from a new God, obeying heaven. No progress. They threw away 12 years of character development and managed to give him the same stupid and senseless ending like they did with Dean. Dean died and Cas... Wasn't there?! WHAT!? There is no single fucking way Cas wouldn't save Dean or wouldn't be there when Dean enters heaven! There. Is. No. Fucking. Way! The way they represented Cas in the end doesn't only imply that Dean isn't important to Cas anymore, he even ended up exactly the same way as if Season 4-15 wouldn't have happened. The ending is exactly the same! He's with God in heaven, supporting him with instructions, not caring about anything else.

Okay, I got it. Summarizing you can say: Jareds "magical full circle storytelling" is to yeet 95% of the past 15 years. No other characters matter, the story itself doesn't matter, every single characters development doesn't matter, it even doesn't matter what the brothers really want, they don't get it anyway.

Okay. But that's not all. As if this wasn't bad enough, they didn't just butchered ... EVERYTHING, they also salted and burnt every single Mantra they ever stood for. I'll make these short, I promise!

Team Free Will. *snort* Dean couldn't escape his fate, he always believed he'll die on a hunt as Daddys blunt instrument and he did. He kept fighting to die exactly the way he felt he was "supposed to". Message? No matter how hard you keep fighting, no matter how long you'll keep it up, you can't escape your fate. Sam couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started. Cas couldn't change his fate, he ended how he started, same for Jack, he ended how he was supposed to. YEET THE FREE WILL, NONE OF THEM CAN CHANGE ANYTHING!

Family don't end with  blood. The biggest lie that has ever been told. Do I even have to explain that? No need, right? Don't make me wanna throw up again, please. We all know that 15x20 blasted "Family don't end with blood" in millions of pieces.

Always keep fighting. THE AUDACITY to praise that while Dean is dying! After everything Dean has dealt with, It makes me wanna scream. Dean kept fighting, he always kept fighting, no matter how hard it was, no matter what forced him to his knees, he stood up again, and if he wasn't able to stand up, he crawled. He kept fighting no matter what, despite everything. His mindset changed. He wanted to live, he wanted to experience things, feelings and people differently or even for the first time. He changed. He wanted to retire, toes in the sand. He knew he earned it. Thats why he kept fighting. For what? To die the very first moment he had a free will. To die the very first moment he had a choice, had a life to build for himself. Always keep fighting, but the moment you come close to what you want, what you fought for, you die. It's been more than 3 months and I am having tears in my eyes while typing this. As for Dean, no matter how hard you fight, no matter how long you fight, you don't reach what you deserve anyway. Give up. As for Sam, AKF leeds to Emptiness. Grief. Psychological Trauma. Mental illness. Absolutely nothing worth fighting for.

I wanna go cry now, bye.

#jensen ackles #misha collins #j*red p*dalecki #spn #spnfandom #supernatural #spnfamily #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #dean #cas

[annmarcus63]

He wanted to say "I love you"

Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Here's on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/34237159

Injured Jaskier

"Blessed silence"

"Would you shut up, bard?"

"If you don't stop within the next two minutes, I swear, I'll break that fucking lute and shove it down your throat"

"Jaskier, shut up!"

"Alright! I'll stop, there's no need to be such a brute" replied Jaskier while tucking the lute, currently on his hands, on the brand new case he bought a couple of days ago to a retired musician living his last days on White Orchard. It's gorgeous, orgasmic, almost as sexy as the lute.

The music notes slowly fading in Geralt's ears, leaving a weak hum behind. Geralt sighed relieved, and a suspicious feeling that may resemble guilt. But there's not time to dwell on it. He's trying to sort the potions and required ingredients to complete the contract which he needed to follow up  that same night. Witchers were trained to tune out every sound to be able to concentrate. He could meditate for days with not a single thing to bother him, but Jaskier's chatter is a powerful contrary spell to the calmness he was used to. It's a possibility that Jaskier fell upon his path with the sole purpose to test his limits. He is good company but sometimes Geralt wonders if it's worth the trouble.

He needs Arachnomorphs' venom and Griffin's feathers and blue mutagen to brew the antidote to the potent venom of the Endrega warrior he's goin to face. Methodically he starts with the preparation, grind and mix, smell, taste, it hurts...it's ready.

Three weeks ago he received a letter from Eskel asking to meet for pressing matters. Geralt doesn't know what he may want, it maybe a problem with a powerful beast or just a call to drink, which is unlikely because the message seem urgent. So Geralt had to hurry if he wanted to catch him on time, he was two days late and if he doesn't kill the Endrega he'd be three days late. Traveling with Jaskier prevent from a fastest pace, and the reason of those two days were, of course, the bard who asked him to stay longer on White Orchard to wait for his new lute case. Geralt ponder all this with an edge of bitterness towards Jaskier, it's unfair and uncalled for. He feel like shit. He ponder it still.

Jaskier is capable of recognizing when he's being a nuisance. Or well...he can recognize when someone has reach their limits regarding him. He can be too much, he speaks too much, he moves too much, he whines too much, he thinks too much. He's considerate you see, when Geralt snaps at him he understands. He can't help it. Is what he is, and he's not going to change, he tried once for his father. It didn't work, Jaskier was giving too much away for the acceptance of one person, he conclude it didn't worth it.

He understands really, but today Geralt has been a little over the edge, and has crossed the line between banter and plain rudeness.

So the logical response is to be more annoying.

Jaskier can be awful too when he wants.

He prod the wild and stressed animal with meaningless chatter, why does the fire moves like that? is the color of my fingernail normal? have you ever wonder how it'd be to become a fish?

the wild animal spill one or two drops of the antidote while pouring it from the small wood plate in which the ingredients got blend. Jaskier swear have saw how the vein on Geralt's forehead pop.

Ups…

"Would you SHUT UP for once in your fucking life?” ok he seen that coming “I can't even hear my own thoughts, bard. When we reach Velen you're going to stay there. Do you understand? Not following me around anymore”

To be fair he has caused this. It's what he does, always, being and idiot with and incessant mouth. He has push too far this time, even so that tone on Geralt's voice put him on edge, angry even. That ungrateful witcher and his never ending foul mood. What would he give to see him smile more often?

Everything.

A heavy atmosphere settled on the camp, Geralt's angry and now Jaskier's too, offended to be more accurate. Jaskier hated these often-occurring moments, as if the bard were a stranger and not a years friend.

Are you though?

Whoever sent the letter is Geralt's friend. What give it away? the eagerness to travel fast for instance. Jaskier send a letter once, asking if he wanted to meet at Novigrad, he never received a response nor Geralt went there.

Geralt packed his things, secure the sword straps and with a particular tenseness on his shoulders he turn to Jaskier.

"You're going to stay here. HERE Jaskier. I don't want you anywhere near the nest, the poison..."

"I know"

"Then I want you to repeat it"

"What? Really? I'm not a child, Geralt" but the Witcher kept his stance, waiting, and Jaskier's a sucker for pleasing.

"I'm going to stay here, quiet and still. If I get near the nest there's a high chance to get poisoned, even a small dosis could kill me. And get my body back and bury it would be a big hassle for you Are you happy now?"

"Hmm. I'll be back by midnight"

Geralt disappeared between the trees and Jaskier watch him go with a big lump on his throat. Not five minutes later he started cleaning the broth pot to fill it again with clean water to drink to warm up his bones. How he wish to have tea or coffe to add.

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Wind's howling, Jaskier reflected, feeling the chill colouring his cheeks and breaking his lips unpleasantly. Besides the wolfs living on the wind, there was silence, a sepulchral silence that caused him feel unsafe. Even Roach looks in distress. An hour ago she was lying on the grass getting ready for a good night sleep, and now she's looking everywhere as if she can sense something lurking in the shadows, and that is scary. By the position of the moon Jaskier could guess the time, one and a half hour past midnight. That idiot witcher should be here by now. He knew that, Roach knew that, so why he's not here?

He couldn't think straight, the worry was eating him up from the intestines and it wasn't fair or unnormal, worrying for Geralt is like worrying for the sun to never come up again. It may happen but is unlikely, impossible.

Geralt is fine, he is, or at least is what he kept repeating himself for the past hour like a mantra that no one would ever listen.

