#flop post probably!!! but...they are my everything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

justalia · 11 months

Text

creation is finished

this is probably the most important teaching of all and understanding this truly will help your journey.

understanding that creation is finished is vital to your law of assumption journey.

i’m sure most of you have been stuck in a cycle of trying and/or exhausting yourself by trying to maintain the state of the wish fulfilled.

what you desire already exists

the only reason why you have this burning desire towards something is because you are meant to experience it, and by meant i mean that you wouldn’t desire it if it wasn’t already within you waiting for you to realize it is already yours.

what you desire already exists!

there are infinite versions of you within your imagination waiting on you to believe them into being. they already are so! they already are who they want to be and have what they want to have and are not doing anything to try and get it.

it’s important to understand that when you imagine and decide to return to the state of the wish fulfilled you’re NOT doing it to make something happen in the 3D.

my mistake

the main thing i was doing wrong while studying and starting to apply the law was failing to truly internalize the fact that my outer reality is not my true reality, imagination is.

(my advice to everyone is to just apply without being judgmental with yourself, start applying and understand what works for you and what’s easier because this is how i learned how to properly apply the law without necessarily popping a vein)

this is a very common mistake and something you truly need to sit with in order to make your journey of self easier.

i was (as most of you probably are) stuck in a trying cycle, i understood imagination was the creator but i didn’t sit with the knowing that everything is already created in imagination and i don’t have to do anything to make it so.

for some reason seeing imagination as a creator (which is true) made me focus on creating my desire with the use of imagination instead of actually understanding that imagination is my only reality and everything is already so in there.

i’m not gonna lie to you, i was seeing movement because i was in the state of having my desire but i was extremely anxious about it, i was too focused on the movement i was getting and that lead to manifesting more movement instead of my full manifestation which obviously led to my desire taking more time to materialize.

the time it takes is absolutely irrelevant and i want the focus for you to be on how miserable i was while getting that movement, me being so focused on the movement made me rely completely on the 3D.

i was doing all of this to get my desire instead of accepting it fully in imagination. i was flip-flopping between states.

had i actually sat with the knowing that while imagination creates the outer world it is also the only reality out there and everything is already created in imagination i would’ve had a much pleasurable journey, because i am not supposed to create it, it already is!

you’re not making it happen!

for some reason even while actively studying the law and understanding it i was applying it in a way that was driving me insane in the long run, i hadn’t fully detached from the 3D so my results weren’t even long lasting because the moment something weird happened i would be deeply affected, and even when only favorable things were happening i was extremely focused on that.

“you don’t imagine for it to be so, you imagine it being so!” -EA

this is key!!!

please understand that while imagination creates the outer world you don’t have to turn it into a manifestation machine.

you tend to return to the state because it creates the outer world and therefore fall into the trap of doing things to get and constant trying.

you’re supposed to return to the state because why on earth would you think something isn’t yours when it actually is?

how would you react if i told you the phone you’re reading this post on isn’t yours??

“the fuck is she talking about, this is my phone”

well, yeah this is how i want you to think about imagination. it is your only reality and you should treat it as such.

there is nothing other than imagination, your desire comes from imagination and the fulfillment of your desire happens in imagination and there you also always experience it.

even when it materializes you are always experiencing it in imagination.

true fulfillment comes from imagination, if you don’t fully internalize that you will struggle!

i’m sorry, hate to break it to you, but you’ll never be satisfied in this world if you don’t understand where the fulfillment truly takes place.

as within, so without

take this seriously!

this phrase is the basis of the law: what you plant within your imagination will be expressed on the outside simply because imagination is the creator of your whole existence.

you need to understand that this isn’t something new you’re doing, you’re always giving something to yourself in imagination whether that be good or bad.

you’re not supposed to work for the wonderful things you want expressed.

you already have them! that’s the only thing you need to realize!

you already have them in their full potential, you’re not building your desire step by step.

the outside world will mold to you because it is the only thing it is able to do. do not worry about the outside, do not worry about others.

the outside is not your true reality. it not your true self.

“as within so without” doesn’t mean “let me change this inside so it gets reflected”.

it means “let me focus on my inner world cause that is all that exists, and by default the outer world follows.”

it seems similar but it is not, because the first one implies doing something to get what you want which necessarily implies not having it, the other ones implies acceptance that you already have it.

if you don’t accept that you are the inner man and not the outer man you will continue flip flopping between states, getting little to no movement and getting frustrated because of that.

you cannot change the outer world

you will never be able to change the outside if you don’t change SELF first.

all the things you try to do will never result in a change in the outer world if you don’t understand that you need to drop it completely.

you can’t have something and still desire/need it in the 3D.

you will be unsuccessful if you try that and most of all you will drive yourself crazy and be exhausted. because changing the outer world is never your job, the outer world changes itself.

when you understand this and you start living inwardly (consciously, because we all already do this, but unconsciously) you will not be affected by what happens outside! because that’s not your true reality, you will walk with complete stillness knowing the outer world molds to you and not the other way around.

you’re not shifting your state to make it express, you are shifting your state because you understand that the outer world is not your true reality and why would you believe in something that’s not true? why would you want to believe in something that is a mere reflection and not the actual reality?

2K notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 4 months

Text

Hallowed

Pairing: Michael Gavey (Saltburn) x f!reader Warnings: Toxic relationship dynamics, face sitting, smut. Word count: ~1.3k

Summary: Her Early Medieval Literature essay is due, and Michael has his own cruel way of ensuring she stays focused.

Author's note: Can be read as part two of this fic, but also works as a standalone. Day six of the Smuffmas prompts - "future and face sitting". No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She lounges on Michael’s bed, clad in only knickers and one of his t-shirts, a copy of the Canterbury Tales grasped lightly between her fingers. Her eyes move over the words of Chaucer, but take none of them in, how could they? His long fingers draw lazy circles on her ankle, her legs stretched out up to the pillows where he reclines, the duvet wrapped around his bare midriff while he reads from a textbook called the Book of Proof.

Life feels simpler since Michael has entered it, despite the turbulent beginnings. She has given up her friends, under his advice, and there is now far less pressure to conform. Her only focuses are her studies and pleasing him, the latter of the two she takes great pleasure in.

It is always on his terms; when they see each other, what they do, how they do it, and despite his obvious initial inexperience he is a fast learner. His ability to make her fall apart, to make her relinquish all control is something he does expertly. The slight fear she feels towards him only adds to the excitement; he could destroy her if he wanted to, but if she plays nicely then he won’t, and she is more than happy to play nicely when the rewards for doing so are as satisfying as they are.

She sighs, his fingers upon her flesh making her core throb with want, even from the simple gesture of absentmindedly touching her leg. She lets her book slip from her fingers, raising up on her elbow to look at him.

“Michael…” she whines.

He looks at her impassively, adjusting his glasses. “The first of your three essays is due soon, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” she responds with a roll of her eyes, flopping back down and stretching her arms above her head. “Early Medieval Literature.”

His hand moves from her ankle, fingertips ghosting over the exposed skin between the hem of his t-shirt and the waistband of her underwear. “And what have you written?”

She shivers beneath his touch, squirming slightly. “Am I really here to study?”

“I’ve no interest in sleeping with a failing literature student,” he pulls his hand away and she immediately misses his warmth. “So tell me.”

She groans in frustration. “Oh, I don’t know. Probably something about irony in the Merchant’s Tale.”

His textbook thuds closed and she hears the heavy sound of him dropping it onto the bedside table. When she chances to glance up at him she sees he is sitting straighter in the bed, his gaze hardened as he looks at her. “Probably?! You mean you haven’t started it? Have you even thought about your thesis statement, your in-depth analysis or how you’re going to conclude your ideas, if you’ve even had any?”

“Oh, come on,” she says softly, sitting up and reaching for him. “There’s still time. Can’t we just–”

“No,” he cuts her off. “I’ve been spoiling you, and it’s made you stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” She protests. “If I remember correctly, it was you who called my degree a ‘glorified book club’.”

“You still need to try,” he tells her, frowning.

“You don’t try,” she argues with a shrug,” and marks in your first year don’t count towards the final degree.”

“I don’t have to try, but I still get firsts in everything. Marks this year may not count towards the final degree you get, but they count towards you keeping your scholarship. Think about your future instead of being a fucking brat for once in your life.”

His words are a sharp sting to her already fragile ego, and she lowers her gaze, fighting the sudden urge to cry.

“I’m not touching you again until your essay’s handed in and I’ve seen what your mark is.”

Her head snaps up, eyes wide with disbelief as she looks at him, searching his features for any indication that he’s being unserious. She finds none; he really means it.

“And you’re not to touch yourself. I’ll know.”

The next two weeks are torturous for her. On the occasions that Michael does invite her to his room, there is no more casual half dressed lounging on his bed. Instead, he has a study space set up for her at his desk, and won’t allow her to speak or leave until she has at least a thousand words written.

They meet up in the library during free periods so that he can read through what she’s written, and her skin burns hot with humiliation each time he screws up a page and throws it into the waste paper bin, calling her arguments “lazy” and “uninspired”.

It lights a fire of determination beneath her, but bubbling under the surface is also a heightened state of arousal, driven by the lack of intimacy, and the fact that she finds that she likes it when he is so authoritative over her.

By the time she has finished, she has produced an essay that both her and Michael are satisfied with; it discusses the use of irony in Chaucer’s poem, the Merchant's Tale. She has used a number of excerpts and lines from the poem for analysis, revealing the instances of irony in each, and from this has determined that the irony Chaucer used in the Merchant's Tale is controlled.

Her eyes light up when Professor Ware hands it back, and she sees the 85% that’s circled at the top of it.

A first.

She feels giddy with excitement as she knocks on Michael’s door that evening, brandishing the now dog-eared pages at him as he opens the door.

“A first, I got a first!” She squeals, watching as he takes the essay from her, his eyes moving slowly over the top page.

“Hmmm,” he settles it down on the desk, removing his glasses and placing them on top. “Take off your jeans and underwear.”

“Wha–what?” She stammers, her grin fading.

“You want your reward, don’t you?” He asks, moving to lay back on the bed.

She swallows thickly, excitement fluttering in her lower belly, as she quickly complies, ridding herself of the clothing that covers her lower half.

“Come here,” he commands softly.

She joins him on the bed, a gasp leaving her as he manhandles her until her knees are positioned either side of his head.

“My clever girl,” he whispers. His words could be mistaken for softness, were they not directly juxtaposed by the rapid darkening of his blue eyes, and the way his thumbs drag across the indentations between her thighs and pelvis. “I knew you could do it, you just needed a little…push.”

He drags his tongue from her opening all the way to her pearl, and her jaw goes slack, the wet sensation making her clench as she falls forward, hands clawing at the wall in front of her.

His grip on her thighs tightens and he tugs her flush against his face, the sloppy sounds of him devouring her are lewd combined with the wanton cries of pleasure that tumble from her lips.

She feels her mind go blank as he inserts his tongue inside of her, keeping it rigid as she begins to grind herself in a circular motion, keeping his nose pressed against where she needs it most, desperately chasing the release she’s needed the last couple of weeks.

His hum of appreciation reverberates through her core, and as he withdraws from her, plush lips wrapping around her sensitive bundle of nerves she feels herself fall apart as the growing ache intensifies, completely at his mercy as he laps at her, while white hot waves of pleasure wash over her.

She raises up when it becomes too much, jerking at how oversensitive she feels and gazes down at him through heavy lidded eyes, breathless.

He looks like an utterly different person without his glasses, almost kind, though she knows better. His chin is shiny with her slick as he smirks up at her.

“You’ve worked so hard,” he says quietly, though the edge of malevolence to his voice is unmistakable. “But don’t worry, you can give that pretty little mind of yours a rest while I fuck you stupid again.”

She is powerless to resist as he tugs her back to his face once more, beginning the exquisite torture all over again.

#michael gavey x reader #ewan mitchell #michael gavey x y/n #michael gavey x you #michael gavey smut #michael gavey imagine #michael gavey saltburn #saltburn michael gavey #michael gavey fanfiction #michael gavey fan fiction #michael gavey fan fic #michael gavey fanfic #saltburn #saltburn fan fiction #saltburn fanfiction #saltburn fanfic #saltburn fan fic

667 notes · View notes

seeingivy · 9 months

Text

you belong with me

satoru gojo x f!reader

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: high school!au, gojo is a robotics nerd, reader is class president, emo nanami (my beloved), toji is ur shitass football playing boyfriend, typical cheesy highschool drama

an: tell me why posting this is giving me a tummy ache like I haven't posted for gojo in forever and now i think I suck at it :OOO anyways, please be nice to me about this and close your eyes if you hate it. also, totally reliving my high school days when I was senior class vice president (worst experience of my life) FDLJFKDSJFLS

You’re a hater. A self proclaimed, real-life, deep in your soul hater.

What do you hate today? Being class president.

You hate that you willingly ran, somehow won, had people up your ass all day about stuff that wasn’t in your control, and got stuck in the current situation you were in. Which was arguing with your boyfriend Toji, as you pace around your room and do your own fair share of screaming back.

“You just did that shit because you were pissed at me.”

“I did not, Toji. You know, not everything is about you. Other people needed the money and I put it where it was needed.”

“To the color guard team? Babe, no one gives a fuck about the color guard team. Everyone is at the homecoming game to watch the football team. Not a bunch of idiots waving flags in the air.”

“They’re also part of the game and all their equipment is broken. They need it more than you when you guys literally get donors and funding from the district and-”

“You’re just pissed about the sweetheart thing. That’s why you’re doing this shit and taking it out on everyone else.”