Something went wrong, I'm sure. He'd be here by now so why he's not here? What if the Endrega chew his head off? that's sudden and crude Jaskier, what's wrong with you? He can't be dead, I mean I didn't even get the chance to apologize, to clean his wounds, to buy him breakfast, to tell him I love him with all my beating foolish heart.

Agh, but he's not dead, so stop that train of thought right this instant, young man.

For some reason the voice sounded like his dead mother.

"I need to go there only to see if he's safe" said Jaskier to Roach

"But he said rather rudely to you to stay put and not bother him." replied imitating Roach voice like a tired housewife.

"I know what he said" said with an air of petulant child. "And what about you come with me to keep me in check"

"It's dark you can't see and it's dangerous"

"But you can!"

"Fine, hop on me" he loved winning arguments.

He saddled Roach efficiently, Geralt rarely let him do it but he was a quick learner. He put out the fire with a kick of dust, took a small blade that Geralt kept at the bottoms of his bag just in case, he also lit the only torch they carried for emergencies, a beacon of light that Geralt could see if he was in trouble and rode Roach towards the clearing next to the main road from which people get disappearing and getting eaten.

He trusted Roah to guided him, she was a clever one who also worried for her master.

The cold kept biting his skin even under the small fire, he left his cape at camp in case he needed to run, but they're getting closer. A wooden statue with flowers and canisters at it’s feet appear by his right, the notice board said the location of the insect was near that god statue.

He stoped Roach and dismount then he took the short blade wishing he didn't have to use it, before leaving he remembered the possibility of encounter with poison, according to Geralt Endregas not only spit venom but also exuded poisonous gas equally lethal. So he took his undershirt to cover half his face, this might prevent breathing it.

The turned out the torch because the light would attract the Endrega and distract Geralt.

He walked slowly to north realizing how much he was trembling, it wasn't that cold. It was fear and the soft hum of the adrenaline waiting on his brain for being triggered.

And then a rancid and potent smell reached him despite the undershirt. There. A thick unnatural mist and a series of small mountains piled some meters away. No, not mountains, bodies, Endrega bodies lying on the ground slaughtered with efficiency. A witcher’s work.

He almost missed it because of the mist, but there he was, Geralt, lying on the ground in a tragic pantomim of his foes. Jaskier hurried to him almost tripping in the process, he kneel by his side and got shocked by the hardened veins on the witcher's forehead, his levels of toxicity must being dangerous high. But he wasn't dead and if Jaskier wanted to keep him like that he needed to take him away from the mist to help his body fight the secondary effects of the pocions.

He looked the number of bodies surrounded them, more than six when the contract said one Endrega.

He have to be quick so he wrap Geralt by the armpits and with all his strength started to drag him towards Roach, he couldn't risk bringing her here in case of the poison or another insect near by. Geralt was a big guy, he has always being attracted to that, now not so much. Sweating, weary and scared.

Sweating, weary and scared the bard dragged the witcher to Roach when he started to feel dizzy followed by an annoying scratching under the skin. Roach stamped her feet two times before getting closer, she nosed her master while Jaskier catch his breath, then the lovely girl crouched down and wait patiently.

In a matter of a blink, his head started to pound violently and his vision to get blurred. That wasn't good.

The poison, it's the poison.

With all the strength he got left he pull Geralt on his belly over Roach, the position wasn't ideal but it was all he could do before collapsing on his knees.

"Go Roach. Go" She stood with must carefulness, Jaskier watched her go feeling a rush of pride and victory, he saved Geralt, he'll be alright and that was all that matter.

Jaskier fell backwards hitting his head with the ground, his body started convulsing or at least that's what he thought before lose consciousness.

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An insistent poke on his ribs brought him to wakefulness followed by a fall and a sudden sharp pain on his side. A few seconds later the witcher take in his surroundings. Roach neigh by his side, he had fall from her. The heavy cloud from exhaustion and toxicity still rested on his brain.

He felt the bitter tang on the back of his tongue of venom running thru his system and the hollow pain that remained. There were eight Endregas...yes, the Endregas, he had fainted on the clearing knowing well that he might not woke up again if he kept on breathing that mist. How did he get there? Roach answered with a distressed stump of her foot.

"What?" he asked the horse, and she neigh.

Jaskier

"Fuck."

he search on his pouch for White Honey to swallow it in a big gulp.

Awareness returned quickly and despite the injuries and aches on his lef side he took Roach's reins and guided her back to the clearing.

Back to Jaskier, he hoped to not be late, please let him be on time, he begged to no one in particular.

The contract said one Endrega, imagine the surprise and horror he felt when encountering a nest with full grown ups monsters which position were stronger and their hunt abilities an excellency when attacking in pack. He drank the three vials of antidote he carried and a dose of Swallow that burned his stomach and shot the toxicity levels to a mortal point. The Endregas were all dead, but tired and injured he collapse defeated. The position of the moon indicate that was dead for at least two hours during which he continued to breathe the poisonous gas, half and hour more and he'd be dead for good. Jaskier went for him, he could smell him on Roach, his fear and urgency. Idiot, that idiot.

Geralt tried with all his might to not think him dead.

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At the feet of the statue was Jaskier, body bent in an awkward angle. Geralt removed the undershirt on his face, recognizing it as a clever tactic. The mist did not reach that area but the purple and green tone on the bard's skin indicate high levels of poison, he must have went thru the mist to reach Geralt drag him back to Roach.

“Fuck, Jask”  said Geralt with a trembling voice and without thinking carried Jaskier to Roach, there'll be time to check for injuries for now he have to take him back to safety. Jaskier's heartbeat was slow, very very slow. Geralt fret but he did not relent.

He laid Jaskier's frigid body on the bedroll and with Igni he started the fire, he located the water Jaskier used for tea and used to clean his hands of the grime and dirt. A choking noise alerted him and Roach who was nosing the bard.

From Jaskier's nose a dark liquid started to flow, he was drowning from the inside which meant that he had breath the poison and it was filling his lungs with thick mucus.

He put Dandelion on his side and encouraged him to vomit with his fingers to clean his airways as soon as possible. Jaskier throat convulsed on his fingers followed by a steady dark flow. Geralt reached for the pot by the fire to put it under his mouth, which soon was filled to the brim.

"That's it Jask, that's it" Geralt whispered even though the bard couldn't hear him. With a clean cloth, he wiped the bard's mouth once the flow stopped and her lungs sound clear. It was then that Geralt noticed with overwhelming fear that the other had stopped breathing.

"No, no, Jask come on come on"

He acted fast by lifting Jaskier's chin and placing his clasped hands in the center of his chest and began to push down hard more times than he could count.

“Jaskier come back!” he growled when his shoulders felt like jelly, he was getting tired and Jaskier wasn't breathing. He wasn't breathing. He remembered Renfri choking on his arms a reflection of what was happening here. Not this again, not these again. Jaskier's mouth opened follow up by a weak gasp and a weaker heartbeat.

But he came back, and Geralt almost cried right there and there, but he didn't know how. There's nothing else he can do, he had no medicine of herbs for poisoning that could help humans, everything he had was lethal. He instantly regretted overlooking the possibility of this happening. He was traveling with a bard and the most responsible and considerate thing he could do was prevent and buy at least herbs just in case. But he didn't. They were at least a day and a half away from the next town and being that far from the capital meant fewer healers. Jaskier wouldn't survive the travel, not on this conditions.

If the poison hasn't killed him by now then it means that he could survive on his own, or at least that's what Geralt hope.

He put Jaskier in one of his shirts and covered him with all the available clothes they had, his cape and even the blanket with which he covered Roach.

Exhausted he started removing his armour to clean the now faint slashes on his chest and abdomen, then he walked like death to Roach to remove the saddle and pet her gently thanking her for her help.

It was an hour before dawn, but Geralt did not rest, he could not even if he wanted to. He sat next to Jaskier to check his breathing and keep the fire burning.

The fever hit the bard a couple of hours later, he was burning dangerously high, Geralt dipped a cloth on clean water to place on his forehead, from time to time raised Jaskier's head to feed him with water.

His heart didn't stop again which was a blessing amongst the terrible situation. Jaskier didn't deserve to die like this, not for Geralt or monsters.

Then the hallucinations began, feverish and confused, Jaskier babbled under his breath while trembling furiously. He smell like sickness and decay and in that exact moment the witcher missed the natural perfume of the bard's skin. Like sea breeze and orange tree. Like Jaskier.

By day two Geralt got assaulted by an all consuming wave of guilt. He had yelled at the bard for being...well, himself. He was so upset and it was so easy to insult and threaten to leave him in the next town.

Jaskier hated to be left behind.

"Why did you came for me, you idiot?"

"I don't deserve it" whispered before taking the now warm cloth to dip it once again on cold water. Instead of improving, Jaskier's condition began to deteriorate. Painful spasms convulsed his body for hours, the fever did not subside and his breathing were shallow and slow. Geralt lay next to him that night to keep the tremors at bay, he hold him carefully alongside his body.

"You do remember the night after Posada when we make camp and you asked me to cuddle you because you were cold?" He whispered into the night "I didn't. If you were awake I'd never hear the end of this. You'd love it"

The bard moaned softly and shook slightly under his grip. "Come back to me, Jask." He meant to say how sorry he was, he doze off instead.

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First he felt heat on his face, then a relentless pressure on his head as if a heavy stone was on top of it Little by little he maped his body and the multiple aches that alarmed him. On his chest underneath the skin his ribs screamed with fire as if he have been kicked hard multiple times, also his lungs burned like hell, his shoulders were stiff and sore, his belly hurt faintly.

What happened? Where is he? What, what, what, what

"Jaskier Jaskier. I'm here, breathe thru your nose, I'm here." Suddenly he realized that he was sitting up and wide-eyed. It was noon. "Jask" kneeled next to him was Geralt with a worried frown and a canister fill of water. He snatched it from Geralt's hands and drank as if a desert was kept inside his lungs.

"Easy"

“Not…your…horse” Jaskier flinched at how raspy his voice sounded. Beside him, the witcher chuckled and then stretched out his hand to put it on his forehead. Before Jaskier could react at the soft touch tha hand was gone.

"Fevers down" uh, did he sound happy?

"I had fever?" Geralt looked at him with such intensity, a expression he had never seen and therefore didn't know what it meant.

"You almost died" he answered softly. She saw Roach grazing without a mount a few feet away, she also noticed that Geralt was in his small clothes. The camp was a small mess like when they stay on the same place for more than two days.

"The Endrega"

"Endregas, yes"

"I went..."

"Yes"

"I... i'm sorry"

"No, don't be, you saved me" It was a shock when Geralt straightened a lock of hair from her forehead. His fingertips were warm.

"Are you hungry?"

"I don't know. I don't think so"

"You have to eat. I cooked rabbit broth, it'll do you good"

He could only swallow a quarter of the broth before starting to feel nauseous, Geralt said he had vomit enough for the past days before taking the pot from him. Roach came to say hello and Jaskier felt his heart swelled with affection. He wanted to do and ask more, but suddenly he felt tired, very tired, his eyelids fluttered and when Geralt saw him, he helped him lie down and put his cape over him. He was soft and calm, tender even. At that moment Jaskier knew that he must have been in a bad shape if Geralt was acting like this, like Jaskier always imagine on his wildest dreams.

He wanted to said thank you but it felt so meaningless at the moment, Geralt didn't look that good, slump and with drop shoulders a clear sign of exhaustion. if Jaskier still breathed, it was all thanks to Geralt, despite how defeated he was from the contract, he took care of him.

I love you seem something meaningful to say, every feeling and thought Jaskier have had of the witcher, taking form into three little words.

Sleep took him away before he could have the courage to say it.

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The next morning Jaskier insisted he was fine and he wanted to travel to the next town , of course he was a liar Geralt always knew when he lied, because he wrinkled his nose in a cute but irritating way. With a small smile, he pinched the bard's nose back to normal.

“No, you’re not ready” Jaskier let out a laugh as he smack the witcher's hand away. and before Jaskier could protest Geralt added "But we need go there to get you to a healer and reastock"

"Your letter Geralt, don't forget about your letter"

"Uhmm"

Before setting off on the journey, Geralt made sure that Jaskier could endure the journey. He applied what was left of a soothing balm to Jaskier's chest for the pain and bruises that remained after the compressions. Riding would be painful, but they have to get to the healer in case of a relapse or permanent damage. Jaskier let him applied the balm and he couldn't believe the patience and care the witcher put on his motions as if Jaskier could break if enough force was used. He was crumbling in tiny little pieces, melting, but from a different source. The witcher is going to be the end of him one day of these.

I love you, we wanted to said. He put on one of Geralt's shirt instead, it smells like onion and Roach and Geralt and smoke and safety. It smells like home.

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Riding Roach was painful and tiring, walking was out of the question He kept waiting for Geralt to get upset by the multiple stops they made but that never happen, in fact the witcher was the one who plannified and suggest to rest every one or two hours.

Something has changed between them, but the bard does not know what to name this new atmosphere, but he sure welcomes it. For the first time in all the years they have travel together Jaskier felt wanted, cared for, treasured! With a rush of happiness and satisfaction, Jaskier acknowledged that the walls Geralt has built around him to keep him out and stranded, have collapsed. He finally was someone to hold on to. Jaskier was sitting on the bed roll with a warm tea canister on his hands while the witcher set up camp to sleep the night. A day and a half away from the next town has become two days, they'll be reaching the inn (if it were any, Jaskier hope there would be) by night fall.

Geralt was stoking the fire when a mad idea occurred to him, he crawled to Geralt and before he could voiced his displeasure the bard embrace him in a tight hug. Two seconds later, Geralt hugged him back almost urgently, nuzzling his face where Jaskier's shoulder and neck met. He withdrew with a goofy smile on his face and his heart hammering on his bruised ribs, he couldn't care less. But he didn't get any far, he was a selfish man. Geralt was smiling too, a soft and crooked smile, when he straightened the bard's hair over his forehead and ears, he then, like under a spell trace his thumbs over his eyebrows and eyelids. Jaskier could die right here and then from happiness.

Their faces were so close. I love you, Jaskier wanted to say, he took Geralt's hands instead to place a kiss on each dirtied palm.

"You reek" of course Geralt would know how to break the moment.

"You too, mister. For once Roach smells better than us"

“She always smells better tan us” Jaskier snorted getting back to the bedroll pondering on how lucky he was despite the near death experience, he was a lucky men.

By the next afternoon Jaskier was beyond exhausted, every single one of his bones scream with pain, he felt as if he was about to pass out at any moment.

"Geralt..."

"We have to get going, Jaskier, only for a few hours and we'd get there"

"I can't"

"Please, Jask, I'll take care of you when we get there"

Please, what a strange word to express how much you care.

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Geralt practically carried him up the stairs to the room, Jaskier fell face first on the bed already half sleep. Geralt was placing his things when the bard murmured “Wake me up before you go in the morning." The thing is that even if he were on time to reach Eskel, Geralt didn't want to go anywhere.

Jaskier woke up sometime in the night when the mattress sagged next to him.

followed by a strong arm curling around his belly.

"Grlt'?"

"Sleep"

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Jaskier woke up to the chirping of birds on the windowsill, it was still early, the sun was not up yet. Not even the drowsiness could prevent the joy he felt and finding himself tuck to Geralt chest, they're facing each other naturally as if they have sleep like this forever.

And like a bucket of cold water thrown over him he remembered the letter "Geralt" he called softly "Geralt it's morning"

"Hmm, I can see that" came the sloppy reply, but instead of getting up Geral cuddled him more, practically tucking his face against the other's.

as if sensing his distress Geralt added "I'm not going anywhere"

"But your contact..." he withdrew (a few inches) to make a point. Geralt opened his perfect eyes and hold him under them.

"Eskel, my brother. I already send a letter, he'll understand"

"I'm sorry" a kiss was place on his forehead

"Don't be, I want to be here"

"You...you didn't want to" Geralt sighed ashamed

"I know and i'm sorry. Now I know where i belong"

"Here?" replied Jaskier with a snort

"With you"

"With me?!" Now was Geralt's turn to snort happily, resembling Roach when they feed her apples.

"You risked your life even though I was an asshole to you, even when I told you that the poison would kill you if you got anywhere near the place. I...I'm sorry"

"You were an asshole, yes" Geralt gifted him with a smile full of teeth "To be fair i was behaving like a brat at the time"

"You are a brat, yes"

"Hey"

Jaskier wanted to say I love you, instead he kiss Geralt's lips softly.

Geralt wanted to do better, so better he did.