“Toji, I’m not even mad about-”

You’re met with the sound of ringing over the phone, signaling that Toji had enough and finally hung up on you. You flop straight onto your bed, pushing your face so hard into your pillow that sits uncomfortably against your nose and the smell of your laundry detergent makes its way to the crevices of your brain.

You hear a banging behind you and twist around to see Gojo pointing at his walkie-talkie, switching it on as you reach for yours. It’s still covered in glittery pink stickers from when you were seven, the silver coming off on your hand every time you grab it.

“Come in, bunny.”

“Loud and clear, Toru.”

He smiles, setting his hardware down - probably for another weird ass robot he was making - as he holds it up to his face, talking again.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Just arguing with Toji, again. I’ll start allocating some of our funds to get you some sound proof windows.”

“Much appreciated, Madam President. That’s very generous of you.”

You laugh, dropping the walkie talkie to lift your fingertips to your temples, lightly massaging the pulsating under your skin.

“For what it’s worth, the color guard team is really grateful you did that for them. I know Utahime was so excited when the new flags came in, she was flipping them around on the field for hours.”

“That’s why it’s even more annoying. I know what I did was right, but he just doesn’t see it that way. Uta dragged me down to the field to watch them and their choreography looks so much better with the multicolored flags. They were really happy about it.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown?”

“Heavy is the head that’s dating Toji Fushiguro.”

He laughs as you switch your channel off, taking the last few seconds to study you before you draw your curtains. He can see the tension sitting in your shoulders and how clearly it hurts you to argue with Toji like this. And it infuriates him. That you even have to go to sleep angry and that the cause is the headass idiot you’re dating.

Toji Fushiguro is lucky, far more lucky than he realizes. Not for obvious reasons. Yeah, he’s a great football player and yeah, he’ll probably get scouted for some really good university at the end of the year. He doesn’t have a shortage of friends or intelligence and for all intents and purposes, he’s loved (which Gojo doesn’t understand at all).

He’ll probably be that scumbag that people see a few years down the line and then get infuriated at. Because if an absolute asshat like Toji Fushiguro can be successful, then truly all things have gone to shit. That the patriarchy is real, that society is broken, living proof that the asshole always wins and everyone else always loses.

But no, those are common reasons to hate Toji Fushiguro - ones he’s heard echoed by Suguru and Shoko every time he does something that pisses the two of them off. Like scream obscenities in the hallways, block their parking spots when they’re going to class, call them names when they walk by.

No. Toji Fushiguro is lucky because he gets to date you. Because out of the long list of girls he had to pick one, Toji just had to pick the one that was his. The girl he’s been in love with since he moved in right across the street and had a smiley neighbor excitedly waving at him through her bay window.

To him, love has always been the pigtail braids you used to wear everyday in the fourth grade, the matching walkie-talkies you bought him in sixth grade when he got grounded, and that sweet smile you’ve had since the first day he’s met you.

And when he sees those green curtains pulled against the bay window he’s stared at for years, where he’s loved you from for years, he lifts the walkie and says what he forgot to mention.

I love you.

Thanks to your gracious ride, you make it to school thirty minutes early. Your intuition - that Toji was ditching you as your ride to school this morning - was correct. Luckily, you made it in time just before class started.

Nanami’s already seated on the green bench outside the classroom, headphones plugged into his ears. As you walk up, you silently wonder how much hair gel it takes to keep his Gerard Way hairstyle in place.

“Hi Kento! How is my best friend doing on this fine morning?”

“We’re not best friends.”

“Sure we are!”

You reach forward and pinch his cheek in your hand, which he only swats off and rolls his eyes at. That’s how you know your best friends. Because if it was anyone else, Nanami would probably break their hand and walk away. But he always lets you tease him, because he know he loves you.

“Are you still fighting with that dog?”

“That dog has a name. And it’s Toji. And I’m not sure, he didn’t pick me up for school this morning.”

“Did he at least tell you he wouldn’t?”

“No. I was lucky enough that Satoru had walked Megs to the bus stop a little late and I was able to get a ride with him.”

Nanami looks over, narrowing his eyes at you, as the hallway starts getting crowded with people. And you know what he’s saying, what he’s been saying for the past few months.

“You know, it’s very normal to give your neighbor a ride when they need one. Not everything has ulterior motives, Kento.”

“That’s true. Everything doesn’t have ulterior motives. But he does. I’ve seen how he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me, Kento?”

“Like he’d kiss the ground you’d walk on.”

You roll your eyes, reaching up to mess up his perfectly styled hair. It doesn’t budge and you get a handful of minty smelling hair gel.

“As if.”

Like you’ve summoned him by bringing him up, Satoru’s sidestepping to where you and Nanami are sitting, Shoko and Getou in tow with him.

“Nanami~~ How’s my best friend doing?” Satoru says, bending over to totally obscure Nanami’s line of vision.

“Shut the fuck up, Gojo.” Nanami responds.

Nanami stands up, giving you a look, before he stalks away to his next class. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and Getou standing in front of your classroom.

“So. I hear you have a robotics competition?” you ask.

“Yeah. Next Saturday. We always practice our hardware out the night before, throw a little party in the lab. You should come.” Getou says, smiling at you.

Satoru smacks Getou in the stomach right after he invites you, clearly trying to tell him something with his eyes. And then when he catches you staring, he gives you a nervous laugh.

You get it. He doesn’t want you there.

“Don’t act too excited to see me now, Satoru. Anything more and I might think you like me.” you bite sarcastically.

“What? No, it’s not like that. I just-” Satoru stutters,

“So you don’t like me?” you say, smirking at him. Shoko and Getou are laughing, the tips of Satoru’s turning pink as he very adamantly tells you that he does indeed like you.

“I have stuff to set up for the homecoming game that day, so I won’t be able to. But I’ll try my best, yeah?”

“Okay. Next time?” Getou asks.

“Sure, Sugar-u. I’ll see you guys around, yeah?”

You give the three of them a polite smile as you trudge away, leaving to meet Toji at his locker and give him a piece of your mind for this morning. Which leaves Shoko and Getou to give Satoru the scolding of his life.

“Are you fucking stupid, Satoru? You made it seem like you didn’t want her there.” Shoko says, smacking him on the back of the head.

“I panicked! Plus, Haibara always likes to play Just Dance and I’d rather not embarrass myself in front of her.” Satoru responds, rubbing the now sore spot on the back of his head.

“You’re hopeless, Satoru. She’s never going to like you if you keep rejecting her the way you do.” Suguru says, dragging him along to the robotics lab.

“She has a boyfriend. Who isn’t me. As if she would even consider dating me in the first place.”

And when the three of them pass you by the lockers, clearly getting yelled at by Toji, it only furthers their argument more.

“Yeah, I’m sure she really loves him, Satoru.”

Your argument with Toji hours prior simmers in your head, as you wait for the bus to arrive and for this godforsaken day to finally be over. You watch him pile into his car with Salma and the other boys from the football team, which only makes your anger fester more.

He’s doing this to piss you off. Of course, he’s doing this to-

“Need a ride?”

You look up and unclench your fists to find Satoru, sparkly blue eyes shining at you and a hand held out to you.

“Thanks.”

He leads you to his car, an almost demolished Honda Civic from his maniacal driving, and you climb in, immediately putting your head in your hands. You can feel him moving around you, the engine purring on and him backing out of the spot.

“About earlier. I don’t not want you to come to the robotics thing. I just thought it was awkward the way he asked you and I-I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come, you know? And I-I’d like it if you came too and so would the rest of us.” he rambles, a hand in his hair.

You look up, his ears tinted pink from the confession.

“I was just teasing you, Satoru. I’ll try to make it by, okay?”

He sighs, a clear breath of relief, and looks over to smile.

“Okay, cool cool cool. Now tell me why you and Toji are fighting.”

“When aren’t we fighting?” you murmur, pressing your head against the glass.

“But why?”

And when you look over, his blue eyes staring into yours, in earnest while the light is red, you unload it all.

“Do you know about the sweethearts thing they do at the homecoming game?”

“Uh. That’s when the cheerleaders wear the jerseys right. And then decorate the locker room or some shit for the players.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s not limited to cheerleaders. It usually is, but if you’re dating someone, that person can do it for you.”

“So I’m guessing Toji doesn’t want you to do it for him.”

“Not exactly. He was just saying that it’s more traditional for a cheerleader to do it since they’re also on the side of the track and he wants to see his name out there instead of running around, trying to make sure the game is running and all that.”

You slump into the chair as Satoru frowns, a pitying look in his eyes, as he keeps driving. You can’t help but watch him, his silhouette against the window - defined jaw, the slope of his nose.

He’s not the guy who ran away from kissing you in the eighth grade. He’s just ten times hotter.

You shake your head, letting the thought spill from your mind, as Satoru looks over.

“Jamoca?” he says, giving you a wide grin.

You can’t help but laugh, nodding as Satoru makes a sharp left turn, making his way to the ice cream shop.

Jamoca is your favorite ice cream flavor. Coffee, layered with fudge and almonds, became a proclaimed favorite when Satoru dragged you once in the sixth grade. After very sorely losing the class president battle, you moped in your room for five days - even going as far as borrowing one of Nanami’s My Chemical Romance vinyls to truly and properly mope.

On day three of blasting the vinyl, Satoru called enough and dragged you to the closest ice cream store, claiming it was the closest thing to therapy that you normies could afford. Since then, any bad day was easily solved with two things.

Jamoca and Satoru.

When you make it to the store, Satoru’s excitedly dragging you out of the car, his hand pressed in yours as you both run into the store, giggling while you order your single scoops. And when he drags you out to the curb and you sit there, you silently think to yourself why you ever stopped doing this in the first place.

Satoru leans over, digging his chocolate fudge covered spoon into your cup, before talking.

“So. If you guys fight so much, why are you still dating?”

“Dunno. Feels weird to initiate a breakup, I guess. I can’t see myself doing it.”

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart?”

“Even when he wants other girls to be his sweetheart.”

You kick the pebbles into the broken parts of the pavement, leaning your elbows on your knees.

“I don’t know, Toru. I guess he was just the first guy who ever liked me back and then I….spent so much time in the relationship and trying to make it work that it feels weird to let it go now.”

Satoru swallows hard, eyeing his melting ice cream, as he ponders the best response. Because in earnest, he has two options. Support you or be selfish. Support you to stay with Toji, to do what you’ve been doing because he knows it’s what you want. Or be selfish. Tell you that he you deserve better, that he could be that for you if you just let him.

He reaches over, flicking you in the forehead.

“Ouch, asshole.”

“You’ve got a really big brain in there. And you always have. You’ll figure out the right thing to do, just give it time.”

And when you give him a halfhearted smile, reaching over into his cup for a bite of his ice cream, he lets it go.

He can’t be selfish. Not when it comes to you anyways.

After running around all day, you give yourself thirty minutes to go to Satoru’s robotics thing. After triple checking the microphones work, the yearbook team has access to the field, the glitter has been set out for everyone trickling in, and that everyone who could possibly need your phone number has it, you speed run to the other side of campus, to the robotics lab.

And when you make it, the five of them - Haibara, Nanami, Shoko, Getou, and Satoru - are in the room playing Just Dance. Shoko’s sitting on top of the desk, flippantly moving her remote in the air, while Satoru quite literally is trying to give it all he’s got - and losing apparently.

You lightly push the door open, which stops the two of them in their tracks, and you’re met with some very excited cheers as they all drag you into the room. You take a seat next to Nanami, giving his cheek a pinch, which he hates.

“You’re Haibara, right?”

“You know who I am?”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re friends with Nanami and Nanami and I are best friends.”

“No we aren’t.” responds Nanami, now sulking two seats away from you.

“Are too.”

You throw the nearest object, a pencil at Nanami, as you turn back to Haibara and laugh.

“I like your shirt. Flight of the Navigator is a really good movie.”

You see Satoru, Shoko, and Suguru’s eyes widen in the back at your words and hear a considerable amount of groaning from Nanami behind you. And after twenty minutes, you find out why.

Haibara really, really loves Flight of the Navigator. Almost too much. In earnest, you barely remember the movie - at most, maybe the weird little alien companion he has. But here Haibara is, reciting the cast, the directors, acting out the scenes and it’s clear to you that you’ve tapped into some monster they all keep hidden.

Luckily for you, Satoru comes to your rescue.

“Okay, Haibara. I’m going to steal her for you for some Just Dance.”

“I don’t Just Dance Satoru.”

“Oh yeah? You’re just saying that because you know you’re going to lose.”

You scoff, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

“As if, sweetheart. I distinctly remember you banning us from ever playing that game together after I beat you in the fifth grade.”

“You’re rusty. Maybe we’ll start with something easy. Like Rasputin.”

“I could do Rasputin in my sleep, bitch.”

“Prove it.”

You roll your eyes as you march over to the front, where they’re projecting the game onto the screen. And just for posterity’s sake, you take Satoru’s sunglasses from where they were flipped over on the desk and put them on, effectively blinding yourself from the screen.

And when the songs start, you can hear them all laughing behind you, Satoru and you hurling insults at each other as you dance on. And somewhere around the middle, you’re sure Satoru must be losing because he grabs your hands and suddenly he’s swinging you around in the air, his hands on your waist as you laugh.

And when you take your blindfold off and the song dies down, Satoru wins by five points.

“You asshole. You literally cheated, Satoru.”

“Did not. You’re just a sore loser, bitch.”

“You kiss your mom with that mouth?”

“Every night, sweetheart.”

You put the palm of your hand in his face as you push him away, moving to sit on the desk. He joins you, the two of you now watching Haibara and Nanami have a very one sided dance battle.

After forty-five minutes, Satoru’s phone buzzes three times and the smile on his face drops when he checks. You place your hand on his, squeezing twice before asking.

“You okay?”

“Huh. Oh, yeah. I-I think you should go to the field. Right now.”

“Wait, what? But you hate that kind of-”

He grabs your hand, dragging you out, as you both start running to the field. You keep asking as he pulls you on, getting almost no response and only a faster pace.

And when you reach the field, you catch just the end of it and the only thing grounding you to that moment is Satoru and Utahime, who was surely the one who had texted Satoru, holding onto your shoulders.

Salma, the cheerleader Toji picked to be his sweetheart, just asked him to homecoming during halftime. And he said yes.

Utahime squeezes your hand three times, a soft look in her eyes when she talks.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just thought you would want to know and I wanted to tell you because you’ve been nothing but nice to me.”

You smile, moving into her open arms as you whisper a small thank you into her shoulder. She leaves, having to return to the color guard team waiting for her on the side, leaving you and Satoru standing on the pavement right by the field.

“Take you home?”

“Thanks, Toru.”

“You want Jamoca?”

“Not today.”

He nods, a hand on the small of your back, as he leads you to his car, even going as far as opening the door for you and letting you crack the windows while you drive back - which you know he hates.

At the first red light, he taps on the top of your head to get your attention.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“Do you think there’s something wrong with me?”

“What? Of course, not. Toji is just an asshat who doesn’t see you for what you’re worth and-”

“No. No, no. Not like that. Do you think there’s something wrong with me because I’m not even the tiniest bit sad right now? I’m…relieved.”

Satoru looks over, the red front the traffic light flashing on your face, and a blank expression staring back at him.

“Of course, not. He’s a grade one idiot. Anyone in your position would feel that way, bunny.”

“I know. That’s true.”

“But?”

“Does this make me defective, Satoru? Like, maybe I just can’t like people that much or something and I was the problem.”

Satoru twiddles his thumbs on the steering wheel, pondering the same question he has been asking for the past few days. Encourage her or be selfish.

He can’t be selfish with you.

“Okay, Y/N. Close your eyes.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it.”

“Okay.”

He looks over, to find you eyelids fluttering shut, your face lit up by the streetlights outside.

“Now. Tell me about your dream guy, bunny.”

“What are you going on ab-”

“Just do it.”

You sigh, before thinking hard about his question.

“Someone I can be comfortable with. That’s my type. Like we can have fun together and play games but also being around them is comforting to me. Things might suck, but at least they are there to kind of pick me up at the end of the day. They’re nice to people and are surrounded by good company, because you are who you love and they try to be better each day.”

After finishing, you open your eyes to find Satoru staring at you, an all-knowing look on his face.

“Bunny?”

“Toru?”

“Does that sound anything like Toji to you?”

You slump back into your chair, sinking down.

“No.” you murmur.

“You aren’t defective. Well, maybe in the higher level cognitive thinking part because you clearly have some impaired decision making but-”

“Hey. Don’t be rude, asshole.”

“Get out of the car.”

You crane your head out the window to see you’re in fact not at your house, but at the ice cream store. And when he comes around to your side of the car, opening your door, he drags you out, the two of you eating you ice cream in the light of the dingy lamp outside the store.

You knock hard on your window, only stopping when Satoru looks up from his desk, dropping the pencil he was just scribbling with. You point to your walkie talkie, switching on the channel as he grabs his.

“Hi bunny. You look nice.”

“Thank you. Are you coming tonight?”

To homecoming. Because despite all odds and last night, you still have to go. And crown the homecoming king and queen since you’re the class president, which you’re sure will be Salma and Toji since the universe is very, very kind to you.

“I’m sorry. Haibara needed help designing something for next week.”

“Oh. Okay. I wish you were.”

“I wish I was too. His hardware is Flight of the Navigator themed so wish me luck.”

You laugh, giving him one last smile as he pulls the curtains to his window. And when you see his navy windows against the pane you’ve stared at him through for years, it only now occurs to you.

When he asked you to describe that last night, he unlocked something. Bringing it to your attention, to the forefront of your mind.

The person you were describing is him. You lift your walkie talkie to your mouth, press the button, and mention the words you forgot to say.

I love you.

And then you turn on your heel and drive yourself to the dance.

Satoru ponders it for thirty minutes.

Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish. Support her or be selfish.

Be fucking selfish.

Satoru gets up, dropping the hardware he was making for Haibara, and pulls out the first suit he can find. He grabs his walkie talkie off his desk, convinces Megumi to go beg your mom (who loves Megumi) for your walkie talkie, and then goes ninety on the freeway to get to the school on time.

He finds Nanami first, the glob of gel on his head somehow even worse than normal and sets his plan in motion.

“Nanami.”

“Please, for the love of god, not tod-”

“Go hand this to Y/N.”

Nanami and now Shoko are taking the walkie in their hands, flipping it over and inspecting it like they’re the fucking FBI. And more importantly, wasting time.

Three feet away, you’re standing by the punch table, counting how many balloons are on the ceiling. You reach three hundred and fifteen when you’re approached for the first time that night, by Nanami and Shoko.

“Nanami. What is going on with your hair? You can’t possibly need that much hair gel.”

“You would be shocked, Y/N.”

“That's what I said to him too. But this is for you.” Shoko says.

She hands you your walkie talkie, the silver glitter coming off on your hand, as you flip it over.

“Did you break into my house, Shoko?”

“No. But I’m guessing Satoru did. He ran in here five minutes ago and basically yelled at us to give it to you.”

They both shrug as they walk away and you look around, clutching the walkie talkie so hard in your hand you think you might break it. Satoru’s here.

And when you scan your eyes around the room, you see him at the front door, his eyes already fixed on yours. He’s smiling so big that it makes your heart squelch and suddenly you’re moving towards him. And as you both start walking (running) to each other, you can’t help but feel the anticipation of what’s coming.

Except that’s right when Toji stands in the middle of the two of you, his characteristic slimy, sneer on his face. He reaches for your hand first.

“Can we talk, Y/N?”

"No."

You shrug your hand off, pushing right past him, as you walk closer to Satoru. You can hear Toji shouting something at you, but you’re too tunnel visioned on Satoru to pay attention. And when you reach him, you’re both smiling so big at each other, that it makes your face hurt.

He lifts his walkie talkie to his mouth, talking first.

“Come in, bunny?”

“Loud and clear, Toru.”

“I love you.”

You can feel yourself smiling so big, so excited that you’re basically jumping on your toes, your walkie shaking in your hand.

“I love you.”

“Oh thank god. I was scared I was going to get a breaking and entering charge.”

You laugh, pulling him down by his tie and kissing him square on his face. And when he pulls away, ears pink and face red, you whisper against his lips.

“It was always going to be you. I belong with you.”

He smiles, that stupid smile you’ve stared at, loved for years and you can’t help but cheese, leaning forward to kiss him again.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

taglist: @porridgesblog @platrom @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @luna0713hunter @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @squirrelspoetry

830 notes · View notes

chakkll · 6 months

Text

Worries, Worries

Mike Schmidt x gender neutral!reader

Fandom: Five Nights at Freddy’s

Synopsis: Mike’s been doing better. He hasn’t dreamed of his brother since Freddy’s and hasn’t needed sleeping pills for almost a week now. Well, at least he thought he was doing better.

Warnings: Post movie, established relationship, fluff

Word count: 1k

*please forgive how short and probably rusty it is, it’s been a minute since i’ve posted!

Everything’s been good. One might say almost too good.

Mike has been sleeping well, been happier, and been getting along with his sister better, all because of what happened at Freddy’s.

But all this goodness is making Mike nervous. You can feel it.

“You sure you don’t want me to tuck you in?” You call after Abby as she shuffles down the hall, her drawings and crayons tucked into her arm.

A soft “yeah” is all you get in return before you hear Abby’s door shut. You smile to yourself before glancing to the clock.

9:32pm. Mike will be home soon.

Mike asking you to watch over his little sister in the evenings has become part of your schedule. He has Fridays and Saturdays off, but other than that, you’re cooking Abby’s dinner and making sure she gets some sleep, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Some might think it an inconvenience to constantly watch over your boyfriend’s little sister and end up seeing her more than him, but you adore Abby.

Sure, she might not talk very much, but she’s a very creative girl. It’s hard not to like her.

When Mike first introduced you to each other, Abby ignored your greetings and went right back to her room to draw. At first, you were pretty sad about her initial reaction to you and Mike’s relationship, but Mike managed to convince you that her reaction was a positive one.

That was five months ago.

Now, Abby draws next to you instead of in her room and will answer questions about the drawings. Plus, if you catch her in the right mood, she’ll tell you about her friends.

You yawn as you flick through the TV channels until you land on a documentary about seals. You glance to the clock.

9:46pm. Mike will be home soon.

Your eyes drift from the clock to the floor. A rather beaten up book lays half open, a ripped page on display.

You heave yourself off the couch and over to the book. You carefully pick it up and close it to see the cover.

Dream Theory. Interesting.

You flip to the back to read the blurb while walking back to the sofa.

You flop back onto the couch and flip to the first page. The seal documentary plays in the background, the narrator now detailing the wonders of how they hunt.

You prop your head up on the armrest and lay down, reading through the book.

Just as you’re getting invested in the book, you hear the lock unlock. Turning the TV off with a click, you turn around, only to be met with the sight of your exhausted boyfriend. You smile.

“Hey,” You greet as you get up and off the couch to meet him at the door.

Mike nods and grunts a small “Hey, baby.”

“How was work?”

Mike shrugs, and his gaze drifts down to the book in your hand. He blinks.

“You’re reading my book?” He asks curiously, causing you to glance to the book.

“Oh… yeah. Sorry.” You apologize bashfully and hand him the book, resting your other arm at your side.

Mike shakes his head dismissively at your apology. “What d’you think?”

You stare at him blankly. “…What?”

“The book. What do you think of the book? The theory?”

Realization dawns on you. When you see an eager glint in Mike’s eyes, you weakly shrug.

“I mean… I’m not too far in, but it seems interesting.”

A hint of a smile graces Mike’s lips. “So it seems possible.” You nod.

You smile softly at his excitement from your words.

“Anyways…” You wrap your arms around his neck for a hug. “How was work?” You ask again.

His arms loosely wrap around your waist as he buries his head into your neck. “Fine,” He murmurs quietly. “How’s Abby? Did she eat dinner?”

You smile at his worry for his sister. “Yeah. And she drew next to me afterwords.” At your words, you can feel Mike relax.

“She’s been doing better. You’ve been doing better. I can tell.” A low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

“I don’t know about that.” He murmurs dismissively into your shoulder.

You blink, frowning at his words. “What makes you say that? You haven’t dreamt of Garrett since Freddy’s, right?” You pull away from the hug and rest your hands on his shoulders. His hands come to rest on your hips as he sighs softly.

“Well, no…”

“So why do you say that?” You frown softly, bringing a hand to cup his face.

“Just… things have been going smoothly. Almost—almost too smoothly.” Mike mumbles, leaning into your touch as his eyes flutter closed.

You sigh again. “Mike… look at me,” He reluctantly opens his eyes, but his gaze rests on your chin instead of your eyes.

“You’re okay. You have a new job that has pretty okay pay and hours, both Abby and you are happier, and you know what happened to Garrett. Right?”

Mike stubbornly stares at your chin, staying silent.

“So why do you say that, baby?”

“I just…” Mike trails off. “…I’m used to having something to worry about.”

You frown. “What, and there’s nothing to worry about now?”

Mike blinks and slowly looks to your eyes. “…Huh?”

“I don’t mean to make you feel worse, but you still have things to worry about.”

You can see panic rise in Mike’s eyes. “What… what do I have to worry about?”

You smile fondly at your boyfriend.

“You gotta think of a present for me for our six-month anniversary.”

You can practically see the gears turning in the man’s head as he stares at you quizzically. Finally, he cracks a smile.

“…Weird way to comfort me.” He looks away, smiling to himself.

“Yeah, but what else would get you to smile?” Mike rolls his eyes, causing you to chuckle. Your gaze drifts to the kitchen, reminding you that Mike almost never has dinner when he works evenings.

“You didn’t have dinner, right? I’ll make you something.” You start to head to his kitchen to quickly make him something to eat.

“…Wait.” Mike murmurs softly, lightly grabbing your sleeve.

You turn to him curiously, only to see a slightly bashful Mike staring at the floor.

“…Sleep here tonight?”

You can feel yourself smiling. “Of course.”

Mike’s shoulders visibly relax.

“Now, let’s get you something to eat.”

#mike schmidt #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #x you #x you fluff #fnaf movie #fnaf #imagine #oneshot #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt x y/n

486 notes · View notes

getonite · 18 days

Text

YOU KNOW I LOOK TOO GOOD TO NOT BE HIDEOUS!

( synop. the voice inside of dazai's head swallows him whole ) contains. 1.8k+ wc — gn!reader ; dazai angst, hurt/comfort, best friends to lovers ( hinted ), dazai gets a hug, alcoholism, drunk!dazai, pre-ada but post-pm, mention of vomit, dazai has a panic attack + cries, implied sh scars. ( the author is back on their torturing dazai bit ; this song literally belongs to him, okay. kinda pt2 to my prev dazai fic. )

"Dazai . . . "

"Dazai."

"OSAMU!"

Dazai twitches, awakened by the familiar sound of a yelling voice. "Huh?" his voice slurs as he sits up slowly, his body clearly in pain. You sniff, groaning the thick smell of alcohol stuck in his clothes. "Don't yell, hangover . . . " he grumbles. "Or maybe I'm still drunk."

"Get up," you say firmly, looking down at his slumped body resting against the wall.