#geraskier fic #geraskier #jaskier #hurt jaskier #injury #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier

[mindninjax]

Iron and Wine (4)

Chapter 4- Two Blue Eyes

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Erwin Smith x fem!reader (Royalty AU)

Warnings: They/them pronouns used for Hange, Miche literally almost charming the panties off of you, some minor character death, I'm not gonna ruin the surprise just know some of you will be disgusted with me and others will be thrilled lololol

WC: 5.1K

a/n: I'm sorry this took so long to get out. I changed so much shit around in this chapter because this is where it gets REAL. I think I've finally got what I want to happen from this point on locked and loaded though. Writing it may be a different story because this month is gonna get a lil busy for me. s/o to @lazyezstudy and @charlotteplsdosth for being sweet little darlings. 💖I'll dedicate this chapter to you.😘

Erwin’s eyes scan the horizon once more as the fluttering wings of the raven in the rookery rustles his hair. It’s been two weeks and there’s been no word from Abel or Keiji. They’ve never gone this long without sending word back which can only mean trouble. Erwin chews his lip nervously, creasing his brow as he racks his brain. What should he do? Send more men to find the two he lost? That would be a wise decision, if he had men to send. A raven flutters down next to him and he pets the head with one finger, gently.

What could have hindered Abel and Keiji from checking in? A tingle in his gut hints at the answer, but he doesn’t dare give voice to it. It’s a bad omen and he’d rather spend energy preparing than worrying. He continues scribbling the messages onto the slip of parchment and ties it to the raven sitting next to him before releasing it toward the North. He lifts a finger to beckon two more birds down to him, attaches the other messages, and lets one free toward the South and the other toward the West.

There’s still the issue of the agreement or lack thereof with you. Perhaps he shouldn’t have pushed you last night. Though he will admit it was entertaining.

The sound of shuffling feet breaks him from his concentrated stupor and he turns to see Miche and Hange approaching. Miche’s large broad shoulders block the doorway to the stairwell as he fills the entryway and blocks Hange from sight. He bows respectfully before reporting.

“Sire, the war council has gathered in the war room. They are awaiting your presence.” Erwin watches the flapping wings of the raven he just released silently. He doesn’t turn around when he speaks.

“Miche, you’ve been in the presence of my special guest. How do you like her?” he asks as if asking about the clouds donning the skies. Miche gulps and blinks quickly in confusion.

“You’re asking me if I like her?” he repeats, trying to be sure.

“Yes. It’s no secret she is a beauty. Even Levi seems to have noticed. So tell me, what has your nose told you about her?” Erwin says simply. He turns to look into his comrade’s large honest eyes.

“Erm, well she smells of fresh grass and wood, moss and clear spring water with a hint of some sweet flower I’ve been having trouble identifying. I’ve only smelled it once or twice in my life, but it was so lovely I never forgot it. But…” Miche trails off as he watches Erwin raise an eyebrow at him.

“What is it?”

“It’s fading… that scent is fading from her the longer she’s here,” Miche finishes quickly. He sets his face in a confident smooth expression and looks into the king’s eyes.

Erwin matches his serious and confident expression, “Are you suggesting I let her go?” he asks slowly, enunciating each word.

“No, your majesty,” he drops his eyes, regretful. Erwin sighs and places a hand on his shoulder.

“Don’t. Forgive me, I am just at a loss of what to do. It’s obvious the lioness doesn’t trust me and no matter what I give her she won’t change her mind. There is still no word from Abel and Keiji. I've sent ravens to Pixis in the North and Shadis in the South. War will be on our shores in months and I don’t have the support of my people, and decreasing numbers of soldiers thanks to famine and this petty war with the forest savages my father started,” he cards his fingers through his hair and runs a hand over his face. Miche can tell the stress of the situation is getting to him. A

“Erwin, perhaps you’re going about this agreement with the woman in the wrong way,” Hange speaks up then, pushing past Miche and clapping Erwin on the shoulder.

“Well you’re part of my damn counsel, so counsel me,” Erwin replies, giving a tired chuckle.

“You plucked a wild woman who’s people you just referred to as ‘forest savages’—it’s probably wise not to say that in front of her— from her home in the forest and put her in a castle expecting her to be enthralled with all the riches,” Hange explains holding out their hands in an animated expression as if the rest of the point is clear before them. When Erwin stares blankly at them and they sigh as if he’s hopeless and continues.

“It’s clear she’s not impressed by it, so why not show her something she will be impressed with? Something she’ll actually enjoy but can’t find in her forest village. If you can show her that you’re actually paying attention, she may be more inclined to join us. Moblit mentioned she was quite pleasant to him and she seems to have taken to Historia quickly.”

Erwin ponders their words for a moment and Hange knocks a fist against their own head as they try to think of something here in the castle that might impress you. Miche’s green eyes look between the two of them before he sighs deeply and grunts in a deep voice, “The private gardens.”

“Great idea big guy!” Hange says, clapping their hands together.

Erwin smiles at both of them, then takes a deep breath. He turns to look out at the horizon again, hoping to catch a glance of a raven. When he doesn't, he turns back to Miche and says, “OK then, I’m entrusting the lioness to you, Miche. Show her the gardens, make sure she actually enjoys it. Hange, you’ll join me in the war room. It seems we’ll have some things to discuss.”

“I’ve been sent to escort you to the king’s private gardens, my lady.”

A large blonde man whom Historia whispers and informs you is named Miche Zachariaus, bows before you as you swing open the door. You recognize him instantly. He’s the strong one who carried you away after your first talk with Erwin. You take a moment to scrutinize him before responding. Everything about him is large. His chest is broad, his shoulders wide and strong, he could probably fit 10 bundles of wood on his back and carry them with ease. He is handsome as well, no doubt part of Erwin’s plan. As if you’d be swayed by a man’s looks, though you do quietly and begrudgingly thank him for the nice view. He’s not wearing his armor which you find alarming. He either doesn’t see you as a threat or his skills are far beyond any you’ve known or witnessed and that also puts you on edge. You decide to be polite.

“I humbly decline,” you say in a small voice. As you’re about to close the door, his large hand stops it and pushes it back open. He looks almost desperate and you furrow your brows in confusion as you look back up to him.

“Please, my lady. I implore you to reconsider. I’m aware most of the luxuries have not been to your liking but this I'm sure you will enjoy,” Miche says, holding out a hand for you to grab. Your eyes shift back and forth from his outstretched hand and up to his gentle green eyes. He looks hopeful, like he really hopes you’ll take his hand. You hear Historia’s soft footsteps behind you.

“I’ve never seen the king’s personal garden. You should go, it’ll be beautiful. Ser Miche won’t hurt you. He’s very gentle and kind,” she whispers to you.

You give her a teasing smirk as you whisper over your shoulder back to her, “You’ve said that about everyone here.”

“Well I haven’t been wrong, have I?” she huffs and pokes out her lip in a cute pout.

“Only once,” you say, remembering the night Erwin came to your room. Miche clears his throat to remind you of his presence and you smile back up at him. “Would she be permitted to come with me?” you ask, nodding your head in Historia’s direction.

“You can invite anyone you’d like, my lady,” Miche responds and Historia’s eyes light up in excitement. You try to hide the smile tickling the edges of your lips and swallow the excitement at the thought of seeing the gardens.

“Very well then,” you say, grasping his hand.

The garden is breathtakingly beautiful. It’s as if it’s located in another world. It smells wonderful, not at all like the moldy castle corridors or the stench of burning fire and metal that drifts in your window from the castle town below. The sun rays kiss the green leaves of each plant and the array of colors each flower offers is more beautiful than any you've ever witnessed in your village.

When Miche opens the heavy iron gates, you’re at a loss for words. There’s a cobblestone path that leads to a grand white marble fountain in the middle of the garden. Multiple paths break off in different directions showcasing different plants. Vines climb up the walls and cover the stone, butterflies and bees frequent the flowers, and it surprises you how much this one little place reminds you of home.

There’s no stopping the bright smile that bursts onto your face and stays there while you gaze around in fascination. Historia is next to you, matching your bewildered expression and when the two of you meet each other's eyes you both laugh in amusement and happiness. Your laughter echoes through the garden and mixes with the babbling water of the fountain, a glorious little melody. Miche is watching you with a warm-hearted smile and you catch him ogling you from the entrance. You try to pull yourself together as you watch HIstoria wander off and Miche closes the gate behind him and comes to stand next to you.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Would you like a tour?” he suggests and you look at him in shock.