He must've been downing drinks last night, though, at least not to the point where he couldn't figure his way home. Though, it seems he couldn't get into the house as his keys are resting in his hand and he's sitting onto the concrete next to the door.

"Huh? Wha—What, I'm getting- huh?"

You sigh and loop your arm underneath his, carefully pulling him inside of the house. You carefully grab the keys and set them on the rack near the door. Dazai let's out a drunken giggle as you pat him down, making sure that everything he left with is still with him.

"You are so fucking irresponsible," you hiss, tugging Oda's coat off of his lanky body. After forcing him to sit down, you walk to the kitchen to get him a much needed glass of water.

"Oh, coooome on," he hiccups, "You love me though.

An exasperated sigh leaves your lips, "Your lucky no one found you black out drunk like that and stole your shit. Or worse, killed you." You emphasize your woods, setting the cup ( you don't trust him with a glass ) of water in front of him. "Or have you forgotten, you just left the Port Mafia?"

Dazai sucks his teeth, rolling his eyes at your statement.

After months of hiding, you'd think he'd get it. Maybe that he'd follow suit of you. Stay low, stay quiet, and say lawful. Apparently not. He can't even stay clean.

There's a thought of wanting to punch him, maybe it'll knock some sense into him you think. Taking a deep breath, you bend down, slipping off his shoes and putting them next to the door. "Drink your water, please," you grunt," I'll run you a bath."

"Mhm~!" Dazai sings. He's been mumbling and humming tunes, kicking his feet as you attempt to clean him up.

After a couple of minutes, you walk down the hallway toward him, "Alright, c'mon!" Dazai giggles, hurriedly getting up from his seat. Though you see the scene happen in slow motion. As if he had low iron ( which he probably does ), the blood rushed down towards his feet and he immediately stumbles, hanging onto the table as he tries to gain his bearings.

"Osam—" you pause when you see his puffed cheeks. You sigh and dash for the small trashcan in the bathroom and hold it below his mouth. And a second later, you hear the gross sound of vomit.

You rub his back, waiting for him to finish before you even attempt to bring him to the bathroom. You almost gag as you bring him carefully to the bathroom and strip his clothes, unraveling his bandages as well.

A wave of both guilt and disappointment passes through you as you see him flop into the filled bathtub. He's thin. New scars have appeared a top the old and ( incorrectly ) healed ones. He's too pale, his hair is back to the state it was when he first appeared, and he reeks of the bar. Even after your efforts, it seems as if you can't get him out of this slump. "Osamu . . . "

Dazai lifts his head, silently responding to your voice. All of the mumbling, sound effects, and humming are stopped as you carefully clean his skin.

"What is going on with you?" There's a deep frown on your face as you inspect his forearm. "No matter how much I try, you only clean yourself up when I make you."

"I work, you sit in a bar, come home and plop yourself on the couch without a fucking word," you hiss. Dazai flinches, though your not sure if it's your voice, or your movements. Regardless, a sense of guilt floods you and you take a deep breath.

"What is it?" You pause and look at him, "I know you're still recovering from Oda, I understand grief. But you refuse to talk about it and then drown yourself in alcohol, no matter what I do."

There's attempt to keep your voice calm and level, though he can hear it. The underlying emotions of annoyance, worry, and disbelief.

His eyes are downcast, focused on the water covering his lower half. They're dazed, pupils dilating as they stay focused on the one spot. "Osamu?" You frown, eyes flickering to study his face. Your face falls when you hear the quiet sound of his breathing.

His chest shakes as he breathing increases, his jaw shaking in an attempt to say words.

"Oh . . . Osamu," you mumble as tears swell in his eyes, rolling down his cheeks and onto the arms resting in his lap. His arm flinches at the sting of the salty tear to the cuts on them.

You carefully get into the bathtub fully clothed behind him. He feels the warmth of your skin touch his as you carefully grab onto him, holding him close with pressure on his chest from your arms. "You're alright, I promise. It's okay," you whisper. His trembling hands touch your arms.

The silent tears continue to fall, the sound of the drops hitting the water, and his ragged breathing fill the air.

"Hey," you whisper, "Can you do something for me? The bathroom is kind of bland, but can you point out 5 things you see?" Dazai gulps, your voice sounding distant despite how you're hugged to him. Nevertheless, his eyes dart around the room, he attempts to find something to grab onto to.

His jaw ticks, "The- The shampoo," he croaks. You nod with a small smile growing on your face, "Good. It's okay, try to breathe," your hand rests against his chest, feeling his rapid heartbeat. "Tell me some more . . . "

Dazai sniffs, chest stuttering rapidly, "Your— s-s- sweatpants." His grip tightens on your arm as more tears slide down his face. "That's it, can you give me another one?"

"The," he gulps, "Clock."

"Come on, you got it. Can you give me another one?"

His lips tremble, teeth clacking together in an uncomfortable pace. He sucks in a breath, vision fuzzy as he focuses on your voice. "Uhh, the toilet," he whimpers, glossy tears clouding his view before they spill. You nod, "Good job, one more."

Dazai squeezes his eyes shut before blinking, to search for something else. "Soap, the soap."

You help him attempt to breathe, "Good. Now breath, just feel the way my chest is moving."

For the next few minutes, you talk him through the 5-4-3-2-1 method until he's relaxed in your hold. The water has gone cold, and the uncomfortable feeling of wet clothes cling to your skin. "How about . . . " you start, "I clean you up, then we judge what to do hm? You just— you need a good bath and some food."

Dazai nods silently. He's not entirely in the room. His eyes are unfocused as he feels your careful hands gliding along his skin, though everything feels muffled to him, the room beginning to blur once more before your hand slightly pulls him from his disassociate state.

You pull him from the tub, drying him off, cleaning his arms and legs, wrapping his wounds in bandages, and cutting his hair again. ( Making sure he brushes his teeth )

No matter how many times he attempts to tune in on your voice, he can't do it. Nor can he focus on anything. His hands don't feel like his hands. The table doesn't feel like it's familiar texture. The room doesn't smell right. He doesn't sink into the seat correctly. And the chopsticks send tingles through his hand. None of it feels real.

He feels your warm hand touching the back of his neck. "Breathe," you whisper, "Touch it again. Hold it and breathe, it'll feel right."

His world is fuzzy, except the static quiets when you touch him. He slowly eats, the entire time with you keeping a warm hand on him.

Dazai starts to wake up as you carry him to the bed, pulling him into your embrace. There's silence throughout the room, not a sound unleashed to part the quiet atmosphere. Well, until you speak. "Osamu . . . " you whisper, fingers dancing in his head of curls as you carefully think of what to say. "I love you."

The man's eyes widen at your soft words. "No matter which way you choose to interpret that. I do."

"Which is why I have this urge to take care of you. It's what drives to clean up your empty bottles and canned food. And it drives to wonder what can I do to help you?"

Dazai gulps, his fingers entangled in the fabric of your new shirt.

"Your two years of hiding are almost over," you whisper, "Im selfish, you've known that since we were kids. So please, just promise me something. I don't need your thoughts, your feelings, nothing. Just two words."

"Hm?" Dazai looks up at you, having a feeling as to what you'll say.

"I'll sound cringe," you roll your eyes with a faint smile on your face, "but—promise me you'll tell me when you feel like your falling again. Doesn't matter how much I have to do it, I'll pick you back up. Cut your hair, change your bandages, whatever. I just—I hate seeing you like that. You just have to tell me."

Dazai remains silent, simply laying against you.

"I sorry," he whispers. You sigh, "Don't say sorry, just promise. I said I'd protect you when we were little, I mean that, even if you are older than me ( by a year ). I just need you to promise."

"I promise," he whispers.

You smile and mess with the small hairs on the back of his neck. "Good."

A faint smile appears on Dazai's face, one you can't see of course. "Well, first order of buisness," you speak. Dazai frowns, looking up at you.

"You're banned from all bars."

"Hey!" Dazai shrieks, shooting up to look down at you.

"You throw up on me, I'll kill you," you say firmly.

"Thought you were supposed to protect me," Dazai frowns, with a teasing verse.

"I can knock some sense into you."

"Asshole."

"Mhm," you hum, pulling him back on top of you, making sure he's comfortable beneath the sheets. "Also . . . " He mumbles.

"You love me?"

A couple of months later, you walk with Dazai to the four-story building of your workplace. Before the man can even open his mouth as you walk through the door, "Do not flirt with her."

Dazai whines as you drag him upstairs and to a door that reads 'Armed Detective Agency.'

A hum leaves your lips as you walk in, lugging Dazai along by his collar. Your eyes drift to a grey-haired man in traditional Japanese clothing, a green haori draped over his kimono.

You throw Dazai forward, walking to the side of him.

"President, this is the one I was talking about."

the ending was kind of ass. i think i lost the concept a bit lol. i hope you appreciate this a little. reblogs r appreciated!!

#( mission ) — o. dazai #bsd x reader #gn reader #x gn reader #bsd fluff #bsd angst #dazai x reader #dazai x gn reader #dazai fluff #dazai angst #anime x reader #bsd dazai #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader

186 notes · View notes

runnning-outof-time · 10 months

Text

Beach Day | Modern!Tommy Shelby x Reader

Request: no - but encouraged by @holacia3 with this ask

Pairing: Modern!Tommy Shelby x reader

Summary: (Y/N) manages to pull Tommy out of the office so that they can go on a trip. Once at their destination, they waste no time and have a much needed beach day. Or: Tommy forgets everything the second he sees (Y/N) wearing his shirt.

Warnings: language, some suggestive sentences

Word Count: 3332

A/N: this one’s probably going to flop, but I’m happy that I managed to finish it amidst the bout of writer’s block I’ve been experiencing. It was the other option on the poll I ran a few weeks ago. I haven’t got to take a trip to the beach this summer, so I decided to write about it instead. Enjoy! :)

A/N 2: this will be the last story posted in July … I’m going on a trip with my family next week and most likely won’t have any major time to write the other requests. I’m hoping that maybe I’ll be able to write and share some of the blurbs that I’ve got in my asks, but big stories have been halted until August.

PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Comment/Message me if you’d like to be tagged in future stories like this one!

"...and you can't argue with me because I've already packed your bags," (Y/N) ended her pitch in an assured tone, setting her confident gaze on her fiancé, who was sitting across from her...at his desk, of course.

Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but the door to the office opening stopped him. Both he and (Y/N) looked over to it to find Polly entering the room. "I'm going to need you to hand over your diary," she said, walking right over to the desk, extending her hand towards her nephew when she stopped in front of it.

"I'm guessing you got her in on this?" Tommy asked (Y/N), his eyebrows raised as he looked between both women.

"I did," (Y/N) nodded in an assured manner, a tight-lipped grin present on her face, "and you're not getting out of it."

"Everything's been handled. Go take a break, Thomas," Polly added, moving her fingers then to remind him that she was going to need his diary.

"So it's been settled then, eh?" he looked at (Y/N) again.

"It has been," she answered him, a victorious smile present on her face, "give her the diary, Tommy."

"If I must," he sighed dramatically as he picked it up from his desk and handed it over to his aunt, making a big deal over it. Inside he was glad that (Y/N) had planned this out...he'd been working tirelessly on the business' latest expansion and hardly had a moment to breathe, but yet he wasn't going to stop and take one for himself. (Y/N) realized that and took it upon herself to plan the forced holiday.

"You must," (Y/N) stayed stern on her point, although the smile she was wearing was full on her face now. Tommy took one more look at his fiancée and couldn't stop the smile from forming on his face. There was not a doubt in his mind that he was ready to relax with her.

——

By that time the next day, Tommy and (Y/N) found themselves checked into a private resort that sat right off of a beautiful beach.

After unpacking their luggage, Tommy made his way out to the living area of the suite they were staying in with the intention of checking in on how things were back at home. He was thankful that this resort had high-speed internet, because he couldn't stand to be disconnected for too long. The flight to the resort was already pushing the limits...nothing would connect in that damned airport.

It seemed as though (Y/N) had other ideas of what they should be doing next. She exited the bedroom the second he'd gotten comfortable on one of the couches. Taking one look at Tommy made her audibly sigh and drop her hand to hit against her thigh, the sound of it making him look up from the screen.

He immediately noted that she had changed. Her comfortable airport attire had been switched for a swimsuit and a loose, practically see through dress that she was using as a cover-up. A pair of sunglasses rested atop her head and flip-flops covered her feet. How she managed to get changed so fast completely perplexed him.

"You're back to thinking of work already?" she commented, a bit of an exasperated look filling her features.

"You know how I like to check on things," he stated, defending himself as he shrugged his shoulders slightly.

"I do know, but we're on holiday, Tommy," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but we just got here."

"Yeah...and I'm already ready to go down to the beach."

"I noticed that."

"Tommy..." (Y/N) sighed, a frown forming on her lips. She held her gaze on him for a moment, watching and waiting for him to say something, before continuing to speak when silence persisted. "I'm going to throw your bloody phone in the ocean if this is how this week's going to play out," she threatened him, her voice holding a more serious tone than it had before.

"Just let me do it now," he bargained with her, "I didn't know we were going to get into things so soon."

(Y/N) pursed her lips as she thought about his suggestion. She finally responded after letting silence hang in the air for a few moments, "fine. You can do it now, but please don't let it become a habit, ok? This was meant to take you away from work," she laid out her stipulations.

"Fair enough. I'll curb it for the rest of the week," he agreed to her counter-offer, nodding his head to seal the deal.

"Good," she nodded in response to his statement. A few beats of silence passed before she spoke again, "I'm going to go down to the pool and wait for you, ok?" she told him her plan.