“There’s more?” you breathe and he chuckles a deep rumbling noise before holding out his arm. You hesitate again looking at his outstretched hand with suspicion. He doesn’t take it personally, a man as large and strong as him doesn’t have much to worry about, but he does give you a reassuring smile.

“Yes, my lady there is more. I thought you’d like to see all the gardens have to offer,” he replies, gesturing to the entirety of the courtyard. You blink in astonishment.

“This was your idea? How did you know I’d-”

“Your scent is strong. You smell like the trees and a sweet flower. I've been trying to figure out the name since you’ve arrived,” he says matter of factly. He turns to you then and reaches out slowly to grab the braid sitting on your shoulder. You surprise yourself when you don’t move away from him, but the fact that this was his idea, that he mentioned your scent, makes you feel more at ease around him.

“May I?” he says, green eyes drifting to yours. His long lashes brush against his cheeks and his deep voice rumbles through his body when he speaks.

“You wish to...smell my hair?”

“Yes, if you would permit me to do so,” he says politely. Again you look at him with suspicion, but nod to let him know it is ok to move closer to you.

Your eyes stay glued to him as he crouches and brings the long braid up to his nose and inhales deeply. He drags it up and down your hair, inhaling and exhaling with a deep pleasurable sigh after each breath. His eyes are closed as he focuses on the scent, mumbling words to himself.

“Pine...a hint of lemongrass...cedar wood...ugh the perfume overpowers the natural scent… and there that flower again...what is it?” He switches back and forth from sniffing your hair and sniffing the sweet air of the gardens. He’s quite amusing to watch and you smile to yourself as his shaggy hair falls over his eyes when he bends down to sniff you again.

Suddenly his eyes shoot open and he turns to face a path leading away from the fountain. He grabs your hand slowly, his large fingers wrapping around yours and swallowing it completely and strolls down the path looking back and forth between the colorful petals. He momentarily stops to sniff the air again before taking turns in the maze of plants until he comes across a hedge of thick green bushes and vines.

“Is this what you’re looking for?” You ask him, gesturing to the huge hedge in front of you sarcastically. He doesn’t respond, only bends down on one knee and reaches into the hedge. You try to pull him back, the hedge houses many thorns definitely as a means to keep people out of that area.

“No, don't! You’ll hurt your–“

He pulls his hand from the wall of thorns, bloody and pin pricked but holding the loveliest flower you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s pure white and unphased by the thorns or by Miche pulling it from its hiding place. You’re stunned by its beauty and it’s perfect white petals. He hands it to you and smiles a big joyous grin.

“How did you–“

“I’ve always had a good nose. I knew I’d smelled this plant before. Once near the edges of the forest. And then again when you were brought before Erwin. There were hints of it here, but it doesn’t seem to belong here. I figure it’s only natural to give it to you considering…” He doesn’t finish this sentence, not wanting to rub dirt in the wound of you being forced from your home. The flower make tears well in your eyes and you quickly swipe them away before he can see them.

You take the flower from him and bring it to your nose, the scent immediately reminding you of home and the huge field that has many of these swaying in the breeze. “It’s a moon blossom. They bloom at night or in dark places under the moon. It’s a symbol of growth in dark times,” you explain to him.

He nods in understanding. “I’d like to think…” he starts grabbing the flower from you again and moving to place it gently into your hair, “that it represents you, thriving and standing beautifully despite being so far from home.” His finger skims across your cheek as he fixes your hair. He’s definitely a charmer and he flashes you a cute boyish grin that you can’t help but return. His charm is genuine and you snicker as he steps back to look you over.

“Are you attempting to woo me?” you ask playfully.

“No. If I were, my lady, I’d tell you that there’s not a flower in this garden that compares to the beauty you possess. And that the dullest of days would shine brighter, for the sun would be envious of your presence and beauty.”

He finishes his sentence with a bow and a soft but pointed kiss on the palm of your hand. You can feel the prickle of his moustache in your hand and paired with his soft lips and warm breath, it sends a shiver up your spine.

The moment his lips leave your palm, your heart is thumping. You can still feel the warmth of the kiss on your skin and it radiates all over your body, culminating at the apples of your cheeks. You watch as his smile turns smug much to your chagrin, you turn away to hide the smile creeping at the edges of your lips.

“Alright then, I see now why the king sent you to escort me,” you say, clearing your throat. He chuckles in a deep baritone and holds his arm out to continue escorting you through the gardens.

“He’s very interested in you,” Miche replies, looking down at you as the two of you stroll.

You roll your eyes, “I bet he is,” you say remembering the way Erwin pinned you to the wall, his lips on your neck and jaw.

“Truly my lady, In all the years of knowing him, I’ve never seen him so entranced before,” he replies, watching as you let go of his arm to sniff a large drooping pink flower. Entranced, a pretty way of saying “kidnapping”, but something else he says catches your attention.

“How long have you known him?” you ask, curiosity painting your features.

“Since we were boys. I was a stablehand in the town right outside the castle walls. Erwin wasn’t king then but he snuck out of the castle to spend time with me. He taught me to read, taught me how to use a sword, and helped me become a knight under his father’s rule. He took care of my family when the food supply started running out, gave them jobs in the castle when he became King.”

He looks ahead as if he’s picturing all the events unfolding in front of him. You shrug your shoulders. Of course his best man would speak great things about him. Erwin is the King, it’s treason to speak ill about him. Though you will admit, this isn’t the first time you’ve heard of him helping out one of the people in the castle. You remember Historia telling you he found her in her village.

“What about Historia? She mentioned he found her in her village. Did he steal her too? She is a beauty,” you challenge, raising your eyebrow.

“Ahh the little lady, very sad story. The King happened upon her village after it had been raided by barbarians. There didn’t seem to be any survivors, the houses were burnt down, blood and carnage all over. He was returning from battle and stopped the entire army to search for survivors. She was the only one. Erwin brought her back to the castle, dressed her wounds and let her stay,” he explains.

You’re shocked but try to keep it hidden. You don’t think Miche is lying to you, it would be foolish. You could just ask Historia and if the story matched you’d know it was true. But there’s something about the way Miche speaks with admiration, loyalty, and genuine respect for Erwin when he tells the story that cements the truth.

It confuses you, the wolf king’s actions. The battles between your people and his to keep him out of the forest and away from the precious metals you know he’s after, the way he neglected his people despite them dying in the streets from famine while he sits in his castle and gorges himself on delicacies, it makes no sense. If he were as compassionate as Miche is suggesting he would never do these things. But there must be some truth to it, the Mother protects him. What does she see?

You're left to the many questions in your head as another guard approaches you and Miche and whispers something quickly in his ear. He nods once then turns to you and bows.

“My apologies my lady, but I’m needed elsewhere. Gelgar will escort you and Historia back to your chambers,” he says, grasping your hand and giving it a final kiss before departing.

You thank him and watch him turn a corner out of the garden maze as Gelgar gestures to have you walk in front of him and inform you that Historia is waiting back at the fountain. You nod and walk past him.

You suppose it’s time to stop being stubborn and finally read the documents Erwin left for you. If it means you’ll get out of here sooner, you’ll oblige. Perhaps more answers about the type of man Erwin truly is will be shown to you after you’ve read them.

The ravens reach Shadis and Pyxis in a matter of days and when they return it is not with good news. The number of men is less than what he expected to hear and more continue to drop from starvation as they speak. It has become increasingly more difficult to keep control over the North and South as the people grow weary and delirious with starvation. Pyxis and Shadis both report the same instances, talk of the lioness coming to bring them food and prosperity and good fortune as she did in Castle Town.

Lord Pyxis, ever the wise and kind old man and one of Erwin’s father's old friends, writes of the hope it instills in the people. He hopes that someone will come soon to help with this famine and the people are greatly appreciative of his faith. Shadis on the other hand is cold and views the whispers in the streets as a betrayal, a rise of another rebellion. He forbids any talk of you or the “nonsense” you would inflict upon his people.

Erwin scans the words on the notes from the two lords as Hange sits next to him, hands intertwined underneath their chin.

“Well it’s nice to know the people are of one mind. But Erwin, if we can’t get the lioness to agree we have no hope in helping anyone,” they say in a slurry of words. Erwin can tell their mind is working, filtering through the different possibilities.