"Ok," he agreed, watching her as she walked over to where he was sitting. "Look beautiful, baby," he couldn't resist giving her a compliment, his eyes running over her body.

"Thanks, Tommy," she smiled at him, her stomach filling with butterflies as she leaned down to press a kiss to his lips. "Don't be up here too long, hmm?" she mumbled against his lips after pulling away.

"I won't," he promised her, feeling her smile against his lips before they shared one more kiss. (Y/N) stood upright again, smiling and nodding at him once more before she moved back over the island that broke up the kitchen and living space.

"You know where to find me," she told him while making sure that her tote bag was filled with the essentials: beach towel, sun tan lotion, hotel room key, and, of course, her latest book. She looked over to him, watching as he nodded one last time, before she made her way to the door of the suite.

There weren't many people sitting by the pool, so (Y/N) was able to find an open lounge pretty quickly. She set her bag down next to the chair and then relaxed back against it. The ocean's waves could be heard from where she was, and the calming sound of them made her shut her eyes and take a deep breath. It was good to finally be able to take some time and actually relax.

As a senior member of the Shelby Company Ltd.'s marketing team, she was working just as much as Tommy was. Always coming up with new ways of advertising; always keeping up with the different avenues Tommy was taking the company down. It was tedious and time consuming, sure, but she wouldn't have it any other way...the job was how she met her fiancé, three years ago.

With both of their busy schedules, neither really had the time to take a moment and relax...until (Y/N) made a point to now. She was thankful for this trip, and she was sure that Tommy was, too.

Some time passed as she sat, relaxing on the pool lounge. She wasn't sure how long she'd been out there; she wasn't really keeping time as she switched between laying with her eyes closed and watching the other people meander about the pool area.

Luckily she was doing some people watching when Tommy came walking down the stairs and into the pool area of the resort. She spotted him as he was descending the steps, and immediately noticed that he'd changed into his beachwear. The white t-shirt and jeans he'd worn while traveling was now swapped for a pair of gray board shorts and a baby blue linen button down shirt. She couldn't help but stare at him as he walked across the area to get to where she was lounging.

"Ready to go down to the water?" he asked as he stopped in front of her lounge.

"I see you're finally finished with your work," (Y/N) commented, pulling her sunglasses down slightly to peer up at him.

He chuckled at her statement, shaking his head slightly as he looked out to the ocean, "yeah, and it's finished for the rest of the trip."

"If you say so," she brushed off the topic as she sat up on the lounge, collecting her bag and making sure that she had everything she'd come down with. "Let's go down to the beach," she said with a smile as she stood next to him. Tommy nodded his head before allowing her to lead the way to the gate that separated the pool area from the private beach that the resort offered.

The beach was beautiful. The sand was soft, and the breeze coming off of the waves made the hot rays of the sun not burn so bad. One of the perks of the resort having a private beach was the fact that there weren't many people inhabiting it.

(Y/N) and Tommy quickly found a spot to set their things down. (Y/N) made sure that the beach blanket Tommy had brought with him (because she'd forgotten it in the room) was laid out underneath one of the umbrellas the resort had set up. She set the bag down on it before kicking off her flip-flops and lifting the cover-up from her body.

"Let's go down to the water," she excitedly said, flashing a look in Tommy's direction before she took off towards the waves.

"You're not even gonna wait for me," he responded, moreso to himself than anyone, a smile forming on his face as he shook his head. He could easily tell how much she was already enjoying this holiday, and he was so thankful that she'd planned it for them. It took him a few moments to undo his button down and set it into the bag before he too kicked off his flip-flops and began walking down to the water.

He approached (Y/N), who was standing facing the waves, and wasted no time wrapping his arms around her midsection. His actions made her shriek at first, but she sunk into his embrace in seconds. "Isn't it beautiful?" she asked him, swaying slightly along with him.

"It is," he mused, resting the side of his head against hers as they looked out at the waves. "The water's not too cold either."

"It's not," she agreed, her hands coming up to sit on his forearms, "let's go in," she said then, tapping his arms to let him know she wanted to be released. He obliged, and she took his hand to lead him out deeper in the water.

They made their way out to where the water reached their waists, stopping there even though Tommy thought that they could go out a little bit further. (Y/N) protested his suggestion, telling him that 'things might eat us if we go any further'. Tommy listened to his fianceé's statement and stayed where they were. They spent a good amount of time in the water, switching from swimming around, to floating with the waves, to (Y/N)'s personal favorite: hanging onto Tommy like he was a tree and she was a koala.

At least an hour of them spending time in the water had to have passed before Tommy finally decided to start heading towards the shore. His movement, of course, didn't go unnoticed. "You're leaving me?" (Y/N) questioned after she saw him take a few steps backwards. She was enjoying herself in the water and had had no plans of leaving it any time soon.

"I think I'm ready to get out of the water," he answered with the obvious.

"We've not been in here long though," she pouted.

"I need to go sit for a minute, love. I'll be just up there," he told her, motioning to where their things were. (Y/N)'s pout didn't subside, but she nodded and allowed him to leave the waves.

She watched him walk up the beach and sit down on the blanket they'd laid out. Her eyes lingered for a few moments before she went back to floating on the waves.

It wasn't long before (Y/N) was exiting the water and walking up to where Tommy had made himself comfortable. It just wasn't the same wading in the waves alone. She wanted to spend as much time with Tommy as she possibly could. A sight - that she honestly wished she'd be surprised to see - was waiting for her at the blanket though.

"I thought you said you'd ditch the work while we're here?" she commented as she stopped in front of Tommy, who had his face buried in his smartphone as he tapped away at the screen.

Her voice made him quickly look up, a surprised expression forming on his face as he noticed she was right in front of him. "I was just checking a few things," he told her, holding his hands up in surrender, his now locked phone present in one of them.

"Mm-hmm," (Y/N) shook her head as she moved over to where the bag was sitting so that she could grab a towel and dry off, "you do know the ocean's right there, right? I could honestly take that phone and give it a good chuck," she stated, making sure her body was dry.

"You wouldn't," Tommy responded, a slight tone present in his voice, showing that he was testing the waters.

"I just might," she quipped back, a grin on her face as she dropped the towel back into the bag.

Before she could move to sit next to him, light blue fabric caught her eye. She instantly recognized it as the linen button down Tommy was previously wearing. She picked it up without a second thought, draping it over her shoulders and slipping her arms through the holes. It covered her swimsuit clad body immediately and she was grateful for the soft, cool fabric on her otherwise warm skin. She'd just finished rolling the sleeves up to her elbows when she finally felt Tommy's eyes on her.

Tommy had been watching her from the second she came back to the blanket. His phone was quickly forgotten as he watched her dry off and then grab the shirt from the bag. Sure, she had her own cover-up, but he was so damn happy that she'd chosen to slip his shirt on over her body. Something about her wearing his clothes just got him going. Just when he thought she couldn't get any more beautiful, she went ahead and did something like this. He couldn't help but let his eyes travel up and down her frame.

(Y/N)'s eyes finally found his when he found her face once more, and she couldn't stop the butterflies from fluttering in her stomach as she noticed the look he was giving her. She wanted to make a comment, but it died in her throat as she just about melted under his stare.

"C'mere," Tommy finally spoke, nodding his head to the side as a non-verbal addition to his statement. She grinned at him and happily followed his direction, moving over to where he was sitting.

He brought his knees up and opened his legs slightly, offering her the perfect spot to sit down in; one that she quickly fell into. She easily got comfortable sitting between his legs; her back rested against his chest. Tommy wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her, pulling her even closer to his body as he leant over and began pressing kisses to the side of her neck.

"Tommy, stop!" she exclaimed through her giggles, finally trying to squirm away from his lips as his actions quickly became ticklish. He listened to her and stopped his kisses, but he didn't dare loosen up the grip that he had on her.

It was easy for his hands to find their way onto her body, being that she'd left the shirt open, and he couldn't help but let them roam her figure. He took his time, feeling every curve as he nestled his face into her neck; breathing in the sweet smell of her skin mixed with the sunshine that had been kissing it since they exited the hotel room. (Y/N) had practically melted into his body, absolutely loving the feeling of his hands as they traced her skin.

She waited until his hands found their resting spot on the sides of her waist, his arms crossed over her stomach, to finally speak again: "I see that I've got your mind off of work now," she said with a grin, turning her head so that she could see his face out of the corner of her eye.

"Oh you most certainly have," he answered, a grin laced into his words, "look so fuckin' beautiful in my things...always, baby," he mumbled against the skin of her cheek before he kissed it.

The butterflies returned as she heard what he had to say, and she couldn't stop herself from turning in his arms even more so that she could press her lips to his in a much needed kiss. "Love you, Tommy," she mumbled against them, smiling as he kissed her again, this kiss holding more emotion than the last. "I can't wait for the rest of this week with you," she said once they'd finally pulled away from each other. She was now sitting with her body turned more towards him, so she was able to look at him head on. She couldn't stop her cheeks from heating up as she caught the look of total adoration in his eyes.

"If this is a preview of what's to come..." he trailed off, a grin forming on his face as his eyes danced over her figure once more, "I already know that this trip is going to be one that's hard to top."

His cheeky comment that was accompanied by a rather suggestive glance, made (Y/N) gasp, and she couldn't help but roll her eyes and shake her head as she tried to distract herself from how his words actually made her feel. Why did there have to be other people present on this beach?! She had to look towards the ocean for a few moments to re-center herself from the look that was making her wonder what they could get away with out here.

A few moments had passed before she felt the sharp snap of her swimsuit's strap against her skin. "Tommy!" she shrieked at the sensation, her eyes snapping back onto him to see that a smug grin was now present on his face. He tried, and failed, to feign innocence before his expression dissolved into a grin and chuckles. "I can't believe you," she shook her head, gently pressing on his shoulders for him to get the hint to lay back on the blanket.

She wasted no time in pressing her lips to his when he did lay down, and he made a mental note to do things such as that more often if this was going to be how she responded to it.

After sharing a flurry of kisses, (Y/N) rested her head against his chest, not caring about the shine of sweat that was present due to the heat of the sun that was engulfing them. She was thankful for the shade that their umbrella was providing.

Tommy wrapped his arms around the small of her back underneath the shirt of his that she was still wearing, effectively holding her close to him...like she was going to be moving any time soon. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the serenity that was surrounding them; not thinking about anything but the beautiful woman laying with him.

Like he'd said before: if this was a preview of how the week was going to go, this was most definitely going to be a tough trip to top.

Tagged: @mystcldydrms @the-anxious-youth @cloudofdisney @look-at-the-soul @elenavampire21 @mrsalwayswrite @julkaamazing @evita-shelby @lilyrachelcassidy @notyour-valentine @shelbydelrey @onlydeadcells @peakyswritings @just-a-blackhole @watercolorskyy @strayrockette @peakyduchesss @alexxavicry @captivatedbycillianmurphy @yummycastiel @dark-academia-slut @tommystargirl @stevie75 @lyarr24 @signorellisantichrist @zablife @anotherblinder @midnightmagpiemama @cillmequick @rangerelik @dandelionprints @letal-y-poetica @itscheybaby @gypsy-girl-08 @insanitybyanothername @depxiety @raincoffeeandfandoms @dragons-are-my-favorite @acewritesfics @forgottenpeakywriter @cljordan-imperium @areyenotfondofmelobster @little-diable @thomashelbyswife @iambored24601 @shaddixlife

MASTERLIST

520 notes · View notes

vigilvntes · 1 year

Text

Home, Sweet Home – Dick Grayson x Reader

A/N: wjsksksksjd hi. almost 6k of dick grayson flirty fluff. restraint??? i don't know her. i've never heard of her. but i'm back on my dick grayson / jason todd bullshit so! is this ooc?? probably. do i care?? no. did i just want to write some fun flirty charming boyfriend dick grayson fluff because i'm in love with him?? yes. so here you go. shout out to @bvcksmunson for reading this for me before i posted i love you shan!!!!! sorry for any mistakes or typos or wHatever and sorry if you read this in advance !!!! <3 mwah big kiss.

W/C: 5.8k

Warnings: language, sex references because it's me what did we expect, slight references to violence (hopefully i got everything, if not let me know!!)

likes, comments and rbs are very much appreciated !!! <3

───✱*.｡:｡✱*.:｡✧*.｡✰*.:｡✧*.｡:｡*.｡✱ ───

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

Dick is quick to react to your harsh greeting, throwing himself against your refrigerator dramatically, one hand gripping at the metal corner while the other clutches at his heart through the thick material of his suit. You watch him with raised eyebrows as he sinks down to your kitchen floor with a groan, biting back a smile because you'd hate for him to see that his little display more than amuses you; you're not sure you could live with yourself if you let him have that ego boost.

Dick Grayson is a major pain in your ass, but you'd be lying if you said you're not happy to see your boyfriend.

The hand on his chest flops to the floor, his legs spread out in a V shape, and he leans his head back against your refrigerator, eyes closed. It's quiet between the two of you as you watch him play dead, occasionally cracking open his right eye to make sure you're still watching before screwing it shut again.

You've let him have his moment; indulged in the dramatics enough to satisfy him you think, so you fold your arms over your chest and cock your head, asking, "Are you finished?"

Dick gasps for air suddenly, hyperventilating and choking for at least a minute before hurling his body with a loud thump. He lays on his back, arms and legs splayed out across your kitchen floor. One final, strained breath, and he falls silent again.

Oh, the poor fuckers in the apartment below.

You unfold your arms and give him a slow round of applause as you make your way towards him, looking down at him from above. "Wow. That was really something. I mean, what a show. Truly."

Blue eyes open to meet your own. He's already discarded the domino mask, left it sitting on your countertop along with an array of loose items from his suit. You can tell he's trying so desperately to keep a straight face as you stare down at him. "It's not a show. You've wounded me." He tells you.

You pout, mockingly. "Aw. You poor thing. Give me a minute and I'll cry about it."

"Feels like I've been shot through the heart."

With a roll of your eyes you step around him, opening the cupboard above the sink and grabbing a glass. "Don't tempt me. I might think about actually shooting you next time."

He springs to his feet as you flip the tap on, your back to him while you fill your glass. "Wow. A cold welcome and a threat. Is that any way to greet your favourite boyfriend?" You can practically hear the boyish grin in his tone.

You spin around, leaning against your counter, finally getting a good look at him. He's standing just over a metre away from you, hands on his hips with a smile on his lips that reaches from ear to ear. His black hair is ruffled, falling in his face; probably a consequence of the wind working against him on the way over to your place. There's a few scratches on his cheeks, and one on his chin, but that does nothing to take away from the fact that he's so damn handsome. You know it, and he does too. It's something you curse him for whenever he's around; it makes you falter, you lose your edge a little.

"Who says you're my favourite boyfriend?" You raise the glass to your lips and take a small sip. You're not particularly thirsty, it's more of a tactical move to distract yourself from caving into him immediately; a way to mask the smile that's been teetering on the edge since you saw him stood in your kitchen, raiding through the fridge before you caught him and he began his little performance.

Dick is unfazed by your slightly cutting words, however unserious they are. He knows he's your only boyfriend, there's no one in Blüdhaven who could even begin to compete with him. That grin of his refuses to shift as he asks, "Did I crack the top ten?"

"Barely. I'd place you at number nine."

He shrugs, "Good enough for me. Just don't tell me about these other boyfriends. I don't think my poor heart could take it."

You'll never resist an opportunity to wind him up, so you glance up at the ceiling and sigh, heavy and dreamy, "Well, the guy at number one—..."

Before you can conjure up a fake name and story for your very fake other boyfriend, he's already taken two long strides towards you, trapping you between his body and the counter. He raises his gloved hand up to your face, running it across your cheek down to your jaw, before pressing his index finger against your lips. "Didn't I just tell you not to tell me about your other boyfriends?"

Had anyone else tried their luck in silencing you, attempted to tell you what to do, you're certain you'd have them laid out in ten seconds, flat. Maybe five, if you're feeling particularly vicious. Dick Grayson is the exception. You've known him for years, been dating him for almost three, yet you still enjoy the back and forth of it all; that 'thrill of the chase' feeling is still there, and it still excites both of you just as much as it did all those years ago.

So you play along, a smirk on your lips, "I've never really liked being told what to do."

Dick chuckles quietly, "Don't I know that."

"Yeah. You do." More than anyone.

Your history with him is a long one.

It started back when you were operating in and around Blüdhaven under the alias 'Thorn'. Not very original, you know, and Nightwing made sure to remind you of that every time your paths crossed. You were a little spiteful, feeling as though Nightwing's transfer to Gotham's so called 'ugly sister city' made all the hard work you'd put into protecting the city look like nothing in comparison. You got on his radar pretty quickly, tracking his leads and making sure you got to them first, just to see the look on his face when he turned up and realised he was too late, that you'd already handled the situation. Sure, you didn't have half of the technology that he had from the big, bad Batman himself, but you still found a way to get the job done.

It continued like this for a while; the two of you working against each other, trying to be smarter and faster – better – than the other. Until you came across a threat bigger than the both of you, and a reluctant partnership was established. It was supposed to be a one night only kind of thing, but it quickly spiralled into an every night ordeal, with a sexual tension between the two of you that could've given Hollywood a run for it's money. He'd try and give orders – Batman style – and most of the time you'd blatantly defy him, because you've never really been the type to follow orders, and you knew he got a kick out of it, too.

You really, truly tried to keep your distance, to not allow yourself to be taken in by his dumb flirty comments, his cheesy grin whenever he made you smile, or that light blush that crept across his cheeks whenever you decided to have your own fun with him and flirt back. You tried really hard not to stare at his ass when you thought he wasn't looking, too. But were you ever going to tell him no when he pushed you up against the wall in a dark, wet back alley after a particularly stressful mission, hopped up on adrenaline and just aching for a release?

No, you weren't; you definitely didn't deny him.

It was nice. You were fine with quick, desperate sex in the most private place you could find after a mission followed by a night of sitting on rooftops, talking about anything and everything. One night, he unmasked himself, told you who he really was, and you returned the favour with little to no hesitation because you liked him – despite the embarrassment you felt about having a silly little crush – and you trusted him, most importantly.

It was an unspoken thing for the most part; you were both more than okay with avoiding the 'boyfriend' label because you liked being independent, and Dick – well he seemed to have commitment issues that were, truthfully, unmatched. Which is why it came as a surprise to you when he slipped through your apartment window one night (the one you leave unlocked purposefully for him), crawled into bed next to you and told you very sincerely that he wanted to try 'the boyfriend thing' – he wanted it to be just you and him. You're not sure what brought on his little outburst of romance, but you never doubted him when he told you he loved you that night.

You hung up your suit a year later, choosing to move on from your days of protecting the city, opting instead for a life of normality. Well, as much normality as you could get whilst dating Blüdhaven's very own Bird Boy. It felt right, but a small part of you feared Dick would get bored of you and your new oh-so-normal life – that he wouldn't want to stick around and just exist with you. Your fears were unwarranted, though, because nothing changed for either of you.

Dick is still here, with you; he's still aching for your love and your touch and your everything. You share an apartment. The cupboards are stocked with continental condiments, shelves full of weird knick knacks and multicoloured ornaments he's found abandoned over the years on his nightly patrols. The walls are lined with little plaques that read 'Live, Laugh, Love' and 'Home Sweet Home'; things he claimed to find funny and you detested for the longest time until it hit you one day that he really just loves having a place – a person – to call his. Somewhere he can just be with someone who loves him unconditionally.

As you look up into his eyes, his finger still on your lips, you can't help but think how truly head over heels you are for him, and you know he feels the same. Blüdhaven is, to be frank, a wasteland. Full of grime and grit, with a tainted history that it just can't seem to shake off – one that continues to this day. Dick Grayson is the one thing that keeps you grounded to this city; makes you feel like all of the hours, blood, sweat and tears you poured into the city to protect the people was all worth it, because you found each other. He's the bright light shining above the darkness, the only thing that keeps you here and still has you calling it your home.

But despite your feelings towards him, you still take every opportunity you can to bite at him – literally.

You bat your eyelashes at him and part your lips, taking the tip of his gloved finger into your mouth. He visibly tenses when your tongue swirls against the leather; lets out a breath – almost a moan, when you suck ever so slightly. You're insistent on maintaining eye contact, but he's struggling to look you in the eyes as his face flushes bright red.

You bite down.

Not too harsh, but also not so gentle. It's enough to stun him, makes him jump away from you rather comically. You break out into a laugh while he shakes his hand, looking at you like you've just made him suffer through the ultimate betrayal.

"Ow." He pouts.

Through your giggles, you say, "Aw, did that hurt you, Bird Boy?"

"A little." He mumbles, trying his utmost to keep that sad, little pout on his lips as he watches you laugh at his misery.

"You're a liar, Dick Grayson."

Dick scoffs, "I'm not lying." He points an accusatory finger at you, the same one you sank your teeth into moments ago, "You bite hard."

"You never complained about that before." You say with a shrug, chewing down on your bottom lip.

He raises his hands in surrender, because he knows you're right. "And I'm not about to."

"Good." You let out a content sigh and push yourself off the counter, stepping towards where he stands in the middle of the kitchen. "So what are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in Gotham?"

Dick shrugs, "Just got back. I thought I'd fly by our apartment. No pun intended." But that dumb smirk on his lips tells you that he meant all pun intended. His hands move to your hips, pulling your body close to his. There's earnest in his voice when he tells you, "I missed you. A lot."

You smile up at him, your hands on his chest, fingers tracing the blue symbol on the front of his suit. "Missing someone you love is usually what happens when you haven't seen them in more than two weeks." You joke, poking at his chest.

Despite your lighthearted tone, his face still falls. Guilt clouds in his eyes, and his smirk flips into a sad, little frown. "I'm–..."

You stand on your tiptoes and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your lips against his and cutting him off before he can even begin to apologise. He tastes like strawberry chapstick and all the coffee he's been drinking to keep himself awake over the last two weeks. It's a weird combination of flavours, but one that you've become so accustomed to that you wouldn't change it for the world.

You swear you hear him moan quietly against your lips as he kisses you, so desperate to touch you and be close to you and love you. He pulls you towards him by your hips, your body flush against his, so close you can almost hear – no feel, his heartbeat.

You relish in the moment, allowing him to take control for a second because you've missed him too. You started missing him the minute he left your apartment, Gotham bound. You've missed waking up beside him. His bed-head. His smile. The way he sings power ballads in the shower when he doesn't think you're listening, even though you are because how the hell are you not supposed to hear him? You've missed every single piece of him, and you're glad he's been returned to you in pristine condition.

You pull away from him before things can get too heated, before he can even think about slipping his tongue into your mouth and lifting you up on to the counter. Dick is breathless, already wound up. The pale skin of his cheeks flooded with heat that stains them crimson, and you can't help but take a second to appreciate how cute he looks like this. And he's looking at you – in all your glory, donning old pyjamas and a crazy bed head – like you're the most beautiful, precious thing he's ever laid his eyes on. It makes you feel weak in the knees.

"I missed you too." You mumble, pushing a few wayward strands of hair out of his face.

He sighs, "Listen, dove, I'm really–..."

You throw your head back, letting out a loud ugghhhh mixed in with a giggle. "Shut up. I don't need to hear the famous Dick Grayson 'I'm sorry' speech again."

"Things just got–..."

"A little crazy!" You walk away from him, heading out of the kitchen and into the living room area; he follows your trail like a lost puppy, as he always does. "I heard what happened. Read it in the Gazette. You don't have to apologise for it. I get it."

Dick stands next to the couch as you walk over to the open window that he slipped through earlier tonight, hands on his hips. "So... You're not mad at me? Not even annoyed?" He sounds unsure, as if he's just waiting for you to blow up at him, even though he knows you're past that point. Hell, you've never been at that point. You've always been understanding of him and his situation; you were in the same boat as him for god knows how long, struggling to keep a relationship because you couldn't seem to find a balance between your life in and out of the suit. You've never held it against him, and you wouldn't think about starting to.

You glance over your shoulder and give him a soft, sweet smile as reassurance while you try to shove the old, stiff single-hung window shut. "Your family's in Gotham, and they needed your help."

You've only met his strange, mis-matched Gotham family a handful of times, but you care about them like they're your own, because in a way they are. The first time you met them, after the initial surprise of finding out you're Thorn – 'the one Dickie-Bird never shuts the fuck up about', as Jason put it – they welcomed you with open arms, even Bruce. You receive regular check in texts from Cass (usually a meme), and Damian calls you demanding to speak with Dick whenever he suspects he's being purposefully ignored.

"I'd rather you be gone for two weeks straight than hear any bad news coming from Gotham. Especially about you or your family." You give the window one last, hard shove, stepping back when it finally closes with a thud. You turn your attention back to him, "So, no. Not even annoyed. But I do wish you'd close the window after yourself."

Dick shrugs, a small grin on his lips, "I think the breeze is nice."

You scoff, "It's not a breeze. It's wind. Seriously, if you don't start closing the window when you come in, I'm gonna lock it. I'm gonna make you use the entrance. You're gonna have to knock on the door to get in here."

He lets out the most petulant whine you've ever heard, one that you're sure he's used on Bruce one too many times to get his own way – it probably worked, too. "That's not fair."

You just whine back at him mockingly as you walk over to the couch and flop yourself down on your back. "Oh, how tragic. You'll have to use the door of the apartment we've been renting for over a year. My heart hurts for you."

"What if you're asleep?" He asks, folding his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised.

You shrug, smirking at him, "Then you'll have to wait outside allllll night until I wake up."

"What if it's an emergency?"

"Then you'll have to make sure you knock extra loud."

"You're so cruel to me. Always out to hurt poor Dickie's feelings." He climbs up onto the arm of the couch, knees pressing into the soft cushion, ready to drop his body onto yours and melt into you. But you stick your foot out before he can, pushing against his chest and keeping him stationary. He gives you a look of offence, slapping your foot gently in a weak attempt to make you move. You don't.

"Stop leaving the window open."

"I will." He affirms, tapping your foot again.

"Promise?"

"Yes. I promise." He says, with a childish roll of his eyes.

You narrow your eyes at him for a moment, a slight warning that tells him he better take his promise seriously, before dropping your foot. Without hesitation, he lets his body free fall on to yours, although careful not to crush you under his full weight. Still, you let out a quiet oof, because he's heavy – even heavier in that suit of his. You don't have time to think about asking him to shift his weight a little, because his legs are on either side of your body, hands have already found their way to your waist, and his lips are on yours in an instant.

Passionate and slow to begin with, making up for the weeks he's spent away from you; though it seems to turn heated quickly. You let him take the lead, allow him to nip on your bottom lip gently and slip his tongue into your mouth. You give him a minute to re-explore the familiar territory before you decide to have some fun of your own, biting down on his tongue gently and sucking against it. Dick lets out the most delicious, pathetic moan you've ever heard: one that has you giggling whilst pressing your thighs together in an attempt to keep yourself under control.

He pulls back, nose pressed against your own, shooting you a playful glare while your shoulders shake with quiet laughter. "What?" He asks, voice low and on the gruffer side, a bad cover up for what he'd just let slip from his throat seconds ago.