“I have faith in Miche. She wants to help the people in this kingdom and she wants to keep her home safe and from invaders,” Erwin says, shuffling through many pieces of parchment on the table. He picks up a stained crumpled piece and glares at it. “And this will surely be a driving factor in her decis--”

The door to the war room bursts open as you stomp into the room, parchment gripped tightly in your hand. The lavender dress flows dramatically behind you as you drift into the room, drawing the attention of everyone present. Miche is behind you, desperately trying to keep up with your quickened pace as he flashes an apologetic frown and slight bow of the head to Erwin. You’re shaking with rage, head held high as you walk into the room with purpose. Your eyes are fixed on Erwin at the head of the table and you can hear the commanders whisper to themselves about your disrespect.

Erwin does not look bothered, rather amused as you come to stand before him and slam the parchment down on the big table in front of him. The goblets and war figurines tremble and topple over.

“What is the meaning of this?” You scream.

“Ahh my lady, I see you’ve read the document sent to the Beast across the sea.”

“This spews lies and deceit, we are not one kingdom, we do not fight as one. And I am not going to negotiate to share any of the fruits of my labor with you or this beast from the west!”

Erwin stands wordlessly and the others in the room immediately stand with him. He walks slowly around the table to grab pieces of parchment that sit in front of Hange. His face is no longer pleasant, but serious with a dark glint behind his glare. The pieces of parchment are wrinkled and stained with what you assume is blood. He holds them in his fist and hands them to you, nodding his head to encourage you to take them from him.

You do so, snatching them in a huff and uncrinkling them to read the neat scrawled handwriting. Your eyes scan through the first few words before Erwin’s voice rings out into the war room and demands “Read it aloud.”

You glare again at him before clearing your throat and reading the message aloud:

Greetings King Erwin, Wolf of the East. I am sure you and your war counsel have heard of me as they are tasked with keeping tabs on your enemies. I am not sure how much information your comrades Abel and Keiji gave you before I captured them but I can only assume they’ve completed their tasks remarkably. I can only imagine how thorough and intelligent you are King Erwin, as I've done my research on you as well.

I’ve received your letter, your partner sounds lovely but I have no interest in arrangements or agreements. I will simply take what I want: your lands, your resources, your people as that is what a conqueror would do. As I’m sure you already know, it is well within my power to do so. We will meet you in battle and crush you. I hope you will not take offense as you must be familiar with the rules of war. How many kingdoms have you crushed under your golden boot?

You drop the parchment, thinking it silly to continue with the self assured words of this foreign enemy. “You’re afraid of a cocky self assured bastard from across the sea? And I thought you to be a King.”

“Keep reading.”

“Why? It’s just nonse-”

“I said, keep reading.” Erwin’s voice is dangerous now, anger swelling inside him and you'd never admit aloud but it kind of frightens you.

You are probably wondering what has become of your loyal men, why they haven’t reported back in weeks? You're probably wondering what to tell their families, their wives and children if they have them. Well you’ll be happy to know I am a gracious war chief. I’d want to know what happened to my men as well. So I will tell you every detail of how your men suffered, until they took their last breath so you may explain to their wives and children as they wail in sorrow. And you may have what’s left of them, to bury or burn or whatever it is you do with your unfortunate dead. Their heads will stay here with me though, as my trophies. The details of their deaths are included in the lovely gifts I’ve sent you.

Best regards your majesty, and I look forward to seeing you when I land upon your shores.”

The note is signed with one name, “Zeke” in neat penmanship. Below that is what looks like a recipe, numbered steps and as you scan through them quietly you realize it is a step-by-step process of how the two men were killed. It is gruesome, horrific, unnecessarily cruel and you don’t have the stomach to finish reading it to yourself let alone aloud. You slam the parchment down on the table and look away. The other pages scatter and Erwin glowers at them.

“Did you see the diagrams, my lady? The diagrams of how he butchered my men? Or was the step by step process too much for you?”

“I don’t underst-”

“This letter came back attached to a bloody sack that held the maniac slaughtered remains of my men. This was a message my lady, a show of power. This… was Zeke’s way of telling me he will slaughter all who are in his path and he will not lose sleep over it,” his voice grows in volume and anger and soon it’s booming and echoing through the entire room.

“So you see, my lady I am no longer interested in the petty qualms of the past between our people. I no longer care about the hate your parents held for my father or the hate you have for me. What I care about is making sure this beast pays for what he’s done. And that he will never get his hands on any of the precious resources this land has to offer. So correct me if I'm wrong in assuming that we have the same goal.”

There is silence as Erwin stands before you now, scowling at you. He’s so close that your heaving breasts hit his chiseled abs as you stand there challenging him with your shoulders squared and your chin held high.

The silence stretches out into an awkward staring competition that you refuse to lose. The tension in the room could be sliced with a knife but your eyes never leave his crystal glare. For the first time, you can see past his brave mask. He’s confused, hurt, frustrated, and vulnerable and your hard icy stare warms the longer you look at him. You almost forget who he is and reach out to caress and comfort him but you lock your jaw and keep your hands clasped in a fist at your side.

“It’s different when it’s your men being slaughtered by a foreign enemy, isn't it?”

That catches him off guard and the anger slowly releases from him as you look around the room, looking at each of the advisors standing slack jawed at the exchange between the two of you. You look back to Erwin, determination on your face now.

“Seems we have a lot to discuss. When will the beast be here?”

Erwin sighs in relief, loud enough for everyone to hear and Levi scoffs under his breath and rolls his eyes at the show of weakness. “Nanaba estimates three months.”

“Perfect, that will be plenty of time.”

“Plenty of time for what? I need your decision, we need to start preparing,” Erwin says watching you look at the little figurines on the war table. You scan the map past the forest to the west where the blue coloring indicates the sea.

“This isn’t a decision for me to make alone.”

“What are you talking about? You’re their leader, are you not?” Erwin looks confused and slightly annoyed but no one in the room dares to speak up while the two of you converse.

You turn to look at him now, head held high. Your voice is strong and serious, like you’re stating the law of the land for all to hear. “Everyone has a voice and it should be heard. If you wish to have a decision, we will take this before my people and they will decide. Before you do, you will partake in living with us, learn our ways, drink with us, eat with us, celebrate and worship with us. And should they decide to accept your request, we shall solidify the deal underneath the full moon. It is in three days.”

You chuckle to yourself and though Erwin is still frustrated he can feel it slowly leaving him with every soft sound escaping you.

“What is it?” he asks, moving closer and looking into your eyes again.

“I suppose now you’ll be my house guest and I promise to be a better host than you.”

--

Tagging: @forlancasterrr @starstruckkittensweets @lazyezstudy @neptvnia @laceylaceyy @unadulteratedtreecrusade @gixxie @jeanbeaux @throughthethorns @casspea @charlotteplsdosth @melyannathemaia @saturnalya @ixwrites @mythical-goth

#erwin smith x reader #erwin x reader #erwin smith #erwin x you #iron and wine #marquie writes

[yujikuna]

golden hour

summary: Din Djarin wanted to kiss you. The thought of it was all-consuming. It’s funny that the only thing he’s ever allowed himself to want is the one thing he is bound by a creed to never have.

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

word count: 2k

warnings: absolutely none. just pure fluff and yearning and a shit ton of run on sentences bc that’s my brand

a/n: i posted this over on my ao3 (padme_skywalker) back in april and have decided to post it here since it did fairly well. just something light and fluffy to balance out the pain i’m sure we will all feel during the finale. i did a few quick edits and changes to make this more inclusive, but let me know if something needs to be changed. pls enjoy~

“What’s your favorite color?”

The two of you lay on a grassy hillside on some random planet Mando had stopped at to refuel and for the three of you to stretch your legs. The child was dozing off to the side after spending the entire day waddling in the field and splashing in the nearby stream and chasing after frogs. 

“Red,” Mando answered.

You were on your side, arm tucked underneath your head to keep the grass from tickling your face, watching him with curious eyes. It was nice, being able to lay there, the evening sun warming his beskar, as he played some question game you said was popular when you were younger. He didn’t know how you were able to talk so much at one time, taking the simplest questions he asked and answering them as if he asked you how the universe was made or how hyperdrives worked.