"Someone's excited tonight."

"Hm. Told you." He kisses your nose gently, then your cheek, trailing kisses all the way down to your jaw. "Missed you." He tucks his face into your neck, and you let out a gasp when you feel his tongue drag against the sensitive skin, your back arching into him. "'Nd m'sorry." He mumbles.

"I thought I told you not to apologise." You say, though it's strained; his lips are attached to your neck, and you're finding it hard to even think, let alone form sentences.

"I still wanted to."

You breathe out a laugh, though it turns into something of a moan when you feel his teeth scrape against your skin. "Can't help yourself, can you?"

"Nope." He says, popping the 'P'. Without warning, he bites down on the soft flesh between your neck and shoulder. You let out a noise – something between a yelp and a loud moan, and when you look down at him with a pout on your lips, he's grinning at you. "Payback."

"You're a fuckhead."

"You started it."

"....Touché."

You fall quiet, allowing him to continue on with his revenge attack on your neck, whimpering when he sucks down on your sweet spots; cursing under your breath when he slips his cold, gloved hand under the thin fabric of your shirt.

"Don't you have somewhere to be tonight?" You ask. A throwaway question, really. Just a cheap little dig at him to distract yourself from the fact he's getting you riled up.

But then he pauses, his whole body tensing for just a moment, before he answers with a, "No..."

And now your throwaway question is a serious inquiry. "So you do have somewhere you need to be tonight?"

He hums against your skin, "It can wait."

The truth is, it probably can't wait. You try not to read up on crime in Blüdhaven so often, try to keep your days of being a protecter of the city in the past as much as you can (Dick is the exception, of course), but even you know that the city has suffered massively from Nightwing's two week leave of absence in Gotham. Gang and mob activities began to rise the second he left; Blüdhaven always seems to deteriorate into madness when he's not around to keep everyone and everything in line.

With a sigh, you grab on to the back of his suit and pull him away from you, choosing to ignore his whiny protest, making him look at you. "If there's somewhere you need to be, you should go."

"I already told you. It can wait."

You smile at him, brows raised, "Can it? You've been gone for two weeks. You have a lot of catching up to do. Blühaven's really been missing its Boy Wonder."

Dick smirks, "Has it missed me as much as you?"

"I don't think that's possible. I've been crying, like, every day. Total devastation while you've been gone."

"And not a single word of comfort from your nine other boyfriends?" His jaw drops in mock disbelief. "I don't know why you like them more than me."

You hum, "I only like eight of them more than I like you."

He snorts, "Oh, well that makes all the difference."

You smack his shoulder playfully, "Get up."

With a groan, he uses the back cushions of the sofa to push himself off of you, "Can't believe I'm being kicked out of my own apartment. I've been here for, like, fifteen minutes, and I'm already being told to leave." He stands up, stretching out his back as he trudges back to the kitchen to pick up the discarded mask and gadgets he left on the counter. "I'm starting to think you're just dying to get rid of me."

You gasp, "Me?! Never!" You sit yourself up, back leaning against the arm. "I'm just looking out for you. You've already fallen behind schedule."

He chuckles as he straps his gear back into place, "Then why don't you dust off that suit of yours and help me get back on track?"

"Absolutely not. My vigilante days are over." You say with a scoff.

"Don't you miss it?" He asks, shoving his escrima sticks into the tight straps on his back.

"If by 'it', you mean having to haul your ass out of a mess every night because you can't help but bite off more than you can chew, then no. I don't."

"Hey! That's unfair!"

"Is it?"

Dick scoffs, "Yeah. We all know you're the worst at following orders."

You fling your legs over the side of the couch and push yourself up, "Yeah, I am. But you're impulsive."

He fits the domino mask on, and you can't help but feel slightly satisfied at how it sits on his face so perfectly. "Yeah, well, I'm doing fine on my own. Very much alive, actually."

You saunter over to him, wrapping your arms around his torso, looking up at him through your lashes, "Thanks to me. I kept you out of the shit for god knows how long."

"And I'm continuing to keep myself out of it." He taps your nose. "Learnt from the best." You smile softly at him, but then he follows up with, "I meant Batman, by the way." Before he can even gauge your reaction, he's already cracked himself up with his own joke, like he'd been planning it in his head the whole time. He probably – no, definitely had been.

You step back, folding your arms across your chest and shoving your tongue into your cheek to stop yourself from laughing along with it. "You're an asshole."

"I'm your asshole, though." Dick gives you his cheesiest grin as he struts over to the window, patting his body down to check he hasn't forgotten anything. You follow him, stand beside him as he slides the window open with ease and curse him internally because that window – the one he leaves open almost every night – is usually your greatest enemy. But of course, it plays ball for the golden boy. Typical.

With a rather dramatic sigh he climbs through, only partly though, sitting on the sill with one leg dangling freely above the city and the other still in your apartment, foot pressing against the hardwood floor. "I won't be too long. Promise." He tells you.

You snort, "That translates to 'I'll see you in the morning', in Dick Grayson terms."

Dick lifts his shoulder in a half shrug, a soft smile on his lips, "Maybe. But I'll be home for breakfast, for sure. What do you want? I'm feeling..." He pauses for a second, chewing on his bottom lip before he comes to a conclusion, "Pancakes."

"You're always feeling pancakes. They're like, the only thing you're good at making. Unless we want our whole apartment building to burn down because you decided to branch out for breakfast."

"Pancakes it is!" He announces.

"Cool."

He nods, "Yeah. Cool."

Then it falls quiet between the two of you. Dick rubs his chin, staring right at you – specifically a certain part of your face – as you chew down on that something and glance around the room, feigning cluelessness. He won't leave without a kiss goodbye; not once has he climbed through the window and disappeared into the night without planting his lips on yours. You'll give into him, because you always do, but you love to tease. Not to mention the fact he's only just come back, and although you're more than happy for him to go out and take care of whatever's going on in the streets, you're willing to delay Nightwing's return to Blüdhaven for a little while longer.

You're making a point to look anywhere but at him, and the longer the silence drags on, the more you begin to feel the giggles rising in your throat. You can't even look at him for more than a second, his lips pressed into a thin line as he tries to fight back hysterics because he knows what you're doing.

Eventually, you take it upon yourself to break the silence, covering your mouth with your hand and asking through stifled laughter, "Are you gonna leave?"

Dick breaks, bursting out into a fit of laughter. He leans his head back against the window frame, shoulders shaking. "I can't leave yet." You shoot him an amused look that says 'oh really?'. "You know what I want."

You let out a lighthearted groan which quickly descends into a giggle, "Do I have to?"

"Uh-huh. Got two weeks to make up for."

"And whose fault is that?"

He shrugs, "Mine, and I'm dead set on making up for lost time. Bring it here, Thorny." He leans over and grabs your hand, pulling you towards him.

"Don't fucking call me that." You try to say it with as much malice as you can muster, which is hard considering you can't seem to stop grinning at him.

"Wow. Someone's feeling prickly tonight. I can see why you called yourself Thorn." His hand rests on the small of your back, gently commanding you to stay put.

"Fuck you, Grayson. I'll push you out of the window."

His brows shoot up in amusement at your meaningless threat. "That'd be rude."

"Yeah?"

Dick nods slowly, "Yeah. Could kill me." That's a lie. Both of you know that even if you did mean it and you were planning to push him out, he'd find a way to counter. You live on the top floor of your building, but he's a trained acrobat and a quick thinker with enough gadgets on his person to ensure he'd be back at your window in two minutes, tops.

Still, you play along. "Maybe that's the goal."

"You love me too much to kill me."

"Oh, you think?"

He blows out his cheeks, "Wow. You're so mean to me."

You reach up and run your fingers through his soft hair, "Yet you keep coming back."

"Well, I do live here." He deadpans. You stare at him for a good ten seconds before you break out into another fit of giggles, punching his shoulder and breathing out a 'fuck you'. He raises his free hand, "I'm just saying. Wouldn't wanna go through the moving out process. Y'know, having to pack my stuff and hire a moving service—...."

"Get out!"

"Nuh-uh. Gimme a kiss first." Dick leans closer to you and puckers his lips, screwing his eyes shut. He gives you a moment, and when he doesn't feel you move he raises his hand and taps his index finger against his lips. "I won't leave until you kiss me."

With another groan, you lean in and plant your lips against his. You try to pull away quickly, short and sweet, but he keeps you close. He kisses you again, and again, and again. Until you're practically balancing on the heels of your feet, held up only by his strong hand on your back, and he's almost back inside of your apartment.

You let out a breathless laugh against his lips, your hands pushing against his shoulders, "Go, or I won't let you leave."

"Is that a promise?" He murmurs.

"Go."

With a sigh, he turns his body and lifts his other leg over the window, gripping on to the top pane to keep himself seated for the time being. He looks over his shoulder at you, "I'll see you soon, okay?"

You give him a smile, "Okay."

"I'm gonna make you the best pancakes you've ever eaten."

"I'm sure."

He rolls his eyes playfully, because how dare you doubt his pancake making skills. "See you in the morning, babe. Love you!" With that, he pushes himself off the window and free falls.

You've watched him do it countless times, but you can't help the way it takes your breath away every single time; panic sucker punches you right in the stomach and you can't help but yell out 'Richard John Grayson' as you throw yourself towards the window and lean the upper half of your body out into the cold city.

That wing-suit of his will be the death of you one day.

You look down at the dimly lit streets, looking for any sign of your boyfriend who's just allowed himself to drop from the top floor of the apartment building, but he's nowhere in sight. It's only when you hear his voice calling your name that you realise he's standing atop a lower roof across the street, a dumb grin on his lips.

"That was really funny, Dickie!" You yell out sarcastically, folding your arms across your chest.

"It's my party trick!" He shouts back, resting his hands on his hips. "You know what I always say: you'll never know if you can fly unless—...."

"You take the risk of falling! Whatever! Get out of here!"

You hear him laugh, despite the distance between you. He turns, ready to take off into the depths of the city, but not before yelling another, "I love you!"

With an eye roll, and a soft smile on your lips, you tell him, "I love you too! Be safe!" You're just about to retreat back into the warmth of your apartment, but you remember you still need to tell him something very important. "Close the window when you get back!"

"Yeah, yeah. I know!"

The next morning, you wake up to a sleep-deprived boyfriend cursing under his breath at a bowl of homemade pancake mix, and a very open window.

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing #nightwing x reader #dc comics #DCU #DC x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #dick grayson fic #dick grayson fanfiction #dick grayson fluff #fluff #nightwing fic #nightwing fanfiction #batfamily #batfamily x reader

2K notes · View notes

kimi240302 · 10 months

Text

Craving

A/N: Before you read this story, be aware I am from Germany and can't write a bit of English. That's why I'm sending this through an app that translates it for me.

A/N2.0: In this story, the characters are all a little older.

Summary: Y/N Swan tries everything to keep her promise to stay away from Demetri Volturi. But can you stay away from the man fate bound you to?

Demetri Volturi x Female!Swan!reader

Words: 3,4k

Main Post / Twilight Masterlist / Request list / Playlist

Part 2 of Daylight Masterlist

18+ I am new to the whole smut writing so please be nice

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tellin' myself it's the last time Can you spare any mercy that you might find If I'm down on my knees again? Deep down, way down, Lord, I try Try to follow your light, but it's night time Please, don't leave me in the end

- David Kushner

"Y/N?!”

Startled, the young girl flinched. Her gaze, which she had directed outside the entire time, turned to the whiteboard, and therefore to her scowling teacher. When Y/N noticed that the whole classroom was looking at her in a wait-and-see manner, her cheeks turned red as she shrank slightly into herself.

"I'm sorry Mrs. Porter, I wasn't listening." Shaking her head, the teacher sighed. "That's been happening to you quite a bit lately Miss Swan!" Embarrassed, since all the attention was still on her, Y/N just shook her head apologetically. "Just pay attention from now on. The things we discuss today will come up in next week's exam." Y/N sat up a little straighter, took out her pen from her bag, and pulled her notebook towards her, which made the teacher smile contentedly and continue with the lesson.

For fifteen minutes, Y/N was able to focus on what was going on in front of her, until her gaze turned back outside and her thoughts drifted back to Demetri. As she did so, her hand settled, as if by itself, on the spot where Demetri's lips had touched her skin. Her eyes closed and the memories came back. It almost seemed to her as if Demetri was here in the same room with her, very close again.

Annoyed, Y/N exhaled, opened her eyes and dropped her hand. Three weeks had passed since the meeting with Demetri in the library. Three weeks of pure torture, as Y/N no longer knew exactly where she stood, what she felt, or what exactly she wanted.

Then to top it all off, the young girl felt guilty towards her sister for indirectly breaking her promise. While it had been Demetri who had sought her out, Y/N hadn't really done anything about his closeness either, or really found it disturbing. Y/N therefore kept inventing excuses not to talk to Bella for more than half an hour to an hour, even skipping a phone call here and there. Bella, surprisingly, ignored this. She probably thought Y/N had a lot to do with school, which was true somewhere.

On the other hand, Y/N was overwhelmed with what she was feeling. She missed the feel of Demetri's body against hers. She missed his hands holding her, his lips on her skin, and his presence. Y/N even had to admit that she searched for him whenever she was out.

Yet it was almost as if Demetri Volturi no longer existed. As if he had disappeared from the scene and the only thing he had left behind was desire and words that Y/N did not understand, or rather did not want to understand.

"How long can you hide your sins from the light of day?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You should come out to party with us." Mara, a friend of Y/N, looked at her piercingly. "You've been going out for two weeks only to go to school, and even there you're absent the entire time and hardly talk."