It was new to him- the whole not always being in silence thing. Not too long ago he would go weeks without hearing another being’s voice, just sitting in the Razor Crest with only his thoughts to keep him company. It was hard for him at first. It took him at least a month to be able to talk to you about something not related to the child or the ship. But your voice was smooth and sweet like the frozen cream treats he remembers loving as a child and he would listen to you talk about bantha dung if it meant he could hear your lilting accent and the breathy way you would trail off after talking for too long at one time.

“Really? Why?”

Mando glanced at you from the side of his visor. “It reminds me of the blood of my enemies,” he replied, his voice monotone.

Your eyes widened in shock before you threw your head back and laughed. Rolling on your back, you tried to quiet your giggles to keep from waking the baby. “Your jokes are getting better, Mando. Maybe once this whole bounty hunter thing gets to be too boring you can pursue stand-up comedy.”

You couldn’t tell, but he was positively beaming under the helmet, something in his chest warm at being able to make you laugh. He wished he could hear it without the filter of his helmet. He bet it sounds even sweeter.

“Okay, your turn, ask me one.”

Mando looked back up at the sky. “Do you speak any other languages?”

One corner of your mouth turned into a small frown. “No, I’m lucky that the family you saved me from were nice enough to even teach me Basic. I’ve always wanted to learn another, though.” You sat up, turning the top half of your body to him. “Oooh, could you teach me Mando’a? I always hear you speaking in it to the baby.”

He shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. Your frown had quickly turned back into a small smile and your eyes were wide with hopefulness. He wanted to tell you yes. He would learn any language in the galaxy just so he could teach it to you. “We’re not… We’re not really supposed to use it with people outside of the covert.” His heart clenched at the sight of your face falling.

You sighed and flopped back onto the ground. “I get that. Can you at least tell me what it is that you always call the baby, though? Ad’ika? What does that mean?”

He was quiet for a moment. “It’s what we call our children,” he said, deciding that the one word would be fine for you to know.

You hummed in response, eyes slipping shut. “That’s sweet. What is it that you always call me when you talk to him?” His face burns under the helmet. He uses a lot of names for you to the child. Mesh’la. Cyare. Cyar’ika. “Buir? I think that’s how you say it.”

Parent. Mother. “I… It’s just a nickname.” He clears his throat, not wanting to think about how much of a line that crosses. “You’re using all your questions up at once.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Mando turns his head to look at you again. He could hardly believe the way you glowed in the light of the setting sun. Your hair was fanned out around you, the light reflecting off of it and bringing out undertones that never show in the dim light of the Crest. It vaguely reminded him of the vibrant loom weavings the three of you had seen the local artisans working on early that day when you were in the market- but ten times more beautiful. Mortal hands could never create something as utterly divine as you were in that very moment.

Your brows furrowed slightly and you chewed on your lip. “Have you—” You cut yourself off. “Never mind.”

“Have I what?”

Your fingers twisted around a blade of grass. “Have you ever kissed someone?”

He nearly choked.

You turned your head toward him. Even the sensors of his helmet could detect the heat that had rushed to your face. “Sorry, that was a weird question. Don’t answer that.”

He couldn’t look at you when he answered. “No. I— I haven’t been without my helmet in front of others since I was a child.”

“Oh.” Silence fell between the two of you. “Have you ever wanted to?”

He should steer the conversation in a different direction. It was his turn to ask a question, anyway. He should ask you what your favorite animal is. Or what ship you would buy if you had unlimited credits. Or if— “Yes.”

He could still feel your gaze burning into him. He didn’t know if it was your eyes or maybe the sun or maybe he wasn’t really on this planet at all and he had somehow fallen in the Armorer’s forge because he felt like his beskar was melting right off his body.

“Anyone in particular?”

You, he thought. He would never say it, though. He knew that what the two of you had now was too good to ever mess up and his beskar may be hard but his heart had gone so damn soft ever since you first walked onto his ship and the mere thought of you rejecting him hurt worse than any physical injury he had ever sustained in his entire life.

But oh, did he think about kissing you.

He thought about it every time you walked in to a room. He thought about it every time you came up to the cockpit and sat a plate of food down beside him before going back down to be with the child. He thought about it the time the two of you decided to give the child a bath in a spare bucket since the sink was too small and you both were soaked head to toe from the child’s splashing and the only sounds in the galaxy were you laughing and the child squealing and you brought your hands up to wipe the bubbles off of his visor before you sent an armful of water his way and you made him laugh harder than he had in his entire life. He thought about it when he watched you work on the ship with grease smeared on your face and your brows furrowed and your tongue jutting out slightly while you concentrated. He thought about it when he turned his chair around to find you sleeping in the co-pilot’s seat, mouth slightly open and softly snoring.

He thought about it when he watched your eyes light up at the sight of something pretty at one of the marketplaces and then again when he presented it to you late at night once the child had gone to sleep and it was just the two of you and you hugged him and he didn’t hug you back but you both knew he would one day. He thought about it when he watched you take care of the child. He thought about it when he thought of his parents and how his father would always take his mother in his arms and kiss her and spin her around and dance with her and he thought about it when he told you what happened on that terrible day he lost them and you held him and cried and told him that you would burn down the entire galaxy before you ever let him feel pain like that ever again. He thought about it when the two of you got caught in a rain storm and you laughed the entire time you ran back to the ship and didn’t stop laughing as you stood under the dim lights, chest heaving and hair stuck to your face and you were so beautiful and that was the one time he sincerely thought about giving up the Creed because in his mind kissing you just once would be worth it.

He thought nearly every day about finding a loophole in the Creed. Turning the lights off. Blindfolding you. Asking you to close your eyes. He would trust you to not open them.

It’s funny that the only thing he’s ever allowed himself to want in his entire life is the one thing that he is bound by a creed to never be able to have.

So, yes, Din Djarin thought about kissing you quite often.

He could’ve told you all of this. But instead, he whispered, “Does it matter?” The words came out so softly he was sure they had been carried away by the wind.

You smiled, but it wasn’t like your normal smiles. It was sad and dejected and not like you at all. “No, I guess it doesn't.”

The sky was fading from golds and oranges and pinks to dusky blues and purples. The child was still asleep beside you and Mando wasn’t sure what kind of creatures came out on this planet at night and knew that he would have to guide you back to the ship soon.

The silence between the two of you was deafening and the few inches between your bodies felt like an entire parsec. Something cold began to clutch at his heart. He wanted to do it. He wanted to take his helmet off and hover over you and hold your face in his hands and finally just—

You scooted closer to him then, propping yourself up on one arm and leaning over him. You looked into the T of his visor and he wondered if you could see his eyes because it sure felt like you were staring into his soul at that moment.

His breath halted in his chest as you slowly inched your face toward his. Could you hear how hard his heart was beating?

He was frozen in place as he watched your eyes close and you pressed your lips to the hard beskar of his helmet right where his mouth would be and then he was on fire. He swore he could feel his lips tingling as if the helmet wasn’t there and your soft lips were on his. He was blushing, he could feel it as it traveled from his face down his neck to his chest. His entire body was tingling and numb at the same time and he felt hot and cold and Maker, is this what a heart attack feels like? Was he having a heart attack? You hadn’t even actually touched him.

The kiss only lasted a second before you pulled back and rested your forehead against his. When you smiled he felt the last bit of iciness in his heart melt away, leaving only warmth and happiness and love for this wild, beautiful creature in front of him.

“There,” you whispered. “Now you can’t say that you’ve never kissed someone.”

And then you were moving away from him, picking up the child and cradling him to your chest as you walked down the hill and through the field, taking every bit of his soul with you.

Din lay there on the hill for a moment longer. He was sure then that if he never took his helmet off for the rest of his life he would still die happy knowing that in some weird way he had kissed you and that was enough for him.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fluff #mando x reader #star wars fanfiction

[fandom-imagines-stories]

If I Go, I’m Goin

Dr. Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1845

Part One

Summary: With the reader’s funeral just days away, the team worries about Reid. Spencer struggles to cope and finds himself going to places he remembers being with you. Inspired by the song If I Go, I’m Goin by Gregory Alan Isakov. 

Notes: I know. I’m mean. 

Warnings: Character death, grief, depression

More Criminal Minds: HERE

-

And the photographs know I’m a liar

They laugh as I burn her down

She wasn’t leaving until he opened the door. J.J. knocked again, this time a little louder than the first. She had given him a day to himself, but now she was worried. It had been less than 48 hours since Y/N died. Everyone was dealing with it differently. Prentiss and Morgan went to the shooting range, Hotch buried himself in paperwork, Penelope was running around trying to fix everything, and Rossi was being, well, Rossi. 