Annoyed, Y/N released air from her lungs as she flopped down on her bed. "I just don't feel like doing anything else. Everyone has that once, it'll pass."

Mara jumped up from the chair she had been sitting on for the past hour and tried to coax Y/N into doing something other than just lying around in her room. Her fingers encircled Y/N's ankles. With a strong tug, Mara pulled Y/N off her bed.

Startled, she let out a scream as she plopped to the floor. Silence reigned for a moment until the two friends looked at each other and burst out laughing. Mara lay down on the floor next to the laughing Y/N, as she couldn't stop laughing either.

Both friends looked at the ceiling, trying to get their breathing under control as they slowly calmed down.

"What's it like?" Confused, Y/N turned her head in Mara's direction. "What exactly?" Her friend looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "I have a big sister Y/N, I know what heartbreak looks like. I'm just wondering what it feels like. I've never been in love, so I can't understand someone wanting to pull away from everything and everyone because of it." Y/N turned her gaze back to the ceiling. Clearing her throat briefly, she tried to collect herself. "It's more complicated than heartbreak." The young girl took one deep breath. "You have to imagine that I never really knew who I was at home. I felt lost, which I still do from time to time." Y/N fell silent. Saddened and depressed by her own words, even if they spoke the truth.

"Why?" "Bella always cast a shadow over me. She was all my parents saw. I tried to step out of it, but every time I did, I stood in it again. So I gave it up and just lived in it. When I met Demetri, that's his name, I had the feeling of being seen for the first time. Really seen. I wasn't Bella's little sister anymore, I was just Y/N." Smiling, she closed her eyes and remembered back to the day she had first seen the vampire.

A cold hand placed itself under Y/N's chin and lifted it. This forced the young girl to look up. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of her bag as she looked into a pair of red eyes. "What's your name Chéri?" At the blond-haired man's voice, a shiver ran down her spine. "Y/N...." Her voice was soft.

With a soft smile, Demetri released her chin and brushed a tangled strand of hair behind her ear. "You're even more beautiful than I imagined."

"What's it like to be around him?" "It feels like coming home. When he's around me, it's like I can finally take a breath." Y/N gave a soft laugh. Confused, Mara looked at her, "What is it?" "At the risk of sounding ridiculous, when Demetri touches me it's like he reminds me that I'm alive and not just existing. His touches almost burn, and they continue to do so long after he's gone."

Mara was silent again for a moment. "That doesn't sound ridiculous. On the contrary it sounds beautiful, like a connection anyone would want to have. But then why are you sad?" "My family is against it." Mara exhaled in annoyance. "You mean your sister is against it." "And a few other people I care about, or at least used to." Y/N's expression changed to a sad one. "So what's the plan? To forget him." The young girl just nods.

Mara, sighing, nudged her friend in the ribs with her elbow, making Y/N wince.

"Now let's be honest, let's go to the club today. The others are coming too. The first step towards oblivion." Y/N rubbed the spot where Mara's elbow had hit her. "If I come with you, will you promise not to be violent towards me anymore?"

Playfully thoughtful, Mara put a hand to her chin and considered for a few seconds.

"If I have to..." Dramatically, the hand moved from her chin to her chest. "I promise to behave towards you!"

Rolling her eyes, Y/N grabbed the pillow, which had fallen on the floor with her earlier, and threw it in Mara's face.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Look who decided to join us for the night!" Mara spread her arms and showed her group of friends Y/N, immediately they all started cheering. "The lost child has returned!" Y/N rolled her eyes and plopped down next to Mick on the bench in the club. "I only skipped one club visit!" She had to raise her voice to fight the music. "One too many!" called Mick back, pressing his fresh beer into her hand. He put his arm on her shoulders and lifted the other beer to toast with the others.

As the evening went on, more and more alcohol flowed. Which helped Y/N lose any thought of Demetri and her confusing feelings for him.

With her eyes closed, Y/N moved to the tune of the music. The darkness that surrounded her, broken only by green and red lights every few seconds, made her feel safe and out of reach. Y/N felt free for the first time. No vampire drama could find her here. It was just her and her friends here.

The bodies around her, the young girl was already not even aware of, as well as the smell of sweat and alcohol. Smiling, she raised her arms in the air.

Y/N's peace was quickly shattered. Startled, she flinched when two hands came to her hips. Her arms dropped down so she could put her hands over the stranger's and push them away. But as her skin touched the stranger's and she felt the familiar cold, the young girl literally sank into the body behind her. An unfamiliar feeling of relief spread through her.

"Demetri..."

His name was no more than a whisper, but Y/N knew he had heard her. After all, he was a vampire. The grip on her hips strengthened as if to assure her that it was really him, that he was really behind her and was not just an illusion.

"What do you think you're doing here Trésor?" Goosebumps formed on Y/N's skin. Tightening her grip on his hands, she sought the hold to steady herself. "Trying to forget." She murmured, not stopping to move, forcing Demetri to follow her lead.

The vampire snorted in amusement. His left hand settled on Y/N's stomach, where he applied enough pressure to keep Y/N's back against his chest. Demetri also released his right hand from her hip and let his fingertips travel upward just a few millimeters over the filmy fabric of Y/N's black blouse. When his fingers stopped at the exposed cleavage that started just below her breasts, Y/N had to gasp. Demetri's lips hovered just inches from her ear. "What are you trying to forget?"

Carefully almost, as if the vampire was afraid his mate would shatter like glass, he touched the exposed skin, between her breasts. Slowly his fingers slid up. Y/N bit her lip gently. She didn't want Demetri to know how much influence he had on her. However, the young girl quickly lost her focus as Demetri's fingers slid over her collarbone. Out of instinct, she grabbed Demetri's right arm, causing him to pause in his movement.

"I wanted to forget you." Her words sounded breathless and desperate. Demetri laughed, "And you really thought for a second that I would let this happen?" The vampire lowered his head. As he did so, he let his lips run over Y/N's cheek and chin. Arriving at her neck, he lowered his lips to her pulse point without further thought. Without hurting her he sucked his mouth there to make a mark on her. The young girl's eyes widened before she closed them. Her body automatically pressed even closer to his as Y/N's grip tightened on Demetri's arm.

"Good luck forgetting now." Demetri had moved away from her neck and taken his arms from her. Confused and slightly backward staggering, Y/N opened her eyes and at the lack of presence behind her, turned around. Only to find that Demetri had disappeared and left her behind once again.

"He can't be serious now!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The young Swan girl felt as if a bucket of water had been poured over her head. Any signs of being drunk had disappeared and been replaced by a feeling of emptiness.

Slamming her apartment door behind her, Y/N shook her shoes off her feet. She had told her friends a half-hearted excuse, gotten out of the club into the next best cab, and headed home.

Tired, Y/N leaned against her front door. Her gaze slid around her dark apartment. Sighing, her head lightly banged on the door behind her. Tears came to her eyes as she realized how lonely she actually felt. Y/N didn't miss Forks, her sister, her father, or her friends, though. She was missing Demetri. Which made no sense from her point of view, since they were both never in the same place for more than half an hour.

Shaking her head, Y/N pushed herself away from her door, banished her way through the still dark apartment to the bathroom, and slowly began to undress in the process. She wanted nothing more than to wash the evening off her skin. The alcohol, her sweat, and the feeling of what Demetri had left on her skin. As she walked past her bedroom window, Y/N opened it to let the evening air in and since she lived on the fifth floor she didn't worry about anyone getting into her apartment.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

With a towel tied around her body, Y/N stood stunned in front of her bathroom mirror.

""This bloody..."" Twisting her neck a bit to the side, she looked at the red mark on her neck. Gasping, she propped her hands on the sink. "A hickey? Seriously!"

Shaking her head in front of her, she tugged on her towel again and left the bathroom to get dressed in her bedroom. Just as she was about to open her closet door to look for her sleeping clothes, a voice familiar to her was heard.

"Mon amour you should not leave your window open like that. Someone might come in here unannounced."

With a cry, the young girl turned to her bed. Stunned, Y/N looked at the vampire. Demetri had made himself comfortable on her bed. His hands were clasped behind the back of his head as he watched her with a satisfied grin.

"I live on the fifth floor! No one can get in there just like that. Except crazy vampires who don't know what privacy is!"

Angrily, she braced her hands on her hips. Demetri raised an eyebrow. "I thought the window was an invitation for me. After all, we both know that the height of your apartment is nothing that can stop me." Several times Y/N blinked as she processed Demetri's words.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Y/N, enraged, grabbed the nearest object that fell into her fingers and threw it at Demetri. The latter jumped up from the bed to avoid the book Y/N threw at him.

"Mon amour you know that can't hurt me, right?" With an annoyed snort, Y/N grabbed her other textbook and aimed it at Demetri again. "I don't care!" Demetri ducked his head, repositioned himself properly, and looked after the book that had knocked a vase onto the floor.

"Think about your decor Y/N." Demetri's grin seemed to make the young girl even angrier. By the third time she turned to grab something and throw it at the vampire, Demetri had had enough. He closed the distance between them and stood directly in front of her.

Y/N, who was just turning back to face him, startled, dropped the book from her hand, and took an avoiding step backward. The skin on her back touched the cold wood, of her closet. This reminded her that she was still standing in front of Demetri in only a towel. Y/N's hands grasped the top hem of the towel and pulled it closer to her skin.

"Why are you here Demetri?" Y/N uttered her words only softly, with an uncertain tone. Demetri could even hear an anxious undertone. He stepped over the inches of distance that still existed between the two. The vampire raised his hand to Y/N's cheek, which made her close her eyes. The trembling of her body became more obvious and Demetri had to admit to himself that this reaction of his mate hurt him.

"Open your eyes Y/N." Demetri rested his forehead against Y/N's as he whispered his next words. "I beg you, don't be afraid of me." The young girl's eyes flew open. She had to swallow because of the closeness of their faces and the intensity of Demetri's gaze.

"Then give me a reason not to be afraid."

Demetri's free hand rested against Y/N's other cheek as he released his forehead from hers. Without hesitating any further, he lowered his lips to those of his mate. Instantly Y/N tensed and Demetri feared that he had gone too far. But Y/N leaned more toward him. Her chest pressed against his to keep her towel where it was as she wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss as passionately as Demetri had.

The vampire's hands dropped down to Y/N's hips.

When they both broke away from each other, Demetri stopped with his lips just inches from hers. Y/N opened her eyes, letting her right arm slide down Demetri's chest. The vampire inhaled, even though he didn't have to, not breaking eye contact with Y/N for a second. "I would never hurt you Y/N. I'm not the monster the Cullens want me to be."

Y/N placed her right hand on Demetri's cheek. Her fingertips gently ran over his skin. With a smile, Y/N watched as Demetri's eyes closed as he leaned into her touch. She realized that he felt the same in her presence as she did in his, comfort.

Y/N leaned closer to Demetri with her face getting closer and closer to him. Just as the young girl was about to close her eyes, a ringing interrupted her. Startled, Y/N flinched and separated herself from Demetri. The latter opened his eyes annoyed when Y/N took her hands from him, put them back to the towel and detached herself from his body. Demetri let go of her, watching as Y/N went to her cell phone, picked it up and read the name. "Bella..."

Shaking his head, he walked back toward her. "Don't answer it." Uncertain, his mate looked at him as her fingers tightened around her phone. Demetri had enough of Bella, enough of the promise of what she had taken from his mate, and enough of waiting. He grabbed Y/N`s face between his hands again, pulling her body towards him and letting his lips meet hers. Startled by her mate's rudeness, she dropped the phone on the floor between them. Her fingers buried themselves in the thick material of Demetri's top, at his waist.

"Tonight you're all mine, tonight it's just the two of us!"

Demetri bent Y/N's head slightly to the side with his right hand. Immediately he lowered his lips to the skin on her neck, causing his mate to groan. Meanwhile, his hands wandered over her shoulders to the top saun of the towel, where he untied the knot Y/N had made in it to make sure the fabric stayed where it was.

Y/N shuddered as she felt the fabric of the towel loosen around her body. With trembling fingers she pushed herself away from Demetri. Confused, he looked at her and wanted to protest, but fell silent when Y/N's fingers went to the first button of his shirt and opened it. They both looked into each other's eyes while she repeated this with the other buttons. Carefully, Y/N ran the exposed skin back up as she undid the last button. As she did so, she could swear Demetri gasped several times. Arriving at his shoulders, she slipped the shirt off his body. She let her fingers wander further up his neck and pulled him down to her. This time it was Y/N who deepened the kiss directly as Demetri's hands worked their way down to her thighs. He lifted her up without breaking the kiss and placed her on the bed behind them.

The vampire and his mate created their own little world that night under the protection of her darkness. A world where Bella and the Cullens were forgotten. Where Y/N's fears for the future had no place. Where the ringing of Y/N's cell phone was ignored and where she belonged completely to Demetri.

A world that shattered with the first rays of daylight. When Y/N opened her eyes, she was aware not only of the burning sensation left by Demetri's touch, but also of the tightness in her lungs. She had betrayed her sister.

Y/N turned in bed to face her window. The side of the bed on which Demetri had been lying was cold, but not empty. A note lay on the pillow. Confused, the young girl straightened up, grabbed it and read it.

"Daylight exposes your sins more and more, so why still try to hide them in the darkness?"

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I will write a Part 3

@twilightlover2007 @ssnapsaurus @svtbpbts

@xxx-wounded-angel-xxx @ms-sasa

#demetri volturi #twilight x reader #demetri volturi imagine #demetri volturi x reader #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight imagine #twilight x y/n #the volturi #volturi x reader #volturi guard

645 notes · View notes