Everyone thought it was a good idea to let Reid be alone for a while, but they didn’t know what J.J. knew. They didn’t know what Y/N had told her that day. Of course, everyone had their suspicions, but J.J, and maybe Penelope, were the only ones that knew that Spence just lost the woman he’d loved for at least the past year. 

The door slowly opened just enough for him to look out. From the little sliver that she could see, he didn’t look well. His eyes were sunken and dark and it looked like he hadn’t changed clothes since the hospital. The sight of his despair nearly brought tears to her eyes. 

“Hey J.J.” 

“Spence.” She greeted, her voice quiet and empathetic. “Can I come in?” 

“Uh, I guess. Sure.” He stepped aside and let her walk past him into his living room. It was strangely well put together. She expected things to be discarded on the floor, for the kitchen sink to be full with dishes. But the only thing that seemed out of place was a single chair facing the window. “Why did you come?” 

“I just wanted to see how you were holding up.” 

“Did Hotch tell you to come see me?” 

“Spence-”

“Because I really don’t need a psych evaluation right now.” He sat down in the chair in front of the window. Honestly, it was where he had been for the hours before J.J. got there. He just sat, looking out like he was waiting for Y/N to come down the street. 

“I came here as a friend, Spencer. Not as an agent.” 

“Oh.” She watched as the previous outburst lost its effect on him and he slumped forward, leaning his head on the glass. It was like watching a wounded animal stop fighting. It broke her heart. 

Spencer didn’t say anything else. When J.J. asked him a question, he responded with either a silent nod or a quiet mumble. Eventually, there was nothing else she could say. 

“We’re all here, Spence.” She put a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you need anything before the funeral…” The last word nearly caught in her throat. Funeral. J.J. kept a steady appearance, leaning over and kissing the top of his head. “Bye Spence.” 

He didn’t say anything as the door closed behind her. He didn’t even look back. Spencer kept his gaze out the window and watched J.J. get in her car and drive away. He must have sat there for a few more hours because by the time he finally moved, it was dark out.  

He forced himself to stand and walk back to his room so he could take a much needed shower. Seeing his still made bed made his stomach twist. His mind conjured the image of a quiet morning, none in particular, where he laid with her. He laid with Y/N in his arms as the sun peeked through the windows. Just as quickly as it had come, the vision left, returning the room to its original empty state. 

Spencer moved through his apartment aimlessly, his body moving before his mind could catch up. His thoughts were far away, trapped in those woods with the constant sound of an arrow cracking through bone. It cracked through his chest, leaving only a painful ache. He stepped into the shower with his clothes still on. 

-

This old house, she’s quite the keeper

Quite the keeper of you

He was there before anyone else, sitting in the dim light by himself for nearly an hour. When Hotch quietly trudged to his office, he stopped suddenly, seeing the form sitting at his desk. 

“Reid?” He flipped on the main lights and looked warily at the young agent. While he didn’t show it, Hotch noticed Reid’s disheveled appearance and blank expression. “What are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to do some paperwork,” Reid replied, keeping his eyes trained in front of him. Hotch set his briefcase down. 

“I told the team to take a few days off.”

“You’re here.” 

“I have to deal with…” He trailed off, dreading the report sitting on his desk. Reid nodded, still not entirely paying attention to his supervisor. 

“Right.” He continued to slowly tap his pen against the surface of his desk. Hotch knew that the psych evals weren’t until after everyone came back, but Reid was worrying him. Grabbing his briefcase, he kept a close eye on him as he went to his office. 

Spencer stared at the desk across from him. 

“Come on, there has to be something that you don’t know.” You challenged, chewing absentmindedly on the cap of your pen. Normally he would remark on how many germs were on the average pen, but when you did it, he thought it was cute. 

“Of course there are things I don’t know, I just don’t talk about them because I don’t know them well enough to talk about them.” 

“I bet you can’t name every character in Star Wars.” 

“Alphabetically or in order of appearance.” He smirked smugly. 

He blinked and the memory was gone. Y/N was gone and the emptiness returned. Spencer stood up, wanting to find something that would conjure another image of her. He wandered aimlessly around the office, slowly weaving in between desks. He opened the drawers of her old desk, but they had already been emptied. Her parents must have already cleaned it out. 

Right. Her parents were here. He’d almost forgotten. They were here for the… 

Somehow, he found himself standing in the break room in front of the empty coffee maker. He made himself a pot, not really thinking about his motions as he put the grounds in the filter and poured the water. It wasn’t until he imagined her hand on his arm that he felt anything at all. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, an amused smile playing at his lips. 

“I’m dancing.” You twirled to the other side of him, your playful laugh filling the small room. 

“There isn’t any music playing.” 

“Who said you need music to dance, Spence?” You took his hands and spun into him, giggling relentlessly. “Come on, dance with me.” 

“Are you crazy? We’re at work.” He tried to sound stern, but he just laughed instead. 

“So? Nobody will see us.” You put a hand on his shoulder and moved his arm around your waist. You both swayed to the music in your mind, your hearts somehow playing the same song. For a moment, you forgot where you were. You forgot that there was another horrific case awaiting you in the conference room and all that existed was you and the man that held you. 

“Hey Y/N.”

“Hmm?”

“I love you.” It seemed now that the two of you were swaying to the sounds of your heartbeats. You blinked up at him, surprised at first, but soon a bright smile spread across your face. 

“I love you too.” 

This vision faded slower than the last, Y/N’s face staying until the last possible moment. His arms ached from the emptiness, his feet rocking back and forth like he was dancing all on his own. 

“Reid.” Hotch’s voice halted the music in his mind. His voice was grimmer, almost sadder than it was before. “Are you ready to go?” 

“Go?” He read Hotch’s expression. “Oh. Right. That’s today.” Hotch nodded and stood aside so Reid could pass by. 

“I’ll drive you home so you can change.” 

-

If I go, I’m goin crazy

Let my darlin take me there

It was a perfectly nice day, making him even more sick to his stomach. The sun was out and clouds lazily drifted across the sky. He wished it would have rained. At least then, the world would look like he felt; colorless and dark. 

Y/N’s parents both shared a few words and Penelope did the eulogy. Spencer was sure it was nice, but he couldn’t focus enough to really hear any of the words. Hotch kept a close eye on him, though he tried not to be obvious about it. Spencer felt like everyone was watching him, waiting for his numb exterior to break. He knew they meant well, but he’d appreciate it if they were a little more subtle about it. 

Somehow, the ceremony felt both eternal and over too quickly. Before he had even moved to put his rose on the coffin, it seemed like everyone was leaving. Maybe it was just him; frozen in time until he could bring himself to step forward. It still felt like everyone was staring at him. How many people even knew about him and Y/N? Maybe everyone, at this point. They were profilers after all and he hadn’t been abundantly subtle on that last case. 

That last case. 

Suddenly the rose in his hand was an arrow, bloody and splintered at one end. It fell between his fingers and hit the grass as a flower again. A petal fell off and he held it to his lips. Was he going insane? Was this what it would be like from now on? Everything reminding him of that last moment with her? With the blood and the arrow and the screaming? 

With a slow, shaky hand, he placed the rose on the coffin. Someone put their hand on top of his, but when he turned, there wasn’t anyone there and suddenly, he felt something… peaceful. Something that told him that all he would need to remember were the good things. The smiles. The laughter. The dances in the breakroom. Despite every logical impulse in his mind, every scientific fact he knew by memory, he knew. It was her. Y/N.

Finally, he started to cry. The numbness was gone and allowed for emotion to finally come to light. Sobs shook his body and nearly made his knees buckle, but he made himself stand. He ran his fingers over the gleaming surface of the coffin and cried. 

“I love you. I’ll always love you.” 

He must have stood there like that for at least an hour, if not several, but when he turned around, he found his team- his family- waiting there for him. And they walked away together, always to remember the member that they lost. A friend. A sister. A lover. And Spencer would never forget you, as long as he lived. 

I will go if you ask me to

I will stay if you dare

-

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Requested Tag: @ lolalee24; @ haylaansmi; @ obsssedwithjustaboutanything;

#dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds imagines #Jennifer Jereau #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #if i go i'm goin #song based imagine #Matthew Grey Gubler #angst #sad #character death